Journal Entries

July 1-6: Prep Week This whole ordeal began in real time bright and early on July 1st, when Stephen, Aubree, and Kathryn convened in Glencoe Village (just north of Burlington, NC), packed gear and loaded boats onto Stephen’s honkin’ Chevy Suburban, and headed northward. They picked me (Scott) up in Philly and we made it nearly to the NH border before checking in to a hotel for the night.

After a long day of gear shopping in Freeport, ME, at LL Bean, Patagonia, etc., we finished the drive to Little Deer Isle, arriving at dusk in a shroud of fog, to an enthusiastic reception from John and Carol Stoneburner (Stephen’s parents). Over the next few days, John and Carol generously hosted us as we practiced our strokes, wet exits, eskimo rolls, assisted rescues, and planned for the trip ahead. Many thanks to the Bloys, Pat and Tony Stoneburner, and John and Carol for allowing us to use their incredible piece of the Maine coast as our staging ground!

Aubree's gonna fit all that gear in her boat. Really. You would be amazed.

On July 6th, we headed for Portland, where we would kick the trip off the following day. Scott’s friends Sarah and Matt invited us over for a ridiculously amazing send-off dinner of lobster, potato salad, green salad with hand-picked nasturtiums, beer, bread, and to top it all off, a hand-picked raspberry rhubarb pie!!! Sarah and Matt hiked the Appalachian Trail last year, so they knew a lot about what we were feeling. We’ll be talking about that incredibly kind gesture for years to come, so infinite thanks to you both, Sarah and Matt!! – Scott

Scott practices his paddle float re-entry while Stephen looks on.

July 7: Day 1 We rose before 7:00am at the Portland Days Inn so that we could tie up a few loose ends and get on the water nice and early. After more than half a day of laundry and last minute gear purchases, we pulled into the East Bay Boat Launch and spread a Suburban full of food and gear onto the grass. It was the reverse of the classic Circus Scenario; how in the world can they possibly fit all of those clowns into that tiny car? Two hours later, our boats were stuffed to the gills and anything that didn’t fit was left behind in the truck. By 3:00 in the afternoon, our spray skirts were stretched over the lips of our cockpits and we were on the water paddling across Casco Bay. Keeping our eyes peeled for ferries and barges, we paddled hard and fast, eager to get to the less highly trafficked sections of our journey. Along the way we saw a heron, a porpoise, and a seal who scoped her slick head out of the water, watching us at least as intently as we were watching her, until we got too close and she tucked herself back beneath the cold, black water. By 6:00, we had paddled the ten miles to our first island destination: Bangs.

July 8: Day 2 After our first night sleeping under the stars, we discovered that coffee filters will break without something to support them, but we managed with a bandanna. We finished breakfast, packed our boats, and were off into a slightly foggy morning. A couple of miles into the paddle we came upon a more open crossing without much visibility. With our compasses pointed at 115 degrees ESE we entered the fog. About half way across, we lost sight of all land. It is an eerie feeling floating on very calm water with lobster boats that you can hear but can’t see. We made it across, determined exactly where we were, and continued on to our second island. Taking a nap and making the island our home, we already started losing track of the society that usually rules our lives. We were free to enjoy the beauty around us. -Aubree

July 9: Day 3 Started with bad weather reports. NOAA had a smorgasboard to offer. They called for potential afternoon thunderstorms, damaging winds, and small hail. We left camp knowing that a small craft advisory could be in effect by the afternoon. Heading out of the bay we also left our protected waters for the first time and met sea swells between 3 and 4 feet. Watching the wind increase got my heart going and I asked that we paddle hard to make steady way to sheltered waters. Finding the protected waters of a cove called the basin and the lovely high island called Basin we found that we had camp mates; two nests of father, mother, and baby Osprey. We set up tents, tied up the boats, and prepared for a storm that never materialized. We watched the sunset and played cards to a little rain before we went to sleep.-Stephen

July 10: Day 4 We awoke to a heavy shroud of fog, making the already quiet pine grove where we slept on Basin Island even more so. By the time we got in the boats and pushed off, though, the fog had cleared and we had the pleasure of the clearest day so far, brilliant and bright, with seemingly endless visibility. We paddled about 7.5 miles to Hermit Island campground, and settled in to our shady campsite for an afternoon of rest and relaxation amidst the surrounding fervor of summer vacationers. As the sun set, Aubree and Kathryn went back out on the water to play in the boats, and Kathryn rolled her kayak for the first time! Rice and beans with sauteed squash, onions and garlic for dinner, and a magnificent sunset to end the day. – Scott

