Downeast and a mountain full of memories

"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”

– Martin Buber, Austrian philosopher

Cadillac looms in the distance as we head up to the top. Anthony enjoys the view from the top.

ELLSWORTH/BAR HARBOR/MOUNT DESERT ISLAND, Maine — We roamed a mountain top where the heavens are at your fingertips and hiked a demanding trail at a national park that resurrected a forgotten boyhood memory.

We met a Highlander who played the bagpipes free of charge on a grassy bluff overlooking a short stretch of beach and marveled at Mother Nature's handy work — the stunning shoreline of Bar Harbor.

During our three-day adventure, I was introduced to helpful park rangers and wonderful people from across the globe. We travelled 350 miles and walked miles of beaches and quiet, secluded woods where you could hear leaves ruffle and creaking branches of decades-old trees without interruptions from the noise of a big city.

Our vacation destination was only 150 miles from our home. We stayed at a comfortable inn, but I was confounded when I saw prophylactics and decks of cards in a snack machine. I guess if you are in the mood for love and an all-night poker game, why run out to a store.  Amenities were few and far between for guests, but the employees were pleasant. The ice machine spit out cubes at a rate of two per minute. It could take a lifetime before you filled a bowl of ice. I wondered if the town was rationing water due to the heat wave. And there is a newly constructed road that forces tourists to take a one-mile roundabout to get back to an inn. I don't know why the city of Ellsworth agreed to invest in this engineering debacle.

We had no intension of hanging around our temporary residence. It was a place to sleep — nothing more. Bar Harbor, Mount Desert Island and Acadia National Park were our true destinations.

Before we left the inn, there was the unpacking of the car, which is as enjoyable as packing the car. We took 45 minutes to decompress and agreed to visit Bar Harbor's numerous shops and walk the gravel paths around the shoreline.

Harbor lights

We visited a used book store because we dislike Kindles. We will only read print. The prices were reasonable and I enjoyed listening to Terri and the owner discuss Maine's famous authors. You can't take a step without bumping into an antique or used-book store.

The next stop was a clothing store to buy shirts sporting Bar Harbor or Acadia. We weren't leaving empty handed without some sort of souvenir. There are more than a handful of restaurants, but we are always on a budget and settled for sandwiches at a local deli. Terri said it was the best veggie wrap she has ever eaten, but I was more impressed with their home-made muffins.

An hour of shopping was all we could handle, so we walked down a narrow street where magnificent homes with magnificent gardens lined a road that led to the shoreline. We followed gravel paths and marveled at numerous islands in the distance and coastal rock formations.

We studied a huge ferry and a pair of Dahlgren-Rodman cannons, apparently leftovers from the Civil War. The twin iron behemoths face the shoreline — a warning to enemy ships.

Walking through town we noticed Cadillac Mountain standing high above the landscape. For residents, I am sure the mountain is like an old friend. We would tackle the summit the next day.

The hot evening sun was getting to us so we did the double quick (Civil War talk) to get to our air-conditioned car. My son, who can read maps better than Christopher Columbus, guided us back to Route 3A. We were racing down the road when we saw a man in a kilt carrying bagpipes on a bluff above a tiny beach. We debated for the next few minutes whether to turn the car around and introduce ourselves to this sharply dressed Highlander.

Anthony urged us to head back to the bluff. A few moments later, we were walking through tall grass where David Weeda was about to perform. 

I waved and he introduced himself. I asked him why he enjoys playing the pipes at this spot. He said it is the perfect scene to play his instrument. I think he enjoyed serenading the calming sea. He gave us a brief history of it and he agreed to play the pipes for us. "Scotland the Brave" sounded incredible against the backdrop of the shoreline.

I was impressed with his talent, showmanship and his knowledge of the ancient instrument. Weeda is also the owner of the Williams Pond Lodge(williamspondlodge.com), which is located on 20 beautiful acres in Bucksport.

