Sunday Hikes

Sundays are for hiking, unofficially. I made it my goal to summit all the mountains on the island while I'm here, and for the past 6 Sundays I've ended up hiking one or two. I think there are between 24 and 27 mountains on the island, depending on what you read and who you ask and what you consider to be a mountain (were I to ask someone from Colorado for example, the answer might be "no mountains"). Yesterday and today, I hit up Beech, Acadia, and St. Sauveur because, despite what the weatherman predicted, it was beautiful most of the holiday weekend.

Somes Sound from St. Sauveur

Somes Sound, the only fjord on the
East Coast (though technically it's a fjard).

The hikes are full of low lying blueberry bushes, jack pines, beeches and birches, maples and oaks, and so many more plants and birds that I can't identify. Almost always there is a stunning view of the water, the surrounding islands, other mountains, and, if you're in the right spot, the open sea meeting the sky. I did a sunrise hike two weeks ago (sunrise is early here in Maine) with some fellow Maine Conservation Corps members and that was so rewarding. Whenever the MCC kids come to visit, we climb a mountain. Last Sunday we did the Beehive trail, which consists of sets of iron rungs you use to haul yourself up the rocks. It was a foggy day, with the fog rolling and the foghorn warning boats of the shore. I love the sound of the foghorn and buoys clanging at sea. We ended our hike with a shockingly cold spontaneous dip in "the Bowl" in our skivvies. Besides taking advantage of all Acadia has to offer (I think I could spend the rest of my life getting to know this island, though I still love Northern Michigan more than anything), I HAVE been doing work. We carried out our first eelgrass restoration this past week. Of course, it rained all during working hours, air temperatures didn't go above 50, and the water temperature wasn't budging over 41 degrees. Though we wore wetsuits, my fingers and feet didn't last long before I lost feeling in them. Despite the cold, we managed to set up fences to try and exclude the invasive green crab, harvested 1,860 eelgrass plants, then transplanted them on grids to new areas. We have a few more restorations to carry out this summer, though we're not sure how successful they're going to be. In addition to restoring eelgrass, we're doing a lot of water quality monitoring, which I love. 

I also love sitting out on the front porch of our cottage, especially when there's a storm coming or the sun is shining through. This cottage grows on me more and more: the smell, the seashells and sea glass beginning to collect on the sills, the plants I am trying to grow, and its coziness at night when the candles are lit and the Christmas lights are on. It's going to get crowded here in a few weeks when we get two more roommates (there are three of us here now), but luckily it's only for a short amount of time. I say the cottage grows on me more and more, but who am I kidding: Maine grows on me more and more. The way locals lift their hand from the steering wheel as they drive past, the greetings shared with strangers on the top of mountains, and the willingness of Islanders to impart the secret of their favorite place to go. I feel luckier every day to be able to call this Island home for the year. It hasn't all been beautiful scenery and wonderful hikes of course, but even when I'm feeling sad or lonely, I try hard to remember to appreciate the wonderfulness of where I am and go out to watch the sunset.

Sunset at the lab last night.