July 11: Day 5 We listened to the weather report and checked the tide table. We were preparing to cross the Kennebec River and needed to time our crossing precisely with slack tide at 12:30. Aubree explained to me that slack tide happens four times a day. It is that moment of pause between high and low tide. That grace note of breathing room where the tide has reached its most extreme point and is just about to change directions. In order to safely round the stretches of rocky land with white breakers, we paddled about three miles out to sea, traveling parallel to the shoreline. Stephen was concerned that we wouldn’t make it to the crossing in time and told us we would need to all speed up significantly. We made it to the crossing, had to paddle fiercely into the waves, ferrying across to avoid the wall or rocks behind us. Once we made it safely across and were paddling into the inlet where we would camp, we surfed three and four foot waves toward shore. We were surprised to find that the beach was over a mile and half long between high tide lines and low tide lines. Rather than walk our heavy boats all that way, we waited for the tide to come in. A figure approached from the shore and shouted Scott’s name. Against all odds, it was Scott’s friend Jesse, who happened to be vacationing with his family in that precise spot. His family invited us to their house and rather than having camp food for dinner, we feasted on lobster rolls, deviled eggs, veggie burgers, salad and sausage. We cooked s’mores over candles for dessert. The company was amazing and we all had a great time. -Kathryn

July 12: Day 6 Started early at 5:30 am. We needed to leave Sagadahoc Bay at high tide so we packed and prepared to leave by 7:30. It was our first early morning on the water and we hoped for calm waters knowing that we still had another exposed point to navigate. Winds were light and variable as NOAA predicted but the outgoing tide worked us pretty hard as we entered Sheepscot Bay and River. Tired by 10:30 we stopped at the small town of Five Islands for a trip to the market to get chips, bananas, and cookies to augment our lunches. We ate at the town landing and made friends with three guys painting pictures by the cove. We had much better paddling when the tides changed and found a great island to camp on called Powderhorn. It was sandy without any trees more like the islands of our southern coast.-Stephen

Dinnertime on Powderhorn Island

July 13: Day 7 We woke up to cloudy skies and wind so we hurried to pack our boats and get on the water to avoid potentially bad weather. Headed towards town, everyone fought hard against the 20 to 25mph winds thinking about the luxuries we wanted most. An entire pot of coffee, actual toilet, and bed that we didn’t just pull out of a dry bag were high on everyone’s list. After finding a hotel in Boothbay Harbor that we could practically paddle up to, we unloaded our rank clothing and gear and headed to town for a fresh meal. Calling loved ones and checking our email were nice ways to indulge ourselves with technology, but I have to admit that our home on the islands is calling us back. -Aubree

July 14: Day 8 A strange thing to leave our kayaks high and dry today, lined up on the grass outside our hotel room at Cap’n Fish’s Hotel. A day to rest tight and weary muscles. After a long night of sound sleep, we awoke to Boothbay Harbor hidden in a heavy blanket of fog. We could barely make out the ghostly forms of sailboats at their moorings. We strolled into town for a hearty dockside breakfast with refills on coffee (Kathryn, however, remains remarkably strong in her recent commitment to tea, despite a deep-seeded love for the java bean). The day quickly turned toward business as we honed in on the town tasks at hand: updating and organizing the blog, picking up mail from the post office, doing laundry, and grocery shopping… Aubree and Kathryn met a kind fellow who gave them a ride to the post office and gave them a tour of the town, including a boat building yard that had recently burned down (we saw the smoke from the fire on Day 5 as we paddled across the mouth of the Kennebec river), and a company that makes sails by hand… – Scott

Good times in Boothbay Harbor

July 15: Day 9 After a final cup of coffee in town and last-minute errand-running, we packed our boats and headed out of Boothbay Harbor. We rounded Ocean Point and crossed Linekin Bay, handling some of the biggest seas we’d paddled thus far (3-4 feet). We made camp on Thrumbcap Island, arriving at the same time as Walt and Rick, two incredibly congenial fellows out for a 4-day paddle with whom we would share the next couple evenings. Thrumbcap was our first non-MITA island, but nonetheless one of our favorites so far. Unlike most of the islands to date, Thrumbcap was completely exposed to the sea, and it was the first place we were able to witness (from the safety of the shore) the awesome power of the swells that we had just paddled across. We spent the afternoon mesmerized by the waves crashing into the granite shoreline, creating an almost fog-like mist of ocean spray. As the sun set we enjoyed good company, freshly harvested mussels and wine (courtesy of Rick and Walt), and one of the best (and magical) views we’ve had so far. We went to sleep under a nearly full moon and the sound of the surf like thunder all around. – Scott

