Greetings from Acadia National Park

On a five week trek to visit northeastern national parks, my husband Bob and I drove to the summit of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park on August 18th of this year. We climbed down and then up a trail of two miles round trip on a rocky convoluted path that was still easier to mount than Stone Mountain in Georgia.
From a distance, we photographed the Atlantic Ocean and mounds of land that looked like whales. There was a haze over the horizon. Tourists with kids perched on the edge of cliffs.  Dogs strained their leashes. People who live near mountains don't fear them the same as flatlanders like me.
The mountain was  formed by cooled molten lava softened by the erosion of glaciers. The granite is pink. The park was packed with tourists like everywhere in Bar Harbor. I read that people are fleeing to Maine to escape outbreaks of Covid in other cities. 
We climbed South Bubble, saw the bubble rock, took pictures at Precipice Trailhead, went to Sand Beach- a shell-based enclave of the Atlantic Ocean surrounded by mountains-and went to Thunder Hole where 40 foot sprays were supposed to dash against the rocks. Nothing of the sort happened even though we got there at high tide. Instead, the place was crawling with tourists from all over the world. In fact, the entire park was full, and parking even on the side of the mountain was hard to find. 
 Bob's cousin sent him a picture on Facebook of him and his late mom, Clara, at Acadia 60 years ago. The park is part of his history, and he, and all who visit, become a part of Acadia's. 

Sincerely,
Elizabeth