Kayaking in Merepoint Bay, Maine

Maine is best seen from the water, but I've never been totally convinced about kayaks. I rowed intramural crew at college, spent a summer aboard a Zodiac photo-ID-ing dolphins in the Gulf of Mexico, and have enjoyed canoeing in Maine lakes. However, none of those boats were designed to roll upside down. An emergency "wet exit" sounds too much like a watery grave. As a writer/artist, I have an over-active imagination, but I'm also drawn to the beauty of the sea.

When my son asked for an inflatable double kayak for his birthday, I offered to join him on his inaugural launch. His Sea Eagle reminded me of a Zodiac (minus a motor): stable, comfortable, and surprisingly easy to steer. The open hull is self-bailing so doesn't require a spray skirt, and best of all, this boat was designed not to flip. Since it was near low tide, we left from our town's boat launch.

The hardest part was maneuvering around the moored boats between gusty wind and rocking swells. My arms ached until my son reminded me to pull from my core and brace with my legs. The best thing about a double kayak is easy conversation. Soon enough, my body relaxed into the rhythm of paddling.

A kayak can't be beat for birdwatching. We saw an osprey defend her nest from a hungry bald eagle. The pictured hero above is the speck flying by the tallest tree; I brought an old point-and-shoot instead of my DSLR camera on this salty voyage. Even my dry bag got a bit damp.

We paddled past lobster fishermen loading traps from floating docks onto their boats. June is the start of mainland lobster season in Maine, following the annual migration from deeper waters. During the winter and spring only outer island residents and fishermen with deep sea permits can set traps.

This sustainable fishery is well regulated in my state. Multi-colored buoys (lobster pots) distinguish lines of traps and are matched to a fisherman's boat (paired photos above). The marine patrol enforces strict catch rules to protect breeding females, small young lobsters, and big lobsters. To research my YA novel about a teen lobster fisherman, I went out lobstering with a pro, joined a marine patrolman on his rounds, and spent a week in a boat house on a remote island with a one-room schoolhouse.

Despite the high risks, I understand why fishermen choose to work at sea. The view from the bow was so gorgeous that all my worries melted away. I felt carefree and gloriously alive. Photos cannot capture the pungent scent of the ocean and the sparkle of the waves. My spirit animal must be a porpoise or an osprey, but not a thieving bald eagle!

Too soon it was time to come ashore. My son's Sea Eagle weighs about 42 pounds (much less than regular double kayaks) and only took a few minutes to semi deflate. It took my son about 15 minutes to assemble and to inflate the first time.

The oars snap in half to fit beside the folded boat and its foot pump in the back of my 2002 Subaru Outback with plenty of room to spare. There was no need for a roof rack, which is a big plus for a short woman with a bad back. The biggest pain was rinsing off the seawater and finding a place for it to dry out of the sun. A regular kayak is easier to maintain but harder to store/transport.

I'm sorely tempted to buy a second Sea Eagle as an anniversary gift for my husband and me. Our son will be taking his boat, packed in a surprisingly small duffle, to University of California, Berkeley in August. I will miss him and our wilderness adventures.

Note: I was not compensated or asked to post this kayak review. Top photo of me paddling is by my son; all other photos are by me and under copyright. Thanks to his grandparents for helping us buy this birthday boat (my son paid for part too.)

A Sailboat Painting of Maine: how to capture a dream

My paintings usually start on location, but my latest commission began with a google search. The client, who lives in the Washington DC area and vacations in Maine, had found me through a keyword search for painters of sailboats. She described her dream:

"For twenty two years, I've closed my eyes each night and pictured my little house on the coast, the front porch, the late afternoon sails on my little boat. Thinking of those things brought me the most peaceful feeling."

I usually paint from life, but sailboats move too fast to sketch accurately. While visiting my family on Nantucket Island, I headed to the Rainbow Parade with my DSLR Nikon camera. From Brant Point I was close enough to capture the old wooden boats sailing past the lighthouse. I couldn't simply copy the photo because the client asked for a Maine background and Nantucket Island is in Massachusetts.

Maine is farther north and has a different feel: the islands are rocky and coniferous. The day I set out to paint at Lookout Point, the sky turned an ominous grey as the tide was falling.

