Acadia National Park

The view of the ocean from Sandy Beach in Acadia National Park (with my new iPhone Panorama)

Situated on Mount Desert Island off the cost Maine, Acadia National Park is a relatively small National Park, yet it's visited by over two-and-a-half million people annually, so it's a good idea to see it in the off-season, as we are. For most of our stay at the Somes Sound View Campground (which a fellow camper had told us about down in the Outer Banks), we were one of the few people there. So sparsely populated was the campground that we got bumped up from our $25 a night site to one right on the edge of the water that normally runs for $60. Living large on Desert Island! The views of the Sound from our campsite made it one of our favorite tent sites and made up for some of rain (and a few very chilly nights).

The view of the water from our tent

The leaves are turning above Somes Sound

Our camping chairs enjoying the view without us

We discovered the limits of our sleeping bag's insulating properties on the second night here. The temperature dipped into the 30s and Erin and I spent the night shivering and clinging to each other for warmth. The next day we made a run to the L.L. Bean outlet store nearby and a local Goodwill to stock up on flannel jammies, heavy socks and long underwear and the next night I wore: two pair of socks, longies and flannel bottoms, three t-shirts, my fleece, my hooded outer jacket, scarf, knit hat and gloves and Erin did about the same. It might sound like overkill but we both slept ten hours that night and had a huge day of sightseeing around the island the next day.

Snug as a bug in a rug

A balmy, sunny October day on Sandy Beach

Erin meditating on the granite rocks

Moi on top of Cadillac Mountain

At 1,530 feet, Cadillac Mountain is the tallest point along the entire North Atlantic seaboard and the view is stunning

More pretty rocks tumbling down into the Atlantic

And, of course, I had to have a lobster dinner. It's practically the law along the Maine coast. $18 for a 1-1/2 pound lobster. And since Erin couldn't eat lobster herself -- she's allergic -- I felt it was my duty to describe it to her in painstaking detail.

New Hampshire

Pictures . . . t's all I got time for:

Vermont

Fall colors in Middlebury, Vermont

We camped overnight in the Green Mountains National Forest our first night in Vermont. We were the only ones in the entire place (the Moosalamoo Campground), which is just a little more than half hour away from Middlebury. It's kind of eerie not seeing another soul (even a park employee) anywhere, but simply dropping our overnight fee in the box ($10 in this National Forest) and taking our pick of any one of dozens of sites. These days we've been shutting down campgrounds left and right. It seems the average (sane) person is put off by rain and near-freezing overnight temperatures. Lightweights.

Erin taking a walk through Moosalamoo before sun sets and the wolves come out

The next day we went to Burlington which, at 42 thousand people, is the largest city in Vermont. Burlington is an incredible little (and liveable) city. Situated on the shores of Lake Champlain, it's only two hours from Montreal. To me it feels kind of like Durango, Colorado meets Portland, Oregon -- surrounded by plenty of nature, great restaurants and microbreweries, terrific coffee houses and a great, funky/artsy aesthetic.

Sky monkey sculptures on a building in downtown Burlington

Erin at a restaurant in Burlington overlooking Lake Champlain

Church Street in downtown Burlington

We spent the night with our friends Steve and Laurie and their mega-cute daughters, Mira and Maeve. They live on a large wooded lot which feels like it's in the middle of absolutely nowhere, but is just a short drive from Burlington. The next day we went to the Shelburne Farms for a hike and some bonding with the farm animals.

Entering through the gates to the magnificent Shelburne Farms in the rain is kind of like approaching the Land of Oz

Steve, Laurie and the girls on top of a hill at Shelburne Farms overlooking Lake Champlain

Steve driving blind

Erin posing with the Parker-Clarks

A carved wooden xylophone

Off to New Hampshire.

