Despite a winter that brought 100 inches of snow, the 2015 spring whitewater season in midcoast Maine was all too brief. Our annual transition to the bays and islands thus came a little sooner than usual. Based on demand, our summer featured day tours out of Belfast, Rockport, and Camden harbors as well as Stonington. in 2015, for the first time, we offered stand up paddle board rentals and instruction. Our own paddling included racing in the Whitewater Nationals in Old Town/Bangor and sea kayaking forays further Downeast to Cutler, Lubec, and Campobello. Early dawn paddles seeking out whales in the fog has become one of our passions. We plan to offer tours out of Lubec and Campobello in summer 2016. Thanks to all those who joined our tours in 2015. We hope to see you all again next summer!
Category: maine
The sparkling, ever-changing waters of Penobscot Bay are a big part of what drew me to the Midcoast. Lots of people can say the same.
My early experiences of the bay were from shore: Holbrook Island, Fort Point, Sears Island, Moose Point, and the Belfast waterfront all provided unique outlooks on the bay. And then I started kayaking, and new worlds of possibility opened up.
The Muscle Ridge Islands, Sheep, and Monroe, Lime and Lasell, Mark Island and Robinson Rock, Islesboro, Flat, Seal, and Ram, Turtle Head, Sears Island, Butter, Great Spruce, Hardhead, and Eagle — these are just a few of the places that have become as familiar as good friends. I feel extremely privileged to have spent the better part or the last fifteen summers paddling — and leading kayak trips — along miles and miles of shoreline and out to the no-two-alike islands of our world-renowned Penobscot Bay.
People do come from all over the world to visit our bay. And, although they take lodging in our towns and spend money in our shops, make no mistake, it is the bay they come for. They come for its beauty. The come for its uniqueness. They come for its quiet.
Water Walker Sea Kayak, LLC is just one among scores of businesses from Port Clyde to Stonington — kayak outfitters, sailing charters, tour boats, fishing charters, water taxis — that get people out on the water — and help keep our hotels and restaurants full.
The way the bay supports our economy can be likened to a three-legged stool. Recreation is one leg. Fishing is another. Both are highly dependent on the continued health of the bay — the health of the web of organisms, from sea ducks to seals to starfish, that call the bay their home.
The third leg of the stool, the shipping industry, has thus far been able to coexist remarkably well with recreation and fishing.
At present, the three legs of the stool are in a marvelous but somewhat delicate state of balance. Leaning on any leg at the expense of the others could tip the balance to the point that life as we know it will go crashing down.
The proposed propane tank in Searsport, the related public safety concerns, the requisite harbor dredging, the introduction of supership traffic to the bay, and the increase of truck traffic to Route 1 — together these have potential to tip the balance toward industry by irreparably harming both fishing and tourism to the point that those industries all but disappear.
There is lots we don’t know about how the tank would affect Searsport and the Midcoast. There is lots we don’t know about how the tank and its attendant superships would affect other economic activities on the bay. There is lots we don’t know about how much area property values might decrease.
We do know that ships would be significantly larger than anything that currently visits Searsport — and that each would arrive with its own moving security zone. We know that the proposed tank would be significantly larger than the existing tanks at Mack Point. We know that the tank would be visible, by land and by sea, from hundreds of vantage points for miles and miles away.
For tourists, the way a town presents itself visually makes the difference between whether they stop and visit or drive on by. Searsport can certainly do better than become known as “the town with a tank in it.”
We know that in an area where tourism and residential real estate make up a huge portion of the economy, perception IS reality — and that, if people perceive an area is undesirable because of visual pollution and hazardous materials, well, then, it is.
We know that when they reach Augusta, tourists choose between continuing north via Route 3, Belfast, Searsport, and Bucksport or staying on the interstate until they reach Bangor.
We know that for Penobscot Bay fishermen the line between thriving and not surviving is a fine line indeed. We know that recreation on the bay has huge yet untapped potential.
We know that the proposed tank will create twelve jobs. Twelve. We know that some in Searsport are already trying to sell their houses — for fear of the tank. We know that the tank issue has threatened to drive a wedge through that community — and that saying hello to DCP Midstream will result in saying goodbye to others.
We know that the pristine beauty of our bay is a treasure that will only become a more valuable and more sought after resource as time goes on. We know we can say, “No,” this once — and there will be plenty of other, more appropriate and less risky opportunities for economic development in our future.
Over the next few months, we plan to feature some of the places in Maine that we explored last summer in hopes this will inspire our readers to “get out there” in 2013.
