![]() Another man, listening to music, but not inside the building, finally gets the driver’s attention and she turns the lights on. A businessman sitting inside a local bar frantically, but also somehow confidently, whistles at a car driving down a road without its headlights, oblivious to the fact that it is traveling in darkness. Just off the Shore PathĪ woman talks to people about potentially walking her dog. Deer chomp on bushes and mingle with wild turkeys off the Cromwell Harbor Road, just at the edge of the national park. Lobster traps stack up in a side yard, bringing their sea smells with them as the fog rolls in. A couple inspects their flowers that they’ve planted along the borders of their lawn. A College of the Atlantic student, here all summer, sings indie-folk from his stoop by the YMCA’s backlot where an RV is parked for summer housing. A basketball net has a permanent place on the edge of a roadway in front of a white house. Neighborhoods linger on curvy roads that stretch to the water. If you move out of downtown proper and into the larger part of Bar Harbor, you find a Bar Harbor that a lot of visitors don’t see. ![]() There are year round residents tourists people who were born here people originally from away who live here too people who come for the summer and live on a side of affluence many dream of people who make the decisions people who bemoan the decisions people who serve who struggle to find a home of their own, a place they don’t have to share rooms with strangers who end up having to become friends people who run the restaurants and shops people who frequent them people who complain the town is too busy to visit, but still do. “It was last year.”Ĭhuck Colbert works sound, positioned at the board in the back of the theater, creating acoustic balance one level at a time, trying to find just the right resonation for an orchestra that has so many parts-almost like the town itself. ![]() “The music is swoony,” says one listener. The sounds of an orchestra filling the art deco theater that has survived in this town of just over 5,000 year round residents year after year after year since 1932. Inside the Criterion Theatre, a Chamber of Commerce Business After Hours event has just ended and a Bar Harbor Music Festival concert, with conductor Francis Fortier, has begun. The Criterion stage awaits Colbert before the show Some stop and stare at the schooner, the Margaret Todd coming in. Some quick walk, sandals and running shoes and flip-flops displacing tiny bits of gravel. ![]() Couples and families and locals with their dogs meander down the Shore Path that runs along the coast of Frenchman’s Bay from Ells Pier to Wayman Lane. ![]() It’s well past the time of cruise ships, which have moved on to their next port, and the congestion on the sidewalks is in one place, dissipates, moves to another. The beginning of the Shore Path Friday night. It’s instant truth.Īnd quick as that they are gone, down the hill and lost to the shadows of the Bar Harbor Inn’s parking areas. “Buddy, we are tourists,” the dad says back without pause. The father and a boy that’s around ten or so are a few paces ahead of the rest of the troop. The sun is setting in Bar Harbor and in the half hour before dark, a family quick-walks on the small roads between the banks. BAR HARBOR-The troubadour with his guitar case positions himself on the edge of the sidewalk by the bars and t-shirt shops, hoping for tourists or new lovers with a dollar or two in cash, giving out songs for free, really, as people meander by. ![]()
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