Packing the boats in Boothbay Harbor

July 16: Day 10 Waves can be calming for sleep. Camping beside huge breakers, shaking the ground with the sound of crashing thunder, knowing that you are going to paddle out into the ocean is not as calming. We woke to leave Little Thrumcap early with the tide and round Pemaquid Point. NOAA called for 2-4 foot swells but the waves breaking on the southern beech of the island were head high and green. Luckily the wind was calm. As we rounded Pemaquid the currents and swells pushed us here and there as we rose and fell at least 4 feet at times with swells rising over ledges and lobster traps to break against the cliffs by the lighthouse. I started to think about the twisting and turning that was going on in my abbs if not my stomach and began to look at how much we were getting knocked around by the swells, back current, and tide. It was like a wild magic carpet ride being lifted up then pushed and tossed equally as far sideways. Things began to calm down a few miles after the point and we headed for a little island that turned out to have one of the best coolest shadiest southern campsites yet. Rick and Walt joined us again and we all discussed the size of the swells and how big they actually were. I am still wondering how big a swell is if it makes all but the top half of a sailboat’s mast disappear.-Stephen

Kathryn preparing a delicious dinner of salmon patties!

July 17: Day 11 We woke up slowly, had coffee, and talked some more with Rick and Walt. They, like most people we meet, continued to be very supportive of our trip. Headed for Port Clyde and a bed again at the Seaside Inn that night, we spent a lazy morning packing, paddling, and then playing on the beech of another nearby island with big beeches. Landing though we saw a small dead seal on the beech, salt crystals in a puddle that trapped a stone like it was in ice, and an osprey carrying its catch. A slow paddle led us to the quaint town of Port Clyde, the store, beer, and a restaurant with light jazz. It was a beautiful evening but the music was a little soft for my taste. Maybe I was just soft by that point.-Stephen

July 18: Day 12 After filling our stomachs with amazing waffles covered in fresh blueberries and strawberries, we were on the water again for our longest day yet. 14.8 miles! Fortunately, the paddle did not feel nearly that long because of calm waters and a couple of breaks. The original plan was to stay on a tiny island that is only about an acre in size. Things changed when we paddled up in a light drizzle with lightning far in the background and we realized that this was not the ideal island to weather a storm on. So we left the screaming birds on the island with only one tree and paddled a little farther to a much larger, much more beautiful island covered in tall grasses, wildflowers, and boulders that resembled seals. After dinner under a tarp, we slept on the beach and listened to the waves roll in only feet from our tents. -Aubree

Stephen, Aubree, Kathryn and the Port Clyde Lighthouse

July 19: Day 13 We set off with the possibility of skipping one of the islands and reaching Camden that afternoon. After stopping on one of the largest islands we have stayed on yet for a break, we decided to stay. The wind was picking up a little bit and we weren’t quite ready to be back in a town yet. Splitting up for a little relaxed alone time, we spent a leisurely afternoon reading, napping, and exploring. Kathryn and Aubree started a little rock Jenga followed by a new game involving knocking rocks off of a piece of wood with other rocks. Scott joined this game and then everyone chucked rocks down the stony beach to knock a cairn over. The simplicity of this whimsical game made everyone smile as the island encouraged our childlike spirits to surface. -Aubree

July 20: Day 14 We were on the water at 8:00 and began paddling toward Owl’s Head. Like a very early Sunday morning in the city, the palette was a range of muted steely grays and there was a stillness, a hush, over everything. The water was glassy and there were no other boats on the water. As if everything, the wind, the swells, the lobster boats, were out too late the night before to be making a stir at such an early hour. I thought of what Linda Greenlaw mentions in the Lobster Chronicles: Maine law forbids the hauling of lobster traps on Sundays, so even the busiest of Maine fishing folk are off the hook on Sunday mornings. As we pointed our boats toward the Camden Hills, we saw a school of porpoises playing and chasing one another.

When we arrived at the public boat ramp in Camden, we happened to run into former Guilford College photography professor Suzie Mallally and we had a very warm reunion. Scott’s (and now all of our) good friend Jesse came and picked us up along with our boats and all of our gear.

Later that afternoon, we had the privilege of going to the Center for Contemporary Main Art where Jesse was taking down a fabulous show he had curated. It was called Gleaners and featured some absolutely stunning found art objects of about a dozen different artists.

It would feel false to omit what was for me the moment that decisively defined the shape of that day. While in the Gallery, I received word that my dear friend and artistic parent figure, John Payne, died unexpectedly three days earlier. We had been friends for eight years. He had been the brains and the heartbeat behind the Wedge Studios and that whole artistic community. It was striking that I received the news while helping take down an art show. I thought of all the times he and I had drilled holes and hung canvases from the walls of the Wedge gallery. Please put his family and loved ones in your thoughts, prayers, spells, and holdings in the light.

