Bike Acadia!

Somehow I grew up in Maine without knowing about the Acadia Carriage Trails. I love biking so this was

an oversight of some significance! My husband mentioned them to me on our way home from a visit Downeast. I looked into it and it turns out they are a well-known hiking and especially biking destination. They are on the National Register if Historic Places, having been built by John Rockefeller in conjunction with the National Park Service, in the early to mid 20th century. 57 miles of packed crushed gravel roads wind between the ponds and mountains.

Acadia is not a compact park. It consists of several separate areas, and even the main area is an irregular lobed shape that winds in and out of the settled areas of Mount Desert Island. The town of Otter Creek is completely surrounded by parkland, for example. We entered the park at the Hull Cove Visitors Center. 

We took the Witch Hole Pond Loop, and the Eagle Lake Loop on purpose...and the Paradise Hill Loop by accident. I don't know which of the ponds was Witch Hole! But they were all beautiful. 

My bike (on the left) is at least 25 years old. I bought it used in 1994 for $200 - it seemed like an extravagant amount at the time but has earned its cost many times over. Doug's bike is also secondhand. One of the reasons I love biking is, you don't need fancy gear or special shoes or dedicated clothes. Any bike, any shoes, (almost) any clothes, and you are in business. 

We saw these two turtles basking together. They are Painted Turtles - the larger on about as big as those get, in Maine, the small one the smallest I've ever seen in the wild. 

When we found ourselves at the Duck Brook Bridge we declared ourselves officially lost. This was a little alarming - you can get pretty lost in 57 miles of road, and it was getting late in the day. Luckily there was a map kiosk at the bridge, that showed us where we went wrong. 

There's still so much of Acadia to see! Next time I will print a map, though. :)

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. 

Hammock Time

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.

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. 🙂

To Bee or Not to Bee

Every year, long about in February, I start to think about keeping bees. I google a few kinds of hives: Kenyan top bar? Flow hive? Occasionally I even take a book out of the library before I remember: oh yeah. This is a shit ton of work. You have to clean the hive. You have to inoculate the bees. You have to treat for mites. You get propolis all over everything. And that's before you think about harvesting the honey. I'd probably have to take an extension course.

I'm not really up for a shit ton more work, or spending my little disposable income on a class. I like honey but not that much. I'm more interested in supporting pollinators.

In my annual internal soliloquy - to bee or not to bee? - this year I discovered the perfect compromise: mason bees! These are tiny native bees, about the size of houseflies, but they are power-pollinators: they 4 -5 times more efficiently than their non-native cousins the honeybees.

They are also a lot less work. Basically make a suitable home for them, and they take care of themselves. There are supplies you can buy - paper tubes to go in the holes, to make cleaning the nest out easier - but I went with basic this year. They want holes, preferably facing south or east, and tehy want a source of mud (I can do that - I'm a potter!!) They want some protection from rain and wind. The holes I drilled are a little shallow, probably only about 4 inches; apparently 5 or 6 is better, to protect against the predation of woodpeckers.

A 5-16th inch drill bit works best. Wood should be untreated.

I knew I was keeping those old license plates around for a reason. 

It turns out I may be a bit late for my little friends this season - everything I am reading is that they make their nests while the trees are blooming, which is late March & April here. But maybe we'll get a late bloomer or two! In any case, if they have need of a home it'll bee here. 😉

February at Kettle Cove, Cape Elizabeth, Maine

Photo by Derek Davis of the Press Herald

Who says beaches are only for summer? Not Hugh Sharp.

Ice Shacks on the Pleasant River

See more about Maine rivers, fishing, and habitat preservation at the Downeast Salmon Federations' Facebook page.

Success Story - American Bald Eagles in Maine

I grew up in Maine. My family are an outdoorsy bunch - camping, fishing, hiking, boating - so I spent a lot of time enjoying the natural beauty of Maine. One thing that I never did see, growing up? A bald eagle, in the wild.

That's because, when I was growing up, bald eagles were nearly extinct. The pesticide DDT interfered with the success of the eggs. Their habitats were infringed and badly degraded. Their food sources were poisoned by pollution. Though the Bald Eagle Protection Act of 1940 prohibited shooting them, there was still some illegal hunting, as eagles - pushed out of their preferred food sources - would sometimes take chickens or lambs.

In 1967, eagles south of the 40th parallel were protected, and in 1972, DDT was banned. Eagle populations did not begin to recover until after they received the full protection of the Endangered Species Act in 1978. It was listed as endangered in 42 states and  threatened in six others.

Today I live a quarter mile from the Kennebec River, and I see bald eagles almost every day. They glide over the river. They hassle osprey to drop fish

Photo by Greg Stephens

they've caught. They land on the sand bars and pick at their prize. I see them at Hatch Hill - the town dump - where they prey on the seagulls attracted by the trash.
Eagles are back. But they never would have come back if not for the ESA. This is the story for many species, and many more - Kennebec Salmon, for example - are still struggling.

Now Republican lawmakers want to roll back the Endangered Species Act. This came as something of a shock to me, because I don't know anyone who is not in favor of the act, which has been such an obvious success. In 1973 it passed almost unanimously.

But it's not 1973 anymore, and it seems like the Republican agenda has just become to roll back anything that liberals like. That's Republicans in Congress; as I said, every Republican I know personally favors the act. Anyone who hunts or fishes usually does.

If you think this is a horrifying idea, now would be an excellent time to call your Senators and Representatives and tell them so.

