After lunch Jeff and I continued exploring along the variegated cliffs, playing as we went, and rediscovering a large sea cave, where Jeff did a little cliff diving. Soon, however, we admitted that if we were going to complete our one-way route to Bar Harbor, as planned, we would need to quit dawdling. We grudgingly let the cliffs pass by on our left, and bent our minds and muscles towards our destination. As we churned on, I enjoyed the sensations of exertion, and the silent meditation of one stroke followed by another. We passed low coves, and elaborate summer homes high on the east-facing precipices, each of us working hard to keep up with the other.
Approaching Bar Harbor, the Thrumcap, a low grassy islet favored by nesting gulls, drifted by just to our east, and we passed through the breakwater that protects Bar Harbor from the ocean's swell. Along the last half-mile of our route, the bustle of a tourist town in autumn increased on the adjacent shoreline, until finally we landed in the middle of it, on the town beach.
Our trip included all the elements that make this my favorite paddling season, and reminded me that such perfect days are numbered this time of year. But rather than bidding farewell to fall - digging out neoprene gloves, and looking for the conservative routes better-suited to winters in Maine - I left the water eager to check the calendar, and the weather, to see when I could squeeze in a little more fall paddling.