'Down East' Maine

The outline profile of Maine reminded me of my pup, Knuckles - his nose - that of 'Down East' Maine.

My sister Caren, and her partner Gabrielle, have lived year round in the town of East Blue Hill, for more than half of their years. Their home, tucked away in the woods and up a dirt road, is surrounded by small farms and a cast of Maine characters. I slept in their guest room, while my sis's portrait hung just above me, and accordingly, made me feel comfortable and at home. For the better part of the week, I jumped onto their outside chores, and helped to "winterize" their seasonal homestead. And just as important, to stand alongside my sister, while helping her complete the construction of her new envisioned - "woods bridge".

Like myself, Caren likes a daily newspaper. But, her paper is delivered two miles away, which is dropped off daily, inside a little green box down at the 'town' road. For Caren to retrieve this paper easily, during the snowed-in winter months, she has designed a new 'woods' path.  And now, with her bridge complete, and built over that babbling brook - she will be able to use her fast and slick cross-country skis, to collect her daily newspaper.

Caren and I heading out, dressed for the bridge construction.

Their neighbors

Robert Long's trailer. 'Gramma' Long spent her entire life in this four room cabin.

Down the road, farmer 'Kat' now lives alone. A hard working woman who recently lost her husband. 

Kat's favorite "layers" - "Red Stars"

Gabrielle - a true outdoors woman.

Gabrielle behind the wheel and paddling hard in her "Old Town" - heading up into a western wind and a strong, out-going tide.  McHeard Cove.

Kaylah, and her best buddy Victoria. 

I met Kaylah (my daughter-in-law), and Vic after a short distance drive to Kaylah's family summer cabin. From there, we went for a long walk with the dogs, in a place called Wonderland. Acadia National Park.

 

Two day road trip.

My sis Caren, and I headed out northeast, for Eastport, Maine. The furthest U. S. eastern port - and bordering the Canadian province of New Brunswick. A lot of back road driving up and down many
an isolated peninsula.

A deer's perspective of the late fall, wild growing Rose-hip.

The 'witch' of Eastport. His boat's name was "Iffy" - and he didn't mind being called that as well. The stick like effigies were strategicly placed all along his hillside property, overlooking a desolated cove. 

Iffy, "They help protect me from all those evil spirits". 

Eastport, Maine
  
Eastport could be described as Maine's version of the 'old wild west'. Historically, as the closest port to Europe, and during it's hey day, Eastport saw quite a few characters. My night out on the down, and wearing my Stetson, I was asked if I was off one of the docked ships - since one had recently taken on a shipload of calves for the European market. Inside a rough and tumble bar, I met and hung out with "Raw Pony" - an activist from the Passamaquoddy tribe. We buddied up and exchanged phone numbers and smoked a lot of cigarettes.

Lubec, Maine

The tides reach 27 feet a day. Four tides daily - ebb & flow. One inch a minute, five feet an hour - twice a day.

An unusual sight, not for the tides, but for the blue painted lobster boat. For most generational lobstermen, this painted color encourages un-foreseen troubles. A "Blue boat" will eventually bring bad luck and failure.

Sitting on an outgoing tide, an abandoned lobster boat in front of the local "herring" smokehouse.

Canada

Caren and I decided to cross the border into New Brunswick, so Caren needed a place to hide her stash.  We found the perfect place, where no one would look .......

Now, on a Canadian island, we sat down to eat fresh fish chowder and - "Poutine".  A delightful combination of french fries, topped with cheese curds & gravy, and served on a large platter. The eatery was serving it's final meal of the season, tomorrow - closed for the winter.  And, as I glanced around the dining room, the local 'Poutine' seemed very popular - and mostly topped off with fried fish.



My final day 

And, now back in East Blue Hill, with the chores almost complete, we finally headed out to the Bangor airport. One last stop - the recycling center, a picker's paradise - and my last view of  - 'Down East' Maine.