-Kathryn

July 21: Day 15 As we were sleeping on extremely soft surfaces—either beds or sofas generously offered by Donna, John, Jesse and Beth—we all slept later than usual. We spent time downtown drinking great coffee, collecting copious amounts of mail from general delivery at the P.O., and exploring downtown Camden. That evening Jesse cooked up yet another fantastic gourmet dinner and Beth whipped up an extraordinary cobbler. I got the recipe. Though we were all incredibly fat and happy and could have easily fallen into a coma, we motivated to go downtown to a bar called Gillbert’s where Scott treated us and some Camden locals to a few of his fine tunes. -Kathryn

Scott and Jesse load the first round of boats in Camden

July 22: Day 16

More sleeping late. More great coffee. More fabulous food.

In the afternoon, a few of the group hiked Mount Battie, which is literally in Jesse’s parents’ backyard. Later that afternoon, Jesse, Scott and I swam in the lake a few miles up the street. I so appreciated Jesse’s comic genius and limitless creativity in the game: “absurd and hilarious ways to enter the water from a rock.”

That evening we gathered together at Jesse’s parents’ beautiful home and had a feast. A huge, warm thank you to Jesse, Beth, Donna, and John for being so generous, fun, and welcoming. Thank you a million times.
-Kathryn

July 23: Day 17

Jesse helped us load his Subaru and transfer our boats and gear to the public boat ramp in two trips. He waited to see us hit the water and helped us track down some sandwiches for lunch at the last minute. It was sunny and actually pretty windy as we paddled past the million dollar boats of Camden Harbor. Crossing from the mainland to 700 Acre Island was pretty rough but not stomach torquing. As we rounded the island and entered the channel beside Islesboro, gray clouds began to track us. Passing some of the largest estates we have seen so far, we ducked between Warren Island and Spruce Island in time to see the Islesboro ferry leaving its dock. Headed for our dear friend’s, Bill and Beverly Rogers, home near Seal Cove, rain caught up with us in a line of liquid that made the Camden Hills disappear for a brief period. It was an amazingly beautiful gray evening to paddle. Arriving at the Roger’s beautiful home we were greeted with hugs, beer, baked chicken, and apple crisp. Scott and Bill both played a couple of songs before we went to sleep listening to thunder and lightning.-Stephen

July 24: Day 18

We woke and enjoyed breakfast and coffee with the Rogers before we packed the boats, checked the charts, and paddled out into dense fog. The waters were calm though and I was hoping that the day would clear for the waters I know best in Maine. I was looking forward to showing the crew two of my favorite islands: Pond and Butter. About half way between Islesboro and Cape Rosier the wind began to increase rapidly and so did the swell. Peter Bloy was right, this is a rough section of water. Lesson learned: listen to Peter’s advice. Reaching Cape Rosier the wind and swells were increasing dramatically so we ducked into a cove to rest for a moment. Heading out onto the water again, we tried to paddle round the head of the cape and work our way toward Pond. Reaching this point, the winds intensified even more blowing around the corner from the Southeast. Paddling nowhere against a wall of 30 plus mile and hour winds, big seas, and fog (unusual with this much wind) we decided that we needed to retreat and look at our options. We went back to the cove and turned on the radio for the first time of the day. Small Craft Advisories were in effect. Scott looked through our trail guide and found a good option for camping outside of Castine on Lower Negro Island. We changed course and surfed downwind for about 4 miles until we hit Castine Harbor. Oddly, we ran into a lot of chop in Castine and we probably all had to use braces that we had not used before to stay upright. Arriving at the Island, we set up camp, ate, and went to bed. Waking in the middle of the night to hear the first, biggest, 40 plus mile an hour winds of what would be an all night rain, Scott and I discussed where someone should go on an Island in a tornado. Thank goodness the winds died and we didn’t have to go hide behind the root ball of a fallen tree. Major lesson learned today: Listen to the weather radio even if you are paddling in your home waters.-Stephen

July 25: Day 19

Woke up slowly to a gray but dry morning. We all drank multiple cups of whiskey coffee and got a little drunk as the sun came out to dry us and our gear. I watched the tide come in and walked around the island as the others played poker for pine cones and back rubs. Deciding what we already knew, that we weren’t going anywhere, everyone was lazy. People read, slept, talked, ate, and did all that over again. Kathryn and Aubree explored Upper Negro Island in boats and on foot before we made dinner and talked late into the evening. It was kind of nice to know that we could be lazy for a couple days but also hard to stop our routine of traveling. I knew that this was going to be an interlude of sorts as we waited for Scott’s next show nearby on Cape Rosier. We all slept well under the clear skies and stars.-Stephen

July 26: Day 20

Brilliant day, relaxed and slow. We started to break camp, but decided to stay on Little Negro one more day and explore Castine. An afternoon in town, for phone calls, grocery shopping, ice cream, etc. It was a brilliant sun-soaked day, and the 1.5 mile paddle to town in empty boats, riding with the strong current of the outgoing tide was a far cry from the wind, fog and currents we encountered two days back.

