ohmidog!

Ace was the first dog in America to see the sun rise yesterday.

Atop Cadillac Mountain, the highest elevation in Acadia National Park, we sat on a broad flat rock and saw the sun pop up over the Atlantic Ocean.

At 1,500 feet, the summit of Cadillac Mountain is the highest point on the Atlantic Coast, and, for much of the year, the first place in America the morning sun becomes visible.

Once we heard that, upon our arrival in Bar Harbor, Maine, we decided to rise early enough to catch the sun doing the same.

Granted, the period during which the sun rises here first doesn’t start for three more days. And granted, there were at least 100 other early risers scattered across the rocks yesterday morning. But as far as I could see, Ace was the only dog. So, while I can’t make the claim, I am relatively certain that Ace was the first dog in America to have the sun in his face on Oct. 3, 2010.

And it being a chilly morning, we were both appreciative when, around 6:30, it appeared.

Mount Desert Island is my new favorite place: a collection of towns and harbors — some way ritzy, some semi ritzy, a few slightly more working class — all nestled in and around Acadia National Park, which is now tied (with Glacier) for my favorite National Park. It’s a place whose breathtaking beauty hits you at nearly every turn, and seeing it in fall at least doubles the pleasure.

We’re staying at the home of a relative of a friend, and she and her husband couldn’t be more gracious. They fed me, took me on a tour and, upon learning I wanted to be the first person to see the sunrise, prepared coffee for my thermos, programmed and loaned me their GPS and equipped me with a handful of maps and brochures.

(I still managed to get lost, until I finally gave in and submitted to the exact orders of the GPS voice … and may I say, despite all my errors, she never once got cross with me.)

Even kinder were Ron and Karen Greenberg, who own two cats, two horses and Tamarind, a natural food restaurant in Bar Harbor, and who were my hosts for the weekend – showing me the park, the town, their restaurant – and of course a dog park — on a sunset tour the first night I was there.

Getting back to their unlit house that night, it was pitch dark. I got out of the car and, at Karen’s suggestion, looked up. I saw more stars than I’d ever seen before –- an astonishing number of stars, the night sky as its supposed to look without all our sources of light polluting our reception.

It was a magnificent sight, and never have I felt “one-er” with the universe – at once so whole and so tiny. Maybe if everybody could see the sky like that at night, we’d all have a better appreciation for our miniscule place in the universe, a deeper love for our planet and less of an inclination to mess it up.

That “planet-love” feeling returned the next morning, when, with a steamy cup of coffee beside me, I waited quietly with other spectators, watching as the sky turned a brilliant orange, and the ocean a brilliant blue in the minutes before the sun peeked over the horizon -– bigger, brighter and more orange than I’d ever seen it.

Once it rose, the crowd quickly dispersed. Ace and I climbed around on the rocks for a bit, to avoid the crowd on the trip down the mountain. That  – since it was too dark to see much going up — was a scenic treat as well, with spectacular views of the ocean, coves and inlets, and valleys still filled with morning mist.

In case you’re wondering, the mountain is not named after the car; the car is named after the mountain, or at least the car is named after the guy the mountain is named after – Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac, the Frenchman who was granted possession of  what’s now called Mount Desert Island in the late 1600’s by King Louis XIV.

He later went on to found Detroit, according to a plaque on Cadillac Mountain — though why he would leave this place for that one is beyond me.

The color for today, courtesy of the state of Maine, is red.

There has been no avoiding it since Saturday, when we made our way from Portland to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park amid a dazzling array of fall colors.

Nearly every town we went through was sporting red. Yellow and orange, too, but red seemed to be the dominant hue.

Leaves, vines, shrubs, stop signs and cars, barns and sunsets all seemed to be vying for the honor of reddest red.

Apple Fests were underway, and roadside stands stood ready with rows of baskets, filled with red and green apples. At every turn, it seemed, I encountered flashes of red.

Even when I stopped for lunch — and ordered my first lobster roll — the fluffy white meat had red running through it. I sat outside under crisp skies, at a red picnic table, as Ace sat at my side and drooled.

Just across the street sat a red pickup truck, under a tree that was putting its best red forward as well.

The reds especially popped when set against the backdrop of the deep blue sea, as was the case as we made our way through coastal towns like Rockland and Camden.

