Acadia in 24 Hours
Chapter 1: Impulsive Escape from Harrisburg, PA
I shut down my computer at 3:30 PM in Harrisburg Pennsylvania, exactly as I had planned….or maybe not planned at all. My sunrise permits for Cadillac Mountain were in secured via Recreation.gov. My best friend Kelly intersected my route to meet me in Williamsport. We dropped her car off at some random Park-and-Ride in town and hopped in mine, so filled with camping gear I couldn’t see out my back window.
Two girls, one car, one wild idea: an overnight drive to Maine (no sleep required).
Chapter 2: Eleven Hours to Dreamland… Almost
We pushed through 11 hours of highway. Fueled purely by coffee, playlists, and diminishing alertness ( at least up until I saw my first “watch for moose” sign ). When we finally slipped into Acadia in the dead hours, exhaustion hit hard. I parked at the visitor center, shut my eyes…and boom, I was being abducted by aliens. I don’t remember any probing, but I woke up thinking: either I’m super tired… or they qualified as ride-sharing. Either way, it was now time for us to get in line at the trailhead for the sunrise.
Chapter 3: Cadillac Sunrise—Bleary Brilliance
Sunrise on Cadillac Mountain
Despite my foggy mind, we scrambled awake and headed up the 3.5-mile Cadillac Summit Road, permits in hand—required for sunrise drives from late May through October. By timing it just right, we became among the first cars at the summit — a perk of being early birds. Mountaintop wind and whisper‑quiet anticipation surrounded us. Blankets over the rocks, shades of orange and pink cracked across the horizon. We were literally the first people in the U.S. to see the sunrise that day. The sky exploded in pastel glory, and I felt like I'd stepped into a painting.
Chapter 4: Beehive Trail—Drizzly, Dramatic, Delightful
Top of Beehive Trail
After sunrise photos, still fueled by adrenaline (or maybe the lack of sleep), we set off on Beehive Trail. Iron rungs dangled over exposed ledges, mist from drizzle slicking the granite beneath us. Nearly no one else dared the climb “perfect”. I couldn’t tell if it was from fresh boots or 30-hour sleep deprivation, but I was floating. The view was beyond adjectives—something like “absolutely stunning” meets “edge-of-the-world” energy.
Chapter 5: Gorham Mountain Loop—Gentle & Grand
Next, we wandered the Gorham Mountain Loop. A gentler ridge with sweeping views of the beach and coastline below. Clearer skies unveiled scenes even more beautiful than those atop Beehive’s raw thrill. Quiet, peaceful, and pure poetic nature.
Gorham Mountain overlook
Chapter 6: Bar Harbor Brunch & Ferry Z Z Z
The Acadian Nature Cruise Ferry
We finally rolled into Bar Harbor craving real breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, eggs, and—surprise—blueberry hot sauce awaited. Sugar-fueled, we boarded a lighthouse ferry tour. Top-deck views: seals, eagles, coastal history… and me nodding off mid-narrative. Hey, I deserved it, right? I got seafood vibes and snooze deficits in one experience.
My favorite Walmart Coleman Tent
Chapter 7: Smugglers Den Campground & Legendary Nap
By pure delirium, we landed at Smuggler’s Den Campground, a cozy family-run site just outside Acadia with friendly vibes, hot showers, tent spots, and a heated pool (if that’s your thing). We set up our two-person tent, inflated pads, and voilà: the best nap of my life. Rain rattles overhead, breeze through leaves, sunlight sneaking in, it was absolutely unreal.
Chapter 8: Thunder Hole & Lobster Roll Bliss
To date the best lobster roll i’ve ever had.
Reenergized (or at least upright), we visited Thunder Hole. Sure, it’s scenic. But after all we’d done: meh. Then we hit the lobster-roll stand near Bar Harbor—lobster, fries, beer~ for around $45 plus tip. No regrets, honestly it may have been the best lobster roll I’ve ever had.
Chapter 9: Salem Side-Trip & Heading Home
We’d finished our Acadia bucket list. Nova Scotia was a tempting vibe, but I forgot—we didn’t bring our passports! So instead: Salem, Massachusetts. Witches, charms, tourists, candle shops galore.
When we’d finally had enough cackles and crystals, we hit the road for home—Pennsylvania-bound, utterly exhausted but still buzzing.