So here’s the problem I’ve been struggling with this week. Am I on an adventure or a vacation? That sounds weird I know, but hear me out. When I took my trip around the country that was an adventure: I was go go go most of the time, seeing and doing all that I could and blogging daily (at least as internet connections permitted). When I go to the Outer Banks that’s a vacation. I slug about being lazy and relaxing and have never once written a blog. This trip somehow seems like a little bit of both. So I want to blog-and I’m getting great feedback on the blog-but I also hate having the obligation hanging over my head, which is part of why it’s Friday and I’m only now writing about Tuesday. Tied in with that is the pressure I feel to be out seeing and doing when half the time I just want to chill on my deck with a book. But no one wants to read a blog about me reading. Except maybe Seth. It’s been a weird (but wonderful) trip in some ways, and perhaps too long of one for me to have taken alone.

Enough blather-let’s get to it. We made attempt Number Two to drive around and explore some of the park. Which is still MEGA CROWDED and honestly, I’ll never go to a National Park in high season again. Maybe. Our first stop was the legendary THUNDER HOLE, a slot in the rocky oceanside cliffs which is supposed to make LOUD KABOOMS as the water fills it in around high tide. Thunder Hole was pretty crowded. And pretty quiet.

Speculation as to the timing of the KABOOMS ran from an old white dude confidently asserting (in the way that old white dudes can about stuff they really have no idea about) that it happened 4 hours before high tide. Which would cause one to wonder why he was there at 5 minutes to high tide. Some random redneck woman insisted to her party that it was going to happen at the exact MINUTE of the highest tide and was glued to her watch for a countdown. I wandered off and found a sign that the Park Service put up stating it was usually about 2 hours prior to high tide and really only on stormyish days. #ReadingIsFundamental

So I took a selfie with Annie and moved on.

We drove past lots of rocky coastlines:

And finally came to Otter Cove, which, despite the profound lack of otters, is really quite spectacular.

At last, we made it to our destination: Jordan Pond House. Jordan Pond House is a quaint little restaurant inside the park that has been serving popovers on the lawn for over a hundred years.

And while you (and your dog, should you be so lucky) eat, you get to look out at this:

Which is nice. BUT FIRST! We had to earn it by hiking the three-mile loop around the pond. So off we set, and fairly quickly the trail veers away from the pond and it’s just walking through woods. And it’s going uphill more than I would expect. And there are a lot fewer people than I would expect on such a popular trail, and most of them are on bikes. Odd. We hike a LONG way and we’ve barely seen the pond and we definitely haven’t made it to the other side, and we’ve got a reservation for popovers in an hour, so I decide to turn back…

(Side Note: How is it TWICE now I’ve been hiking in a National Park and come across someone’s abandoned undies on the trail?!)

I guess I should be grateful they weren’t SOILED like the ones Annie helpfully found in Shenandoah a few years back!

Anyhow, we get back to the trailhead, only to find WE’D BEEN HIKING THE WRONG TRAIL THE WHOLE TIME! There at the bottom was an offshoot leisurely winding around the pond just as I had hoped. Curses!

But there were still popovers to be had. What’s a popover you ask? This:

And this:

The popovers are a bit pricey (but worth it) so I wasn’t inclined to share-even with this staring up at me:

But as fate would have it, the afternoon was a bit blustery and just as a waitress was carrying a basket of popovers past our table, a strong gust of wind blew her cargo over and they came raining down upon us like manna from heaven! Score another for Annie Butler.

We both concurred that they were beyond amazeballs. As was the lobster roll.

Next on the agenda was a stroll along the giant sand bar that connects “Bar” Island with “Bar” Harbor (as I mentioned in my last post).

It’s only accessible for the two hours before and after low tide, so that’s kind of a cool thing, and yet another callback to the somewhat submerged sandbar I walked off of Orcas Island last summer. Other than a few cool shells and lots of uber annoying tourists, there was not much else of note, although it was fun to look back at Bar Harbor through this row of rock cairns someone had left.

The crowds were once again overwhelming me-especially on narrow sidewalks with a dog who likes to stop and sniff every three feet. On a positive note, I CRUSHED my FitBit-highest day ever!

But it did leave us pretty wiped out!