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Blue Hill Peninsula/ Turn south off busy Route 1, which is apt to be filled with a steady stream of cars between Belfast and Bar Harbor, and prepare for a different pace in a timeless place. From the scenic lookout atop Caterpillar Hill as you head down Route 176 is one of the more spectacular views in all New England. Blue waters, green islands and mountains meld into one astonishing panorama as far as the eye can see. To the east is Blue Hill, a picturesque community beloved by potters, artists, musicians and their followers. It’s the last real center of sophistication on the peninsula, and its fine B&Bs and restaurants make it a good base for exploring the lower peninsula and Deer Isle. Head south and cross the high, unexpectedly imposing suspension bridge over the fine sailing waters of Eggemoggin Reach to Deer Isle. You enter another world: one of little traffic, no neon, no fast food, few residents and fewer tourists. Deer Isle, the second largest island off the Maine coast, is far different from its busy and larger neighbor, Mount Desert Island. It’s as different, in its own way, as the quiet village of Blue Hill is different from bustling Bar Harbor. Deer Isle is more like Isle au Haut, its offshore island that’s part of Acadia National Park, whose better-known section surrounds Bar Harbor. Back in the mid-18th century, Deer Isle ranked second only to Gloucester, Mass., as a fishing port. Later, it was the source of granite for New York’s major bridges, Rockefeller Center and the John F. Kennedy Memorial in Arlington National Cemetery. At its height, Stonington, its biggest village, had 3,500 people, steamer service, a theater/opera house and something of a boomtown atmosphere. Today, the commercial fishing fleet remains active, and lobster traps are piled all around a town often permeated by the odor of fish. But Stonington’s population has dwindled to 1,300 hardy souls who, we’re told, rise with the sun and retire when it gets dark. "We used to have beer joints but they were nothing but trouble," reported the clerk in the state liquor store. "You’d need two trained gorillas for bouncers." So the town, commercially at least, is dry and ever so quaint and quiet. A sign outside the island’s little information center says it’s open from "10 til ?" on weekdays and "11 til ?" on Sundays. But it was closed every time we passed on three successive July days. Never mind. The appeal of Deer Isle is not in the tourist attractions (there aren’t many). It’s in the endearing charms of tiny towns like Deer Isle (the name of the second biggest community, as well as of the island), like Sunshine and Sunset, which remain much as they were 50 or more years ago. It’s in the wonderful views that appear at every turn of the island roads that meander hither and yon around bays and inlets. It’s in the remarkable crafts turned out by artisans attracted by the Blue Hill mystique, the seaside Haystack Mountain School of Crafts and a simpler lifestyle. As potter William Mor’s wife Carolyn suggested when we visited: "Out here we have a peaceful way of life – a community where you can live and let live." And the rest of us can enjoy. Excerpted from Waterside Escapes in the Northeast, by Nancy and Richard Woodworth. Copyright 2005. Wood Pond Press E-mail feedback to: Home
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