Touring The Southern Celestial Hemisphere

We’re heading back to Australia for a rollicking, merrymaking tour, including some of our favorite festivals, folk clubs, bars and house concerts.

Dates below, more details at www.thehollands.org 

Sept 25-27 Wallaby Creek Music Festival, Rossville QLD

Oct 1 Treehouse Cafe, Byron Bay NSW

Oct 4 Tintenbar Upfront Club, Tintenbar NSW

Oct 9 Kimandi House Concerts, Port MacQuarie NSW

Oct 10 Northern Beaches Music Festival, Collaroy NSW

Oct 11 Illawarra Folk Club, Wollongong NSW

Oct 16-18 Kangaroo Valley Folk Festival, Kangaroo Valley NSW

Oct 23 Nethercote Music Factory Nethercote VIC

Oct 24 Arts Yackandanda, Yackandanda VIC

Oct 29 Barb’s Kew House Concerts Kew VIC

Nov 5-8 Bendigo Blues & Roots Music Festival, Bendigo VIC

From Nov 18-Jan 5 we will be taking a goodwill learning expedition, backpacking through the Philippines, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia. We will be each bringing one instrument and our hope musically, is to find opportunities to sit with locals sharing and swapping folk traditions.  Read more about that adventure HERE.

When we return to Australia we will be merrymaking through April at more of our favorite festivals and venues. Stay tuned on 2016 dates.

 

Mosaic

I felt a sense of panic as we were trying to park our big bus at a campground in Michigan. We’re big, and we sort of stick out like a sore thumb, so when we are in campground, I always get a little self-conscense. We were finding that the sites that we hoped for were not available and our day was getting away from us. It was hot and we were warn from a weekend of intense community. In my panic, I went a bit faster in my vehicle, trying to get between our site and our bus, which was parked in a lane way. I wasn’t really paying attention to the impact I might have on those around us. I had tunnel vision, so to speak. A man began to chase after my van, yelling for me to stop. I could hear him vaguely but kept going, time moved slowly and I felt like I was floating. However, as soon as I stopped my van and jumped out, the man was there in my face, screaming that I needed to slow down, insisting that I was breaking the rules and demanding I listen to him. Time raced, my heart raced, I lost my cool and fought back, giving him an excuse as to why I should be able to break the rules, but they fell flat. I finally slowed down enough to step back into reality and told him he was right and I was sorry. As he huffed away I glanced around at everyone, including my family, watching the train wreck. Then, as I slid back into my van, I nearly had a break down emotionally, I was embarrassed and felt totally out of control.

We finally settled into our site, but the lingering feelings of disconnect consumed me. I began to mentally give myself lashings, how stupid and selfish I had been, totally hypocritical. And, as I continued the internal discord,  a spirit of condemnation began to seep in. It was low-lying and thin, so I could barely tell it was there, yet my moodiness displayed its blatant presence and it was starting to affect my family. Which lead to more internal dialog about how lame I was. The next day, I ran errands, picking up groceries for the week and getting gas. Switching to logistics was a nice distraction and masked some of my discomfort. Later, we all enjoyed dinner and watched a sunset, which was refreshing but as soon as my head hit the pillow, the cloud reappeared and I was soaked in reproof.

Day three was OK, I was over the embarrassment and had moved on to how ridiculous it was that I lost my cool over something so silly. The inner dialog turned from ‘you are stupid’ to “why did I panic over something so stupid?” I began keeping an eye out for the campground guy in hopes of offering a sincere apology.  So, it seemed a bit healthier and yet that spirit of condemnation lingered, with it’s sly smile and edgy tone. With no tasks at hand, I tried to consume my mind with relaxing, trying to find a moment to sit on the beach and read my book. I caught little glimpses, but felt unsettled. Then I turned my attention to trying to find WIFI because of a missed e-mail that was “urgent” to get out. That seemed to do the trick, although I really am not a fan of urgency, it’s a little to close to panic. Anyway, after about three hours, I finally got the work taken care of that I needed to, and was going back to my bus to make a beverage. I felt I deserved it, I was exhausted mentally, spiritually and physically, specially after the last few days of internal battle. It was dinner time but I had no gumption to make dinner, all I could think about was trying to catch a break, a moment of refreshment, so I made my drink and was out the door.