We saw red antique stores, and red vines climbing up brick buildings, turning redder and redder as if challenging the brick: “You think you’re red? We’ll show you red.”

We saw barns fighting, amid the beating Maine takes from the weather, to hang on to their red, picnic tables with a new coat of red, lobsters soon to depart their deep red shells.

I’m not sure whether Maine is a red state or blue state when it comes to politics. I’m sure I could look it up.

But I’m too busy … enjoying the red.

(To see a synopsis of Ace’s travels so far, click here.)

(To see all of “Travels with Ace,” click here.)

PETA thinks Baltimore residents are too fat, and that a vegetarian diet could help them achieve a much-needed slimming down.

To that end, it is sending women clad in lettuce bikinis to the city to hand out veggie hot dogs.

Makes perfect sense.

Baltimore was recently ranked the eighth fattest city in the country, so PETA’s “Lettuce Ladies” are hitting the road to show Baltimore (and other fat cities, as well)  how healthy, compassionate, and delicious it is to be vegan.

The free veggie dogs will be handed out at noon this coming Friday at City Hall, 100 Holliday St.

PETA says meat consumption has been directly linked to obesity, and that adult vegans are, on average, 10 to 20 pounds lighter than adult meat-eaters. On top of that, PETA says, foregoing meat also helps fight heart disease, diabetes, arthritis, and certain types of cancer.

The Waldorf-Astoria has kicked dog-friendliness up a notch, offering, for a limited time, room service to dogs as part of a new “Fido-Friendly” package at the Waldorf Towers.

“Recognizing the growing trend of canine traveling companions,” the New York hotel has debuted a “Canine Culinary” room service menu and “Fido-Friendly” package to welcome dogs to The Waldorf Towers.

“We have seen an increasing number of distinguished guests checking in with canine companions at their side,” stated Matt Zolbe, director of sales and marketing. “Recognizing that travel with pets is essential for many pet owners, we were inspired to launch a program catering to these guests’ unique needs.”

The Waldorf cited figures from the Travel Industry Association of America that show half of “adult leisure travelers” consider their pet to be part of the family, and nearly one in five take their pets with them when they travel.

Three cheers for the Waldorf — or maybe just two, because of that “distinguished guest” part. Shouldn’t every guest be distinguished? And shouldn’t every dog? And what — given the ongoing need they are boasting about filling — is with making the offer available only for a limited time? Is it a commitment or a gimmick? 

The Waldorf’s doggie room service menu features: “German shepherd’s pie,” “Dachshund’s delights,” which it describes as “miniature hot dogs with Fifi’s choice of sauces,” and ”Great Dane’s danish.”

Also available: ”Mastiff’s munchies” (toasted peanut butter sandwiches) “Pekingese’s duck,” and “Pomeranian’s pasta.”

How cute is that? A little too, in my opinion. 

The hotel’s “Fido-Friendly” package includes a luxury pet bed, two silver bowls, a special pet “amenity” a large bottle of water, and one complimentary dog walking during the stay. Dog Concierge services are also available to assist with travelers’ pet needs — from suggesting groomers to recommending Manhattan dog parks.

Nightly rates start at $569. Let’s repeat that: $569.

This offer is valid now through Dec. 31, 2010. For reservations or additional information,visit www.waldorfnewyork.com or call 800-925-3673.

(Photo: Provided by Waldorf-Astoria)

After three drippy days in Portland, Maine, we took off yesterday to see some more of the state, and eventually work our way, like John Steinbeck and Charley did, to its northernmost reaches.

Finally, everything was dried out, so it was just a matter of loading up my new rooftop carrier and heading for Bar Harbor, where we’ve received an offer to bunk for two nights, and where we’ll see how Ace fares amid horses and cats.

He’s already fallen into a routine in Portland — our morning walk to the Clipper Mart next door for coffee, where I’d tie him to a post while I filled my cup; his morning constitutional on the grassy slope to the side of the motel; and frequent stops in the lobby, where he’s developed a bit of a fan club among staff and guests, several of whom ply him with treats.

After three days of rain, Saturday brought clear, crisp skies. Fall colors popped under the bright sun and it was a perfect day, weather-wise, to get back on Steinbeck’s 50-year-old trail. He stopped in Bangor, then backtracked south to Deer Isle to visit a friend with a “hateful” female cat named George: “George is an old gray cat who has accumulated a hatred of people and things so intense that even hidden upstairs he communicates his prayer that you will go away,” he wrote.

