Whitmore Neck

For the second day in a row I had a no-show for a scheduled trip. When you wonder why they haven’t arrived and you look for the paperwork so you can call them, and then realize that there’s no paperwork to be found, it seems a safe bet that you’ve been waiting in vain after planning your day around this non-existent trip. And then, while you’re standing there in the office in your gear, your packed boat waiting down by the shore, your employer does his usual ‘who’s on the clock?’ mantra (I wasn’t, though I should have been). 

This is all business as usual at Old Quarry, except that it occurred while a thunderstorm was passing through and the office was suddenly packed with more idle employees than usual. I didn’t really mind the ghost clients’ tardiness – the trip would have been delayed anyway – but after the storm was gone I was ready to paddle, so I headed out.

Before I launched though, I got a curry started; we were having an employee ‘we survived the season’ potluck that evening. So by the time I was on the water I had about three hours ahead of me to paddle. I spent a minute just floating, wondering where to go. It was an hour after low tide, so the current was coming in, and I began imagining a route: islands I hadn’t been to for awhile which were also, conveniently, MITA islands that I could add to my #mita30in30 Challenge list. I would head around Whitmore Neck.

The first part of the paddle was perhaps a little too familiar. I’d already guided a morning trip out to Little Sheep Island, and this stretch went past like a commute in which you arrive with little recollection of getting there. Maybe it wasn’t the fault of the scenery. I had a lot on my mind, mostly involving our plans for the immediate future. The season at Old Quarry was coming to an end. I was weary of how tenuous our way of life sometimes feels. The storm had passed, but grey clouds still streaked the sky, slipping eastward. It wasn’t a great day to lie in a hammock – a little cool and breezy still, and besides, I just felt like paddling, focusing those frustrations into the physical mantra of the clean and efficient forward stroke I seldom have opportunity to engage while guiding. I passed the bulbous granite humps of Whaleback Ledges and turned into Southeast Harbor, catching the inland current.

There’s two MITA Islands up this way, and I stopped on both of them. Polypod Island, owned by Island Heritage Trust, lies just offshore from a few homes on the peninsula leading out to the Tennis Preserve. Like all IHT preserves, camping isn’t allowed, so it’s strictly a day-use spot. I usually get up to this area when it’s stormy or foggy and I’m looking for a more sheltered trip, but now, with the clouds skidding away eastward, the sun shone through, lighting the island’s oaks and birches, the ground littered with acorns.

Inner Harbor Island lies, of course, in Inner Harbor. This stretch of water, nearly surrounded by sheltering fingers of land, was a busy shipping hub in the 1800s until a devastating fire tore through the South Deer Isle port. Given its shallow depths, the harbor would seem a challenging destination for a fleet of granite and lumber schooners. As I sat on a rock at the height of the island, I tried to imagine what it looked like, busy with canvas sails. I also read MITA’s trail log, mostly signed by day visitors, like this one:

That made me smile. I was thinking of writing that it was my 25^th island for the #mita30in30 Challenge until I read the last entry stating it was the author’s 57^th. So instead I wrote that I liked how the challenge had brought me to this peaceful place when I might not have otherwise gone there.

There’s a rickety tent platform on the island, leftover from pre-MITA island days. Replacing the platform would be a good volunteer project for someone one of these days. Another logbook entry stated that the island had been known as Lard Island.

I paddled past one of my many fantasy cabins, a dream house with lots of potential. I've observed it every now and then over the years, gradually rotting. 

I’d taken my time to ensure that the incoming tide would fill Hatch Cove, enabling me to get through, and by now the evening sun lit the cove’s numerous smooth granite ledges, and the current bore me gently past them. 

This is another very sheltered stretch of water, and though the banks are mostly privately owned, most of the homes are tucked into the woods, out of sight, and it feels wild and quiet. I drifted for a bit, in no hurry to return to Old Quarry, but, oh yeah, I had that potluck to get to.

Despite whatever mixed feelings I had for this place where I’ve worked off and on for the last eight years, I wanted to spend time with my co-workers and maybe have a laugh or two about the various ups and downs the summer had brought us. We would concur that overwhelmingly, the people we’d taken on our trips really had been great, especially once we got them on the water. So I headed back, once again, toward Webb Cove.