His playing drew a handful of onlookers and traffic slowed when drivers caught a glimpse of the Highlander on Route 3A. We reluctantly bid Weeda farewell as a curious crowd gathered on the beach. It was a privilege for this family of three to meet a musician whose iron lungs and compassion make his wind instrument come to life.

On top of the world

Acadia National Park would be the highlight of my stay. I wanted to hike at least one trail and tour the top of Cadillac Mountain. Anthony acted as our tour guide. He is like having GPS in the back seat.

There was a poignant reason why I wanted to visit the summit again. I was a 12-year-old when my dad, who is facing a losing battle with Alzheimer's, took the family to Acadia on a short summer vacation. My sisters don't remember a thick fog that spoiled our view at the top. This visit would become a quiet tribute to my father, who no longer knows me, as well as a second chance to appreciate the National Park systems with my family.

A brief history

Sprawling Acadia (49,600 acres) occupies most of the land on Mount Desert Island, and Cadillac Mountain towers above the tress

For active people who like to travel by bike, there are 45 miles of trails. Visitors who travel on foot can hike up to 110 miles of trails. There are also miles of paved roads and visitors can kayak many pristine lakes.

The wealthy made the area a tourist destination during the turn of the 20th Century. The Rockefellers, Astors and Vanderbilts all built summer getaways, but grew concerned that the area was being overdeveloped. The rich and famous were instrumental in making Acadia a national park, thanks to President Wilson in 1916.

Cadillac Mountain was certainly the highlight our visit, but there was also Thunder Hole to see and an opportunity to hike a trail at a national park. Cadillac's highest point is 1,528 feet and offers majestic views of Mount Desert and its smaller islands that dot the landscape. Peeking over the edge at the summit can be dizzying for visitors like my wife who have a healthy fear of heights.

The greatest natural show on earth

We stopped at a visitors' information center to pay for our $20 ticket to witness Acadia's numerous wonders. The ticket is good for seven days, and I feel the price is a real bargain. The park's caretakers — rangers — showed us where to go and what to do on a map.

We entered the park and Anthony guided us along a path that leads to a man-made bluff that located in the shadow of Cadillac. We took dozens of photos and noticed a posh home that commands an incredible view of the ocean.

It was time to visit Sand Beach where the water temperature was a leg-numbing 56 degrees. We found a spot in the stifling heat. Towering walls of ancient stone surrounded the pristine beach. Despite frigid water, Anthony took a dip, which was an eye-opening experience for my intrepid son.

I didn't want to broil in the hot sun so I looked for a shady trail to hike. The path ran parallel to the road. Climbing up the path was like trudging along on a Stairmaster, and the heat made it that much more difficult as I marched to the top. I rapidly made my way along a path that winds around behind high cliffs overlooking the beach, giving hikers awesome views of the ocean. For three miles, I snapped a handful of photos and took moments out my hike to step gingerly down paths to clearings where rocky ledges provided incredible views of the beach from about 300 feet above the water.

The shade disappeared and I decided to reappear on the beach and soak my sweaty head in frigid ocean water. My family had enough of the hot sun and we took refuge in an air-conditioned car and headed toward Cadillac. The six-mile drive to the top of Cadillac put my driving skills to the test, but if you fail to negotiate the numerous hairpin turns on the way up or down, you will end up like "Tounces the Driving Cat" and will plummet off the side of the mountain. 

I thought my wife was about to bail out at 1,000 feet and without parachute.

We found a parking spot and left the comfort our air-conditioned car and began walking around the top in searing heat. 

I suddenly felt like I was on top of the world when I looked down for the first time. My wife decided to remain in the middle of the summit while Anthony and I wandered from one location to another to get a panoramic view. Cadillac offered a variety of views and a visitor can see for miles. What I found interesting was the many small islands that dot the shoreline. I also noticed my hearing was muffled because our altitude. By the time we returned to the base of the mountain, our ears popped a couple times after we swallowed.

Terri was having an anxiety attack on the way down, but I was thinking about my dad and a dwindling memory of our family trip nearly four decades ago. I was also grateful I got a chance to revisit the mountain with my family.