From there, he followed the coast of Maine along Route 1, which we’ll be doing for a while as well, arriving Monday in Aroostook County, the massive, remote and northernmost county in Maine.

We’re hoping to avoid the “wet gray aluminum” skies he encountered up that way, for having finally reached a state of dryness (and we don’t mean Maine), we would like to hold on to it for a bit.

Ace, comfortable as he was at the Motel 6, knew, as he always does, that it was time to roll even before I began packing up. Somehow, he reads me. Like a map.

With the weatherman saying it would be noon before the torrential storms that have soaked the east coast arrived in Portland, Ace and I squeezed in a quick visit to the city’s waterfront early Friday.

My hope was to get there early enough to see some fishing boats coming in, maybe some loaded with lobster, 40 million pounds a year of which are harvested off the coast of Maine before making their way to bib-clad diners in fancy restaurants. But, seafood-wise, there wasn’t much going on.

So, taking in the sounds and smells of a city waking up and getting down to business, we walked down some wharves and alleyways as the sun came up — though it did so all but hidden by layers of grey clouds, some passing so low it seemed you could reach up and grab a handful.

Only a few souls were on the streets, one of whom, an employee at the Porthole Restaurant, saw Ace, then went back inside, returning with a handful of sausage balls.

In addition to those giving handouts, there were those seeking them, including the woman above who — treatless though she was — Ace quickly befriended, partly curious, I’d guess, about what might be under her blanket, partly, I’d like to think, because it looked like she needed a friend.

It being the first of the month, her rent was due. She didn’t have it. So she made a sign, grabbed a blanket, took a seat on the ritzy side of the street and hoped for the best.

We contributed $4 to the cause before wandering on. Following a sweet smell in the air, we walked down to the Standard Bakery, next to a Hilton. I had a cup of coffee while Ace stationed himself in a position not too far from the door, in case somebody came out with spare croissant, or spare scone.

Like the lone pigeon wandering the bakery parking lot — that showed some street smarts, I thought — Ace had no luck.

Plenty of upscaling has gone on in Portland’s Old Port District, as it has in harbors and riverfronts across America. As in Baltimore’s glitzy Inner Harbor, panhandlers — showing some street smarts, as well —  occasionally sneak in, as if to remind us of the incongruity of it all.

Unlike in Baltimore, Portland’s waterfront remains a working one — at least on one side of Commercial Street. On one side, former warehouses are now home to boutiques, restaurants and bars; on the wharf side, condos and cruise ships have joined the soggy blue- collar fishing operations.

Maine’s not an easy state to survive — much less prosper — in. The state government itself, like most, is having hard times. Just yesterday, the governor announced $10 million in spending cuts, mostly in the Department of Health and Human Services.

The cuts would not result in layoffs, the state said, or in a significant cutback to people currently receiving services — which sounds like a pretty good trick.

“What we have done is tried to absorb in programs funding that we otherwise would have used to expand or increase the program, because as you all know, we have significant demand on services,” DHHS Commissioner Brenda Harvey said.

I’ve read that sentence four times, and still don’t understand it.

Meanwhile, due to the poor economy, the number of people waiting for services– in nearly all the department’s programs — just keeps growing.

With many of its biggest industries being seasonal — potatoes, lobster, blueberries (the state produces more than 95 percent of them) – hard times are nothing new in Maine, leading it to turn to tourism to fill in the gaps.

An expansion of its casino industry is also being looked at. Maine voters will decide in November on a proposed $165 million casino and resort in the western part of the state.

In 2003, voters approved slot machines at a racetrack, now known as Hollywood Slots, in Bangor. Since then they’ve rejected three casino referendums. This time around, who knows? They might decide it’s the best way to weather the economic storm.

As Ace, the pigeon and the down-on-her luck tenant could tell you, you do what you have to do.

(To see all of “Travels with Ace,” click here.)

Rolling into Maine, about the same time fall decided to, we’ve decided to lay low in Portland a few days, dry out from our camping experience and perform a little maintenance — on the new website, the car, the dog and myself — before we head into the remote, northernmost reaches of Maine.

