A thick blanket of gray clouds hovered over the horizon. Beneath it, a sliver of sunshine fought through and condensed into a glowing, orange band.
It was a moody day in Down East, Maine, the air crisp with frost and ocean brine. Our mission: to explore a few coastal preserves and enjoy the quiet that descends over the state’s many outdoor destinations in November.
The bright foliage had fallen. Tourist season was through. And anyone we would meet on a trail system would most likely be a local resident.
What would we find in our wanderings? Was it too cold for mushrooms to have popped up after the recent rain? Were sea ducks fishing near the shore? These are the types of questions I cherish — the ones that stir curiosity, encourage physical movement and weigh next to nothing on the mind.
Three preserves made it onto our loose agenda: Bog Brook Cove Preserve in Cutler and Trescott, Long Point Preserve in Machiasport and Boot Head Preserve in Lubec — all owned and managed by the Maine Coast Heritage Trust. Lucky for me and my partner, Chris, they’re dog-friendly places. Juno was along for the ride.
At Bog Brook Cove Preserve, we waved “hello” to a lone trail runner. Otherwise, we had the property to ourselves. We followed a wheelchair-accessible nature trail to the rocky shore, then clambered over blocky outcroppings to watch the dancing waves.
At one point, I spotted a lone duck fishing near the shore. I crept closer, slipping over rockweed and lichen-encrusted rocks, to discover it was a male harlequin duck — one of the fanciest looking ducks in Maine, with a striking pattern of gray, chestnut, slate blue and white feathers. What a treat.
As I photographed the bird, Juno approached and sat beside me. I worried she’d scare the duck away, but it appeared to be too intent on fishing to care. And Juno was smart enough to stay out of the crashing waves.
We retreated inland on the rugged Ridge Trail. A short climb led us to a high point with a romantic view of the coast bordered by clusters of bright red mountain ash berries. Throughout the winter, birds and rodents feast on these berries. And sometimes a freeze-thaw cycle will cause the berries to ferment, so you can end up with tipsy birds and squirrels. Don’t get any ideas, though. They’re super bitter when raw.
In the mossy woods of the preserve, I spied a few late-season mushrooms. Big globs of orange jelly fungus adorned fallen trees, their gelatinous forms jiggling to the touch. Here and there, capped mushrooms rose from the cold forest floor on slender, delicate stalks, and tiny tree mushrooms hid among the lichen.
After such a dry, mushroom-scarce summer, I was happy to see any species of fungi blooming at all.
At Long Point Preserve, we were fortunate to spot a group of seals lounging on a small ledge just off shore. We watched as the tide swept in, pushing them off the rock shelf one by one.
In a comic show of stubbornness, the final seal on the ledge refused to leave. It held out for several minutes, body bent so that its head and tail remained above the rising waves. Finally, it could hold on no longer. The waves swept the seal away, and I swear I heard it grumble in protest.
Robbed of their roost, the seals slowly dispersed, their gray speckled heads bobbing like lobster buoys. Nearby, a group of buffleheads swam. Goofy-looking because of their large heads, these types of ducks are common along the Maine coast in the winter.
Farther east, we ended our day at Boot Head Preserve, known for its dramatic ocean cliffs. At an overlook, we watched the sun sink toward the horizon, throwing color into the clouds like magic.
I’ve always said that November is one of Maine’s “ugliest” months, but moments like that make me second-guess myself. Maybe there’s simply no such thing.
I don’t say it enough, but I’d like to thank Maine Coast Heritage Trust and the many other organizations throughout the state that conserve wilderness areas, acre by acre, saving them from development. Maine is home to over 80 land trusts, and they all do incredible work preserving habitats and finding ways for the public to enjoy these wild places without destroying them.
Also, while visiting these places, it’s important to acknowledge that these preserves are on the ancestral homelands of the Wabanaki people. Some preserves, such as Long Point Preserve, have educational signs that can help you learn about that history and how the area’s indigenous culture is tied to the land and its natural resources.
As I walk along trails, thinking about this history deepens my sense of gratitude. I’m thankful that in this crazy world, we still have places where anyone can go and watch a harlequin duck with their dog or photograph mushrooms in a mossy forest. Here in Maine, my home, nature still has space to delight us.