As I made my way down to the beach, I heard the faint voice of my daughters saying my name. I turned and she was coming towards me, yelling from down the road. “Mom, mom, someone stole my bike!” With no capacity left in me, I exhaled a long breath, suggested she go report it to the office, told Craig and kept on my way. I sat down on that beach, sipping my drink, trying to escape, trying to find peace. I sat there for about five minutes and then distinctly heard in my spirit, “Get Up! Stop wallowing, get up and go back and engage.” I felt the sacred conviction and immediately snapped up, briskly walking back to the camp. My family was all out searching, so I decided the best way I could help was to start dinner. I put my drink away, took a deep breath, and clearly saw that spirit of condemnation standing there in front of me, laughing. I sunk low, but then remembered who I was. I was a daughter of the God of all gods and that because of that I was not longer under the law of condemnation but rather, affirmation (Grace). I immediately spoke that identity out loud, demanding the spirit leave. Instantly I felt the presence leave, with tail between legs. I began to sing my heart out offering adoration and thanksgiving to my creator.  Soon any lingering effects had worn off and I was back to thinking straight, and dinner was underway.

Everyone returned with an update on the stolen bike. Seems, Graciana had been up at the campground lodge checking her Instagram and an older woman had come up to here asking to use her phone. She responded that it was an iPod. The woman walked around the corner, got on Graciana’s bike and rode away. It was later reported that she rode the bike back to her campsite and hid it in the woods behind her tent. The staff in the main office were alerted and called the sheriff to come and help them remove the bike from the campsite. Sure enough the bike was still there, in the woods behind the ladies tent. When confronted by the authorities about the bike, she said she didn’t know where it came from. So, the sheriff and the camp staff came back to us and asked if what our hope was, did we just want the bike back or did we want to take it further and press charges. We declined pressing charges and were happy to have the bike back but still aware of the uncomfortable disconnect as fellow human beings.

I wanted to wallow in my victim stance for a minute. I had every right considering the circumstances. However, I was humbled knowing the internal struggle I had just trudged through and I was reminded of God’s amazing grace and wondered how that plays out in our everyday interactions. I know one of my deepest longings is for others to show me mercy and grace.

So, thinking about this lady and how somehow in her head, that bike was hers to be used and when it was no longer needed, she disowned it. I wondered what her internal struggle must be, trying to put myself in her shoes. I though about the camp staff who I yelled at a few days prior and how he must have a certain opinion of me, who by the way, I was never able to find again to properly apologize, thus leaving our connection in a state of disarray. I though about my husband and how he handled the situation with honor and humility, wanting to protect his family, to see justice served but also understanding the brokenness of humanity. I though about the sheriff and what it must have been like for him to deal with this awkward interaction. I though about my children and how one of them wanted retribution, while the other was almost carefree about it, stating that if the lady needed the bike, she could just have it.

All this to say, we’ve been thinking about the idea of the heart of God towards Justice and how it correlates with worship. We’ve been thinking about this specifically because it is the subject matter at a conference that we’ll be sharing at in Cambodia in December. It’s a big idea and to really think about it sort of makes my brain hurt. And yet, these past few days have been just the catalyst for observational and experiential process.  I know God is just, He says he’s just. But what does that mean. I know He has a heart for justice, but what does that mean? I also know we are created to worship, yet how this all correlates is a mystery. And, scripture says we are to “live justly,” but how does it play out in the context of relationship where one betrays another?

Most days, I see life, ideas, and concepts in tapestry or mosaic form and so to look at just one fragment of the picture or one line of thread doesn’t come naturally. I see a God who is the creator of the universe, who is all-knowing, the beginning and the end, who is faithful and just, who is love and truth all wrapped up in one. I see a God who is deeply relational to the core and because of that, he pursues every avenue for connectivity. Likewise, I see that we are created in this God’s image. We have the capacity for deep relationship. We are made for it, and there is an intense link between this connectivity and worship, that maybe worship is participating in that connectivity with God. But how does this play out in the nitty-gritty of everyday life.

