Tag: Photos

Little Prince Cove has its charm 

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The inlet gets its name from an early family rather than royalty, even if the British Navy did land here when it captured Eastport during the War of 1812.

Its banks once were crowded with shipbuilding and later fishing operations.
Eastport’s leading lobster wholesaler operates from the mouth of Prince Cove.
You can’t see this Victorian-style house from land, where it sits beyond an imposing gate at the end of the road. Nobody seems to know the owners, who come in the summer.
Somehow, it seems to fit right into a Stephen King novel. 

 

How about corporate naming rights for hurricanes?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Running out of baby’s first names for hurricanes and tropical storms has me wondering.

Can we turn to corporate behemoths, you know, for naming rights, like sports stadiums do?

Hurricane Amazon would be a natural. Or Geico, reminding folks of the need of home insurance. Victoria’ Secret Hurricane could be hot. You get the drift.

And let’s think about all the good uses we could put the money to, starting with relief for impoverished folks in those storms’ paths.

So how ’bout it?

What corporations would you nominate as the most amusing or fitting for the storms?

~*~

Misty afternoon light over Campobello Island as seen from Eastport gets me in a reflective mood.

Full moon rising

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Refined Japanese, I’m told, would gather with sake to watch the full moon rise. First there’s only the crown of the head, and then the brow and cheeks and chin before the moon lifts altogether in the air. The passage is both slow and fleet, maybe five minutes, if that.

The event would be celebrated with the writing of hokku on the spot.

Here’s how it happened one summer night in Eastport, looking over Campobello Island. And this is what you get rather than a cocktail or poem.

 

 

 

 

 

Bold Coast is an apt description

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

While Eastport and its neighboring towns are technically on Fundy Bay, they’re sheltered from the open ocean. Not so for much of Lubec and Cutler to our south, where the shoreline on the open Atlantic rivals anything Acadia has to offer. It helps to know where the trailheads and parking are, though. Here are some views from the trails in the Maine state public lands in Cutler.

Best of all, there was no crowd. Just me and a young couple who were planning to land one of the five primitive campsites at the far end of the coastal trail. I met only ten other folks in the next five hours, all of them delightful.
So what had been stripping the bark off these trees? My “Scats and Tracks of the Northeast” field guide points to Canada lynx, which leave “chin rubs” like these and live in “dense conifer forests interspersed with rocky ledges and downed timber.”  There are also forest edges nearby where their major prey, snowshoe hare, might be found. 
While this trunk seems to be a natural totem pole.
Look out, below!
Except that pretty soon, the trail’s crossing down there.
A slightly inland loop back crosses many peat moss bogs, where plank boardwalks are a necessity.

You can hike and camp on Treat Island, but you get there only by boat

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Named for Upham Stowers Treat, the island once housed a fishing hamlet and then a Civil War battery. Today, as one of the Maine Coastal Heritage Trust preserves, it’s open to the public and has a 1.2-mile network of trails offering stunning views of the surrounding bays.

As seen from Eastport’s South Side.

 

The Army Corps of Engineers operates a marine concrete testing station on three acres on Treat Island’s northwest side.
Officially, it’s the largest uninhabited island within the city of Eastport.
Dudley Island adjoins Treat.

Kayakers are advised to get a guide who knows the waters’ treacherous currents.

Meet the Old Friar

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Some early wag exploring the channel that separates Eastport and Campobello Island thought a rock formation visible only at low tide resembled an old monk and dubbed it the Old Friar.

To me, it looks more like an old hound. The poles to the left lead to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt summer cottage.

The headland behind it soon became known as Friar’s Head.

For a little perspective, note how small the Friar looks against the bluff.

As for the channel? It’s Friar’s Roads, curving along the island to its end on the Bay of Fundy.

The Old Friar himself may have lost some features during the Civil War when cannoneers stationed on Treat Island used the monolith for target practice. Canada, apparently, never complained, sparing the U.S. an international incident.

The Passamaquoddy, meanwhile, referred to the pillar as the Stone Maiden. The legend told of a young brave who left on a long journey after instructing his lover to sit and await his return. The distraught young maiden sat on the beach and waited for months. Alas, when he finally returned, he found her turned to stone, forever to wait and watch.

We have some huge tides and treacherous currents

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Listen to me, like I’m an expert.

Still, the Old Sow can be seen about a mile away from Eastport if you time it right, about three hours before high tide on the biggest days of the month. The Western Hemisphere’s biggest whirlpool not only swirls but also shoots spouts into the air. As if I could capture that flash with my camera.

The current, though, often runs at seven knots, faster than an Olympic champion swimmer could manage in even a very short burst. It’s also treacherous for Scuba divers, waders, and sailors alike.

It’s by no means the only place to be mesmerized while watching the charge.

Tide pressing from the Atlantic into Dennys and Whiting Bays churns and ripples.

Another impressive sight is the Reversing Falls in Pembroke, though “rapids” would be a more accurate term. The sounds of the waters rushing from one bay to another are as mesmerizing as any waterfall, though.

As the level intensifies, a large whirlpool with a concave depression forms behind the rock ledge, setting off smaller whirlpools around it.
The major action is a set of rapids I’d hesitate to call “falls,” though they’re just as noisy. Once the tide comes in, it has to go out, keeping the action going endlessly. As I was shooting this, a pair of seals lolled in the whitewater wings, diving and coming up with fish in their mouths.