A Note From Rachel

I planned the perfect Maine vacation. Then I stopped following the plan.

I have a confession to make: I am very good at planning other people’s vacations. I know when you should make the dinner reservation, which boat you should book before it sells out, where to stop along the way and what time you should leave for Acadia. It’s quite literally part of my job.

So when my husband and I headed Downeast to celebrate our 20th anniversary, naturally, I had plans. Lots of them. There were hikes I wanted to take, restaurants I wanted to try, places I wanted to explore. I had done my research. I had an itinerary. I was ready.

And then we arrived at Capstone Cottage.

The cottage sits right on the water in Prospect Harbor, and within a few hours, my carefully constructed itinerary began to lose its grip.

There were herons to watch. Osprey overhead. Seals just offshore. Eagles that seemed to appear every time we looked up. And a beach that, for reasons I still can’t explain, apparently needed to be walked at least four times a day.

My coworkers weren’t helping matters. They had decided it was time for me to experience my own concierge service and stocked the refrigerator before we arrived. Breakfast was there. Snacks. Wine. All the little things you normally remember you need about ten minutes after you’ve unloaded the car.

We didn’t even have to go to the grocery store. Well played, team.

And slowly, almost without realizing it, we stopped trying quite so hard to have a great vacation.

We still went places. We found a couple of short hikes in Acadia that were absolutely magical. We dug through antiques and old books at the Big Chicken Barn. We ate pizza and drank beer at Musquito Harbor Brewing. We had wings at The Pickled Wrinkle and a proper Maine breakfast at The Black Sheep.

But we also stayed. We drank coffee by the water. We walked the same beach we’d walked the day before. We watched whatever happened to be flying, swimming or floating past us.

One afternoon, we had dinner plans.

Then it started raining. We looked at the water. And went swimming instead. Dinner could wait.

Somewhere in there, I realized how often we treat vacation like something we’re supposed to be good at. See enough. Eat at the right places. Get the photo. Make the reservation. Don’t miss anything. And yet some of the moments I remember most from this trip are the ones when we weren’t accomplishing a single thing. Maybe that’s the art of doing less.

Not doing nothing. Just leaving enough room for something you didn’t plan.

Warmly,
Rachel

Slow Down & Stay Awhile

A few things actually worth getting off the porch for

Here’s the funny part: once we stopped trying to do everything, the things we did do became that much better.

Anvil Trail

Anvil Trail isn’t particularly long, but don’t let that fool you. It gets rocky and steep as it climbs the southeastern side of Schoodic Head, winding through ash, birch and spruce before opening onto those big granite views that make you stop talking for a minute.

The first reward is the Anvil, a rocky knob with incredible views out over the peninsula. Keep going and you’ll eventually reach the 440-foot summit of Schoodic Head. This was exactly my kind of hike on this trip.

Enough of a climb to feel like we’d done something. Enough of a view to make it completely worth it. And not an all-day undertaking that required military-level planning and six energy bars.

We climbed. We stopped. We looked around. And then we headed back toward Prospect Harbor.

Turns out, you don’t have to go very far to feel like you’ve gone somewhere.

Buck Cove Mountain Trail

Buck Cove was a different kind of adventure. At just over three miles, it’s the longest trail in the Schoodic network, beginning near Schoodic Woods and winding through forest and patches of highbush blueberries before climbing Buck Cove Mountain and eventually making its way toward the summit of Schoodic Head.

There’s more climbing here. More time in the woods. More of that lovely feeling that you’ve actually disappeared somewhere for a while. The trail skirts Birch Harbor Mountain before heading up the north side of Schoodic Head, and all that climbing eventually pays you back with beautiful views over the surrounding peninsula.

But what I loved most wasn’t just reaching the top. It was everything in between.

The woods. The blueberries. The stretches where there wasn’t really anything to see except whatever was right in front of us. No rushing toward the next overlook. No checking off another trail. Just walking.

Which, I’m beginning to think, might be the entire point.

Pull Up a Seat

Beer, wings and absolutely no dress code

There are vacations built around hard-to-get dinner reservations. This wasn’t one of them.

After being outside all day, Musquito Harbor Brewing Company was pretty much perfect: cold beer, pizza and no particular reason to hurry.

Another day brought us to The Pickled Wrinkle in Birch Harbor.

My advice here is considerably less nuanced: Get the wings.

And breakfast at The Black Sheep in Sullivan was exactly what breakfast should occasionally be — uncomplicated, local and good.

None of these meals required months of planning.

Worth the Detour

The place I thought was just our home base

Before this trip, Prospect Harbor was where we were staying while we explored Acadia. At least, that’s how I thought about it. I was wrong.

There is something about coming back to this side of the peninsula after a day of exploring. The roads empty out. The pace changes. You pass through Winter Harbor, Birch Harbor and Prospect Harbor and suddenly the place you chose because it was near everything becomes somewhere you’re genuinely happy to return to.

One afternoon we stopped at The Big Chicken Barn in Ellsworth. If you love antiques, old books, records, magazines or the possibility of finding something you didn’t know you were looking for, don’t make plans immediately afterward.

Trust me. That’s the kind of exploring I found myself wanting more of on this trip.

Less: What do we need to see?
More: What’s in there?

Concierge Corner

Turns out, I get it now.

I’ve stocked a lot of refrigerators for Tides to Pines guests. I shop. I deliver. I put everything away before they arrive. I’ve always understood why people love the service. Or at least I thought I did.

Then I walked into a vacation home and somebody had done it for me.

The luxury wasn’t the wine waiting in the refrigerator. It was not having to think. No grocery list. No stopping on the way. No unloading the car and realizing we still needed coffee for the morning.

We arrived. We opened the wine. We went down to the water. That was it.

For someone who spends a great deal of her life arranging things, having someone else quietly take care of something for me felt surprisingly wonderful.

So yes, I will probably be talking about our grocery stocking service even more now.

You’ve been warned.

Stay Awhile

The homes you may have trouble leaving

Capstone Cottage taught me something else on this trip: where you stay matters differently when you’re not treating it simply as the place you sleep between adventures. Sometimes the house is part of the adventure.

If Schoodic and Downeast Maine have been sitting somewhere on your someday list, consider this your nudge.

Just don’t make too many plans.

Until Next Time…

We went away to celebrate twenty years of marriage, and I thought we’d remember all the things we did.

Instead, I think I’ll remember the spaces between them. Swimming in the rain. Coffee by the water.

A refrigerator someone else had thoughtfully filled. Watching another eagle instead of checking the time.

Walking the same beach again simply because we wanted to.

Twenty years ago, I probably would have worried about missing the reservation.

These days, I’m getting better at knowing the difference between missing out and choosing something better.

So, from someone who plans vacations for a living:

Make the plans.
Just don’t be afraid to change them.

Gather Here. Wander Here. Belong Here.

Warmly,
Rachel