I worked quickly but the sea became mudflats as raindrops fell, blurring the paint. In the rush to finish, I'd also gone too dark. Watercolor is the most challenging of all paint media because there is no way to fix a mistake. You can go darker, but you can't go lighter. My painting was a disaster.

I cut my losses by picking up a couple of lobsters. Allen's Seafood at Lookout Point sells them live off the docks at $5 a pound. My client is a professional chef so I felt she'd understand.

My husband boiled the soft shell lobsters on the barbecue and picked them out of their shells. He'd bought a bouquet of calla lilies to cheer me up.

A fresh farmers' market salad, baked potatoes and locally brewed Shipyard Ale rounded out the meal. It was a happy ending to a disappointing day.

Another day, another attempt, this time at home. It was getting too chilly to work outside. I set up my laptop with the Nantucket sailboat photo and propped up a more successful watercolor of mine of Lookout Point. Blending memory and imagination, I merged the images in my head.

Before painting a watercolor, I do several gesture drawings in a sketch book. These 30 second ink sketches of the main elements allow me to test several compositions before committing to paint.

Once I've chosen the layout, I transpose the sketch in pencil with more detail to heavy weight paper taped to board. Then I mix my colors and slip into a meditative trance. Two days later the painting was complete.

The penultimate stop was the framers in Topsham. I usually frame watercolors in natural wood, but this client had decorating restrictions. My watercolor might hang with family heirlooms in gold gilt frames or beside other pictures framed in black-painted wood. I emailed photos of the options. Since it was hard to visualize how well this would integrate in her new home, she decided to use her local framer.

UPS fragile packed the painting, but my work wasn't over. Once I've finished the first draft of my novel, I'll begin work on a companion watercolor for this client. (Thanks, Dad, for mailing a photo of a moored gaff rigged yacht). It's a wonderful feeling to capture a dream.

Canoeing in Baxter State Park

Most people come to Baxter State Park in Maine to hike, but it's also a really nice place to canoe. The park service rents canoes for $1 an hour. My son and I had this mini-island all to ourselves for a picnic. For dessert there were wild blueberries. 

Matagamon Lake was dotted with islands and ringed by mountains. The large scale was impossible to capture with a camera. We paddled for three hours and spotted only a couple of canoes and no power boats or houses. We kept company with loons and a bald eagle.

My son once spent 6 weeks paddling and poling (when you stand and push off the riverbed with a pole, like punting) up the Allagash and Penobscot rivers, following Thoreau's journey to Baxter. He did this trip through Chewonki Wilderness Experiences two years ago. Back at Baxter with me this July, he was my stern-man and guide. In a reversal of roles, I felt safe in his care. My "boy" just turned eighteen and is no longer a minor!

 We paddled for an hour and a half looking for an island with low banks, where it would be easy to come ashore. After lunch we headed back before the afternoon winds got too strong. 

Even with a map, we missed the turnoff to Trout Brook but found it soon enough. The banks somehow reminded me of the Thames in England, only wilder and buggier. My son guessed that camping at Trout Brook Farm wouldn't be too pleasant. Bug nets were necessary even at midday, although the lake downstream wasn't buggy at all.

Our campsite was at a smaller pond, South Branch, nestled in the mountains. 

Another easy trail led to a waterfall.

We camped in a lean-to in case it rained, but the only time it did during our 5 days at Baxter was driving 2 1/2 hours between campsites. 

We came prepared in mid July for bugs. The black flies were especially bad in the evenings. They breed in slow moving water, like the the stream feeding South Branch Pond. A smoky campfire kept them it bay and our bug nets made for better sleeping. 

We also shared our campsite with nesting Merlins, a fish-hunting falcon. On our last day, the fledglings decided to take their first wobbly flight. The ranger was very excited when we showed him the nest. I'm sure the Merlins chose our campsite for the spectacular view. It was a lovely place to swim and wash away the grime of camping. We couldn't use soap as this was our drinking water too. Every day we pumped or boiled many pints.

There were canoes to rent at South Pond too. The placid, small pond would be ideal for inexperienced paddlers and young children. I relaxed in my camp chair, watching the wind ripple the the reflection. The golden light still glows inside me.