While not our favorite island thus far, Little Negro has proven to be a comfortable home for a couple days’ rest. A family camped at the other end of the island and kindly gifted us with a Heineken, which we shared over dinner. Thanks to the nearly mosquito-free evening, we sat around after dinner discussing important matters such as favorite foods (a common topic of conversation) and favorite curse words, two things that often seem to go together, especially when encountering that favorite food after several weeks at sea! The sky was infinitely clear tonight, with stars upon stars and the milky way meandering through it all. – Scott

July 27: Day 21

We had a leisurely 3-mile paddle into Smith Cove, to the Brooksville public boat landing. My friend Anna Shapley-Quinn happens to be working at a farm and bakery in Brooksville for the summer. It turns out that, in addition to vegetables and baked goods, the community of folks who live on the farm also specialize in making music, via their stellar band The Living Daylight. They host a popular weekly open mic in their barn, and I was one of the evening’s featured acts. Jesse kindly brought my guitar from Camden, and I kicked the evening off with an hour of music in one of my favorite venues I’ve ever played in: a beautiful old barn decked out with Christmas lights and a breeze blowing through the wide open doors, with a crowd of friendly faces. Thanks to Tim, Lydia, Anna, Gavin, Andy, Lake, Bridgette, etc. (I’m surely forgetting someones) for having us and for the ridiculously delicious bread and peppermint chocolate chip cookies (who knew vegan could taste so indulgent?). – Scott

July 28: Day 22

Apparently an easy rounding of Cape Rosier was not in the cards for us. Stephen’s prior experience of Penobscot Bay as a placid, docile spot to paddle from one beautiful island to another was yet again proven to be only part of the picture as we left the lovely and calm Smith Cove and found ourselves paddling directly into 20-25 mph winds, with 3-5 foot seas and plenty of white caps to go around. But this time we had lots of sunlight and much better visibility than a few days ago (it’s amazing how much good visibility improves morale), and well-rested bodies in our favor. We slowly worked our way around the cape, having a grand time taking the swells head-on and reveling in the roller coaster ride. It is an awesome thing to crest at the top of a wave, the front half of your boat suspended in the air, and then to fall down into the wave’s trough, with water spilling over the deck of your boat, only to be lifted up again by the next wave. (This ride obviously is much more enjoyable when it is sunny and you can see where you are going!)

We finally made it to Pond Island, easily one of my top three favorites of the trip thus far, with an endless sweeping beach at low tide, and a beautiful tidal pond connecting the main part of the island with the little clump of trees where we camped. After a banging lunch of fried pizzas, we spent the afternoon and evening exploring, watching the tide come in, and the pond swell in size. Aubree found a big field of raspberry bushes at the top of the island, where we watched as the sun fell to the horizon.

We shared the campsite with a very cool fellows father and son, Brett and Ian, who kindly gave us a bottle of wine for our dinner (which went nicely with our pasta!). We returned the favor with hot chocolate and chips ahoy, over which we swapped stories about our respective outdoor adventures… – Scott

July 29: Day 23

We woke up to a beautiful morning with flat water and said goodbye to our father & son camping buddies. Since it was such a warm morning and Stephen was ready early, Aubree suggested that he roll his boat; to which he responded by offering $20 for her to roll first thing. After a minute of consideration, Aubree made her quickest twenty dollars yet. Paddling back into familiar territory, we were all happy to be back at base camp on Little Deer Isle. The first place that both Stephen and Kathryn really paddled a kayak. Caroline was kind enough to let us stay in her study and Tony & Pat welcomed us back to what we knew as home our first week together. Checking mail, grocery shopping, and doing some much-needed laundry were all quickly completed before Scott’s show at Saunders Memorial Church that night. Anna was able to come & bring Scott’s guitar along with her, make the evening possible. Beautiful music and paddling stories were enjoyed by all who came before one last bowl of ice cream at Tony & Pat’s and a good nights sleep. -Aubree

