Bar Harbor never celebrates the Fourth of July on a Sunday, so today, Saturday, was their Fourth.
We needed to get going a little earlier than usual for a couple of reasons: the Rotary Club would quit serving blueberry pancakes at the park this morning at 11am, and if we had any hope of getting a parking spot in town to see their parade, which starts at 10am, we’d better leave by 8am.
And so, shortly after 8am we left to go into Bar Harbor, eight miles away; we left the dogs in the trailer.
We left at just the right time, because we got a great parking spot right across the street from the park and only 100 yards from the beginning of the big parade.
Marianne’s eyes lit up when we got there since the park was also host to a little craft fair featuring the talents of local artisans. But before we could see the crafts, I just had to eat some pancakes.
The line into the tent where the Rotarians were making the pancakes on ten different hot griddles wasn’t too bad, and after only about five minutes we were paying our $8 per person to eat all the pancakes and sausage we wanted. They were serving both plain and blueberry pancakes, but it seemed that the overwhelming majority of the folks wanted those fresh blueberry pancakes. They also offered real maple syrup for an additional $2, but I hoped to find some sugar-free syrup, and when none was to be had, settled for the imitation maple syrup.
On the first go-around we were given two blueberry pancakes and two sausages each, from there we walked 15 paces over to the large dining tent, and scanned the area for a place to sit down and eat. After stealing a chair from another table, we were able to sit together at a table with two other couples.
Since they were done eating shortly after we sat down, we didn’t get to say anything to them except, pass the syrup. They were replaced by a young couple with three young daughters four, two, and two months, all of whom looked cute and amazingly identical. They were from Wisconsin and every year for the Fourth of July, another one of his siblings picks a place where they all meet to celebrate. In the past they usually end up at each other’s homes in Texas, California, or Wisconsin, but this year they did something different and all rented a house in Bar Harbor. What a great idea!
For the joy of everyone, a lady dressed up in a lobster suit came by our table, and the kids got to have their picture taken with this pseudo-crustacean. Marianne wasn’t quick enough to get in on the act, but caught Ms. Lobster later outside of the tent for a personal portrait session.
Of course I went back for seconds, since I wanted to get my $8 worth of pancakes, and this time around a Rotarian loaded me up with three huge blueberry pancakes, and I got some more sausage for Marianne.
After breakfast we headed over to see the crafts. There were only about 20 different exhibitors, ranging from jewelry and photography, to dog collars and dolls. Marianne looked at just about every item on display. As you can well imagine, this takes a bit of time, and with only 15 minutes to go, I hustled her off to the truck to get our backback/portable seats so we could watch the parade sitting down in comfort.We sat ourselves down at the corner where this part of the parade started. Vehicles were lined up on the two cross streets, plus the street opposite of the parade route. People were quickly filling up all available spots to view the forthcoming spectacle. As we sat there waiting for the festivities to begin, an elderly lady positioned herself behind us and commented that she’d been coming to the parades here for over 60 years!
I took that as a pretty good endorsement.
Marianne asked her if she had lived here that long, she had, but now spends her winters in Florida. Bar Harbor is no place for wimps in the winter.
The parade finally started about 15 minutes late, par for the course, and just as the natives were getting restless.
After a bit, I noticed that there were no high school marching bands. There was what appeared to be a high school band, but they were riding on the flatbed of a truck, which if you’re any judge of things, you’ll realize that this would indicate it wasn’t a very big band. There was one marching band, a group of Scottish bagpipe players in full dress uniform (and I do stress dress).
As with most small town parades, this one featured its fair share of businesses marching, strange groups tagging along out of step, and automobiles, from an area Corvette club to a few antiques. Our favorite was probably the Shriners, who drove their go-karts up and over a truck with ramps as it was driving down the parade route. We’d never seen anything like it. There were more Shriners in the parade than any other group, not only were there about 8 go-karts, but another half-dozen or so were driving miniature 4x4’s, others on miniature semi-trucks, and still others on miniature boats on wheels. Hey noble!
When we thought the parade was over, we and the thousand or so other people started milling about, heading into the stores, or like us, back to the craft fair, since Marianne still had a few things she needed to touch. Unfortunately the parade wasn’t over, there were still groups trying to go down the now totally blocked parade route. This thing needs a bunch more organization. Maybe that old lady could set them straight or maybe a few of the Shriners.
Back at the craft fair everything was inspected once again, and still not buying anything, we headed back to the campsite through Bar Harbor’s the narrow streets. This turned into a full-fledged traffic jam in this little burg, and it took us about 45 minutes to get back.
We then took the dogs to a part of the campground where they could run free, away from all the other campers. They had a great time chasing each other, and we came upon a huge patch of wild blueberries. We stooped over and picked enough for two meals, with the dogs wondering what we thought was so great about these little things.
Later on we took our bicycles and rode them out of the campground and across the street to a miniature golf site. For $8.50 per person we had our choice of two different courses in this pirate themed attraction, the easy or the hard. We picked the easy one.
This is the kind of golf I like, other than one very tricky hole, I shot par or better on all of the holes. I think I could become a professional putt putt golf player if they had such a tour. Think about it, you only need one club, you don’t need a cart, the courses are in the best tourist traps in the country, you can play 18 holes in about 30 minutes, you don’t have to worry about losing a ball, and even at $8.50 a round it’s much cheaper than the three hour version. Instead of the PGA, it would be the PPPGA, The Professional Putt Putt Golf Association.
That evening I headed back over to the Canadians next door and their campfire, while Marianne stayed inside, reading and emailing.
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