First Light in Bar Harbor

Getting to Maine—and more specifically Bar Harbor—takes commitment.

It’s a haul for most people, whether you’re driving from the East Coast, coming in from the Midwest, or flying nearby and finishing the trip by car.

But if you time it right, the journey becomes part of the reward.

My suggestion: arrive early. Really early.

There’s something about pulling through those small towns and winding roads as the morning light first arrives. The sun lifts slowly, reflecting off narrow waterways and quiet inlets, revealing the landscape piece by piece. By the time you reach Bar Harbor, the place has already introduced itself—subtly, patiently.

It’s hard to explain. You kind of have to experience it yourself.

Once you arrive, find a place to eat. There’s no shortage of options, even early in the morning. Lobster omelets. Lobster rolls. Or one of the best things I’ve ever eaten—a lobster cake, which I suppose is technically a lobster crab cake, but whatever you call it, it was incredible.

The light here is unreal.

This image is from early morning, shot by drone, capturing that first glow as it spreads across the harbor. Boats resting. Water barely moving. A calm that feels almost borrowed from somewhere else. It reminds me of Norway—at least the version of Norway I imagine. That soft, northern light that people travel across the world to see.

Bar Harbor rewards early risers.

Get up before the town fully wakes. Walk everywhere—it’s one of the most walkable places I’ve ever been. Watch the harbor come to life. The boats, the birds, the people easing into the day. It’s all there, quietly waiting.

Give yourself at least two or three days. More if you can.

And if you go—send me a postcard.

Something tells me you’ll want to come back every year.

Bar Harbor, Maine

Words and photograph by Tony Frantz