I’m not really sure the answers to all of these questions but I have a feeling love and mercy have something to do with justice and I will continue to seek them out as I move in relationship with God and others.

Introducing Graciana Holland

Growing up in the Folk/Americana musical family, The Hollands! and touring on the road full-time for all of her adolescence, Graciana Holland was given the opportunity to explore and experience new cultures, traditions and music, all of which has influenced her songwriting process.

Graciana is an accomplished songwriter and composer with work appearing on three The Hollands! albums including the title track for The Hollands! album, Over Land and Leas (2013) and her own hit single, Banjo Man, released in 2015.

She has been surrounded by the traditions of folk and Americana music and hints of that practice are woven into her Jazzy infused Pop. The mixture of the three end up creating a unique sound all her own. She plays guitar, ukulele, and piano and works with electronic beats but her voice is the stand out. With a delicate and pure delivery, Graciana’s sound keeps listeners on the edge of their seats wanting to hear more.

To hear and purchase her original work please visit www.gracianaholland.com

Download at https://gracianaholland.bandcamp.com

And, PLEASE SHARE THE LOVE!

Tried and True

This March we celebrated our first love in Key West, taking in the beauty of a sunset and enjoying a fantastic dinner by the sea. While we sat there enjoying each other and our surrounding we took a sobering look at our marriage journey line, remembering the heights and depths that we have traversed over the last 15 years. We fully embrace every aspect of our journey, the good and the ugly and the truth is that we know that without every single moment we would not have the conviction or drive to live the way we do now.

Many have heard our story sitting around a table, sharing a meal or through listening to our second album, Ashes to Beauty, which poetically chronicles the first ten years of our rocky marriage. When we sit with kinfolk from all walks of life, we understand that they are influenced by different subcultures and lingo. However, through the face to face conversation process we are able to really work through meanings, finding common ground and understanding.

I have rarely written about our story of covenant, mostly because of the limitations of language when writing prose. It’s also a long story and I never know where to start. However, recently I stumbled upon some old journal entries, like the one below and felt a prompting to share it in it’s raw, vulnerable form. I’ve sat on it for a few months now, but can no longer hold it in. I believe story, specially stories of restoration, redemption, and reconciliation are valuable to the heart of humanity. When we hear these stories it is like taking a shot of wheatgrass, revitalizing the soul, infusing goodness and building faith.

Ours is a story including three characters, God, Man and Woman; all working out this thing called covenant. Whatever your predisposition to spirituality, our hope is that you will find it encouraging and begin to see the value in sharing your own story.

This particular sequence of events was written in 2010, during the darkest hour of our marriage. In this entry I remember back to 1999, back to the beginning of our relationship.

“Nov. 5, 2010

Betrayal is one of the most relationally debilitating experiences. It evokes feelings of rage and engages that dark part of the soul that longs for revenge and justice. In the past, I have experienced the fruitlessness of bitterness but this time my heart longs for more, I longs for reconciliation. However, reconciling is a process that is a mysterious as the idea of grace and I don’t know how to make it happen on my own. Over the months I have fought, waited, fasted and had hard conversations with my beloved with seemingly no result. It all came to a head last night but didn’t end with an apology, it actually was the darkest, loneliness night of our marriage, I ended up sleeping downstairs and woke up with deep deep heartache. To occupy my mind, I spent the day cleaning and in prayer. I was reading through the old testament book of Isaiah chapter four, which was poignant as I had read this once before during a very important moment in our past.