We’ll start with Mt. Kineo, located on a peninsula extending from the eastern shore of Moosehead Lake. Mt. Kineo, as well as the 1,000 acre “island: it is situated on, is a Maine landmark long famous to calendars and postcards. Native Americans used it as a gathering place. Thoreau journeyed there and wrote about it. Hundreds of thousands of tourists have visited it, dating back to the 1800’s.
During the summer months, you can take a boat trip out from Rockwood for $10.00, and then hike around the island and climb to the summit.
If you have a kayak — and get the right day, you can do as we did, and paddle out to the island yourself. We launched from the public boat landing in Rockwood, made the one mile crossing to the island, and then, after debating whether to hike or paddle — not enough daylight left for both — we paddled around it. Our chosen route took us in a counter-clockwise direction. It included a short portage over the causeway on the eastern side of island and breathtaking views of the 700 foot rhyolite cliffs that rise directly from the lake. The distance around the island is about 7 miles.
A caution — the crossing can be choppy, and this part of the lake is especially susceptible to sudden changes in weather and wind. Please do not attempt to paddle there unless you are experienced in making crossings, have settled weather, and have a plan for what to do if the weather undergoes unpredicted changes. Winds tend to intensify toward mid-afternoon, so morning is often the safest time for your crossings.
Resources:
Mt. Kineo State Park
The hottest summer on record has meant an increase in the number of guests from states like Texas, Oklahoma, and Virginia.
It also has meant a lot of great weather for kayaking. While summer is not officially over yet, the approach of Labor Day and the start of the school year means it’s time for our annual slideshow — a celebration of some of the summer’s best moments — so far.
There’s still time to get out and enjoy the lakes, rivers, bays, and islands. We hope you soon have the chance to do just that.
(To view the slideshow is larger format, click the slideshow and then click the text link “Full Screen” in the upper left hand corner of your screen.)
If you drive 26 miles east from Ellsworth to Steuben, and then 6 miles south from Route 1 on the Pigeon Hill Road, you reach near the end of a peninsula that protrudes as far south as the town of Bar Harbor and Schoodic Point. The Petit Manan Refuge is one of the five refuges that together make up the Maine Coastal Islands National Wildlife Refuge.
Petit Manan Point is named after nearby Petit Manan Island, which itself was named by Samuel de Champlain and means “island out to sea.”
The refuge consists of 2,195 acres, both on Petit Manan Point and on nearby islands.
Like the other four refuges in Maine, Petit Manan provides a seasonal home for endangered neotropical songbirds such as the American redstart, Sawinson’s thrush, and song sparrow. The saltmarshes and mudflats provide habitat for black ducks great blue herons, American bitterns, sandpipers, and more. According to the refuge brochure, “During fall migration the 80-acred Cranberry Flowage on Petit Manan is filled with over 4,000 . . . black ducks, green-winged teal, and mallards” who use it as a resting and feeding spot.
We often say that kayaking is the best way to see the coast, but walking is also good — and it sometimes gets you places unreachable by other means. Petit Manan Point presents a strong case for the argument that being able to see the water is not always a prerequisite of coast. For even where the trails take you over glacially scoured terrain and down into the deep shade of white cedar forests, the fingerprints of the ocean are unmistakable and everywhere. In the cool, moist salt air. In the peat bogs, the subarctic vegetation, and the tamarack. In the thrushes, sparrows, and warblers. In the wildflowers, and –yes — in the sound of distant surf.
Petit Manan Point offers two main options for hikes. The shorter, easterly hike (Hollingsworth Trail) seems to be favorite of some. The longer, westerly hike — (Birch Point Trail) has recently undergone upgrades that include new plank bridges in the boggy areas.
For our late day, late May hike, we chose the Hollingsworth trail, which, as we found, provides a tremendous variety of vegetation and landscapes in a 1.5 mile loop. There is also opportunity to extend the hike by walking south along the beaches toward the southern tip of the peninsula.
Whether you go in May or August or October, there is likely to be lots to see — and a good chance to see something you haven’t seen before.
As the waters cool, the days shorten, and my schedule transitions from guiding to teaching, my relationship with the water changes too. I look longingly over the bay as I cross the bridge to East Belfast on my morning commute. I hurriedly squeeze in an afternoon paddle between a meeting at school and picking up the kids. Paddling trips are shorter and closer to home. The place where I put in is more likely Belfast Harbor or Pitcher Pond rather than South Thomaston or Stonington. The equinox is a great time to reflect on the summer that was. Days like today give hope that there is a little more of it still left.
Summer started cool, with temperatures on June 24 topping out at 57 degrees. July made us believe in global warming all over again, with 12 days of temps above 80 degrees, and 25 days of at least partial sun. August was more of a mixed bag, but there were still a good number of sunny days and an influx of tourists. Suddenly everyone wanted to get out on the water — today!
