Sprague Pond Trail, Phippsburg

 Directions here. I'd use Google maps; the iphone navigation was wrong by about a quarter mile. This trail starts as a quiet walk through the woods but opens onto a surprise gorge & waterfall! Fiddleheads were up - although we left them undisturbed - and polliwogs were swimming. This was a fabulous spring hike. 

Shed Pond, Readfield

 

The autumn colors were subdued but nevertheless beautiful on our Sunday hike to Shed Pond. 

Oven's Mouth, Boothbay, Maine, October 2020

We are blessed to live in Maine during these Covid times, where there are lots of things to do outdoors, and for free. The Oven's Mouth Preserve in Boothbay is one such thing. I wish this video could be scratch & sniff! The piney woods, the briny rivers; you can just feel the tension leaving your body at the scent. 

My favorite thing about Oven's Mouth, though, is the incredible teal color of the water of the Back & Cross rivers. 

Enjoy! 

Upper Falls at The Cataracts, Andover, Maine

 

My favorite Maine hikes are always chasing waterfalls. Today I went with the always-fun Bionic Yowie, We've been friends since high school (and that is a loooong time ago!) but only recently started hiking together. 

There are two trailheads close together on East B Hill Road in Andover. We did Dunn Falls a couple of weeks ago; today was The Cataracts Trail. The Cataracts is the easier of the two. 
It was a perfect day for hiking, sunny but not too warm. I almost wished it had been warmer, though, because this trails includes several swimming holes. 

All in all a beautiful trail on a beautiful day. 

Snow's Falls, West Paris, Maine

 As beautiful as this is, it isn't even, like,  a hiking destination; this is just a rest area in West Paris, Maine. 

Day of the Dad

It is said that in November the veil between the world of the living and that of the dead grows thin. In Mexico, November 2nd is the Day of the Dead, a festive celebration to pray for and remember loved ones who have died. I admire this tradition, as the taboo of death in American culture makes loss and grief more isolating.

I'm not especially religious, nor do I subscribe to any woo-woo philosophies. Despite efforts to embrace both of those idea sets at different times in my life, my thinking remains pretty firmly evidence-based. That said, no one can say for sure if there is or isn't a next life, and it can be a comfort to think there might be; that out loved ones are not lost to us forever.

My Dad passed on January 1st, 2001, a single day into the new millennium, by some accounting. If time is a dimension, like spatial dimensions, in a way he is not gone, like a person who is spatially out of sight is not gone. Anyway, sometimes I want to talk to him. I can do that anywhere, I suppose; if there is a next world it's unlikely our spirits would be tied to the resting place of our physical bones. Nevertheless, sometimes I go to the Scarborough Marsh, where we scattered his ashes, to visit. I stand on the footbridge and talk. The first few times I felt silly, but it comes more naturally to me now.
I visit a few times a year, kind of randomly; a couple years ago, I did because we were having a solar eclipse, and my dad was blessed with a great intellectual curiosity, and I deeply wished he were there to see it with me. 
It's a beautiful place, never more so than on a sunny day in late autumn, when the colors are gold an

bronze vibrating against the blue sky and water. It's accessible via the old Eastern Road, now a bike/walking trail with entry points at Black Point Road and at Pine Point Road, among several others (it's a pretty long trail, nearly 30 miles from South Portland to Kennebunk.) It's a flat, easy trail - easy to walk or jog, and you can ride a street bike on it, and it takes you through some of the most beautiful landscape in Southern Maine.
Don't let your outdoor activities end in September! Late fall landscapes have an austere beauty all their own, and cooler temps are quite conducive to delightful hikes.

