Even for those of us from New England, traveling to Maine’s Mount Desert Island isn’t the easiest of journeys: the closest major airport, Bangor, is around a two-hour drive away, whereas the smaller airport of Bar Harbor is essentially only accessible by puddle jumpers from Logan Airport. Of course, you can drive: five hours from Boston, eight hours from New York City, five-and-a-half hours from Providence (without traffic).
Yet its isolation is a blessing: while other East Coast summer destinations like Nantucket and the Hamptons can fall victim to seasonal overcrowding, Mount Desert Island remains an idyllic and unbothered getaway even in August, with only the main hub of Bar Harbor—known as the gateway to Acadia National Park—receiving notable foot traffic. (In fact, even writing about Mount Desert Island in this publication will surely lead to some irate comments from its committed visitors and residents, who’d very much prefer it stays under-the-radar.)
I arrived on Mount Desert Island, however, through very little independent research of my own: a dear friend was getting married, and through his fiancé, who had been coming here for decades, this coastal corner of the country had become a special place for both of them. A wedding website gave us fair warning: bring a coat (or faux fur), hiking boots, and don’t expect Ubers.
That’s not to say I felt like I was discovering some up-and-coming place. In fact, Mount Desert Island is one of the most established American holiday destinations there is. Gilded Age names like Rockefeller and Vanderbilt all had homes here, and Martha Stewart famously has a compound in the hamlet of Seal Harbor. Yet while some summer wealthy playgrounds shout their wealth, here, it whispers.