My dad no longer remembers me, but a mountain in Maine will never let me forget him or our trip to the top on a hot summer day.

Never speak ill of the dead, and a stroll through the Western Promenade

“Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended from immigrants and revolutionists.” 

― Franklin D. Roosevelt

A view from above of Hadlock Field and the city of Portland. 

A tour of majestic homes that surround the Western Prom. 

 

Above-ground crypts and tombstones of American veterans.

This where it all started for my son — Maine Medical Center. 

PORTLAND — Anyone with a fat wallet can travel around the globe to visit historic landmarks that fill the pages of history books, but if you look hard enough, there are hidden relics that determined the fate of a young nation right in your own backyard. 

When you talk about recorded history, spend an hour or two at a cemetery in your neighborhood — or seek out unkept graveyards sitting off dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. We don't find cemeteries creepy, and we don't' wander rows of 100-year-old tombstones seeking out lost souls who might haunt these final stops of the dead. I have no interest in the macabre, but all those old headstones reveal tiny pieces of history about people who helped shape this nation. I remain a firm skeptic of the paranormal.

If we come upon a cemetery and have the time, we get out our camera and visit those who have gone before us. We make it a point to visit Old Burying Point Cemetery in Salem, Mass., on Halloween, and reading the headstones never gets old for this family. We have visited Anderson Cemetery in Windham, Maine, my wife's hometown. There is a long gravel road that runs for about a quarter of mile before you find it. An unmarked Indian burial ground is nearby. Anderson features veterans from the American Revolution and an above-ground crypt built into the side of mound that might give you a chill up your spine.

After visiting a classmate of Anthony's at Maine Medical Center, we decided to walk the Western Promenade. Anthony entered this life 17 years ago at Maine Med., and here we were again. I look at the hospital and can't believe it has been 17 years since my precious son dropped in on us. We are pretty lucky, and Anthony reminds his mom and dad of our good fortune every day.

It was about a three-mile walk around promenade, and it was there we stumbled upon Western Cemetery. My wife and son thought it was creepy. I found it restful, serene and beautiful. It's in the heart of Portland and the perfect place to rest for all eternity.

This nearly 200-year-old graveyard is surrounded by grand houses that cost a fortune. You would have to own your own bank to build these stately homes and  maintain their well-kept gardens in today's market. The brick inlays, massive porches, and cupolas always makes me wonder who lives in such luxury.

Before we walked through those quiet, affluent neighborhoods, we strolled along the promenade's long paths and enjoyed wide-open views of Portland and Hadlock Field — home to the Portland Sea Dogs. We gazed up at a statue of Thomas Brackett Reed — statesman, Civil War veteran and a former Maine Attorney General.

Down the road was Western Cemetery, which is surrounded by rod-iron gates. There was nobody there as we walked among the dead against a threatening, gray sky. There are worn-out headstones and above-ground crypts that are slowly being reclaimed by the ravenous earth. Some of the tombstones marked the graves of War of 1812 veterans like William Pollies Jr., an ensign, Richard Hunnewell, Joseph Glazier, and Charles Taylor, who was a member of the Fifth Maine, which saw action in the Civil War.

All this history and greenery was right in the heart of Portland, and all we did was take a long winding path through a park to discover it all.

Turning 16, a visit to Boothbay, and few odds and ends

BOOTHBAY, Maine — My son, an avid map reader who has no use for GPS, called the shots from the back seat of our Ford Escape and kept his old man from driving his rig into the Atlantic Ocean.

Boothbay Harbor is connected by a hub of winding, snug roads that surround cozy coves, which offer panoramic views of the ocean. It is a great destination to visit if you want to leave the real world behind for a day or two. 

Sure, the specialty shops are special, and yes, we bought shirts with Boothbay plastered on them and a magnet to join the rest of our rag-tag collection on the refrigerator, but the area's beauty and sweet-smelling sea breezes rejuvenate the soul.

