A Summer Sojourn in Bar Harbor, Maine

 

Agamont Park view

Lately, I’ve been on a rampage, chronicling our crippled democracy by profiling a book I read. I figure maybe we could all use a break.

During the week of July 4, my wife and I visited Bar Harbor, Maine, and we had a wonderful time. So, for this post I’m shifting to a sunnier clime (no politics, no presidential lies) and documenting our trip.

lobster

Bar Harbor is a town on Mount Desert Island off the rocky coast of Maine, U.S.A. (Some New Englanders do strange things pronouncing the letter ‘R’, so locals pronounce this town’s name “Bah Hah-bah.”) There are many attractions in Bar Harbor, but the most popular are lobster (“lob-stah”); blueberries; ice cream; cooler temperatures; friendly people; whale watching; sea kayaking, hiking in Acadia National Park, and seeing the sun rise from Cadillac Mountain.

Champlain Mountain

View from atop Champlain Mountain, Acadia National Park

Lynn and I stayed at a bed-and-breakfast called The Yellow House, owned by a retired couple, Pat and Chris. The house has been around since the 19th century. Pat and Chris were warm hosts, as was Cecilia, a retired expat Brit who popped in occasionally to check in guests, and who was a wealth of information, especially concerning hiking.

The Yellow House

The Yellow House B&B

Bar Harbor is touristy, but I would not call it a tourist “trap.” It is a year-round home for a lot of folks, so it’s a clean, tasteful burg, with no fast food chains (I saw one modest Subway sign), no go-cart tracks, no dinosaur parks, etc. However, it does have lots of knick-knack stores and ice cream parlors, and the lines to get in the latter can get long.

Downtown Bar Harbor 2

Downtown Bar Harbor

I brought my Vasque boots and managed to squeeze in one full-day and one half-day of hiking in nearby Acadia National Park, America’s easternmost park. The Precipice Trail and Beehive Trail are the steepest and most treacherous trails here (people have died falling from the heights), and I briefly mulled over hiking one or the other. But Precipice was closed due to peregrine falcon nesting, and my acrophobia convinced me to steer clear of Beehive.

Parkman Mountain 2

The author on Parkman Mountain. Do I look 60? Does a lobster have claws?

I eventually bagged six of Acadia’s 26 peaks, my favorite of which was Champlain Mountain, which offered gorgeous views of the Atlantic Ocean and numerous coastal islands. I debated hiking Cadillac, the tallest peak in Acadia, but was told there would be lots of people, pavement, and exhaust smoke. So I said “Forget it.”

The Fourth of July—America’s “Independence Day”—is also my birthday, and I turned a whopping 60 years! While the vacation was my birthday present, Lynn surprised me with a few smaller gifts: an Aussie-style hiking hat, some Sketcher shoes, and a cool pastel-green shirt. We spent the day enjoying the holiday parade downtown, where we shared a bench and watched the floats with a friendly local couple; then visited the Seafood Festival and observed a lobster race.

Fourth of July Parade

Holiday parade float. This year’s theme was “Peace, Love, and the Fourth of July”

Fourth of July evening we took in the fireworks display at the harbor. It’s supposedly one of the best in the country, and it didn’t disappoint. There were also two very good bands that warmed things up, one a sort of bluegrassy Americana band called the Blake Rosso Band, the other a rockabilly act.

Blake something concert

Blake Rosso Band before the fireworks

Along with music, eating is one of my favorite things, and although I’m no gourmand, Bar Harbor has to have one of the best concentrations of quality restaurants in the country. Side Street Café is lauded for its lobster rolls, so we ate there one night. Whoah. Gi-normous chunks of fresh lobster meat! (Did I just say “gi-normous”? I apologize.) The craft beer here was good, too.

Lobster race

Seafood Festival lobster race. Lobster #3 took top honors

I also ate a whole lobster at West Street Café (great food and service, but sterile atmosphere); another lobster roll at Terrace Grille, on the water (less hefty and more highbrow than Side Street, but very tasty); and Lynn and I both had some scrumptious sustainable local fare at Peekytoe Provisions, where I sampled an IPA from local Atlantic Brewing Company (it was ok, but I should’ve ordered Samuel Adams, especially considering it was July 4). On our last night we ate at Galyn’s and it might have been our best meal, accompanied by a view of Agamont Park and the harbor beyond from our second-floor window seat. I had seafood linguini, and Lynn had… well, I forget. Probably crabcakes.

