Maine | Thunder Hole

The suitcase was zipped up, and the car keys were already in my hand—originally, I’d planned to head straight back to Portland, wrap up this short Maine getaway, and dive back into the busy rhythm of daily life. But as I stood by the car, staring at the faint outline of the distant coastline through the hazy sky, a sudden thought popped into my head: I’m already here, after all. Why not squeeze in one more stop? That’s how I ended up changing my destination at the last minute, turning the steering wheel toward Thunder Hole, a spot I’d heard so much about but never had the chance to visit 🚗.​ It wasn’t a bright, sunny day—far from it. The sky was draped in a soft blanket of clouds, painting everything in a muted, gentle light. The visibility wasn’t great; the horizon blurred into a mix of gray sky and blue-gray sea, like a watercolor painting left out in the mist. But weirdly enough, I found myself loving this overcast weather more than a scorching sunny day. No need to slather on layers of sunscreen that leave a sticky residue on your skin 😩, no need to fumble with sunglasses that keep slipping down your nose, no squinting to see through the glare. All I had to do was throw a light jacket over my shoulders, sling my backpack (stuffed with a water bottle and a few snacks) over one arm, and set off—simple, unhurried, and totally free 🎒.​ The drive to Thunder Hole was quiet, with only the hum of the car engine and the occasional rustle of wind through the pine trees lining the road. Every now and then, I’d roll down the window, and the cool, salty air would rush in, carrying the faint smell of the ocean. It was crisp, not chilly—just the kind of air that makes you take a deep breath and feel your shoulders relax, as if all the little stresses of life were being carried away by the breeze 🌬️. Along the way, I passed a few small pull-offs where other travelers had stopped to take photos, but most of the time, the road was empty, like it was mine alone to explore.​ When I finally arrived at the Thunder Hole parking area, I was surprised by how calm it felt. There were a few other visitors—some huddled under umbrellas, others walking slowly with their cameras—but no loud crowds, no chatter that drowns out the sound of nature. I followed the wooden boardwalk down to the shore, my shoes tapping softly on the planks. As I got closer, I could hear it: the deep, rumbling crash of waves against the rocks, the sound that gives Thunder Hole its name. It wasn’t a violent roar, not on this cloudy day—more like a low, steady drumbeat, as if the ocean itself was breathing 🌊.​ I stayed there for a while, longer than I’d planned. Sometimes I’d step closer to the rocks, careful not to get too near the water, just to feel the mist on my skin. Other times, I’d sit on a bench nearby, watching a family of three—parents with a little kid in a bright yellow jacket—chase each other along the shore, their laughter mixing with the sound of the waves. It was one of those quiet, unplanned moments that feel more precious than any “must-see” attraction; the kind of moment that sticks in your memory long after the trip is over 💛.​ #Acadia #ThunderHole #EasternUSNationalParks #Mist #Nature #BreatheInBreatheOut #Peaceful #SoloTrip