The Barrens in August

My mom grew up in Cherryfield, a small town Downeast. As she hates when I tell people, she was the Maine Blueberry Queen of 1950! Who even knew there was such a thing.
For the past few years, my husband & I have been spending some time in the area. We reserve an adorable cabin on the Machias River, (gas lights & cooking! I've done plenty of campfire cooking, and while I wouldn't rule it out in future, I do like my camping on easy mode.) The way passes through miles of blueberry barrens, the late-season red foliage of which gives the town of Cherryfield its name.
These are wild blueberries, the fruit small & intensely flavorful, which grow nowhere so well as the Downeast region of Maine. They are not to be confused with their high-bush cousins, the fat berries you see in the supermarket.
(Free opinion: it is a waste of good blueberries to put them in a pie, full of cornstarch & sugar. It renders them gloppy and the flavor insipid, and also turns your teeth purple.Pancakes, yes; muffin, yes; yogurt and salads and cream cheese, yes; by the handful YES PLEASE.)

The soil of the barrens is a highly acidic thin layer over ledge. It's called a "barrens" because not much except the very low-growing wild blueberries can thrive there. The proximity of the Atlantic keeps the air humid, which helps the shallow-rooted plants survive. The image above is in mid-August, during the picking season. The bushes that have not yet been harvested are heavy with fruit. I imagine this place before colonization, what a blessing this wild abundance must have been, and just below it, Wigwam Falls, popping with Atlantic Salmon, back in the day. (Atlantic Salmon are far rarer now, but there are groups working on their restoration - the Downeast Salmon Federation has a hatchery in East Machias where they raise salmon the the parr stage and then release them into Maine rivers - salmon return to their home rivers to spawn.)

Here's my favorite blueberry recipe:

Blueberry-Banana Smoothie

In blender:
3/4 cup wild Maine blueberries
1/2 banana, frozen
3/4 cup orange juice
Quick shake of nutmeg

Blend until smooth. Enjoy!

The View From Black Mountain

Summit view

When you're self-employed, there are no set bounds on your working hours. As a result, you can find yourself just always working. In October the year I turned 50 I realized I had let an entire, precious Maine summer go by without a single outdoor adventure.
To avoid a repeat, my husband and I started a tradition: we will plan something fun together for his birthday, in mid-July; our anniversary, at the end of July; and for my birthday, in August. We might have more, but we never have less than three summer-fun days.

For Doug's birthday, he wanted to hike black mountain, to examine the exposed ledge at the summit for beryl crystals. I can't say I recommend this hike,

Doug, trudging to the summit

unless you, too, are interested in Maine minerals; it's a very steep round-stone road, and not especially pretty. The view from the top, though: that was amazing.

Didn't see much wildlife, surprisingly - not even birds, except two very startled - and startling - partridges. Well - and a lot of deer flies, and some weird looking shiny-black flies, wide as AMC Pacers. I think maybe they were tachinid flies? Pretty freaky looking, anyway.

Black Mountain is home to one of Maine's icons, however - we didn't encounter a moose but we saw clear evidence they had been there: 

The walk down was, unsurprisingly, more pleasant. Here's a view of Roxbury pond, seen coming down the mountain:

We finished the day with a stop at Rowe's Afternoon Delite, a classic Maine roadside stand for burgers & onion rings. I wanted scallops but they only take cash! There's a sign saying where they nearest ATMs are but honestly I didn't want scallops that badly, so I settled.

Moxie Falls, Moxie Gore Township

The trouble with photographing waterfalls is that you can't really get a sense of the scale of the thing. Rocks can be any size. Trees and branches have a pretty broad range, too. In this photo, the tiny little people to the top right of the falls are key to get an idea of the immensity of the drop.
Moxie Falls, in the township of Moxie Gore, plummets an incredible 90+ feet. That's three times the height of my house. The pool at the bottom of the falls is nearly 17 feet deep but I wouldn't recommend a dive.

If you aren't from Maine, you probably think of the word moxie as a anachronistic synonym for spunk or courage. This comes from the soft drink made in Maine, which in turn took its name from a patent medicine which claimed to build up one's nerve. This was before the FDA was created, when companies could make all the unfounded medical claims they wanted! But hey, how about that Big Government tyranny, amirite?

But I digress.

