It’s hard to believe this is our final stop before we make our way back to Belfast and start prepping Windara for haul-out. Looking back, it feels like we only just slipped the mooring lines. The summer went way too fast, but it’s one for the books.
We’ve been into the Smith Cove anchorage at Castine several times now, so this time we decided to finally check out the Holbrook Island anchorage instead. There are three free moorings, but all of them were taken when we arrived, so we chose to anchor. The spot was closer to some rocks than we would have liked, but it offered good protection from most wind directions.
We were excited to head to shore, and on our first morning we hiked the Goose Falls Trail, which leads over to a pretty cove where water rushes in and out with the tide. You’d never know it’s also the Callahan Mining Corp Superfund site. The trail also leads past a little old cemetery – not an uncommon find in the Maine woods. We’d gone ashore on a still-falling tide, so by the time we returned to the gangway down to the dock, it was a really steep descent (there’s a 10’+ tidal range here). I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t slip (everything was still wet from an overnight rain/fog), so I crab-walked my way down (hey, I’m clumsy, what can I say?).
The next morning, we decided to hike the Beaver Flowage Trail. The trail began as an easy walk through open forest that was pretty but unremarkable… until we turned a corner that brought us to a beautiful swamp marsh. The boards along the perimeter of the marsh had seen better days – some of them MUCH better days – but the views were worth a little detour into the mud here and there. The maples were decked out in bright reds and oranges, the ferns in orangey-browns, and the cat-o-nine-tails were starting to puff up in preparation to release their seeds. It was so peaceful and pretty, and the vibrant colors stood in contrast to the gray morning sky. We passed the marsh and started back up into the forest, passing clusters of fern as we approached a stand of tightly-spaced spruce.
At the entrance to the spruce stand, there was a small, wooden sign that we paused to read. There was a picture painted on it, and four simple letters: B-E-A-R. “Huh, bear?” Chris read aloud. Huff. Snap! THUD. I don’t remember much beyond running until Chris reminded me to stay calm. Yes, I know you don’t run from a black bear. But it was so unexpected and I was so startled, the flight reaction fully took hold. I gathered my wits, turned back ready to face down whomever I’d just awoken, and slowly started backing away, only picking up the pace to a brisk walk when it seemed unlikely that they were in pursuit. My heart rate was through the roof, and I no longer felt the need for the coffee I had in hand. Back through the marsh we went – so much for hiking a loop trail!
This was not our first close encounter, and I’m sure it won’t be our last. Like our much-too-close encounter in Glacier National Park, we never saw the bear but I’m certain it saw us. We’ve done a lot of hiking in Maine and not really seen signs of bear activity, so this one truly surprised us. There’s the part of me that wishes I’d gotten a picture of the sign that quite possibly saved us, but I sure as hell wasn’t sticking around after our friend announced their presence. We learned in Glacier not to hike quietly, and in both of our close encounters, I truly believe the bear was warning us to get lost in response to hearing us at what it considered to be a safe distance.
Later that evening, we got a pretty strong wind storm. It was a little nerve-wracking with the current holding us at an angle to the wind that was closer to the rocks than we would have liked. We set the anchor alarm and ended up staying up a good portion of the night until the gusts came down. I was also worried about the Mary Day who had come in and anchored in the cove in front of us. She doesn’t have an engine and relies on her dinghy for maneuvering, and I didn’t love that idea if she started dragging. But all was well and no one budged.
We finally took the opportunity to check out Castine itself, which we’d tried to do last year, but the transmission/shaft seal leak had other plans for us. We made the run to town twice – once to explore (it’s a cute little town with a couple restaurants and a convenience store but not a lot else) and again for dinner at the Pentagöet Inn, which we really enjoyed.
This morning, we hiked Holbrook Island and took Williwaw out for a ride. We found beautiful, rock-and-seaweed beaches, mossy forest, marsh and meadow as we meandered the gentle island trails. As we wandered, we kept laughing at a review we’d read of the trails, something to the effect of “if there are any well-tended trails on the island, we couldn’t find them” – the trails were blazed every few feet and pretty obvious.
As we explored in Williwaw, the heavy melancholy of the season’s end weighed on us both. The trees are beginning to show signs of the fall color we thought might not come, and cooler temperatures have been threatening, but it’s so hard to digest that this was it. I took some last photos of Windara on anchor with the Camden Hills in the distance, and with a light breeze up, we decided it was time to get under way. We didn’t want to arrive in Belfast until the afternoon slack, but a noontime departure meant we could take advantage of what breeze there was to sail most of the way.
I sat on the rail soaking up the sun, enjoying the calm sail. I even took the helm for a bit, which I find myself less willing to do up here because of all the lobster pots. But the pots were sparse, and I loved getting to take the helm one last time. The wind faded off as the afternoon progressed, and eventually we had to fire up the engine so we could make it into Belfast at slack tide.