The big draw for us was a book store and a coffee cafe located in the center of town. We don't own E-readers. We enlighten ourselves the old fashion way by reading books. Anthony found the section about Maine's coast and purchased "Storms and Shipwrecks of New England." His passion for ships and New England's coastline began long ago and continues to this day. Our passion for coffee, especially dark roast, never wanes.

I was fortunate to be at the helm with a capable co-pilot, Terri, and our young navigator as I maneuvered our wagon through those charming, narrow streets. My son has been reading maps ever since he opened a book, and he doesn't depend on a computer to find his way in the world.

Anthony turns 16 on Sunday. That's a big deal for all of us who love him. 

That's why heading to Boothbay to celebrate his birthday was a treat for all of us.

At this point in his life, he is right on target to make something of himself in this upside-down world. He has made it easy for us — so far — and I am proud of him for being a great student and a kind and caring human being.

And we are lucky he still wants to hang around with his parents on long trips. But we do make a good team on those endless drives to somewhere.

After trudging through downtown and weaving in and out of stores, we had enough and wanted to see those out-of-the way places where the crowds don't go.

We took a breather at the Flagship Inn's pool to unwind from our journey before Anthony, guide and adventurer, got a hold of a map and planned our itinerary.

Of course, hunger was at the top of our to-do list. Restaurants are expensive, but I had a hankering for fresh haddock. Anthony called out directions as I kept my eyes on these narrow avenues. We arrived at Robinson's Wharf - a seafood restaurant, pub and a fish market all rolled into one location. It is a spacious eatery that offers indoor and outdoor seating, and of course, fresh fish. The huge widows offer a spectacular view of an inlet. We chose to sit inside after noticing a huge thunderstorm was about to batter the tiny cove. Nature's fireworks outside the big picture windows provided the entertainment to go along with our small talk at the dinner table.

We all had haddock sandwiches and tasty fries before heading for another destination - Bartlett Park on the other side of Boothbay. It is another one of Boothbay's many gems that is next to, you guessed it, another cove. The park is a spacious sanctuary that provides visitors with breathtaking views of the ocean. It is quiet, clean and great place to read a book.

I wanted to pitch a tent, put up a hammock and become a squatter for life

But we had to return to Auburn because I don't own a bank (license to steal). But there was another reason to return home - Anthony's birthday.

Terri and I can't believe this 6-foot-1 monster, who consumes gallons of milk each week and has the undying gratitude of dairy farmers across New England, is about to celebrate his 16th birthday.

Just another milestone for a son who, like all teens, is a work in progress.

But aren't we all at any age?

Going to the Dogs

PORTLAND, Maine -- Actor Humphrey Bogart once said that: "A hot dog at the ball park tastes better than a steak at the Ritz."

There's a lot of truth in Bogie's homespun philosophy. No matter if you are attending a game at Fenway Park or Hadlock Field, hot dogs are a sumptuous treat behind home plate.

Last Saturday, the Sea Dogs, Maine's finest, pulled out a 4-3 victory against the Trenton Thunder. 

My wife celebrated with a hot dog. Anthony chose pizza. My, my, my, how times have changed. Pizza at a ball park!

What would Bogie say?

No secret to his success

Anthony made honors, copped the freshmen Citizen's Award at Edward Little and passed his Outdoor Emergency Care course to inch closer to becoming a member of the Ski Patrol Team at Lost Valley in Auburn.

All I can do now is just stay out of his way as he moves through this world with courage, grace and humility.

Another friend leaves us

Quentin Curtis was a gentle and thoughtful neighbor who took a sincere interest in our son. Seven years ago, we lived on Coburn Street when Quentin introduced himself. He served his country, and like many military men, he joined the U.S. Post Office after his stint in the service.

He loved the game of baseball and often visited the Red Sox during spring training. I still have a signed autographed picture from Bob Feller. The late, great pitcher addressed a photo depicting Babe Ruth holding Feller's bat to my son. 

Mr. Curtis was always looking out for my boy, and to this day the guitar given to my son by Quentin sits in our picture room and a toddler's chair is still in our cellar.

