Sometime back in 2016 I took a vacation up to Acadia National Park. Camped just outside of the park and then drove in each day to do a little hiking and a little sightseeing. I was coming off of a fairly invasive knee surgery that involved cleaning up a laterally torn meniscus and a cyst removal so much of my hiking was dictated by just how much that hurt on any given day.
What I learned is that Maine is an incredible natural wonder and I understand why so many people have cabins on the coast to escape to in the summer months. The cool air that blows off the North Atlantic in June is just the right temperature that makes you want to pull on a sweatshirt and curl up by a fire.
The mountains are gorgeous, the sea is wild, and the forest is alive. There are times you’re walking when you don’t hear or see a single modern thing and you realise the true age of this land we’re on. It’s something you don’t get in Boston at all.
I haven’t been back since but one day I’ll get there, when I can do the beehive hike. It taunted me from where I was grounded on the beach but it’s a goal I have in mind nonetheless.