Historic St. Croix Island viewed from the north

The first French attempt to colonize North America took place in 1604 on this island in the St. Croix River but ended disastrously. The historic site is now an international park between Maine, USA, and New Brunswick, Canada.

Access to the island itself appears to be problematic.

Here it is seen from Ganong Nature Park (east of St. Stephen, New Brunswick) at the confluence of Pagans Cove, Oak Bay, and the Waweig River while the St Croix River veers off to the west and quickly narrows before continuing the international border.

All you can eat

A Penobscot Bay windjammer cruise typically includes a lobster bake, though technically the crustaceans are boiled or steamed with corn on the cob. The event takes place on any of a number of uninhabited islands along the way.

It does mean going ashore, of course.

For the record, last summer I ate 3½ lobsters – hey, they were small chix – but a shipmate managed 6½, just shy of the Louis R. French record of seven. Had she known, I would have cheered her on.

For those of a more squeamish nature, hot dogs and other hot goodies are offered, along with gooey s’mores, as long as the wood fire continues.

For more schooner sailing experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.

An air of a ghost town

Much of Way Downeast Maine stirs up echoes of the American Far West, at least in the eyes of some, and that includes impressions of ghost towns.

The downtown of Lubec has some prime examples, including this imposing waterfront emporium that was the headquarters for R.J. Peacock company’s wide-ranging sardine operations.

I think the structure has a slight resemblance to the long-gone steamship wharf that once welcomed passengers just below our house in Eastport. This one is still standing.

To explore related free photo albums, visit my Thistle Finch blog.

We do have some striking place names around the Bold Coast

If you haven’t noticed, I can be entranced by place names. So for ten around here, let’s go.

  1. Bailey’s Mistake. Did they really land and then settle in the wrong spot?
  2. Boot Head. Try picturing that.
  3. Cutler. It even has a song about drilling into the bottom of barrels of wine confiscated during the Prohibition. And there’s a plank of wood as evidence.
  4. Destiny Bay. Also at Cutler, but what a name.
  5. Machias. Even as something-or-other disgusting kind of falls in the Native name.
  6. Magurrewock Mountain in the Moosehorn National Wildlife Preserve. At a modest 377-elevation, it still deserves attention, even if you can’t pronounce it.
  7. Meddybemps. It’s a town and a huge lake, but still, try repeating it three times.
  8. Moosehorn National Wildlife Preservation. Moose don’t have horns but antlers, despite the naming of a small river.
  9. Pope’s Folly. The small island just off the Old Friar monolith of Campobello Island, New Brunswick, seems to elude historic explanation. I’m not convinced it’s entirely religious.
  10. Treat Island. Named for an early settler, no matter the consequences, it’s still part of Eastport. And a fine IPA brew exists in its honor.