Hello from… Deer Isle, an appendix of land connected to Maine’s larger Blue Hill peninsula, about 4.5 hours north of Boston. Closer to the border of Canada than New Hampshire, the drive up the main coastal artery of Route 1 takes you past art galleries, roadside seafood shacks, and more hand-painted “FARM STAND” placards in all-caps chicken scratch than stop signs.
In 2006 my family spent the summer up here, when my mom worked as a nurse at a sleepaway camp. I remember how undeveloped it felt: the craggy coves just off the road were some of the most beautiful beaches I’d ever seen, yet they were completely empty. We always knew we wanted to come back and see how it evolved. Nearly two decades later, the gas station we once frequented had a fresh coat of paint and a few potholes had been filled in, but otherwise, it felt wonderfully the same.
Where I’m staying… Pilgrim’s Inn, set on a narrow strip between a pond and the ocean, in a small downtown that’s little more than a post office, library, bank, a 44 North Coffee outpost, and an art gallery. The inn has 12 rooms in the main house plus three cottages, with a big yard and garden that slope down toward the pond. The interiors are cozy, if a bit dated, but rooms start in the $200s, so it felt like a great Costa Meno option.
The dining room has a warm, tavern-like feel—think Maine’s version of Stissing House—with low-beamed ceilings, weathered wood floors and walls, giant fireplaces and candlelit tables. We had a casual dinner there one night, but our favorite part of the stay was breakfast: you fill out an order card the evening before, then pick up your packaged breakfast in the morning to take wherever you’d like. We enjoyed ours on a picnic table, sipping coffee beneath an apple tree by the pond. And if you’re an early riser, don’t miss the serious coffee and tea station in the living room, stocked with a little army of French presses, a kettle, and fridge of milk.
The best meal (or two) I had… I’m a New Englander through and through—I learned to crack open a lobster before I could ride a bike—so I don’t say lightly that the lobster at Abel’s on Mount Desert Island was the best I’ve ever had. It’s a bit of a drive from Deer Isle, but after a bracing dip in Acadia’s icy waters, we headed to Abel’s to warm up with lobster and corn boiled in seawater over an open fire. Sitting at a picnic table with salty skin and wet hair, overlooking a craggy harbor with drawn butter dripping down my chin, was easily the best meal of the summer.
We also had lunch at The Lost Kitchen, Erin French’s famed restaurant that put the town of Freedom on the map. While dinner reservations are lottery-only, won by sending in a postcard, anyone can pop into the cafe for lunch. It’s much more casual than their dinners—you order at a counter and find a seat beneath an umbrella outside—but the food was exceptional, and the shop connected to the cafe was fun to browse while we waited.
Other highlights: dinner at the Brooklin Inn that ended with a delicious blueberry crème brûlée, and roadside lobster rolls pretty much every day.
The most fun thing I did… Driving around aimlessly, pulling over at whatever farm stand, antiques store, or seafood shack caught our eye. A highlight was Big Chicken Barn in Ellsworth, a 21,000-sq-ft former poultry barn. The ground floor is a treasure trove of old maps, cameras, nautical gear, and things that could have only originated from someone’s grandpa’s attic, while the top floor houses Maine’s largest bookstore, with more than 150,000 titles of rare and out-of-print books, plus an incredible archive of magazines and ads dating back to the 1850s. The Nat Geo shelves were roped off, but I scored a few old issues of Holiday for $5 each.
What I read… At a gas station just over the NH/Maine border I picked up a copy of a local paper called Midcoast Villager, and immediately read their entire special edition summer guide. It had everything from a list of the best beach reads for 2025 and a guide to Maine’s iconic lighthouses, to stories on where to eat lobster, how to eat lobster, and earnest pieces on camping, hiking and picnicking, that felt like they could only exist in a local newspaper.
I also picked up a copy of The Salt Book, written in the 1970s by students at Kennebunk High School and edited by their teacher, Pamela Wood. It’s a collection of conversations between the students and older Mainers about life and traditions, with an introduction on preserving culture and craft that still feels timely today. It made me want to start talking to my friends’ hardy New Englander grandparents about weaving snowshoes or foraging sea moss.
The playlist on repeat… This one, which feels like stepping out of the shower after a day at the beach.
What I packed… This dress from Xirena, which might technically be a cover up, but I wore it to dinner on a cooler night. It was starting to feel like fall already, so white jeans and an old cashmere sweater were in heavy rotation as well. I packed everything in my Kule tote, which felt right at home in (and a cut above) the sea of LL Bean totes.
A thing or two I learned… Deer Isle and the Blue Hill peninsula have the highest concentration of artists and galleries in Maine, thanks in part to the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts, which attracts makers from all over the world, many of whom end up staying. Driving around the island, you’ll find people and studios doing fascinating work, like Tim Whitten’s marlinespike ropework, Devta Doolan’s island-inspired jewelry, and Owl Furniture’s Scandi-style hardwood pieces. I also learned that you can see eight lighthouses along the Deer Isle Lighthouse Trail, and that impassioned members of the US Lighthouse Society come here to get their lighthouse passports stamped.
And more practically, I learned that a lot of businesses close on the weekends, even in summer! If there’s a store or restaurant you really want to go to, check the hours and reach out to confirm they’ll actually be open. Or maybe just plan to come during the week!
The best thing I’m bringing home… Ceramics from Hog Bay Pottery. Artist Charlie Grosjean opened this studio next to his house over 50 years ago, and it’s always open for visitors, even if he’s off kayaking or playing with his grandkids. There’s an honor box for cash and a clipboard to record your purchases if he’s not around, but luckily he was there when we stopped by and took time to chat. Charlie told us that he’s never once been “taken advantage of” and that keeping the doors open is exactly what’s allowed him to stay open all these years. I love the pottery itself, but even more the reminder that places like this can still exist.
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