ACADIA NAT’L PARK, Part 2—Finding the Quiet Side

Calling it the ‘Quiet Side’ isn’t original with me . . . it’s been in the locals’ jargon since . . . well, I suspect since the crowds seriously began coming to this remote Mt. Desert Island (MDI, to coin another locals’ moniker). It really all comes down to geography and visitation numbers. This rather heart-shaped island is divided into two lobes by Somes Sound, the 7- 1/2-mile-long only true fjord or glacier-carved inlet on America’s Atlantic coast. Acadia National Park encompasses about 60% of MDI, including most of the eastern half. It’s on this side where you’ll find the island’s main town, Bar Harbor, as well as the 27-mile Park Loop Road. It also has the more well-known, stunning tourist stops of Acadia and more of the iconic natural features. More trails, both along the dramatic coastline as well as going up the mountain summits. And then there’s the western side, practically a land onto itself. Circle around Somes Sound and right away you can see the difference. Traffic thins out. You pass through villages that are actually real working towns. There aren’t the throngs filing in and out of shops and cafes. More likely than not, you’ll find a convenient parking spot. And between those small towns the scenery will still catch your eye. The Quiet Side is a place of sweeping coastal bogs; broad, wave-beaten ledges; the span of an endless sky. You’ll also find an iconic lighthouse whose image has exceeded even the fame of the national park it’s located in. Having said all that, is it any wonder that I made sure we’d have days set aside solely for being in this singular spot?

Map credit: http://www.citrusmilo.com

The campground I had selected totally fit the character of this side of Acadia. Although there were other campgrounds around—private campgrounds, affording more conveniences (i.e., full hookups, wifi and perhaps even CATV), without a second thought Seawall Campground was my choice. The only park campground on the Quiet Side, what it lacked in services it more than made up for in setting. No hookups, mind you, definitely no wifi, no over-air TV, and for us, no cell coverage either. But truth be told, sometimes there are more important criteria for our camping enjoyment. This was one of those times. With the weather absolutely perfect, we just wanted to soak up this rare experience in the heart of one of our country’s most popular national parks—the chance to feel a part of the natural surroundings, to have those surroundings just outside our trailer door, reminding us where we were and why we had come here. And so, we simply relished being in the HERE and NOW.

Although ‘primitive’ by definition, the campsites were quite spacious—no neighbors within a stone’s throw. Seawall Campground is the park campground of choice for MDI visitors seeking solitude, simplicity, and lots of rolling morning fog.

Seawall Campground got its name from the natural seawall that is known as the unofficial park entrance to this western section of the park. A naturally occurring granite, loose boulder and rock seawall, it’s a crescent formed by centuries of storm surges. Seawall is the only thing separating the ocean from a small saltwater pond along Route 102A; it’s also a popular attraction of park visitors and photographers.

You’ll find more than a few towns and villages interwoven with Acadia National Park. Each has its own character and flavor, from the more well-known resort towns such as Bar Harbor to the small villages where fishing is a primary occupation. The towns on the western side have just about everything that Bar Harbor does—except for the tourist traps and the people who flock there. Cruise ship tour buses don’t deliver their passengers to this quiet side; consequently, we could enjoy the offerings of these towns, peruse their shops and enjoy their ambiances. A totally relaxing experience.

Sailboat harbors seemed to be a common denominator in all the towns and villages.

Bass Harbor, Bernard, Manset and Southwest Harbor are some of the towns located on the Quiet Side. Seawall Campground is ideally located central to them all.

But we didn’t stay long in the towns. The hiking trails on the quiet side are much less utilized and that’s just the way we like them. Even on the more popular ones, if you’re lucky you will only catch a handful of other hikers on the trail. Ship Harbor Trail ranks as one of the best short hikes in the whole of Acadia and it was just down the road from Seawall Campground.

If you like an easy pathway through a thick forest setting that leads to intimate, close-up views at water’s edge, then this is the one to take. How about watching the ocean waves come crashing into the rocky shoreline or standing beneath pink-granite cliffs that rise precipitously near the ocean? You’ll have it all on this winner of a trail.

Don’t forget to bring your camera along.

The Wonderland Trail is also in the vicinity and is equally pleasing, offering an easy stroll. You’ll get a taste of both woods and water on this trail as a spruce forest gives way to a pretty pebble beach with granite ledges. Midway along the route, you might want to linger here, soak up the views and be a little mesmerized by the drama of waves washing on the rocky shore.

Beech Mountain has several trails winding around its flanks and I’d imagine they’re all equally as stunning and versatile as the Loop Trail we took. Ranked as moderately difficult, we took the loop in a clockwise direction, thereby having the steepest section while ascending—easier to scramble up than going down. With panoramic views from the deserted fire tower at the 839-foot summit and postcard views overlooking beautiful Long’s Pond on the trip down, I highly recommend this trail to everyone. The added benefit being it’s a great warm-up in preparation for the other summit climbs waiting for you to take on the eastern side of Acadia.

Scenes such as this are what I’ll be remembering about Acadia.

So now I come to the highlight of this Quiet Side—actually the hallmark of this entire park, the landmark that arguably surpasses all the other noteworthy park features. Bass Harbor Light stands as an image so popular, so iconic, that I’d be surprised if, despite never coming to Acadia, you haven’t seen it somewhere already—it’s that well publicized.

Built of brick in 1858 on a stone foundation, the light stands 56 feet above mean high water and is still in operation. Its position, on the edge of rocky cliffs so near to the often-crashing surf, is what gives the drama to its setting. Picturesque as it is on clear, sapphire sky days, it’s on the fringes of the day, when the sky can be painted with spectacular light, that the lighthouse really makes a worthy show. Its fame has spread, bringing in not only a parade of tourists-in-the-know at all times of the day, but when the sun drops low, the flood of photographers pours in . . . and I do mean ‘flood’. Upon my first pre-sunset visit, I was so astounded at the numbers of camera-toting, tripod-laden people covering nearly every free space along the rocks, I could only stand is dismay, stunned by the sight, and definitely too late on the draw.

Surreptitiously, Chris made an early morning call to fly his drone, and catch great perspectives that few others would ever have. (Both photos credit Chris Wall)

The following afternoon, I came early. Guided by Chris, who helped me navigate and scramble over the boulders and rocks, I was one of the first to find ‘my spot’. Soon enough, I was nearly crowded out. But I held my ground, and got the shots.

Different days bring about different skies, and consequently, totally different looks. Although the skies were lacking in drama, the last rays of light helped to warm the rocky scene. Getting a shot without other people in the foreground was the toughest achievement.

Chris called them ‘scrum’—the other photographers all vying for their slice of space. And just behind stood ‘the others’—a whole army troop of photographers and iPhone-at-the-ready tourists.

So close to water’s edge, here on the smaller, quiet side, it wasn’t hard to find a sunset photo op. With promising, cloud-filled skies I’d head out to a private shoreline spot, there to set up and hope for good light to cap off our time here. And mostly, my efforts weren’t in vain. Again, the Quiet Side has much to offer.

If Acadia isn’t an American treasure, then I don’t know what else it could be.