Swimming at Thunder Hole (long)

[AustinBoston]

Note: While this is a true story, it happened many years ago.  Some things may not have been as I remember them; the bad parts were probably worse, and the good parts probably better.


One of my first experiences in a pop-up was when my folks borrowed my Aunt & Uncle's little pop-up trailer in the early 1970's.  They had won it when their auto dealer put their name in a drawing because they had just bought a new Mercury.  He told them to put their names in, but they knew they never won anything, so they refused.  He put it in for them, and they won.

My Dad and I spent a few hours getting the tail lights to work.  He would tow it with his old 1966 Mercury Park Lane.  Boy, they don't make them like that any more!  That car was really cool looking, with a rear windshield that was counter slanted (the top of the window was farther back than the bottom), and it opened electrically.

Neither of us knew back then (I was only twelve) that you were supposed to replace the blinker with a heavy-duty one when using a trailer.  When we finally got all of the lights to work, the blinkers flashed on very briefly, sort of like a strobe light.  That was good enough for us.

My father grew up on a farm.  He was operating farm machinery from the time he was ten.  When he went into the service, he spent six months in mechanics school.  The net result of those two experiences was he knew how to back up a trailer better than most truck drivers I know.  Our driveway was long and narow, and over the years, I saw him back a number of trailers of various sizes into that driveway.  There was one utility trailer that I saw him back in many times.  Only once did I see him pull forward and try again.  Much more common was for the trailer to end up within a few inches of where he wanted it the first time.  

I'm by no means as good as him, but it drives me crazy when PJay wants me to try again because she wants the trailer six inches to the left.  We're camping, not laying the foundation for the St. Louis Arch, for crying out loud.

Anyway, on that first trip, we went to Acadia National Park on the coast of Maine, for us about a six hour drive.  We took that pop-up there twice, and on one of those occasions, as we got to the campground, they told us to find shelter, that a hurricane was on the way.  Since both my parents had lived through the '38 hurricane (which killed 600 people), they took it very seriously and we raced home.

But that was a different trip.  On this first trip, we stayed in a commercial campground the first night because the NP campground (which at that time was entirely first-come, first-serve) was full.  My Dad was in line the next morning and we got a campsite at the park.  I don't remember if it was at Blackwoods or Seawall; we stayed at both over the years, and I just don't remember.  I think one takes reservations today.

If you have never been to Acadia, it has something for every outdoor lover.  There are mountains; Cadillac Mountain is the highest on the eastern seaboard.  It has woods; there are dense old growth fir trees, younger mixed hardwoods, and at higher altitude, various scrub growth such as scrub oak and scrub pine.  It has valleys; in one of those valleys is Jordan Pond, one of my favorite places on earth.  From one end, you can look across the pond towards a pair of small mountains (many would call them hills) known as The Bubbles.  They have been rounded off by mile-thick glaciers eons ago.  One time, while hiking around Jordan Pond, we were blessed to see the arrival of a pair of common loons.  They used their mournfull calls to see if they were alone (which they were) and proceeded to dive for fish.  

Acadia has seacoast; you can find nearly every imaginable form of seacoast except warm water.  There are rocky outcrops, sea caves, sandy beaches (ok, ok, one sandy beach with icy water), bays and inlets, and Somes Sound.  Somes Sound is the only true fijord (pronounced FEE-yord) in the United States outside Alaska.  This means it opens to the sea, and the main part of the fijord is both deeper and wider than the mouth.  Somes Sound nearly splits Mount Desert Island in half, the island that contains most of the park.

It has cliffs; Otter Cliffs are over a hundred feet high and plunge nearly vertically all the way to the sea.  There is wildlife of every description.  Deer, moose, bears, coons, snakes, squirrels, fox, geese, ducks, song birds, osprey, eagles, seals, lobsters, crabs, fish (lake, stream, and ocean), and more.

There is also history.  Cadillac Mountain is named for the french explorer, who saw the "deserted" stone peaks and gave the island it's name.  Even the name of the park has French origins.  The same French word is where we get the word Cajun.  

There was a huge fire that burned nearly a third of the island (if I have my facts straight), including most of an area known as Millionares Row.  Millionares Row was a series of "cottages" (if you can call a house with 120 rooms a cottage) belonging to the wealthiest families in America.  One of those Millionares was John D. Rockefeller, who owned most of the land that is today the park.  When he lost a bid to keep automobiles off the island, he built a set of carriage roads that would be off-limits to the noisy machines.  He had a series of beautiful stone bridges built to keep the carriage roads completely separate from the auto roads; it is said that he felt they may as well have been made of diamonds for what they cost him.  Today, they are open to hikers, hoseback riders, horse-drawn carriages, bicyclists, and possibly a few other things, but no motorized vehicles.

