Last week, I was at Acadia National Park in Maine, and found the shoreline quite similar to that of the northern Great Lakes.
Same blackened rocks. Same spruce trees. Even the cold damp weather was the same.
For all intents and purposes, this could have been Lake Superior.
I was thinking, maybe I could stare out at the huge expanse of water, and feel that same “Zen like” state of relaxation that I feel when I sit on the North Shore.
And it was beautiful….I admit. I tried to relax and let my mind go.
But I just couldn’t “feel it”. It felt claustrophobic.
Probably because of the dozen or so people I was sharing the beach with at the time, even though it was the off-season.
Or knowing that this is only a tiny pocket of wilderness, only a few miles across, right in the middle of the densely populated Atlantic seaboard.
Where every other square inch of shoreline is developed or inhabited by hotels, inns, summer cottages, tea rooms, antque stores and bed and breakfasts.
With big cities like Boston, Montreal, New York, are all within spitting distance.
Where there is rush hour traffic along the Coastal Highway all summer, as millions of tourists flock to the coast.
Where you only have to go a few miles to find the nearest fast-food joint, or T-shirt store, or Factory Outlet mall.
Where there are no moose, no wolves, no pristine trout streams.
No thousands of lakes, many of which never even see a fisherman for years.
No isolated roadless stretches of shoreline, no huge tracts unpopulated of Crown Land .
No sense of awe you get at being surrounded by a huge expanse of wilderness.
No feeling of being “up there”, away from it all.
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So, yes, I’ll admit the Coast of Maine is beautiful, sitting on the edge of a big expanse of water.
And I’m glad to visit it.
But it’s just NOT quite the same.
Give me Lake Superior, any day.