Among those things needing to be dealt with: broken eyeglasses, dirty laundry, a shaggy and unkempt appearance (me, not Ace), and a seriously moldy smell in the car. In addition to all the wet stuff that had been riding in the back of the car for two days — I halfway expected to look back there and see Ace amid a field of mushrooms – there was still more wet stuff atop my car in my leaky rooftop carrier.

So we pulled into (you guessed it) a Motel 6 and got to work on our top priorities — for Ace, scoping out possible sources of treats; for me, doing something about the small lake that had formed inside the black plastic rooftop bag.

I decided a new rooftop carrier would be a good investment, because without it, Ace would be riding amid a mountain of camping gear, luggage and other miscellany. I hoped to get a carrier with a hard shell — one that would be easy to get stuff in and out of, and one I wouldn’t have to tie down with ropes and bungee cords.

I left Ace in the room and headed to the Sears auto center at the Maine Mall. While they had the hard-shelled carriers, they didn’t have the hardware necessary to attach it to my luggage rack, so I ended up with another soft one.

Since I was already there, I decided to get the oil change I’ve been postponing, and asked them to check my tires.

After a quick bite in the mall’s food court, I went into the Pro Vision Center, asking them to accomplish what I could not –  at least not without wearing my glasses, which one can’t do when they’re trying to reinsert that little screw that secures the temple to the front of the frames. They did it in two minutes, and charged me nothing, an act for which, by the end of the day, I would be even more thankful.

Sears called to tell me my car needed some realignment, and that my brake pads were wearing thin (which explains that squeak I’d been hearing.) I opted to have the back ones replaced and let the front ones live out what little life they have left.

That meant I had more time to kill, so I stopped for a quick and drastic (at my request) haircut, and — because the temperatures are dipping up this way and I brought no winter clothes along — bought a jacket at J.C. Penney. I opted for a black microfiber bomber jacket, though I plan no actual bombing in the near future and I have no idea what microfiber actually is.

From there, I picked up Ace so he could tag along for my next chores: doing the laundry, emptying and removing my old carrier and throwing everything that was wet into dryers – shoes, pillows, sleeping bag and tarps included. Despite my efforts, my workboots and a pair of sandals still had  strange fungi growing on them, so I disposed of them, along with the old and holey black plastic carrier and the massive amounts of dog hair left after I gave Ace a good Furminating.

When I tallied what I spent — $10 lunch, $15 at the laundromat, $20 (counting tip) for haircut, $40 for a jacket, $10 for batteries at Radio Shack and a whopping, but not unfair $473 at the Sears auto center — it added up to almost $600. Ouch.

And this just when we were completing the most frugal month yet of our travels.

In month four, we, for the first time, were headed for spending less than $1,000 for our food, gas and lodging combined — thanks mainly to staying still in Baltimore for a bit, and freeloading off friends both there and in Philadelphia.

September saw us spend only seven nights in motels, two at a campground, one in a car, 10 in the homes of friends and 10 on the boat of a friend. All tolled, we spent only $400 on shelter, only $240 on gas and about $300 on food. (Knowing we were saving money elsewhere, we treated ourselves to some nicer dinners than usual.)

Perhaps I need some lessons in frugality from the people of Maine, who, according to the stereotype anyway, have adjusted to living in a state where incomes fall far behind the rest of New England. The state’s farmers and fishermen are accustomed to an up and down economy, and know how to make ends meet during the downs.

This afternoon, while walking Ace behind the Motel 6, I noticed a group of four young people. One jumped into the Dumpster and tossed cans and glass and plastic bottles up to his cohorts.

They left with a full sack.

Frugality, they say, is a tradition here — though one can be both frugal and generous.

Take Gordon, who is temporarily living down on the first floor. He’s been a Motel 6-ite for more than two weeks.

He seems to limit his luxury purchases to treats for the dogs he meets at the motel and his daily cigar, which he steps outside to smoke, disposing of his stogies in an ashtray on the side of the building.

He spends much of the day sitting in the small lobby, handing out treats and making friends with the dogs who pass by. He plans to stay a couple of more weeks before going to visit some family in northern Maine.

If he ever needs to figure out exactly how many days he has been in this Motel 6, I know how he can do it. Just step outside and count the stogies.