We posted some photos. Hard to find an internet cafe that can do everything we want to do quickly, media-wise. We'll keep trying, but you may have to wait for other than text.
Off to Acadia.
Fooooooooooogggggggg. That's what a foghorn sounds like and we're hearing plenty of them these days. We ran around Acadia NP today on the park loop road and stopped to take a "Blue Million" photos as Betsy says. They're all a little foggy as the one below of Pemaquid point because, well, because it's Maine. The temperatures that come with the fog are awesome, however, and our decision to go North looks like a great one. It does seem kind of suspicious that every time we go to a National Park, the visibility is bad. We had smoke in Glacier and now fog in Acadia. We're going to start calling each other "Smoke" and "Fog."
We did see Bass Harbor light today, a whole colony of black ducks and their young, and we got to watch a mother peregrine falcon cruising near her nest at a trail called "The Precipice." The rangers had big spotting scopes set up and we both got to see mama on the cliffs.
We have reservations in a few minutes at Maggie's for dinner then it's off to an early bed. We've already checked in and gotten our boarding passes for the CAT high-speed ferry tomorrow, so all we have to do is show up, have the ferry guys strap down the moto, and go upstairs to enjoy the view for 3 hours.
Day seven and still no laundromats: we're getting pretty good at washing stuff out. We mailed a care package home today, including an old polo shirt I brought to wear to dinner, some t-shirts we got at the Gray Ghost, and a couple books about the cat at the Inn at Camden/Rockport. It's always nice to open those memories when we get home. Well, maybe not the polo shirt.
We got kind of a hard time from Barbara the Post Office Nazi in Bar Harbor. She was a nice enough old lady, but damn was she particular about everything: at the PO back home the guy would have taped the package for us, but not Barbara. We had to buy tape. Then she gave us the third degree about the one-ounce bottle of maple syrup in the package. Fragile, perishable, liquid, yadda yadda yadda. Stamps on the box, special stickers, yadda yadda yadda. Then she wouldn't take my credit card because the signature had worn off. The damn PO pen wouldn't sign it, either, so Betsy had to give Barbara the Post Office Nazi one of her cards. How can one person be so nice and so infuriating at the same time?
Blog you later.
Mark and Betsy
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