Right about now, the hiker in me starts to get restless. After a winter of indoor exercise with disco music and a stair-stepping machine, I long for a mountain. The pine scents, the warm sun, the rustle of a breeze in the trees, a bird song in the distance. But this time of year, the mountains have more mud than music to them.

In my quest to find an adventure this early in the season, I decided that if the mountains weren’t quite ready for me, I would find a pleasant outdoor perch from which to view the mountains. Anyone who has ever driven to Mount Desert or along Route 1 in Hancock and Washington counties knows that the views of Acadia National Park are excellent. Blue Hill also offers a stunning panoramic western view of the beloved range.

But I wanted to take in the sights more majestically. To do so, I headed for Northeast Harbor to ride the mail boat, which has year-round service to Great and Little Cranberry islands. My first stop on the way, however, was at Pine Tree Market and Liquors, to pick up lunch. I had my choice of freshly made roast beef, turkey or ham sandwiches but passed up all them for something sparse but fortifying: a package of smoked salmon and a baguette. If I had wanted to take along a bottle of wine, Pine Tree had one of the best selections I’ve seen in a market this size. But again, I opted for simplicity and stuck with water.

Then I headed for the mail boat. This time of year, the only people aboard the Sea Queen are locals headed home or headed for work on one of the islands. (The boat also stopped at Sutton Island on the return route.) I sat alone near the boxes of mail and supplies and listened to the general chatter around me – talk of winter excursions, town meetings, the crossword puzzle. Though I never felt unwelcome, there was no question of who was the outsider on the boat, and I felt my alien status keenly. I kept to myself, but I also sensed that it would have been fine to join in the discussion.

And anyway, I was in search of mountain vistas, not conversation. Once off the boat on Little Cranberry Island (The village is called Islesford), I took my first deep breath of raw ocean air and headed for Sand Beach on the western side. That would afford the best view back to Mount Desert. The road I followed was unpopulated except for sea gulls and workmen doing spring preparations for summer visitors. I circumvented a stand of boathouses to find my treasure early: a perfect view of the Mount Desert range. My eye hopped from one to the next. In a few weeks, I would be atop those mountains looking in this direction. I sat on the pebble beach and ate my salmon on what turned out to be stale bread, which the sea gulls appreciated.

At other times of the year, Islesford has a restaurant where day-trippers can stop for lunch. You might want to stop by the marsh, which was too marshy for comfortable access the day I was there. There is also a pottery studio, gift shop and artist gallery. But none of these was open and I had four hours until the ferry returned to take me back. I had a book in my backpack but decided instead to spend the time walking. I stuck mostly to the dusty roads because the mud was so deep that I didn’t venture too far into the woods. For the most part, I respected private property rights – although for any adventurer, it’s tempting to stroll along the driveways and porches that belong to summer residents who won’t be in town for at least another month or two.

I thought I might become bored, but I was lucky to have a sunny day and the walk past old houses, the church, children in the schoolyard had a strange effect: The time passed quickly. I happened to be there during one of two days the local library is open, so I broke my all-outdoor promise to catch a glimpse of the place. Libraries, of course, are havens wherever they are. It’s like belonging to a church or a YWCA or Alcoholics Anonymous. You are always welcome – even more so when the librarian is as friendly as Cindy was. When I asked if the island had a strong readership, she said yes. “We read and we watch TV,” she said.

While I read about the island and perused a shelf of books by local writers, most famously the artist Ashley Bryan, I overheard Cindy talking to a patron who was asking for book recommendations. The elderly woman was looking for a book and Cindy gave her one to examine. After a few minutes, during which the women talked, the patron said, “This sounds interesting. I think I will take this.” To which Cindy replied: “Oh good, you’ll have to let me know if you like it.” It struck me that this is the type of conversation that librarians have all over the country. Or should have.

After the library, I stopped in at the Islesford Market for coffee. A few days earlier, I had spoken to its owner, Soos, who encouraged me to stop by for coffee, especially if my visit coincided with rain. Indeed, it rained the next three days after we spoke. So I had waited until the sun broke through on the fourth day. When I walked in the door, she immediately called out my name, as if she had been expecting me eventually. We had coffee together and I sampled her ginger cake, an old island recipe, while she told me about her family’s history on the island. She encouraged me to visit her mother’s house, which was empty for the winter, on one of the island’s points. “It’s open,” Soos said. “Go ahead in and take a look around.” (I did, of course, and it was spooky and fun.)

I happened to be in the market when the schoolchildren raced in at lunchtime. Soos had made pizza and a few of the kids bought a slice. But their first action was to grab a piece of candy from the desk of the postmaster, Joy, the center of island activity if ever there was one.

On my way back to the ferry, I heard someone calling my name. I turned back to the store and a woman who had been on the boat trip over was hailing me with her arm. “Soos says I should meet you,” she said. I spent the next 30 minutes talking with Sarah Corson, who lives on Mount Desert but whose family has a long association with Islesford. Her son, Trevor, wrote the best-selling book “The Secret Life of Lobsters,” which is in large part about Islesford.

Back on the ferry, I watched as the island faded into the distance and Mount Desert became larger. That trip, from the island to the mainland, as Mount Desert is called by islanders, filled me with anticipation. Soon I would be on the mountains looking back at Islesford, which would then swell to hundreds of residents. I had beat the rush, and perhaps in the fall, I thought, I would come look at the mountains again.

Alicia Anstead can be reached at 990-8266 and aanstead@bangordailynews.net.

If you go…

. This time of year, you’ll want to pack your own lunch or pick up sandwiches at Town Hill Market or at Pine Tree Market and Liquors in Northeast Harbor. Take your own water to the island. There were soda and juices at the Islesford Market, where there may or may not be pizza on any given day. (During the summer, the market does sell more lunch-type foods.)

. It’s always best to check the mail boat schedule, but through April, the boat leaves Northeast Harbor at 7:30 and 11 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. Monday-Saturday. Return trips from Islesford are at 8:15 and 11:30 a.m. and 4 p.m. From the first Monday in May through the second week of June, there is also a 2:30 p.m. departure to the islands and a 3:30 p.m. return. In the summer, the boat leaves Northeast at 7:30 and 10 a.m., noon, 2, 4 and 6 p.m., and returns from Islesford at 8:15, 8:45 and 11:15 a.m., 1, 3:15, 5:15 and 6:45 p.m. The fare is $14 round trip for adults and $7 for children ages 3-12. Bikes cost an extra $5. Dogs are welcome but must be leashed.

. For a nearly hot cup of coffee, go to Islesford Market by walking up over the hill just off the ferry and turning left toward the white church steeple. Soos, who owns the store, has two types of gingerbread – hard and soft – for which she is famous or infamous, depending on whom you ask. She will also be happy to share the recipe. Her store offers limited snacks, with an eye toward gourmet tastes. You can buy postcards and mail them from the post office in the store.

. A note to those who, sadly, must bring cell phones: Service is better on Islesford than in many locations on the “mainland.”