Seafood Festival

Lobster #3’s prize was to get boiled alive

We only had one overcast day, a good opportunity to “go mobile.” So we drove down to the fishing hamlet of Northeast Harbor and visited Great Harbor Maritime Museum. Not much here, mainly a lot of sketches done by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s nephew, who lived here at one time. But the proprietor was very nice and promised to check out my book Bluejackets in the Blubber Room. (Sorry, shameless plug.)

Town brass band

The Bar Harbor Town Band entertained at the gazebo one night

Before heading home, we visited Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse. Since it was sprinkling, Lynn was a poopy-pants and stayed in the car. But I got out to visit, and learned that lighthouses have distinct colors and manners of blinking, so that mariners know exactly where they are at night (Bass Harbor uses an “occulting” red light). Also, Coast Guard families live year-round in these lighthouses. I would think this would be a bit stifling, and weird, especially with tourists milling around outside. I guess these families do a lot of book reading and Scrabble playing.

Bass Harbor Lighthouse

Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse. Somewhere inside a family is playing Scrabble

Anyway, it was a memorable vacation and 60th birthday. If you visit Bar Harbor (and you’ll assuredly visit in spring, summer, or fall), here are some tips:

  • Be prepared for varying weather. We had two evenings that were chilly enough for jackets, but daytime was extremely hot
  • Bring good walking shoes, because you’ll be tramping everywhere, on both pavement and trail
  • Bring lots of greenbacks, since prices here are, not surprisingly, very high
  • Bring your smile. Tourists arrive from all over, including other countries (many French-Canadians). Everyone here is friendly, even the harried shuttle and bus drivers.
  • Lastly, abstain from eating seafood for at least a month prior. You’ll want to stuff yourself in Bar Harbor.

I’ll close with the observation that Bah Hah-bah is “wicked” cool, and if you can avoid TV, radio, newspapers, and internet during your stay (like we did) it’s even cooler!

Sand Beach from Champlain Mtn

Distant Sand Beach and Atlantic Ocean from Champlain South Ridge Trail, Acadia National Park

A Wrong Turn: The Haunting Disappearance of Inchworm

Trail leading to Winding Stair Gap2

On Monday morning, July 22, 2013, a woman named Geraldine Largay vanished while hiking the Appalachian Trail in southern Maine.

To this day, the details of her disappearance are a mystery.

Largay, whose trail nickname was “Inchworm” due to her slow hiking pace, was an intrepid 66-year-old grandmother from Tennessee.  She was also a veteran backpacker. She and a friend had started their hike at the AT halfway point at Harpers Ferry, WV.  But her friend had a family issue arise and had to bow out in New Hampshire.  She tried to talk Gerry into also quitting, but Largay insisted on continuing solo to the endpoint of Mt. Katahdin in eastern Maine. Her husband had driven their car and was periodically rendezvousing with her at road crossings.

The Maine section of the AT is known for having long stretches of isolated, rugged, and densely forested country.Print

On the night of July 22, Largay shared a lean-to just east of Saddleback Mountain with five other hikers. The following morning, one of them took her photograph. The photo shows a lean, muscular woman with a beaming smile almost as big as her backpack.

Largay was to meet her husband at a road crossing the next day. She was looking forward to a hearty meal and a soft bed. But she never arrived.

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After George Largay reported his wife missing late on July 24, the story spread like a brush fire. Hundreds of volunteers and search and rescue workers fanned out to search for her. The Largay family posted a large reward. But for over two years, there was no trace of Inchworm. Authorities were baffled. Although they publicly denied foul play, this was only because they had no tangible evidence. It was as if Largay had been swallowed by the earth.