One of the ways to visit the main part of the park is to drive the park loop road.  Along this road, much of which is one-way, there are turnouts for various sights too see.  Some are for scenic overlooks; others are for interesting natural features.  One of the more commonly visited is Thunder hole.

Thunder hole is a gap in the rock where a volcanic dike has eroded away due to the constant pounding of the sea.  The gap is narower at the inland end, and when waves start moving down that crack, they gain considerable speed.  When the tides and waves are right, the wave will hit a small gap with a resounding BOOM! that can be heard from the parking lot hundreds of feet away.

It was here that my father decided to go swimming.  Having since seen the area as an adult, I don't know where he got such a stupid idea.  My father was by no means a stupid man.  He attended Brown University, the smallest of the Ivy League schools, until he was drafted.  He graduated Suma Cum Laude from Bryant College after his term in the service (and did that while starting to raise a family).  He had an IQ of about 148, and was capable of almost anything he set his mind to.

But he decided to go into the icy surf at Thunder Hole.  I was young enough at the time that I did not understand how foolish it was, nor how terified both he and my mother were at the time.  What I do remember was that my mother strictly forbade us going in the water.  My father, meanwhile, was wondering how he was going to get out without being killed.

If you are not familiar with ocean surf, there is no way to describe it.  Ocean waves can easily be 6-8 feet at the shore (at times and in places, they can be much, much higher).  Even so, many people are more than capable of handling themselves in that kind of surf under the right conditions.  I have often been in water that was probably chest deep had it been still (it's never still) with a child clinging to each hand, PJay holding the child's other hand, and jumped to ride the five foot wave that was coming in.  It can be physically tiring, but most people can handle it.

Surf on rocks is different.  The same waves are likely to not be as high (they are not "sounding" on a shallow bottom), but they have just as much energy.  They pick things (or people) up and smash them against the rocks - hard.  That was the situation my father had gotten himself into.  And he had no idea how he was going to get himself out.  He knew that he could stay out far enough to avoid being taken by the surf, but he knew he couldn't stay there for long.  The cold water would lead to hypothermia even on a warm summer day.  But to venture closer to land meant that the surf, and only the surf, would decide where and how he came out.

Although I witnessed the event, I didn't really understand what was going on until decades later when my mother explained it to me.  She couldn't explain how he did get out - while my mother was a kind, courteous, hard-working person, she lacked intellect as much as my father was endowed with it.  But unlike my father, she had the wisdom (something you don't need to be intelligent to gain) to know from the start it was foolish and dangerous.  She was deeply relieved when he did get out, and asked him if he was OK.  "Just a bit chilled" was all he said.

I asked him if I could go swimming too!  A simple "No" was all he said.

Sometimes I like to think I have my father's intellect and my mother's wisdom.  PJay will tell you that sometimes I have my mother's intellect and my father's wisdom.

In memory of my parents,

Albert B. Cooper, 1928-1983
Doris E. Cooper, 1932-1999

Austin

[Ron]

Thanks!

[gr8grandpa]

Thanks for the story. I have been there and I sure would not want to go swimming in thunder hole.

[dthurk]

Thanks, Austin, for the post.  The detail and story telling gives me a wonderful sense of the park and your parents.  They must have meant a lot to you.  Where were you living when this happened?

[tlhdoc]

Where were you living when this happened?

Just check out the second half of his user name.
 
Austin you are accurate with you description of the park.  It is one of our favorite places to camp.  We go there every year or two.

[dthurk]

Just check out the second half of his user name.
 

I figured he was from Boston at some point in his life, although not sure if it was actually Boston city or one of the outlying areas.  Many people will say they're from a particular city, but not actually live in that city as more people would know the city name and the suburb name would be meaningless to them.  Not sure if he lived in Boston that early in life.  Just curious as to Austin's early history.  

I've lived in NY/PA all my life myself, at various times in Latrobe, PA, Wyalusing, PA, Lyons, NY, Canisteo, NY, Ithaca, NY, Fairport, NY, Wellsville, NY and Panted Post, NY.

[Kelly]

Wonderful story Austin.  I'm envious of people who have such an awareness of their past stories, like you.  I'm glad the world is full of people willing to share.

I'm by no means as good as him, but it drives me crazy when PJay wants me to try again because she wants the trailer six inches to the left.  We're camping, not laying the foundation for the St. Louis Arch, for crying out loud.

I've only camped with AB once, but I sure was impressed by how quickly he got the PU situated ... in the dark!  I dream of being able to back my PU into a spot that well ... in daylight!!

