Baxter State Park, Maine

Cute giant painted rock on the road to Maine's Baxter State Park

Yesterday I drove a lot of hours driving north from the Maine coast to arrive at Baxter State Park.  The photo above is a view as one approaches a southern entrance to the park. When I reached the entry kiosk, I was surprised to find out there is quite a fee for non-Maine dwellers to enter the park $14, which is even more than one pays to enter a California park, though the California fee includes California citizens. Still, I guess someone has to shell out money to support parks so the fee didn't stop me from visiting the park both yesterday and again today for a total of $24 of park enjoyment.

Baxter State Park has beautiful scenic views of waterways

 The park is humongous, and it is largely a boreal forest with loads of wildlife and even wilder rivers. My visit to the park was largely and almost totally in vehicle - I drove for a couple of hours to reach the fartherst northern bit of the park. Along the  way I many interesting things, and of course, enjoyed lots of good birding.

The outcropping of rock makes this hill rather a 'sweet heart' don't you think?

 One reason I didn't walk around much was my growing fear of biting black flies and mosquitos, which I will elaborate on later, and the thickness of plants and moss on the boreal forest floor. Ok, and perhaps my general hatred of hiking had a bit to do with it too. Still, I did get out of the rental car to chase after lots of interesting birds.

Female American Redstart

Showing her tail just before she flits off

Male Black-throated Blue Warbler, serenading some fine young thing

Ms. Fine Young Thing

Least Flycatcher

There was a spot I found in the forest that was filled with the sound of frogs calling "Chee-bek! Chee-bek! Of course, I learned in Manitoba Canada that not all froggies are frogs - some are actually  Least Flycatchers.

The greatest reason I journeyed all the way to north-central Maine was in hopes of locating a Bicknell's Thrush. Alas, no Bicknell's for me. I have a start when earlier today a Thrush jumped out onto the road in front of my car to nab a worm, but alas, a Hermit Thrush which can be found back in California in my own back yard.

Taken through car windshield: a hungry Hermit Thrush

Still, 'no great loss without some small good' I always say. No Bicknell's Thrush, but I certainly lucked out in finding several Spruce Grouse, all on my own. Mind - I'd have had to be blind to miss the things, but I was still pretty impressed with myself.

A handsome, fat Spruce Grouse on a Baxter Park road

I spotted another little Cockerel in the thick undergrowth, and to my amazement, he put on a bit of a show for me. I think there must have been other birds nearby he was either trying to woo or intimidate. The way he kept the little red feathery puffs above his eyes flared is wonderful.

There were a few wildflowers around for me to admire too.

Sessile Bellwort

Painted Trillium

I certainly believe I got my $24 worth out of Baxter State Park, even if I didn't see any Bicknell's Thrushes. And I certain enjoyed the hours of new scenery I saw en route and on my return today back to the coast and Calais, Maine. 

The 'Farewell' side of the boulder on the way out of Baxter State Park.

St. Croix International Historic Site and My Accidental Hike

Looking out towards St. Croix Island - which looks a bit like an emerging submarine

After docking in Eastport early this afternoon,  I was quickly off again, north, to check out St. Croix International Historic Park. I took the turn off the main highway, but no park. So on I drove to Calais, and after checking out the town a bit, and an even quicker visit to the Baring Division of Moosehorn Refuge, I went to the Calais Visitor Center. It was raining – and the two ladies at the center looked bored silly. I told them I wanted to visit St. Croix, and where the heck was it? The ladies marveled I had managed to miss the park. Still, cheered up with someone to talk to other than each other, one gave me a St Croix post card, telling me the St Croix ranger would give me a gift if I presented it. I was again off south, and this time, when I turned of the main Highway, the park was a quick-like-a-bunny right turn. I wasn't surprised I missed it earlier in the day. 
 

The St. Croix International Park's Visitor Center. Note the clocks that show the US and Canadian times, which disagree by one hour. So just by standing there I was in a time warp of one hour. Where is the Tardis when you need it?

There were Plenty of 'show
& tell' items I enjoyed investigating

The lady Ranger was quite friendly, and though I think I may have been the only guest in the entire park, she gave me a personable tour. I was told the history of the lost French colony that settled in, almost perished in one of the worse winters ever and almost died before another Frenchman came – late – to collect up the colonists and take them away.




When she was done, I showed her the post card I was given in Calais, and she gave me the best possible present - a beautiful cloisonne pin. The pins must be leftovers from the celebration of the four hundred years - now four hundred ten years - when the original French settled on the island.

My Precious...!