Two treasured possessions I will never give up. They will always remind me of a kind man who had it right when it comes to being a genuine human being.

Burn factor

We were heading home through Lewiston when I thought I saw a dark storm cloud off in the distance. But it proved to be thick smoke billowing from a fire ravaging a huge apartment building located in the Little Canada section of Lewiston.

We took a few detours to get home, but I couldn't help think about the unfortunate souls who lost everything in the fire.

It also reminded me of just how lucky I am.

B

Last full measure of devotion

Several flags flap in the breeze at Veterans Memorial Park in Lewiston.

A day at the beach

Terri crosses

 another bridge with son, Anthony, in Brunswick.

Beachgoers take cover from the hot at Old Orchard Beach.

OLD ORCHARD, Maine - It wasn't the warm water, beautiful women, comfort food or the scorching sun that made Monday's family outing at a crowded Old Orchard Beach on July 4 so spectacular.

What made this such a banner day for the Blasis, besides celebrating the nation's birthday with thousands of tanned beachgoers, was watching my courageous wife swim again.

Anthony knows how to keep his cool at OOB.

It was worth the 20-minute drive around side streets and a fusillade of obscenities to find a vacant parking spot to avoid paying $20 to leave the car with the local shyster. I can't justify parting with 20 bucks when a quarter-of-a-mile walk from the car to the beach works for my pocketbook. I can cope with huge crowds, long lines and put up with messy public restrooms, but handing over $20 because I don't want to walk a few blocks is insanity.

While other men might have been checking out other women, I couldn't keep my eyes off my wife as she tackled wave after wave. 

Just seeing Terri swim without pain or fear was a damn miracle. 

Beachgoers avoid the heat and stay in the water at OOB.

Last year, my wife was recovering from six hours of life-saving back surgery - with no guarantees. The risks were high and we were still dealing with the death of my mother and the slow onset of my father's Alzheimer's disease.

For nearly four months before her surgery, Terri needed a cane or a walker to limp through the day. She missed six months of work. Her pain was endless as her failing back made it impossible for her to enjoy life. This is a woman who walks, swims, hikes and lifts weights. She is a ball of fire, but she was about to burn up as her conditioned worsened.

Eleven days after my mother's death and on her birthday - she would have been 74 on April 19, 2010 - Terri under went nearly six hours of back surgery for a disk that was about to sever her spinal cord in her neck. But there was more to this complicated procedure. Doctors also had to correct spinal stenosis in her lower back.

According to the Mayo Clinic's Web site: "Spinal stenosis is a narrowing of one or more areas in your spine — most often in your neck or lower back. This narrowing can put pressure on the spinal cord or spinal nerves at the level of compression."

Terri was terrified and my son and I were apprehensive about the entire operation.

We were fortunate to find a gifted neurosurgeon - Dr. Guillermo J. Candia, who works at Central Maine Medical Center in Lewiston. He is a dedicated doctor who is forthright and doesn't take the long way around the barn when explaining the pluses and minuses of any operation.

Anyone who has endured the high anxiety of sitting in the waiting room when a loved one is under the knife knows that hours seem like days. And when you see a nurse racing the down the hallway with a crash cart, you leap to your feet and pray it is not your wife who needs a jump start to keep her from leaving this world.

Well, the operation was a success and Terri survived thanks to the capable hands of Dr. Candia, who gave us back our lives and Terri's health. 

Back on the beach

The sweltering heat brought huge crowds at Old Orchard Beach. The traffic was mind-numbing, but the water was warm and clear and bright sun lit up this pristine beach and all its beautiful people.

Terri couldn't stand sitting in the hot sun and headed for the water despite a strong undertow and huge waves.

She wasted little time diving into the strong waves and came up smiling each time she surfaced. She handled OOB's powerful surf with ease, and that was a milestone for her.

A year ago she was using my late mother's walker to inch around the block, but on July 4, 2011, Terri Blasi didn't miss a step or a stroke when she splashed down at OOB and made her own waves.