Sometimes I like to think I have my father's intellect and my mother's wisdom.  PJay will tell you that sometimes I have my mother's intellect and my father's wisdom.

Either way ~ it works for you        :p
[/COLOR]

I figured he was from Boston at some point in his life, although not sure if it was actually Boston city or one of the outlying areas. Many people will say they're from a particular city, but not actually live in that city as more people would know the city name and the suburb name would be meaningless to them.

So true around here.  I've lived in 3 different suburbs of St Paul (yea, I know ~ I didn't get far ) ... but I always say I live near St Paul.  I know nobody's heard of the other cities/towns.

[tlhdoc]

I too don't say where I really live, because it isn't a city or even a town.  It is a township and I know no one has heard of it.

[AustinBoston]

Thanks, Austin, for the post.  The detail and story telling gives me a wonderful sense of the park and your parents.  They must have meant a lot to you.  Where were you living when this happened?

At the time, we lived in Stoughton, Mass., a suburb south of Boston and essentially the only town I ever lived in before moving to Minnesota.

I was with my father when he died rather suddenly of a heart attack.  Calling my mother from the ER was one of the most difficult things I ever had to do.

I was at home when my mother died.  Having a policeman come to your door is about the worst way to be told.

On the other hand, other family members have had to watch their parents linger for years and years, and I am, in a sense, grateful to have been spared that.  I am also grateful that my mother did not live to see 9/11.

On a happier note, I have visited Acadia at least six times.  I have watched sunsets from the top of Cadillac Mt., I have looked down from high overhead on beaver lodges, I have seen seals at play, eagles on the nest, and crabs in the tidal pools.  On one occasion, at about 16, I went with an older friend and met up with some of his college buddies.  One of the things we did was climb the face of one of those stone bridges.  On another visit, we rented a cariage and driver and rode to an overlook on a "sunset" tour (it was very foggy).  Through the fog, the driver saw a red fox cross the carriage road.  He paced us for a while, checking us out, then disappeared.  Who cares if we saw a sunset.

That little pop-up had two bunks.  My folks slept on one, and my older sister slept on the other - my brother and I slept in a tent on the cold, hard ground.

One of my goals before moving out here was to go back up there one last time, but it didn't work out.  Because of that, I will always be thinking of that park, and perhaps the day may come when I introduce my grand children to Acadia.

One of the things I did not mention was the surrounding area.  There are lots of little coastal towns nearby.  Visiting the park without spending some time in Bar Harbor and getting a fresh, perfectly cooked boiled Maine lobster put on the plate in front of you should be an arrestable offense.  From Bar Harbor, you can catch the catamaran ferry and be in Nova Scotia in 2-1/2 hours or less.  Another thing I failed to mention are the park's lighthouses, some of the most photographed on the east coast.

I could go on and on, but for such a small park (Acadia is 47,000 acres campared to Yellowstone at 2 million acres or Smoky Mts. at 520,000), it is very diverse.  It is no wonder it is one of the most visited of the National Parks.  If it is in your power to do so, go there.

National Park Service
Acadia National Park

Austin

[dthurk]

Austin-

There is no easy way to deal with the death of loved ones.  Memories of those events are far clearer than they deserve to be.  I remember with clear and distinct detail of the unexpected death of my brother several years ago.  It will be with me for the rest of my life.  

I do appreciate hearing of the park and your time there.  I've never been to Maine, but hope to get there someday.  You write with such vivid detail.

I have a nephew and family who lives south of Boston in Marshfield.  Their wedding reception was in Hingham (sp?).  Might be near your old stomping grounds.  We've visited Boston a couple of times to date.  Might be good for a camping trip sometime in the future.

[SpeakEasy]

When I saw the title of this thread, and being somewhat acquainted with Acadia, I thought to myself - "It can't be the Thunder Hole that I know about." I was astonished to find out that it WAS the Thunder Hole I know about!

Thanks for the story, A-B! Your dad sounds like a real man's man. Did you ever talk with him about this story? I'd bet he didn't really know how astutely you had been observing him on that day.

We've camped once at Acadia. We're trying to decide whether to go there again this summer or head for the great southwest. I absolutely love national parks, and Utah is calling.

[AustinBoston]

When I saw the title of this thread, and being somewhat acquainted with Acadia, I thought to myself - "It can't be the Thunder Hole that I know about."...
We've camped once at Acadia. We're trying to decide whether to go there again this summer or head for the great southwest. I absolutely love national parks, and Utah is calling.

Go for the southwest.  I believe every American should see the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Crater Lake, Grand Teton, and Yellowstone...I know the latter three are not in the southwest, but the first two are!

Some other great places - Bryce Canyon, Zion, Petrified Forest...and more than a handful of others that I have not seen.

Austin