July 30: Day 24

After packing our boats and some last minute conversation, we reluctantly said goodbye to Tony & Pat. We paddled through a cross breeze all morning and stopped on beautiful Torrey Island with it’s great beaches and long sand bars for lunch. While we ate our plain turkey and cheese sandwiches, the Bill of Rights Sailboat pulled up and built a fire to cook their lobster and corn on the cob. The guy leading the group of late-middle-aged couples came over to inform us that this was a private island and he wanted us off. Fortunately, he was only joking and then came over twice more – once to offer us some chicken legs and then again to give us their extra lobster! So we had lobster quesadillas for dinner that night on a somewhat small island with a very nice beach that we learned completely disappeared at high tide. Cooking in and increasingly tighter space, we finished dinner just before high tide and enjoyed a game of cards before bed. -Aubree

July 30: Day 24 (extended remix)

We left mid morning from Little Deer, with Tony and Pat waving goodbye to us from the beach. We paddled down a beautiful stretch of protected water called Eggemoggin Reach. A couple of hours later we stopped for lunch. The tide was going out and was exposing a beautiful white crescent of beach connecting two small islands. We created our make shift picnic blanket/ table out of grocery bags that we smoothed out flat over the surface of tiny broken shells. As we gathered around and began making sandwiches, a chartered schooner anchored on the other side of the arch of beach and a group of people began building a fire on the beach for a lobster boil. A wiry, bearded young man from that group walked toward us briskly, purposefully, his sun-weathered face tensed and pointed. He stopped abruptly only a couple of feet from where we were huddled and said: “I don’t know if you people know this, but this is a private island and I want you off.” We sat there dumbstruck. Our mouths full, we stopped chewing and held our half eaten sandwiches in our wet, salty hands. The man’s face relaxed into a warm half-smile and he said, “Aw, man, I’m just kidding. You mind if we share this island with you while we eat lunch?” Then he laughed with a wide grin—his pirate’s teeth tobacco stained and yellowed at the edges like old parchment. A few minutes later he came back with a pair of grilled chicken legs that Stephen and Scott gratefully accepted. A moment later he returned bearing a freshly boiled lobster.

We set back out for the last three miles of the day. We rounded our way toward a small island with a broad beach that disappeared completely (we learned while cooking dinner) at high tide. After a game of hearts, we crawled into our tents to go to bed, preparing for what we anticipated would be our longest day of paddling yet—eighteen miles.

-Kathryn

July 31: Day 25 We woke at dawn. Just before we launched the boats, a fog rolled in, thick as cream. Using compasses, we headed into the cloud, losing sight of land almost immediately. We paddled in silence on a cold, slate disc of water—completely encircled by a bright curtain of white. The fog pushed in on us, on our boats, on our bodies in the way that pressing your fingers over your ears forces you to hear the sound of your own blood pulsing. As the sun tried to burn through the clouds above us, the white was infused with light—creating an ethereal glow. As houses and boats came in and out of visibility along the shoreline, they shone with an otherworldly quality—an over exposed photograph that falls unexpectedly from the pages of a book. Our pace picked up as the fog lifted and by 4:00 in the afternoon we had paddled about nineteen miles. A family of porpoises visited us as we made our way toward the bridge that marked the home stretch of our long day’s journey. The porpoises sliced gracefully through the surface of the water, punctuating each arch with an out breath through the blowhole. They swam between us and under our boats.

As we neared the bridge, the water became increasingly shallow until our boats were four colorful beached whales on a mudflat of clams, seaweed and starfish. We dragged our boats under the bridge until it became clear that we had far too much distance yet to cover and the mud was hungry like quicksand—eager to swallow our ankles and calves, suctioning our Chacos from our waterlogged feet. The only thing to do was to sit tight and wait for the tide to untie our boats from the sticky expanse and set us free.

-Kathryn

August 1: Day 26 We woke to the sound of rain on our tents. Our spray jackets and neoprene shirts hung heavy on the clothesline, having exchanged salt water for rainwater while we slept. We were motivated to peel our sore and weary bodies from our sleeping pads by the promise of The World’s Best Sticky Bun. We rode the free shuttle, the “Island Explorer”, into the center of Bar Harbor and set out to find Morning Glory Bakery. True to Stephen’s word, these were truly remarkable sticky buns. We ate in stunned silence, sipping our equally extraordinary coffee (yes, I slipped off the wagon). One might suspect that our appreciation for these sticky buns was exaggerated by the fact that we had been eating a steady diet of camp food for so long… or, as an artist I once met at the Vermont Studio Center would say: “hunger is the best sauce.” In order to test the theory, we ate said sticky buns for the following three mornings just to be sure. We reached an easy consensus: Morning Glory Bakery of Bar Harbor, ME has The World’s Best Sticky Bun.

The rain was relentless. Scott, Aubree and I were desperately hoping it would lift. We had planned to rent a car to take Stephen to Blue Hill that night. There was a huge outdoor music festival and his favorite band, The Avett Brothers, was headlining. We had hoped to treat him to an evening of his favorite music, a tiny gesture of thanks for the fact that he had made this whole trip possible.

