Stinson Neck in the Snow

We had an amazing run of warm-for-December weather, and well, I guess it had to end sometime. We've been paddling in 40 and even 50-degree weather... not a lot of big trips- mostly afternoon jaunts out to the nearby islands. We work all morning, and most days I'm pretty restless by lunchtime, ready to get out for a paddle or a walk. We've also had Rebecca's parents visiting for the holiday, and her Mom has joined us for a couple of paddles. I haven't been looking forward to snow in any particular way, but not really dreading it either. Bad weather makes it easier to stay in and get work done, but I get a little stir-crazy after a bit. This afternoon I suddenly found myself done with work and alone. We'd just had our first real snowstorm, and though the temps were below freezing, there wasn't much wind. I got my gear together, left a note on the counter and headed-out.

Off to the east, Western Mountain on Mount Desert Island rose into the clouds, where it appeared to still be snowing. It was nearing high tide as I followed the shore of Stinson Neck: icicles dripping down from overhangs, fresh snow on spruce boughs. Most of the lobster boats still out have been fitted for scallop dragging. One of them motored in slow circles out beyond Crow Island as I crossed the mouth of Conary Cove and headed out to the Lazygut Islands.

 A few days ago out there (I guess it was Christmas) we were out at Lazygut at a lower tide and a very small swell. There's some really nice ledges out there where we find the occasional wave and some rocks to play around. Today the tide had covered the ledges, but I rode some waves through the narrow, shallow slots between the Thrumcaps. I took a break for a cup of hot chocolate.

I've enjoyed paddling with others, but there's something about getting out by myself that I don't get when my journey is shared. The experience becomes more intuitive, making choices without discussing them, just going. No conversations or observations, just the thoughts passing through my head, and with any luck those thoughts eventually get replaced by pure action: paddle paddle paddle, edge, turn, oh look an eagle, rock, turn, wave, etc, etc.

I do find myself thinking about what I'm working on, and that can be good too. Who knows where thoughts will go- as much a part of the trip as the physical route. I'd like to be able rationalize my paddling that way, that some of the best writing happens in my head when I'm not holed-up with a computer.

I headed around the west side of the neck, following the rocky shore below the Haystack School and into Billings Cove, where it was calm, getting close to sunset above that thick layer of clouds. A bit of snow had started spitting down again, and it felt good, invigorating, fresh. I paused in a still stretch of water and listened. Unfortunately, I can't quite experience silence anymore- just the ringing in my ears that descends when there's no other sound to distract my brain. But it felt quiet.

I carried over the Sunshine Causeway and made my way around Plumb Point. Lights had come on in the house, and I made my way toward them.

Around Mountainville & Stinson Neck

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From the window, we look down across a hillside meadow, over a screen of shore side trees, and on out to a stretch of water and islands: the west end of Eggemoggin Reach. But just beyond those trees, maybe a couple hundred yards from shore, lies a ledge that, at high tide is probably not much larger than most living rooms, furnished with a collection of erratic boulders that gleam with light particular to the angle of the sun. When the sun comes up they burn with a rosy orange glow, cooling to gray and white tones as the light turns stark. It’s funny how, despite the breadth of the view, my eyes are so often drawn to those rocks. It’s a bit like how some art grabs you and some doesn’t. or why you want to look into some people’s eyes more than others; you find a thereness that makes your eyes want to linger.

We paddled past those rocks, Barb, Rebecca and I, as we started a route that would circle Stinson Neck and Mountainville; a longer paddle than any of us had done in awhile. Lately Rebecca and I had been getting out mostly for one or two, maybe three hours- what we could fit-in at the day’s end, after our work, usually returning after dark.

 

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But Saturday promised to be a little warmer – in the high forties – and we decided to take a day off and make the most of it. Barb joined us and off we went, paddling against a little wind as we followed the shores of Bear and Campbell Islands. Both islands are open to the public and free from development, with boulder-strewn granite ledge shores. Campbell is for sale and we fantasized about buying it- preserving the MITA campsites and public access, of course… but a yurt inland of one of those little coves would sure be a nice spot to hang-out for the summer.

That’s become a bit of a joke. We look around and comment about what a nice place it is, and then “Yeah, I bet it would be really nice in the summer.” We’ve been saying this for a few winters now. It not that it isn’t nice in the winter. It’s just, gee, wouldn’t it be nice to have this leisure time when it's a little warmer and we could stretch out on those rocks or that beach without developing hypothermia.

We paddled up to the head of Greenlaw Cove at high tide and carried over to Long Cove, where we explored a pretty little inlet that we often drive past. A black plastic culvert pipe led beneath the road, and naturally I headed right for it and went in. 

I got about half-way through before my hull started dragging, and I backed-out. Maybe we’d had enough pretty scenery and needed a challenge.

We caught the current draining out of Long Cove, out through Brays Narrows and into Southeast Harbor. We ate our lunch on Polypod Island and followed the granite shore around the Tennis Preserve - both IHT properties – and wound our way through the Freese Islands.

The west wind gave us a spirited push along Stinson Neck’s southwest shore, past the Haystack School of Crafts and on out to the Lazygut Islands. We stopped for a cup of tea and admired the scenery. Rimmed with steep, sculpted granite, the Lazyguts are a chain of islands, three of them connected at lower tides by sandbars, with boulders and ledges littering the nearby shallows- fun places to meander through, and exposed enough to get a bit splashy when seas are running. 

We don’t get there much when we’re launching from Stonington, usually drawn out to the archipelago instead, but from Stinson Neck, they’re an obvious destination. It’s worth mentioning that both Lazygut and Little Lazygut are private, with houses on them, but one of the Thrumcaps is (in 2015) accessible to MITA members. As far as we’re concerned right now though, one of the best things about these islands is that they’re less than an hour’s paddle from home. We arrived back just before sunset.

Thanks to Rebecca Daugherty for the photos.