It was 1999, the year Craig and I were dating. I was learning how to discern my voice from God’s. (another conversation for another time) I had been given a very clear impression that Craig was going to be my husband but as we neared that pivotal time in our courtship I started to wonder if I heard right. I struggled with so much insecurity and was very unsure of my own feelings. Not towards Craig. No, I was smitten by him, but rather I was scared I was being selfish and of falling back down into that deep dark pit. (that’s a whole other story…) I really wanted to be on the right path and I wanted assurance. So, I “fleeced” God the first and only time in my life. For those who don’t know about fleecing, it’s often involves seeking God’s will through a predetermined sign. And so, I asked the Creator of the Universe to show me “rain” in the morning when I woke. If he did, I would know it meant that I was on the right path and that I had heard right, Craig was to be my Beloved.

I know, I know, as soon as the words came out of my mouth I wanted to take them back. What was I doing? Of course I heard right the first time. I felt like a silly child. I prayed and asked God to forgive my unbelief and to just never mind but I knew it was out there. And so, I laid my head to pillow but barely slept a wink, arguing with myself about how ridiculous I was, yet waiting with great anticipation, hoping for rain.
I woke up to the brightest, sunniest day EVER and my heart sank. I apologized again and again. I felt so silly. My day continued on with breakfast, taking my daughter to her pre-school and heading back home to contemplate what I had done. I was reading through the sacred text of Isaiah. Isaiah chapter four to be exact. I sat there in a fog reading about the Branch of the Lord and how it will be beautiful and glorious. I continued on… bla bla bla…I was reading but my mind was distracted and numb. And then, these words nearly jumped off of the page “God will bring back the ancient pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night and mark Mount Zion and everyone in it with his glorious presence, his immense, protective presence, shade from the burning sun and shelter from the driving RAIN!” I began leaping in the air, screaming out, “Wow! Wow! Oh God! Wow!” Oh, how thankful I was for God’s clever sense of humor and his amazing mercy and faithfulness. And,  honestly I had no idea what the actual chapter was about, all I knew was The God of the Angel Armies graciously and tenderly affirmed me, showing me rain, giving me the confidence I needed to enter into covenant with Craig.

But, here I am eleven years later and I am just as insecure and unsure about God’s faithfulness. Wondering if I really did hear right, for how could my beloved betray me. How could “the little foxes breach our walls and wreck havoc on our vineyards?” I am still committed to my husband, but these are really hard times. The perfect timing though, in remembering this moment in 1999 is one more gift of assurance, for I am reminded of God’s unfailing love and desire to turn our ashes to beauty. I can feel something brewing, as discouraged as I have felt over these past six months, I know that something has to break. We are His. He put us together and He has our back.”

Nov 6, 2010

My beloved came home from work early. He looked forlorn and as he set his lunch bucket down, he reached for me and embraced me like never before. His heart had broken and he offered a sincere apology asking me to forgive him. The light changed in his eyes, they were no longer haughty or proud but humble before me. As his tears fell, I could feel my anger, hurt, angst, and pain instantly start to melt away. I literally felt it flow from the top of my head down my shoulders, lower back, all the way to my feet. It left my body and a peace that is pure filled my being.

This was real. This was a miracle and as the sense of aloneness and the relenting need to stand alert dissipated, I could breath again, I could see again.

Thank the Lord for this miracle of reconciliation, for freedom and for faithfulness. We’re ready to rebuild!

************************************************************************************

It was Jan of 2011, just two months after this entry that we began to dream of a life that was simpler, less fragmented and community driven. The idea of giving away our possessions and buying/converting a bus, came over the course of the next eight months. Finally leading to the our lauch in Oct 2011. The joy of making our way, sharing our gifts and talents, merrymaking and encouraging those we meet along the way as well as, the impact this experience has had on our marriage and family has been more than we could have ever dreamed.

It is a delight to share our story and we will continue to do that. But, even more it’s amazing how your stories encourage us and keep us on our way. So, if you have a story to share, please do, we’d love to hear.

“We have broken bread with some along the way during their darkest hour, some well after the miracle of reconciliation has come. Always it is an honor to share in this journey with you.” ~Craig & Jana Holland

Ditch The Bus

Yep, you read right, we’re ditching the bus. Well, at least for a little while, or maybe longer,  who knows.

