Saturday, August 14, 2010

Welcome To Bar Harbor

Today was travel day.
We were up early, well, the dogs and I were up early. Joe was up a little later. We had to get up early today because we still had stuff to do. Mainly pack. I had meant to do it last night but weighed it against my decision to watch Project Runway and Project Runway won out.
I still stand by my decision.
So we packed. It's funny because when Joe and I went to Vegas in June, we packed all our needs into one smaller suitcase. This trip, we still shared a suitcase but it was the big giant one. The one in which I could have packed the Gator Girl if she'd hold still long enough to get it zipped. But if I had packed the Gator Girl, I never would have been able to fit in all the clothing I wanted to bring. Joe commented on how strange it was that we needed such a large suitcase this time around. I just shrugged and mumbled something about being a girl. Not usually a card I play but what the hell? I wanted options.
So we loaded the big suitcase in the car followed by a bag of non perishables (peanut butter and mini bagels and trail mix) and a bag of bags (seriously. All the hiking bags and my selection of purses/around-the-town bags (I'm a girl. I need options) and the like). Next went the backpack in which I had packed my free reading books (three total) and the two WIPs I've pulled out to peruse this week should the mood so strike me. This was followed by the two laptop bags and beach towel bag and the lunch cooler and the hiking shoes and my around-the-town shoes, not to mention the bag which contained all the stuff the puppies would need during their stay at Camp Animal Behavior Consultants. And by 'puppies', I mean Big because he's the only with the eye drops and the back medication (did I mention that the poor dog's been diagnosed with lumbar arthritis?) and his own food. The Gator Girl, despite being a girl, travels very light.
Has kong, will travel.
So once we filled the car, we finally hit the road, only an hour behind schedule. Our schedule was further blown to bits by the construction on Route 113 and then the slower than death driver of an older than death Ford pick up truck but we eventually made it to the kennel, just before I think they were about to send out a search and rescue team to discover what evil might have befallen us.
(Unrelated side note: I NEED CHOCOLATE.)
We played with the GPS program on Joe's new smart phone and discovered when we tried to locate a Subway restaurant in Augusta, that the GPS was maybe not entirely trustworthy. It kept insisting that The Home Depot was located in the parking lot of a Sam's Club. It wasn't. Plus, we weren't looking for the Home Depot anyway.
There was more construction in Ellsworth and we noticed that the road widening project that they've been working on for the last two years hasn't really made a lot of progress. Kind of made me feel better about my own inability to finish home improvement projects.
It was after four by the time we reached Bar Harbor village and made our way up the skinny little one way street on which our rental unit was located. We found our parking spot easily enough and then walked around the building a couple of times, unable to find the unit itself. A local was nice enough to help us out and we managed to get inside. Then, something strange happened.
I fell in love and decided to move in permanently.
Oh wait, that's not strange. That's what happens EVERY time I set foot on this island.
It's a cute (if woefully outdated) townhouse in downtown Bar Harbor with a private deck that overlooks the Catholic church. It's a block away from the library and two blocks from the Village Green. It has some serious closet space, just massive amounts of closet space. See, I could have packed even more stuff. The master bedroom is ginormous and comes complete with noise machine (you can choose from 'rain', 'waterfall' or 'surf') and a little tiny television with a VCR. For your viewing pleasure, the owners have a small selection of VHS tapes. Hot Shots Deux, The Governess (totally my type of serious period film. Joe will hate it) and The Patriot starring one Steven Seagal. We're embarrassingly looking forward to watching this last film.
The bedroom also has this little rinky dink looking ceiling fan. I mention the ceiling fan because it was a little warm and stuffy in the master bedroom so I wanted to turn it on to get the air circulating. I found a switch that looked as though it might control the ceiling fan and found attached to it the following note:

BEFORE turning on this fan, you must do the following:
1. Open a minimum of three bedroom windows &
2. Open both kitchen windows &
3. Pull the blinds all the way to the top of all open windows &
4. Use a door stop (provided) to keep the door between the kitchen and master bedroom open
5. Open the door to the deck
The fan is very powerful. In order to run it, numerous windows MUST be open- best if run on low speed.

So I read this once, looked at the very well disguised very powerful ceiling fan and then read the note a second time. Then I got Joe's attention and read him the note. Then we both looked at the ceiling fan.
"I think I'm actually afraid of the ceiling fan," I said.
"Turn it on," Joe said. "See what happens."
"Hell no," I said. "You turn it on."
"No, you."
So we played the "You Do It, No You Do It" game for a while and finally, once I had ascertained that I had, in fact, opened the correct number of windows and doors, I turned on the fan. I set it to 'low' and Joe and I stared at the ceiling fan to see what would happen.
Nothing happened, interestingly enough. The ceiling fan didn't budge.
However, a giant vent in the bedroom ceiling opened up and a huge roar of noise scared the living hell out of us. If I hadn't been holding onto the the stair railing for deal life, I think I might have been sucked into the damn thing. Seriously, I think this fan was a stand in for the tornados in Twister or something because it was that loud and fierce.
What. The. Hell.
I turned the fan off. And off it shall remain for the course of our stay.
But regardless of the scary ass fan, appliances out of my grandmother's house and the severely lackluster cable, I'd still move here in a heartbeat. There are currently two units for sale in this particular townhouse complex. They're going for over $300,000 each which unfortunately means I will not be making one of them my bestest Bar Harbor souvenir ever.
Sad now. Good thing I went out and got some chocolate. I am very full now. Full, but happy.
The only blemish on the trip this far is that my mega hike, my 8 miles, 6 peak hike has hit a snag in the form of a peregrine falcon. Well, several of them, actually. See, this is the time of year where the peregrines make their nests around certain trails in Acadia National Park. Two of these trails are an integral part of my 8 mile, 6 peak hike.
I am currently searching for alternate trails.
Well, now it's 9 o'clock and Joe's passed out on the couch. Except for the absence of the dogs, it's like we never left home. And traded our good cable for really crappy cable. And bought a Steven Seagal movie and a scary ass vortex to put in our ceiling. But other than all that...
Ah, it's good to be back.


  1. The part where you turned on the fan had me howling. Seriously, covering my mouth laughter. I'm still laughing. I need chocolate.


  2. We have ceiling fans and I'm concerned they'll fall. When the kids were small I would not set the play pen underneath ceiling fans. Couch? No way. An unfounded concern, but why take chances?

    Stephen Tremp

  3. I love our vortex of doom, I mean house fan. You really do need a mess of windows and doors open to operate it, but on a cool night, it's definitely worth it.