I could not be happier with my present! The only souvenirs I bring home from vacations these days are a free ink stamping in my National Park Passbook, and one cloisonne pin. So, as this park is international and it has no stamp, I was able to get a beautiful sky blue pin - gratis! Yes, I am that lucky and easy to please to boot.




The ranger recommended I take the short park hike. Being my usual lazy self, I hemmed. hawed, thanked her and left. It was pouring down rain, and I raced to the car and left, driving along the shore, and in only a scant quarter mile I was on an overlook, that faced St. Croix Island which can only be accessed by the prudent tourist with a boat.  I sat and watched the rain beating down on the rip rap for a while.

A view from where I parked towards St. Croix Island, on the horizon to the right

The rain slowed a bit, and there were stone steps nearby so I climbed them. At the top I saw a gazebo, housing a bronze model of how the lost St. Croix colony may have looked in early 1600s.

Fairly impressive settlement if you ask me

Now, just outside the little brick gezebo I spied the first of several impressive bronze statues.

Pierre Dugua who is the size of a yeti at 8 foot tall. He was looking pretty dapper for a man standing out in the rain.

I picked up from the signage he was the settlement's leader who hoped to make a fortune in animal furs.

I looked further down the little winding trail, and spied a tall metallic settler, his head lowered in reverence. He glistened with raindrops, and if he weren't made of bronze he'd have caught his death.























 Now I was curious. What was with the statues? Interesting!  I meandered down the trail and found the next statue. A man of the continent as there wasn't yet an 'America' or 'Canada' for him to come from. He was an aboriginal whose people had lived on the land since the first grass grew.

He was a Maine Indian acting as a guide for the French.

There was then this guy is shown, 'helping to build a community'

Easy enough to figure out this man's activity

Next up was an Indian mother
with something on her back...

Her baby who was wet - with rain  -and I'm glad
he was bronze because he looked ready to cry

At this point, I realized I had walked the entire trial the lady ranger had suggested I walk. UGH! What can be more annoying than unintended exercising and stretching of the legs? It wasn't much of a hike, as the Wonessonuk Trail really was just a hop, skip and half a jump, but still. I turned back and headed for the car. .

I walked back down the trail

So I walked the trail backwards, but then, I am a bit backwards from time to time. I left the park and drove back north to Calais, where I checked into a cute & tiny International Motel. The Down East Birding Festival ended today, so I'll be on my own to explore this northernmost bit of Maine.

A Mulligan Kind of Day

The graceful little Lady H Chugging to the dock in Eastport Maine

A Mulligan is a new slang for me, meaning a 're-do'. As happens I told the festival people how I missed the boat trip on Saturday and I was told I'm not the first person screwed up because - my iPhone had switched over picking up the time from a Canadian cell tower, showing an hour later than Maine time! So it wasn't the rental car's clock that threw me, the car had the correct time. It was my always trusted iPhone that threw me off! That means back on Saturday, I was at the dock at the right time and when I drove off thinking I was a half hour late for the trip, but I was really 20 minutes early. Damn it! Never even occurred to me to ask any of the folk there at the Fish & Chips stand about the time.

So today I drove on back north to Eastport, only this time ignoring my iPhone. I walked to the pier, and there sat the innocent Lady H, the small boat I'd be taking a trip out of the harbor on. It was actually 8:50 before anyone, even the captain arrived. At 9:10 AM we pulled out of the port.

It was rather a somewhat miserable, ergo normal maritime journey, raining on and off. Periodically the icy salt water would blast over the sides and douse passengers – we'd smile, because I swear, Neptune has a sense of humor.  

East Quoddy Head Lighthouse, Campobello Island

Maine has Bald Eagles, the way Alaska has Bald Eagles - they're everywhere you find water, and that is practically every place you go.

I bet flinging yourself off a snag is an E-ticket ride

The highlight of the trip was stopping at White Horse Island, where hundreds of Black-legged Kittiwakes nested. Am pleased with my photos, of Kittiwake pairs on their nests, looking like concerned parents.

Wall of Kittiwakes

Kittiwake Condo

Black-legged Kittiwakes

Common Eider Drake on some of the island's lower lying property

 I got a nice shot of one Kittiwake on the water, wings spread, and you can see its lovely ink dipped wing tips.

Black-legged Kittiwakes with ink dipped wing tips

Unlike my two previous Maine Pelagic trips, there was no disembarking onto any islands. We just enjoyed watching the birds, seals and even weirs, as we worked our way around the waters of the Atlantic and Passamaquody Bay.

Stopped to look at Salmon pens/weirs, for commercially raised salmon

Salmon Weir/Pen

I never get enough of flying Eiders

In the early afternoon when we docked in Eastport I took off north, already plotting my next adventure of the day.