Not complaining, but we've seen a lot of this kind of weather in New England

MASS MoCA

If you're ever in the Berkshires and are into contemporary art (and even if you're not), you have to visit MASS MoCA up in North Adams, Massachusetts. We did, based on Jamie and Jodi's hearty recommendation (and packing free passes -- thanks again guys) and we we're both quite blown away. I run hot and cold on contemporary (and performance) art myself, so I went with somewhat low expectations. I sometimes find a lot of contemporary art to be overly heady, indulgent and somewhat predictable, but I found much of the artwork at MASS MoCA to be refreshing and thought-provoking, sometimes delightful and playful and often poignant. MASS MoCA takes up 13 acres of abandoned factories in downtown North Adams, which affords art installations of a size that wouldn't work in most urban museums. Our greatest regret was that we had to head out after too few hours to make it up to a camping spot in Vermont. If you come, give yourself at least a full day and, preferably, two.

Here are a few pictures. Enjoy.

In posting these pictures, I'm realizing that I'm only providing the most superficial aspects of much of the artwork at MASS MoCA. Many of the pieces were multi-media installations, with film, sound and lighting aspects and, most important, interaction.

I'll close with one of my favorite performance art pieces that was taking place outside the window of one of the galleries. And so I'll close with the question: Is this art or life?

New England

The Last Leg Has Begun

An autumn sky over Lenox Dale, Massachusetts

How suddenly the tide can turn. Less than three days ago we were camping next to the beach on the Outer Banks, sunburnt and sandy, and now we have unearthed our woolen hats, gloves and fleeces from the bottom of our suitcases and donned them outside. We are officially in the north country now. The time for sandy beaches and swim suits is behind us and it's all about the leaves turning now. That's right . . . fall color! We are officially that (semi-)despised animal up here in New England: The Dreaded Leaf-Peeper. We stumble around the sidewalks, blocking the way for locals, gawking at historic white churches, picture-framed with yellow and red foliage. We buy maple syrup and drive at obnoxiously slow speeds, pointing at fields, commenting on picturesque stone outcroppings and snapping pictures out the car window.

Right now we are at Jamie and Jodi's house in Massachusetts. Jamie used to live below me at a coach house on Clifton Street in Chicago and they both moved back here to his home state 14 years ago. They have two wonderful daughters, Charlotte and Sofia, the oldest who was two years old the last time I saw her at Jamie and Jodi's house down in Hyde Park. Erin and I were originally going to stop by for only a night or two but it seems like we won't be leaving until after our fourth night (we promise to leave tomorrow, guys).

Jamie, Jodi, Erin and me on top of Monument Mountain (and their dog, Bay, to the right of Jamie)

Jodi, Erin and Jamie ponder . . .

. . . the awe-inspiring view from the top of Monument Mountain

I love natural beauty and history, so New England has always been a favorite place of mine (although I haven't been back here in over a quarter of a century). It seems like every street you drive down has a historically significant house and every town was either the site of a revolutionary scuffle or was the hometown of some great writer, poet or politician. Edith Wharton's house -- The Mount -- is down some side road a mile away, nearby Stockbridge is where Norman Rockwell lived and Monument Mountain, where we hiked the other day, was where a picnic attended by Nathaniel Hawthorne and Herman Melville gave Melville many powerful ideas for a little book he was working on at the time called "Moby-Dick" (Melville was supposedly inspired by the humped shape of the Berkshire hills which he could see from his home at Arrowhead and he later dedicated the book to Hawthorne). When I walked to the liquor store last night to get a bottle of wine, I was disappointed not to see a plaque on the building commemorating something of historical significance. And this picture below is not of an exclusive country club, but the Lenox Public Library (which -- Big Surprise! -- happens to be on the National Registry of Historic Places):

Lenox Public Library

Yesterday we went to Stockbridge to check out the Norman Rockwell Museum. Although Rockwell was never considered a serious artist, I've always had a deep appreciation for his sly and expressive illustrations. I wanted to be an illustrator myself when I was younger and I found his observational and technical skills to be staggering.

One of of my favorite Norman Rockwell paintings, "The Problem We All Live With" is at the museum

And finally, a random collection of clouds and colors:

FUN FACT: The Lenox High School sports teams are nicknamed The Millionaires. Perhaps their mascot could be Pennybags from Monopoly: