For Labor Day weekend I wanted to escape the city one last time before the reality of autumn set in. A newer friend and I hatched a plan for Maine a few weeks ago and before I knew it August was nearing its end. We left early in the morning in an attempt to beat the holiday traffic and traveled 10+ hours to our destination. Using mostly borrowed equipment, we quickly set up camp and set our sights on the weekend ahead of us.
Isle au Haut is an island that’s part of Acadia National Park but you can only get there by the mail boat. There are two stops – 1 mostly for the townspeople and 1 for visitors to the park.
The day we went only 5 people were on the boat for the park: my friend, myself, another Brooklynite, and an older couple. We were greeted at the dock by a park ranger who let us know the basics of the park (latrines, potable water, etc.) and also what to expect on the various trails. She also cautioned us about poor footing and the potential for steep climbs, resulting in the paths taking longer than we might otherwise anticipate. As she spoke, my mind could not help but wonder how the older couple would fair; I doubted their ability to make it through sections of park. At the end of our briefing, we all started off towards the various trailheads. When the others stopped for a very important powdering of their noses, my friend and I veered off towards Duck Harbor Mountain.
While it is only about 300 or so feet above sea level, the trail is comprised of many ups and downs. We climbed up numerous rock faces only to slide down the other side and then repeat the whole process again. I loved it.
When we reached the end of the trail we were directly in front of Squeaker Cove. We followed the trail for a bit but the lure of the pebbly coast led us to abandon the path and scramble over giant rocks once again. Having gained some wisdom with my years (perhaps learned from experience with waterfalls and falling, maybe), we did eventually decide to stop hopping across the boulders lining the sea and follow the trail.
Although we were back on a designated trail, the terrain remained rocky along the coast and full of tree roots in the woods. When I allowed my mind to wander a bit too much, I would quickly stumble and be brought back to the present. After tripping myself once again, my friend and I discussed how we were able to take on the rock climbing and the trails because we were still young. We felt pretty good about ourselves and even acknowledged that the older couple had must have been hiking the easier path, enjoying the view near the harbor.
No sooner had the words left our mouths but who should we pass – the older couple. They had each found a walking stick and were making their way up and down the rocks, gracefully I might add as compared to our lumbering about. Small talk ensued about holding the boat for each other and what great views were coming up on each other’s paths and then we each continued on our ways.
I was dumbfounded. Not only had this couple decided to take a more difficult route – they were owning it and managing much better than my friend and I were. I don’t think a drop of sweat graced their bodies. As I sat down at the end of the dock waiting for the mail boat to come back and take my tired bones back across the sea, all I could do was laugh at my prejudice. The couple continued to explore about the island, enjoying each other’s company, and proving us all wrong.