Alas, the rain persisted and we stayed in town.

-Kathryn

August 2: Day 27 Aubree and I took the shuttle into Acadia National Park. We hiked up opposite sides of the same mountain and met at the top. She took the famously steep “Bee Hive Trail,” which features steel rungs fastened to the granite faces at the most precarious passages.

Afterward, we took an impressively leisurely walk around Jordon Pond. It’s simply stunning: a body of crystal fresh water resting in a bowl of mountains. It is an enormous pond and it had us wondering aloud what the official distinction is between a pond and a lake. I had my video camera and she her camera, so we found ourselves stopping every ten yards or so to record one thing or another: the pattern of light playing on the surface of the water, an oddly bright mushroom, a peculiar duck-like bird that kept lifting one of it’s legs awkwardly out of the water as it swam. Two hours later we had completed the three-mile loop, laughing that we typically paddle two or three times faster than that.

-Kathryn

August 3: Day 28 More town, more rain, and more sticky buns. I think the other three are more addicted to the buns than I am. We probably all talked on the phone more today than any other day of the trip and I probably talked more than rest of the trip in total. Coffee shops were full everywhere as all of us tourists looked to stay dry. Thankfully, we found a table and camped out buying more and more Joe to pay our rent. When things finally cleared we went grocery shopping and did laundry to get us back on the water. Bar Harbor has been good to us/for us but we might have been here one day too long. Hard to beat Thai food, Mexican food, Bachi Ball, and dark pubs with dark pints though. -Stephen

August 4: Day 29 Just another Monday morning, got to get back to work and paddle. Again everyone wanted sticky buns so we caught the first propane bus into town from the campground and went back to the Morning Glory Bakery. We needed to wait for the tide to come in around noon before we had enough water to leave anyway. My cousin, Big Steve’s daughter Gemma met at us at the bakery and told us some of the best stories we have heard in a while. Gemma, 20, works for a lobster company in Blue Hill. She and her boss ride a jet ski out to a float every morning where they buy lobsters from the fisherman and sell bait. Gemma said that she wears pink boots to work. She also said that she has been seeing the town cop in Bar Harbor. Hopefully there won’t be any future feuds between her admiring lobstermen and the policeman.

We packed and got on the water in the sun but watched big burly gray clouds track us down as we rounded Mt. Desert and passed Bar Harbor. It began to pour again and we got soaked quickly even with our paddling jackets covering us. Stopping on an island beside Bar Harbor the other three talked about going back into town for more coffee and sticky buns. I think I was satiated.

Two large whale watching boats passed us as we left the harbor and began our crossing to Winter Harbor and Schoodic Peninsula. After these two boats went by we did not see another soul on the water for a couple of hours. I have to say that this was maybe the most magical time on the water of the whole trip. The clouds and storms continued to come through in waves but between them the sun would break through and uncover both mountains and islands around us. The sky and water were both scalloped in millions of gray shadows and reflections. Gentle sea swells began to reach us and a family of porpoise chased their dinner, swimming all around us for some time. If I was going to pick a moment of peace to die to this might be it. Unfortunately we were losing daylight and wanted to get to camp before dark.

Scott had arranged for us to camp by some cottages by the sea in Winter Harbor. Landing there, we found the owner, Pearl who showed us the options for tents, told us about the restaurants in town, made it possible to use indoor restrooms, and admitted that she wanted to mother us. Even though we told her that we were pretty self-sufficient, she was absolutely amazing. Finding a hot seafood dinner and milkshakes in town before returning to our dry tents made for an excellent way to end a long and spectacular day. -Stephen

August 5: Day 30 I look back at the simple birthday card that Stephen, Scott, and Katherine gave me on Aug. 5^th, my 21^st birthday, and I am truly grateful for the sweet things that they said and the effort that they put into that day. The morning started with a surprise of birthday hats that we all wore for the majority of the day. After Pearl expressed a little concern for our safety and we assured her that the conditions were good for our rounding of Schoodic Point that day, we headed out into a calm morning of paddling. Shortly after, we rafted up and had a moment of silence in respect of the loss of Kathryn’s aunt and asked for strength for her and her family.

