America Does It Right

Despite Hurricane Arthur roaring up the coast, Bar Harbor didn't let anything get in the way of its 4th of July celebrations. And boy, does Bar Harbor know how to do it right. 

The MDIBL float at the parade.

The day began at 6am with a blueberry pancake breakfast on the athletic fields in town, which I attended at the late hour of 7am with my German roommate, Frauke, and some of the interns from the lab. Picture all you can eat pancakes, hot off the griddle and as big as a dinner plate, on a red and white checked tablecloth. Everyone is wearing red, white, and blue, even the golden retriever has a flag bandana tied around its neck. After plowing through a stack drenched in maple syrup, Frauke and I walked across the Bar and combed through the tidal pools to kill some time before the parade at 10. People lined the streets with chairs, vying for spots in the shade, because despite the 98% chance of rain the weatherman was calling for, it was blue skies and hot sun all around. Many of the local businesses participated in the parade, decorating trailers and trucks with mermaids, seashells, and lobsters, highlighting the area's maritime heritage and American heritage simultaneously. After the last float went by, we followed the crowd back to the athletic fields for the "world's only lobster races". Betting starts at a dollar, and participants have one of six choices, each lobster sponsored and named by restaurants and shops in the community. I am proud to say Barbara Bush won the first race, the very lobster the group I was with had put their money on. 

After standing in a short line for free snocones (free!!), Frauke and I left the craziness of Bar Harbor in time to catch the Germany vs. France World Cup game, which some of the interns were watching in the Co-Op, the dining hall on campus. It was the least American thing we did all day. I left early to help George launch and moor his sailboat. After backing it down to the beach at low tide, we could do nothing but wait for the tide to rise and lift the 21' MacGregor off  her trailer, which took awhile, but it was nice to stand in the cool water in the cove since that promised rain was still holding off. An hour and some rocking back and forth later, the boat floated free of the trailer. We tied the dingy to the the bow and I rowed her out to the mooring since some dummy stole the motor awhile back. Then, after wiping the sweat off and changing back into my patriotic wear, I hurried across the way to the lab clam bake, which is held every year on the shore of the campus. Fresh mussels and clams are steamed right on the beach over a cooking fire nestled in the rocks exposed at low tide. I got a lesson in how to eat the bivalves, loaded up my plate with typical picnic fare, and set to work scraping the meat out and dipping it in melted butter. #eastcoast, eh? And still, the rain held off. 

After our fill of picnic food and conversation, Frauke and I journeyed up the road to a little freshwater lake nestled in the woods. It's reputed to be a nude beach, but I have yet to see evidence of that. There are, however, scores of tadpoles in varying stages of development populating the shallows, most well on their way to becoming bull frogs by now. I waded right in to rinse off the salt coating my legs from standing in the ocean, and swam out to the middle of the lake a couple of times, but then it started to sprinkle, so we left with enough time to shower before our next activity...

The Finale.

...the fireworks, of course! I scored a ride on a whale watching boat, complete with a tour around the harbor and the best seats in the house for the fireworks. We were just a few docks over from the town pier where the display was being set off. At this point in the evening, darkness was descending not because the sun was setting, but because Hurricane Arthur approached. It began to rain in earnest as the ship left the dock, rocked by large swells coming in from the open ocean, to tour the harbor before returning for the fireworks display, which was pushed forward by 45 minutes. It was brilliant, even in the pouring rain. Between the pop-pop-pops, the deep booms that resonated in my chest, the screaming of bottle rockets, and the echo of every explosion from the islands in the bay, the wind shifted the fog and smoke in a display of nature. First it blew inland, then straight at us, then out into the bay, alternatively obscuring, then clearing the skies. After the finale, all the boats in the harbor tooted their horns and there was cheering all around before everyone beelined it out of town to dry off and warm up. 

Frauke and I returned to the cottage, changed into our pjs, mixed up some cappuccinos, popped some popcorn, and sat on the front porch, listening to the rain pound outside. Happy Independence Day, America. I am proud to call you my home.