The View Across the Scarborough Marsh

I grew up in Scarborough. The marsh with all its attendant wildlife was ordinary to me; cormorants and heron and egrets were just birds. I didn't know what an amazing place it was until I moved away.

My first awareness of environmental issues came because of it. I was six, and my family had just moved to Scarborough from Brewer, an inland city in Central Maine. One we drove by an abandoned building - more of a shack, really - bordering the wetland. Someone had painted this graffiti: Save the Marsh! - The Gull.

My mother explained that there were people who wanted to fill in the marsh, to build houses and businesses. I pondered on that: houses and business were good, right? But where would the thing that lived there go? Some other marsh? What if that one got filled in also?

This was before environmental laws protected areas like the Scarborough Marsh, but blessedly the marsh survives. I visit it frequently; my father's ashes are scattered here, and I go to smell the salt air, watch the birds and think of him.

Then Leaf Subsides to Leaf

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay. -

Robert Frost

I've been meaning to take photos for this post for over a week, and I almost missed the window: the brief hour of gold. 

I took a walk today on Macworth Island, just north of Portland. A causeway leads to the island, which houses the Governor Baxter School for the Deaf. It's an easy hike, about 2.2 miles, with lovely views. It's good to go early in the season - Macworth has a very small parking lot, and when that lot is full, no more visitors are allowed. Even today, only one spot was open when I arrived, although there were more by the time I left. 

Must Eden always sink to grief? Maybe. But Macworth abides. 

What's Blooming Now, May 2016

Salmon Release, Bond Brooks, Augusta

Messalonskee students release Atlantic salmon into Bond Brook in Augusta

Conservation groups worked with the students to help them understand the salmon life cycle and the long odds of survival.

So cool. 

Dividing Day

My shopping list for today:

• Seep hose
• 50' extension cord
• Mulch

It's the last weekend in September - time to divide the perennials, dig up the neglected beds, and mulch for the winter.

When I started perennial gardening, tumpty-ump years ago in St. Paul Minnesota, I thought I was doing it because it was less work than planting annuals. I like stuff that stays planted! I used to stay. Right? Just plant it and then relax and watch it bloom for years to come.

ROFLMFAO, as we used to say.

In reality, perennial gardening demands composting, weeding, mulching, dividing, and moving plants that are didn't get the memo to bloom where you are planted.

Without attention, by fall, a perennial bed will look kind of like this:

Dry, crowded, weedy. This bed needs to be dug out, the keepers set aside, the weeds pulled, and the dirt mixed with compost and replaced. Either the bed will have to get larger or I will have to discard some plants, because they have all thrived so well they are crowding each other out. I just redid a smaller bed, which now looks like this:

Expanding the bed means even more work next year - and more mulch, which gets expensive. In past I have not had the heart to discard perfectly good plants, so I expand the beds, or start new ones.

Then I started reading The Right Size Flower Garden, by Maine author Kerry Ann Mendez. After some life changes left her with less time and energy to devote to her perennials, Mendez had a choice: let the garden fall into disarray, or limit the garden to the space she could take care of. The book details shrinking beds, planning garden care, and choosing plants that require little attention. I've already started, with two raised bed which were, after many years, too shady for their inhabitants. Pull 'em out, sod 'em over!

Each year, of course, the garden is all about next year's garden: when this finally blooms or that fills in.  This fall I am excited for next year, when I will (hopefully) have time to keep the remaining beds looking sharp all season.

A Walk in the Maine Woods

Now that spring is here - well, sort of - it’s a great time to go plant-spotting. There are well over 200 plant species on Maine’s rare, threatened and endangered list. Who knew, right? Some are so rare that there are estimated to be fewer than 5 individual plants in the entire state! Others are well-established in Maine but threatened globally. On your next outing, see if you can spot these plants from the list:


Showy Lady’s Slipper
Rarer than either the pink or yellow varieties, there are estimated to be between 20 and 100 Showy Lady’s slippers in Maine.





Spotted WintergreenSpotted Wintergreen grows in only 13 locations in the entire state, with fewer than 20 individual plants. Its southern Maine habitat has been reduced by de-velopment. In June white blooms on short stalks make it easier to spot.


Slender Blue Flag Iris
Slender Blue Flag likes both salt and freshwater marshes, and costal meadows. Though threatened in Maine - fewer than 20 plants are known to grow here - the population of Slender Blue Flag is believed to be globally secure.

Big Night

An amazing thing happens on the first warm, rainy night of spring: it's called Big Night, and it's the time when frogs, salamanders, and other amphibians creep out from under the rocks and leaves they've been sheltering in for the winter, or from the dirt they've dug themselves into, and make their way to vernal pools.

The ground must be softened by thawing tempertures, around 40 or so. Most of the ground must be free of snowcover. There must be pools of water in low areas left by the melting snow. Rain is necessary to prevent the drying of fragile amphibian skin. And Big Night? is coming to Maine, soon. The next warm rainy night is likely to be the night.

Why am I telling you this? Well, you might want to venture out to see it, especially if you have kids: it's pretty magical. But even if you don't fancy an adventure in the 40-degree rain, it's good to know to be careful driving.

It's hard being an amphibian these days. Choosing vernal pools keeps eggs safe from fish that might eat them (vernal pools are temporary, hence the name, so fish can't make their homes there) nad night travel helps avoid predation on the adults as they travel. But evolution couldn't have accounted for vehicular traffic, and many routes to safety take the amphibians across roads and highways.

To learn more about Big Night in Maine, or to be a part of an organization helping to protect these creatures in their vulnerable crossing, check out the Maine Lakes Association.