It all started when we decided to book another music tour to Australia. While in the planning stages we had lots of conversations as a family about all we’ve learned in the past four years about ourselves and our creator through full-time travel. We recognized that our family is built to come alongside and encourage. We also realized that we are “learners” and we thrive when our theology and understanding of the world is rocked to the core and deconstructed. And, boy have we been rocked!

And so, over the past few months of conversations we’ve started feeling a stirring in our souls. That same longing that first invoked us to dream and take the leap of faith, giving our possessions away and hitting the road began to roar and we began to ask, was there something more?

Over the past two years we have been meeting and nurturing relationships with people  from all over the world but mostly in Southeast Asia and those interactions inspired conversation about potential visits. And, so as we were planning our very practical musical tour, we found that the question of how long we would stay over and when we would return was open for debate. And so, we did what we alway do when we don’t have the full picture, we moved forward.

We bought a one way ticket!

I mean, why not, we already live gas tank to gas tank, what’s the difference if it’s a bus tank or an airplane, train or van tank that need filling.

As soon as we bought that one way ticket, we knew we were entering a new chapter in our journey of faith, community and creativity.

Photo by Kara Counard; Bloom Photography

We don’t know how long or exactly where the road, sky or water will take us but we do have a light outline.

We will be flying out of Albuquerque Sept 15 and landing in Melbourne Australia the morning of Sept 17. We will stay for a week in Melbourne before flying up to Cairns for the Wallaby Creek Music Festival. From there we will fly down to Brisbane where we will try to source a vehicle (preferably a small bus or van) that we will travel/tour up and down the east coast in until November. (tour dates at http://www.thehollands.org)

November 18, we will fly to Manilla, Philippines where we will come alongside our friends the Hommels and learn/serve at JAZ Home, a residential home for young girls, offering solace and security in a hostile world. From there we will visit with filmmaker and musician, Tinh Mahoney in Vietnam to see life through his eyes, learning about a school he founded in his hometown and playing music. And, by early December we’ll be in Cambodia where we will connect with our friend Craig Greenfield at Alongsiders International and participate in a roundtable discussion on The Heart of God for Justice and our response through  Worship. We are also in early conversations with folks about possible visit to Indonesia and Thailand.

Jan 5, we know we’ll be flying back to Australia for another two month music tour, and from there we are open to possibilities continuing on in Australia or heading north again to Southeast Asia or going even further up into China or west towards India. We also have aspirations to connect with kinfolk in Europe. So, we’ll be waiting to see it all unfold as you are.

So, stay tuned! And if you feel inclined you can partner with us at MODERN DAY.

Franada

Bonjour, Bienvenue au Québec! (Hello, Welcome to Quebec!)

The French Provence of Canada embodied the spirit of hospitality and the moment we crossed over into the eastern Provence of Quebec, we felt right at home. Yes, all of the street signs were in French, and we don’t know French, but there were welcome signs everywhere and all along the way, the people met us with smiles, even the construction worker on the highway waved us through with enthusiasm. And, the efforts the locals made to meet us where we were at, openly sharing the richness of their culture, food, family, and the delight of community, really made our trip through the area a fantastic memory we hope to revisit again someday.

Our host family, Vann & Chantal and their awesome children welcomed us to their tiny hometown of Saint-Séverin, where we would park for a week, and enjoy life through their local eyes.

Our first night in town, we drove up the road to Saint-Frédéric, for a “Tent.” Local life in the summer means all the little towns in the area create a rotating tent that rolls through a different town every weekend. It includes a fundraising night of festivities, a beer garden and a rock band, usually a cover band, to come and play music. The night that we went a Bon Jovi tribute band took the stage, and let me tell you, they looked and sounded just like Bon Jovi. Craig got a bit of loving that night for his epic mustache. Dudes were enviously staring at him all night, and one bloke actually came up to him and began to enthusiastically reach out to pull his mustache, stating “j’aime ton pinch.” Which translated I love your mustache. We were all a little taken aback by the fella’s forwardness but it was flattering.