Irene brought wind, waves, and rain — and hastened many to pull their boats out of the water. The nice thing about kayaks is that they’re easy to put back in.
Three kayakers lost their lives in Maine waters this summer. One was wearing a life jacket. Two were not. Thousands and thousands of others paddled Maine’s lakes, ponds, and rivers without mishap. Still, an emergency bill is being introduced in the Maine legislature that would make wearing (and not just having) a life jacket a requirement for all those kayaking and canoeing in Maine waters.
I’d rather see an effort to get more paddlers to wear their life jackets through education, not legislation. Do wear your life jacket and be mindful that waters are not as warm as they were a month ago. Paddle safe and enjoy!
Our end-of-summer slideshow has become, for us, a seasonal rite. We hope you enjoy it. A big thank you to all who joined us on our tours. And to those who didn’t, just remember, we can’t put your photo in the slideshow unless you come paddle with us.
If you were to view the Baker Island Dance Floor through the lens of a time-lapse camera, you would see that there is a dance going on — one that has taken place over centuries.
Calm bright summer days bring a relative flurry of activity. The dancers most often arrive quietly, in small groups. Mixed among them are those who will only sit. There are, however, usually a few who will dance. They feel the wind, scan the horizon, and listen to the waves breaking on the rocks — as if to internalize the rhythm; and then, although no band is playing, they pantomime a few steps. Sometimes it is a solitary person who rises and stands in the sunlight on that shelf of brilliant pink granite, at the brink of the broad Atlantic, who then steps out an impromptu waltz with the sea.
By the time you reach there, you have crossed four miles of ocean. Perhaps the seas have been rough. Maybe your passage through the Cranberry Islands has been slowed by fog. After landing your boat on the rocky shore and clambering up through the sea weed zone, you hike for twenty minutes — up through the meadow, past the old farmhouse, to the lighthouse and then down a narrow trail that at times seems to go nowhere, and then you arrive at this place to which people have been coming for hundreds of years for picnics and dancing.
The dance floor is what you have come for. Photos don’t do it justice. You have come a long way for this and have probably been to many granite shorelines in your time, so you come with some skepticism that this will be anything special. And then the trail opens out to the dance floor and you forget all of that. It’s a lonely place, an awe-inspiring place, a wild place. You feel like you are on the edge of something — and you are. Sky, rock, and sea dwarf all that is human, including human thought. You get pushed out of yourself. It’s hard to know what to do. At the dance floor, the suggested activity is to dance.
Some who arrive there do so as a result of being lured by the brief description under “Unique Natural Features” in the Delorme Atlas. Some learn about it by reading kayaking or cruising books. Others come via boat tours out of Northeast Harbor. Still others come as part of organized groups. Penobscot Paddles describes their own recent trip to the Baker Island Dance Floor in their blog here. Ten years ago, a group of 26 social dancers gathered there for a dance that was recorded in a series of photos. Read about it and view the photos at http://www.cranberryisles.com/baker/dance.html The 2001 event was a re-enactment of sorts of events in the 1800’s, when Cranberry Islanders first began using Baker Island for picnics and dancing.
It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Native Americans did some dancing there as well.
Baker Island is about four miles south of Mt. Desert Island and is the outermost of the five islands that make up the Cranberry Isles. Settlers were living on the Cranberry Isles by the early 1760’s. The island has a 43-foot lighthouse situated at its center that is now nearly obscured by trees.
Resources:
http://www.cranberryisles.com/baker/dance.html
http://www.acadiamagic.com/BakerIsland.html
http://www.barharborwhales.com/baker-island.php (Baker Island boat tour charter company)
The proverb, “A year of snow, a year of plenty,” has a basis in the agricultural truth that a deep snow cover protects plants and trees from the cold and can thereby boost the following growing season. For those who like to snowshoe, ski, snowmobile, ice fish, or enjoy the snow in other ways, the benefits come much sooner.
Plain and simple, this is the best (purest, deepest, softest, whitest, longest lasting) snow I can remember in Waldo County. In the Eskimo language, it is muruaneq, soft deep snow. Or in the Inuit, maxtla, “snow that hides the whole village, or simply tlapa, powder snow.
According to NOAA maps, Maine is currently covered by 6 to 30 inches of snow, with the average depth being about 20 inches. That’s enough snow to fill Sebago Lake (deepest and 2nd largest lake in Maine) 14 times.
