2 September 2013 - Bar Harbor, Maine again

This day we awoke to a lowering sky, leaden clouds and a gun-metal gray ocean.  The surface was ruffled and only a few seabirds bobbed and dipped in the waves, diving for morsels beneath the water.  Shortly after it began to sprinkle.  Then the rain intensified and remained soaking the earth throughout most of the day.  We decided that a visit to the National Park was not the best idea and elected to be more mundane. 

We felt the urge to sleep late and then take care of cleaning up, washing clothes and generally not rushing about.  Everything seemed to slow down with the retarding influence of the rain. As we looked out on the water, the clouds and mist obscured the horizons and the islands.  About all we could see were colorful floats from submerged lobster pots, placed earlier by industrious lobstermen and just waiting for their return to pull from the ocean floor the delicious, sweet crustaceans so cherished on gourmet tables everywhere.  The other movement was an isolated loon, floating on the swells, ignoring the rain and plunging down for food.  Now and then we could hear its mellow, hooting cry, seeming sad and forlorn in the silent morning.

At one point the clouds lifted slightly and in the distance the shadow of a large ship could be discerned, moving in an unknown direction, never seeming to get closer and then the clouds closed over it and the wraith was gone, coasting on a journey of mystery.

   Basic chores completed, we ventured into town, through the wet streets to discover what lured people to this tourist mecca.  The rain kept coming and increasing in volume, large plunging drops and then thick sheets gushing from the laden clouds.  As we walked, Ronda had her umbrella and I a coat and hat.  She stayed reasonably protected from the rain, but I began to feel the drops hit my open collar and slide like cold fingers down my neck.  After a while almost everything I wore began to drip and the shoes to squelch.  The streets began to run shallow rivers and we hugged the walls of establishments with awnings or overhangs, watching waterfalls cascade off the edges, inundating any unwary pedestrian who strayed into their path.

We finally got hungry enough that the rumbles competed with the storm and we sought refuge in a place to eat. Some were closed but one restaurant caught our eye and we hurried down a drenching walkway to get in.  It was the Route 66 Restaurant, filled with 50's memorabilia and constructed from an old abandoned church, complete with choir loft and stained glass windows.  The food was good, but my coat and hat left deep puddles on the floor under the coat rack.  While cruising the streets in the rain, (perhaps "cruising" is the right term, all we needed was a boat), we stumbled on a small shop with Christmas things and found a charming glass lobster to go on the tree.  Another shop focused on things Acadian and we loved the blueberry treasures, lighthouse books and sweet treats.  But too much rain at one time is too much rain and we fled back to the hotel to warm up, dry out and rest.  For someone from a desert, this is rain such as we never see, but an explanation for the rich and lush land of the northeast.  Not a wasted day at all.