The next night we performed in Vann and Chantal’s barn for a good handful of their friends and neighbors. The barn was a fantastic venue, with twinkle lights, candles and a great sound system. They had a potluck style dinner and performed two sets of Hollands songs but continued sharing music in the round well into the wee hours of the night.

Sunday morning we roused for mass at the local parish just a block from the house. It was lovely to be so close. The service was all in French but we had enough experience with the format to be able to follow along. Our favorite part though was the beauty of the cathedral. Although just a small town of 250, the cathedral was grand. Actually every single little town we drove through had an iconic cathedral in the heart of the city center. After church Chantal took us an hour drive up to Quebec City, where she toured us around the famous walled city. It was awesome having a french translator to help us get a lay of the ground. However, everyone was quite friendly and happy to speak to us in English as needed.

Monday the warmer weather drew us to a local secret watering hole. We enjoyed cooling off in the little stream, walking rocks and especially loved the challenge of swimming upstream against the waterfall current. It was relaxing and lead to an evening dinner, and later while the fella’s played a rousing game of poker in the barn, the rest of us sat around a fire and talked well into the night about all the important things of life, like why are we here, who is God and why do bad things happen to good people.

We spent a few more lazy days with our host family, doing laundry, getting groceries, sharing meals and story. Chantal cared for my health by offering to share her gift of Chiropractic with me. Her office was lovely but more than that, her gentle and healing spirit straightened me right out.

On our last day with them, we took a stroll down the road to a local garden owned by an eccentric millionaire. We wandered around the gardens and enjoyed the fresh air and kind companionship.

It wasn’t easy to say good-bye when it was time, as these kinfolk in the Northwoods and rolling hills of Quebec had become family.

And, even now as I write this a few weeks later, we all pine to get back. Specially Craig, who decided although Australian of Scottish decent, that he must somehow be French because he felt so at home.

So I don’t doubt that someday, we’ll roll back through!

 

 

 

 

Canadian Travel Log

It’s a rare treat to get ahold of Craig’s travel log, but today he let me have a gander. Here are his notes from our recent trip to Canada, in his bus language.

 

“We just ran our first trip into Canada, 1600 miles over two and a half weeks. Wasn’t quite sure what to expect crossing borders with the bus but everything went real smooth on both sides. We entered Canada from Maine at the Calais/ St Stephens crossing and headed up the New Brunswick Coast. Cell coverage was limited so went back to using paper maps for the two and a half weeks, which I prefer anyway.

 

First stop was the Hopewell Rocks in the Bay of Fundy. On the way we drove through Fundy National park which I’m glad we came from the Sth because the climb coming the other way looked pretty serious. The coastline along the Bay of Fundy was pretty awesome as well as walking the sea floor when the tide was out.

 

We then drove hwy 11 North through Moncton, Miramichi, Bathurst, Campbelltown and then onto 132 over to Rimouski. The section of the drive on 132 between Cambellton and Rimouski was my favorite, followed the Matapaldia River most of the way with some really long covered bridges to see. Not really any climbs and then a gorgeous drop to Rimouski and the St Lawrence River. Oh by the way everything was in French once we crossed into Quebec which made for interesting navigation, especially when it came to road works and detours. Being an older bus I had to make a cheat sheet of Miles/ KM conversions so I could figure out my speed. We stayed at an Rv park called Camping Motel de l’Anse in Rimouski that had cool views over The St Lawrence, really nice park and real helpful with restaurant recommendations etc.

 

 

Next stop was Quebec City where we stayed for almost a week with some friends about 45 sth in a village of 250 called St. Severin. Loved our time here, taking in the local French culture and driving into the city was quite beautiful. Everyone has been so nice especially as we can’t speak french. The food here has also been amazing, found a local Gin we’ve been enjoying called Ungava.

 

 

Headed to Montreal for a few days, stayed just west of town, parking thanks to a referral at St. Edwards of Canterbury in Beaconsfield, right near the St. Lawrence River. Was a busy city to drive the bus through, glad we have a toad for going back and forth into the city. Loved the markets and neighborhoods of Montreal and would definitely go back. Had trouble starting the bus to leave here, ended up purchasing new starter batteries and seems to have fixed the problem.