In Maine, the name Moxie is associated with a stretch of water feeding into the Kennebec River - Moxie Pond, Moxie Stream, Moxie Falls. It seems to derive from an Abenaki word meaning "dark water." The soft drink takes its name from the region, and adjective comes from the soft drink.

The trail leading into the falls is a relatively easy hike. It's wide and flat most of the way, but does include some steep staircases as you approach the falls. There are wooden viewing decks from which the view is maintained by Maine Bureau of Parks and Lands - they trim back branches and brush to keep it clear. By which I mean, don't crawl out on the ledge trying to get a better view!

A Maine man, Garth Coon, was killed 2005 when his companion, who had been swimming in a pool

near the top of the falls got swept away by the current. He tried to save her, but they were both pulled over. Though badly injured, she lived; sadly, he did not. 

There is a much, much safer swimming hole upstream, within the series of small drops known as Junior Falls. The day we were there a youth group was enjoying it, splashing around, sitting on the natural bench the ledge makes just under the falls. 

This pool is also pretty deep - people were doing cannonballs from a low ledge on the far side. It's a fast-running stream pretty deep in the woods - the water is clean and clear. The hike, while not arduous, is sort of a self-selecting mechanism; most people who are willing to walk that far into the woods to take a swim are also the sort who wouldn't leave beer cans and other trash around. 

It's a pretty drive to Moxie Gore, and the area gets a goodly lot of visitors to hunt, fish, canoe, and tube. (Bullfrog Adventures will take you on a gorgeous, safe, and surprisingly cheap tubing trip.) As a result there are several little restaurants and brew pubs on 201 for you to grab a bite & a pint on the way home. 

Upta Camp: Welcome to the Wigwams

Nothing is more relaxing than a weekend upta camp. We've just come back from The Wigwams, a camp belonging to the Downeast Salmon Federation.

Located on Lower Wigwam Falls (hence the name) on the Machias River, the Wigwams is as close as you'll get to glamping anywhere Downeast. It boasts a gas stove & lights, and a screened porch where you can sit in comfort and watch the river go by.

Though quite out of the way - one drives through miles of blueberry barrens to reach it - the Wigwams is accessible by truck. (I wouldn't try that road in any vehicle without a pretty high undercarriage.) Just below the falls is flat water - you can put in a canoe & paddle downriver and then easily back upriver.

It's a 3-season camp, as it has a wood furnace for comfy nights even in cool weather.

Though the Wigwams was originally a salmon camp, located where the Passamaquoddy had historically placed a dwelling to take advantage of the fine salmon fishing, there are, sadly, very few salmon in the Machias River these days. The Downeast Salmon Federation is working on that!

If you'd like to stay in the Wigwams, you can do so for a small donation to DSF, who also owns two other cabins in the region. Those are more rustic, and I haven't been there yet. Wigwams, though? Fantastic. Rustic, peaceful, but easy and clean and convenient. Camping for people who aren't into camping. 🙂

Sunset in the Sunrise County

Sunset over the blueberry barrens, Washington County.

Pickers Cabins, Columbia Falls, Maine

It's nearly picking season in Downeast Maine. The pickers will come and live at the barrens in rustic little camps until the work is done.

 The barrens are a spare but beautiful landscape, upon which little will grow except blueberries, because below a very thin scrim of soil lies solid bedrock, scraped clean by glaciers. The blueberry foliage turns deep red in early August, and stays brilliant until the snow covers it. The town of Cherryfield - right next to Columbia Falls - got its name, oddly enough, from the red foliage of its blueberry barrens. My mother is from Cherryfield, and she worked in Wyman's food processing plant as a teenager, plucking sticks and rocks from a conveyor belt of blueberries. She hates when I tell people this, but she was crowned Maine Blueberry Queen of 1950! You probably love wild Maine blueberries - everybody does. They are a superfood, you know! These barrens are, in fact, wild; the blueberries were here before there were companies to cultivate them. They may have been here before there were any people to enjoy them! The pickers cabins in the photo above are the accommodations provided by the Passamaquoddy Wild Blue Berry Company. 

Ready for picking! July 2017