Notes:

Mita's 30 in 30 Challenge is open until Columbus Day. There's still time to get to document your visits to 30 islands to celebrate the Maine Island Trail's 30th year - and you may win fabulous prizes!

I've kept a log of my 30 in 30 visits here on Instagram.

 

Lunch on Kimball, Hammocking on Gooseberry

I had an unexpected day off, and since it was raining and a bit dreary, it seemed unlikely we’d be getting overrun with visitors at the campground. I packed my boat and headed out mid-morning in the pouring rain. The air felt warm though, the raindrops invigorating, and with a day ahead of me, I could meander at will, maybe even find a little time to relax somewhere if the weather cleared.

There were a few MITA islands in the archipelago that I hadn’t visited since I started the #mita30in30 challenge, Little George Head, Harbor and Kimball, so I paddled off in that general direction and saw this pretty boat as I crossed the Thorofare.

As I rounded Green Island, the cove was completely empty – no boats tied-up at the landing, no kayaks on the shore – so I thought ‘why not?’ and stopped for a quick swim in the quarry in the rain. With the end of summer upon us, you never know when the idea of a swim will seem less inviting, so it’s a good idea to do it while you can. Green Island is one of my least favorite popular destinations for guided trips. It gets crowded enough that at high tide we sometimes stack kayaks like cordwood, and most groups take enough time that we can’t get to other islands. You’re sharing the place with all manner of other boaters and it’s often a ‘there and back’ trip, as if the whole point of going kayaking is transportation to a swimming hole. Kids like it though, and some guides seem to invariably take this trip, since their clients don’t seem to mind or know the difference. I had it to myself though, and it felt great to jump in and go for a swim.

I went on to Little George Head, a tiny islet connected by sandbar to George Head Island. I’d stopped on George Head on a guided trip last weekend, but didn’t get over to the tiny neighbor. I love these tiny islands, and I could see it would be fun to camp here, despite being so close to Steves Island, which is truly a favorite campsite (the site on George Head looks awfully nice as well, tucked up in the forest). I suppose this is a good area to head when it’s crowded and you want the security of 7 campsites all within a quarter-mile of each other. By now, the rain was tapering, but wispy dark clouds continued to drift past.

Across Merchant Row, I came to Harbor Island and landed below the smaller campsite. If the weather had looked more promising, I might have stayed here for awhile, since the woods above the ledges are perfect hammock-hanging spots, but I was enjoying the exercise, and besides, another couple miles would bring me to Kimball Island, which would be my 23^rd out of the 30 islands for the MITA 30 in 30 Challenge. If nothing else, the challenge was giving me a good excuse to get to some spots where I don’t often stop.

By now the rain had stopped and the wind had begun to blow from the east and north, and it occurred to me that if it persisted, I’d need to work harder to get back. Also, I heard my name on the radio; Old Quarry was trying to reach me. My handheld was not powerful enough to transmit that far, so I called on the phone and discovered that they were indeed expecting me there to guide an afternoon trip. Better to omit what led to this, but let’s say I’d started the day expecting to have that trip, and when it went to someone else instead, I said to myself ‘fine, I’m going paddling.’ So there I was, and too bad, there was no way to get back in time. Someone else would have the privilege of towing a tandem into the wind.

So I landed on Kimball, took a few photos to document #23, and decided to paddle around it. As I did, I stopped on the ledges at privately-owned Rosebud Island for a sandwich. The north wind was picking up, the air turning cooler and clear. A mild swell buoyed me up and down as I went around Kimball Head with Brimstone Island and Saddleback Ledge Lighthouse standing-out clearly on the horizon. I made my way into the Thorofare and passed by the village of Isle au Haut. Now I was kind of ready to get back, but I had about six miles to go, all against a fairly steady wind.

So by the time I arrived at Gooseberry Island, I was ready to relax a bit. Not only that, but the sun was shining, and out of the wind, the air felt warm. I hung my hammock between a couple of boulders and spent some hours of quality ‘hanging-out’ time.

And then I headed back, arriving just after sunset.

Notes:

This area is covered in Trips #14 and #15 in my guidebook, AMC’s Best Sea Kayaking in New England.