 

 

 

Our last stop in Canada was Toronto and I have to say after all the scenery of NB and Quebec, Ontario all of a sudden became quite flat and predictable. We liked Toronto well enough but were kind of itching to get back to Quebec. We visited Niagara Falls on the Canadian side and were wowed by the size and power of all that water.

Our trip went real smooth, Canadian dollar was favorable to us from down Sth. As long as I remembered that the prices didn’t bother me. The weather was awesome and after doing it once, we can’t wait to go back. Next time we want to spend more time in Quebec, New Brunswick and also explore New Foundland, Nova Scotia and PEI. ~Craig”

Bahhh Habahhh

That’s how the locals pronounce it, Bahhh Habahhh. It’s one of the most beautiful and unique places to visit along the East coast of the United States. Situated on the northeastern coast of Mount Desert Island in Hancock County, Maine, Bar Harbor is the main hub for those visiting The Acadia National Park.

We left Portland Maine with one extra Bus Rider, named Maricela, whom we met during our five month rest in Austin, TX. A dear friend and fellow creative spirit, we convinced her (without much convincing) to take her vacation with us. She said yes and planned to join us for ten days.

Our time with her began on Mount Desert Island where we camped just nine miles north of Bar Harbor at Mount Desert Narrows RV Resort, using up the last of our ReadyCampGo.com membership for $25 a night. We spent a bit of time in the quaint little town, walking the main drag filled with tourist shops galore. We stocked up on groceries at the only local grocery store, got a coffee at Choco-Latte, and walked the famous sand bar during low tide.

Most of our time however, was spent in the surrounding National park. We bought a seven-day park pass for $25 and trekked up and down the island, exploring the rocky coast line, thunder hole and Sand Beach which is nestled in a small inlet between the granite mountains and rocky shores of the park. This gorgeous 290 yard long beach is one of the most popular points of interest on the island and we spent most of our time here. We’d packed a light supper and made our way to the beach around 3pm to avoid the day time rush and stayed until sundown, climbing rocks, reading, eating, resting and when we were brave we’d take a dip in the icy blue waters.

Most meat eaters flock to Maine for the Lobster. We have a few meat eaters in our lot and decided to take in the local experience of a lobster boil. After investigating all the options from dining out to a home boil, we decided to go DIY. We found a local fisherman and picked out three fresh caught lobsters at $40 total, as well as a pound of fresh clams at $6.99. We took them back to the bus, pulled out our big ol’ pot and boiled them in a water, beer, butter, and Louisiana Slap Yo Mama spice mixture. We accompanied the fish with corn, potato, onion and a salad. The process was actually a bit horrifying and once the meal was complete and ready to be served, a few of us could barely eat. The experience convinced us girls that we probably would never do it again but the fella’s seemed to take it all in stride, engaging fully in the experience. And, that’s just it… An experience.

Our final morning was spent on Cadillac Mountain,  in Acadia National Park, which sits at 1,530 feet (466 meters) above sea level. It the highest point along the North Atlantic seaboard and the first place to view the sunrise on the East Coast. We woke at 4:30am to drive the half hour from our camp site up to the top of the mountain. There was road side parking along the way and a big lot at the top. We wound all the way up to find the hill packed with tourist it was very windy and cold and the view was somewhat lacking. We sat for a moment, but decided to stay would be a disappointment, so we drive down a bit to see if there was more texture and less people. We found just a few turns down the hill that there were not as many people and the view was actually better. The sun was distant and it was a cloudy day but the water sparkled none the less and we were glad that we had made the effort.

Our time in Bar Harbor and The Acadia National Forest felt a lot more like a vacation than we’ve ever had, mostly because we were on our own, flowing in a sea of tourist, with no hosts eyes to see life through. However, it was a much-needed time of reflection, reconnecting with nature, pioneering and time to spend with one another without any other distractions.

It will forever be one of those memories that our family holds dearly.