Then, on October 14, 2015, an environmental impact researcher found human remains inside a tent in a thicket of woods near an overgrown logging road. The site was only a half mile from the AT. It was a hundred yards inside a restricted area of forest owned by the U.S. Navy. The navy uses this area for P.O.W. simulation training (and, according to the alternative Maine publication The Bollard, some of this training involves torture).

navy sign

(photo courtesy Hutch Brown and “The Bollard”)

Medical analysts eventually confirmed that… yes… the remains were that of Inchworm. Police say there was no evidence of crime. (But after two years in the forest, how much evidence would there be?) Her death was officially ruled as “inanition.” It’s a rarely used term that means “a state of being empty.” Empty of food… or, perhaps, empty of will.

How could a woman totally disappear for over two years despite the largest manhunt in Maine history??

I ask this question because it makes no sense why Maine authorities could not rescue her in time, and her family should have to suffer so long without knowing anything. Their grief at her disappearance was bad enough without having a huge question mark hovering over it.

But I guess I’m also asking for selfish reasons. One is, I hate to admit it, morbid curiosity. But the other is that I plan to soon hike the White Mountains in New Hampshire, very close to where Inchworm disappeared. If (heaven forbid) something happens to me, I would want my family to immediately know the whys and the wherefores.   One of the appeals of solo hiking in the mountains is the challenge. Although not considered an “extreme” sport, there is an element of danger. But at the same time, I don’t want my family being interviewed by “Inside Edition.”

________________

Gerry Largay disappeared on a sunny day only three miles from the lean-to where she was last seen. The Maine Warden Service now believes she descended Poplar Ridge, crossed Orbeton Stream, then strayed from the main trail on either an old railroad road or logging path.

The AT guide that I own calls either the railroad road or logging path a “Woods road.”  It’s at the 1982.3 mile mark (northbound) on the AT.  The guide also has an instruction to follow this road a short distance east.  It’s not uncommon for the trail to coincide with a road like this.  But the Woods road soon veers north.  It’s possible Inchworm wasn’t paying attention, missed the sign to continue east on the AT, and followed the Woods road north a great distance.  Then when she realized there were no white blazes painted on the trees, instead of backtracking she panicked and headed into the brush in hopes of a shortcut.  When a person does this in the unforgiving Maine woods, unless he or she is proficient with a compass, well…

The following day, Tuesday, July 23, it poured rain all day.

railroad road

Old railroad road that Inchworm may have mistakenly taken (photo courtesy Hutch Brown and “The Bollard”)

If it’s true Gerry got lost, God knows the terrors she experienced while awaiting the end. She undoubtedly heard the helicopters whirring overhead. Maybe she also heard distant bloodhounds. Hopefully her final hours were peaceful.

But there are many gnawing unknowns. The Appalachian Trail is well-marked, and Inchworm was an experienced hiker, having trod the southern half of the AT and most of the northern half.  If she chose the wrong trail at some point, why didn’t she backtrack?  Didn’t she have a GPS, or compass and map to use once she got lost? Why did she pitch her tent in such a thick, inaccessible patch of forest? Didn’t she have enough food and water to last for at least several days, more than enough time to relocate the main trail? Didn’t she have dry matches to create a smoke fire? Was she able to write a last message?

Another mystery: at the beginning of the investigation, police reported a strange phone call to the Stratton Motel, where George Largay was staying. The receptionist claimed an unidentified person called saying that Gerry was delayed and would be arriving late. This call came on Wednesday, when only her husband knew she was missing.

map

And there was a police report of a man leaving threatening messages in AT shelter logbooks in Wyman Township, directly adjacent to where Largay disappeared. The police report was dated July 6… only twelve days before Largay went missing.

But most annoying is why the Maine Warden Service was unable to locate her in time. Largay’s remains were only thirty yards from the logging path. It beggars the imagination why search parties weren’t instructed to flare out from this path.

Mysteries have intrigued us for centuries. But some mysteries are more unsettling than others. Such is the case with Inchworm’s disappearance.  From all accounts, she was a wonderful person.  What happened makes no sense.

NOTE: Since this essay was originally published, several extracts from a journal kept by Inchworm were made public.  It appears she stepped off the AT to relieve herself somewhere east of the Woods road, then was unable to relocate the trail, became lost and plunged further into the thick woods, then eventually set up her final camp, where she died.

largay_site

Location of Gerry Largay’s final campsite. The white cross was placed by her family (photo courtesy Hutch Brown and “The Bollard”)