We arrived at our campground and Scott quickly made friends with two people on the stony beach who were curious about our trip. After camp was set up, Kathryn and Aubree hunted for a place to buy firewood and Scott sneakily hitched a ride from his new friends to buy ice cream. Dinner that night was pizza and along with it came Mojitios with ICE (an amazing treat when it’s not easily accessible). Highs and lows from the last year were shared and surprise #3 was presented. An entire Blueberry Pie with many candles. Kathryn carried this pie in her boat since we had left Bar Harbor. Now let me express the feat that this is in saying that Kathryn is not exactly the most efficient packer, and yet, somehow, she carried that blueberry pie for 2 days. Thanks. To top it all off and make this one of my most memorable birthdays, Stephen came out with a gift of a visor – something I had been looking for the entire trip and failed to have until then. Pie & Ice Cream around a campfire in a fantastically beautiful place with 3 people I have really grown to enjoy under an open sky… wonderful! -Aubree

August 7: Day 32 A gray upon gray morning, after a night of off-and-on rain tap-tap-tapping on the tent. I was up early, and walked out to the point of the cove in time to catch the residue of sunrise on the horizon, a thin pink line beyond the captivating outline of Jordan’s Delight Island. Stephen put up the tarp for breakfast shelter, but the rain stopped and we had a leisurely morning that eventually saw the sun show its face. Not for the long, though. The gray returned as we packed our boats and left the cove, just in time for the wind to pick up and throw some choppy 2 foot seas our way.

We crossed over to check out Jordan’s Delight, which reminded me of a smaller version of the Cliffs of Moore. Sheer rock rising out of the water, topped with rolling green meadows above. The island also boasted a natural rock arch. After a snack break and wardrobe change (the water has been significantly colder since we rounded Schoodic Point, and all the neoprene we’ve been lugging around finally proved useful), we pressed on.

The land has definitely changed. The trees are shorter and brawnier, the houses are fewer and further between, and the sense of wilderness is much more palpable. We’ve left the vacation stomping grounds of the rich and arrived in the more hospitable land of cabins, cottages and fishing lodges–humble buildings that more often than not beg for a bit of repair.

We arrived to our island home for the night, a perfect little bit of stone, soil and tree amidst a quiet, protected bay. We set up camp and lounged on the south-facing rock outcropping as the sun broke through the clouds and gave us a stunning late-afternoon and evening. The sunset was so beautiful, and the water so calm, that I went for a paddle at dusk, just in time to see a deer swim from one neighboring island to the next. Hot chocolate and cookies for desert under the stars, then bed. – Scott

August 8: Day 33 We headed out in the rain, in need of water. Passing a beach, Stephen spotted a man in a yellow rain jacket, walking his dog. We paddled to shore and, after being greeted in the water by his dog, Mike. In a perfect moment of trail magic, Jerry (the man) turned out to be one of MITA’s stewards, who keeps an eye on several islands in the area. He was thrilled that we were paddling the whole trail and enthusiastically offered to take us to his home to stock up on water. He told us great stories about his two years living on a sailboat, traveling to Cuba and Mexico, and spoke lovingly of his return to Maine after a couple years in North Carolina. He said, “Once I got across the bridge from New Hampshire, I pulled my truck over, got out, and kissed the ground with tears in my eyes!”

With water jugs full, we paddled on, quickly making it to our planned island. But after assessing the campsite and the mood of the group, we decided to press on to Jonesport, where we settled in to a damp but cozy campground. Our campsite neighbor Larry offered to give us a ride to the grocery store, where we stocked up for the last few days. We feasted on a dinner of pasta (with hamburger in the sauce!) and played a game of Spades before turning in for the night. – Scott

August 9: Day 34 We decided to take the scenic route from Jonesport to our final Island, Halifax. Halifax is the Easternmost Island of the Rogue archipelago. Rogue Island is the first island in the spiral and it is vaguely “H” shaped. We decided to explore our eponymous island along the way. We paddled around the west side of the island, until we reached the cove that makes up the top part of the “H.” We rounded the corner and saw the most breathtakingly expansive beach we’d seen so far. It must have been a mile or two long and there was nobody whatsoever on it. From the beach we could see a picturesque little farm settlement on the hillside. Stephen and Scott went on a hike while Aubreeand I ate GORP and kept the boats from washing out to sea as the tide came in. When they returned, they said they had reached the beach on the other side of the island and it was even more beautiful.

We paddled around to explore the other side of the island. From there, we could the string of islands that make up the Rogue archipelago, including Halifax, three or four miles in the distance.

We got back in our boats and paddled toward the final island home on our journey. Aubree and I sang a medley of songs to which we knew only fragments of lyrics. Our floating jukebox included bits and pieces of: “Cupid” (Sam Cooke), “Revolution” (Tracy Chapman) and “Stand by Me” (Ben E. King) just to name a few.

Halifax was the first island where the camping area was on the rocks. We set up camp and tied the rain fly to rocks since there was no dirt in which to stake it. We hiked up a hill covered with ripe blueberries. From the top, we had a breathtaking 360-degree view. We watched the sun sink in the sky, measuring away the moments of the final night of our journey.

-Kathryn