The snow water equivalent of our current snowpack averages about 3 inches statewide, which is — in itself — enough to fill Sebago Lake twice. Melt all that snow and you have 1.8 trillion gallons of water. Bottle and sell those gallons for a dollar apiece and you could run the state budget for 200 years. That’s a lot of snow.
But you can’t sell the snow, of course. And t least some of us wouldn’t want to. For those who cross country ski, snowshoe, or snowmobile, waking up after a snow storm is the equivalent of waking up to find our houses magically, overnight have been transported to the shore of a massive and breathtakingly beautiful lake. Recreational opportunities that did not exist a day ago now beckon at our doorsteps. What previously seemed private is a vast public commons. Where travel was previously limited is a vast network of pathways. For all it’s uses, including just for the view, the “lake” becomes the center of our day.
I am fortunate to be able to access the Little River Community Trail (and nearby network of ski and snowshoe trails) from my back door. Currently, most of the trails are tracked and gorgeous. The skiing doesn’t get better than this.
If a person’s wealth were based on the miles of cross country ski trails leading from their backyard, some of us would be feeling wealthy indeed. Better yet, in this case at least, it’s easy to share the wealth. Hoping to cross tracks with you soon!
Halfway between Camden and North Haven is a rock that serves as a landmark and hazard for boaters. On the chart, it appears as a squiggle – and it’s not really much more than that. It would never do for human habitation. The biggest storms of winter nearly wash over it. You could never grow anything there or build anything permanent. It’s just a waypoint on the way to somewhere else.
It likely gets only a handful of visitors each year, if that. It does have unsurpassed views of the Camden Hills and Penobscot Bay. It’s a place that looks little different than it did 100 years ago – or 1,000. It’s not even part of the Maine Island trail. The guidebooks don’t touch it, as if it is too small and inconsequential to mention. Google knows about it, but it doesn’t know much. No evidence of humans or of human visits is easily found. If you arrive there, it is probably by accident.
1.9 acre Robinson Rock is 4 nautical miles southeast of Camden Harbor and a little less than a mile south of Mark Island. It has a couple of rough gravel beaches tucked between rocky headlands. It has tide pools more than adequate for an afternoon’s contemplation. It has a soft peaty soils and a rough green meadow of raspberry, burdock, and wild rose. Harbor seals, sea gulls, cormorants, and nesting black guillemots call it (and its surrounding ledges) home. Eagles, who frequently nest on nearby Mark Island, can be seen overhead. Far off, the Camden Hills rise up like a distant country. It’s a wilder place than we are accustomed to seeing this far up the bay. The mighty Atlantic comes to call – and has left its mark – on the bedrock and in the beaches.. It feels more akin to the open ocean than it does to most of the other islands of our bay, which tend to be wooded and garden-like in comparison.
As an IFW (Inland Fisheries and Wildlife) bird nesting island, it is closed to the public during nesting season, which extends from April 1 to the end of August. Given the remoteness from the mainland, the exposure to open water, and the inadvisability of embarking on long crossings once ocean temperatures drop, this leaves only a short window for visits. Finding a day in September where conditions permit a crossing is not easy. Combine that with work and household schedules, and pulling off a trip to Robinson Rock is a rare feat and much treasured opportunity.
We had such a day a few weeks ago. The bay was windless and glassy as we set out of Camden Harbor. Even so, the wind came up during the day and by the time we headed back across on our return crossing, we had to battle a difficult beam seas during our entire trip. The wind generally blows north or south (straight up or down) Penobscot Bay, making any east west crossing in a a kayak dicey – and potentially dangerous. I do not recommend taking the trip unless you are have been sea kayaking for a number of years, have made shorter crossings (such as Saturday Cove to Islesboro) in a variety of conditions, and are equipped with full safety gear including vhf radio, flares, extra clothing, and at least one partner with whom you have practiced various re-entry rescues. A tent and a sleeping bag (in case of being stranded on the island due to a change in weather) would not be a bad idea.
If ashore on a fair day in September, with late summer sunlight spilling over the water, the rock , and the beaches, with a salt breeze coming up the bay and the cry of gulls and the boom of surf in the air, you will fully appreciate Robinson Rock is much more than a rock. If caught up in the spirit of the place, you might even feel for a while that you could abandon all ties to the mainland and just live there like the seals and the guillemots. But you know that as the nights get cooler and the sunlight wanes, the seals and “guilleys” will leave. As you know you must.
For those of you out there contemplating a visit, just remember that the trip is difficult and a little risky. Anyway, you probably have a lawn to mow or firewood to stack. After all, Robinson Rock is just a rock. It is four long miles from Camden Harbor, and all that raw beauty is almost too much to bear.