[John]  “Early Sunday I awoke, glad we were in Maine . Thinking if had we decided to go to Nova Scotia , we'd still be driving, and given our collective navigation skills, we'd be getting searched at the Mexican boarder right about now.

The few days prior to our arriving in Maine had been kind of hectic, and I was pretty nervous about undertaking such an ambitious trip, especially with a group of guys who called themselves the Wild Turkeys, but we had managed to arrive in decent time and get everything set up OK. I figured at the very worst we'd get a little bit of drinking done, maybe with a little paddling on the side; little did I know the adventure Doug had in store for us.”

[Steven]  “I was woken at 4:00 by the squawk of a Great Blue Heron.  Once I’m up… there’s no going back.  Hence, I got up and explored the trails surrounding the campground (it would be the only time I would see the sunrise all week).“

Down at the waterline, five befuddled faces exchanged glances and stared at the piles of gear that were proposed to fit into six kayaks.  The muttered phrases, “I can’t wait to see this” and “No way in Hell” were spoken under breath more than once.  Even Doug’s never wavering optimism wasn’t enough to convince this group that it could be done.  But, alas… after a lot of pushing, shoving, and swearing every bit of gear found a home and we were ready to make the crossing to what would be our home for the next three nights.

Sunday’s weather called for rain and gale forced winds.  In an effort to paddle our loaded boats under the protection of land, we chose not to cross directly over to Hell’s Half-Acre and to island-hop instead.

The rear deck of John’s narrow Chatham was barely above water as he was carrying a 5 gallon container of water as well as other gear.  He vowed to bring a snorkel on the next trip.

Our initial approach to Hell’s Half-Acre was on the tail end of surf that pushed us across a small bay and practically placed us on the island.  Thankfully, the landing was on a small crushed-shell beach.  However, it was decided that we would be best served to move to the leeward side of the island.

[Steven]  “One of my desires for the trip was to see a Bald Eagle.  This came to fruition within only 15 minutes of being on the water, when a white-headed bird of prey soared over our pod of boats then flew away with that distinctive flap of wings.  This leg would also be our introduction to Eider and Murrelet, which we would become well acquainted with throughout the week.”

Not long after our camp had been situated, the rain started and we all retreated under the circus fly for a game of 5 card stud.  The anti was one M&M per player.   However, in timely fashion (i.e. the “pot” was beginning to melt) the rain stopped and the clouds started to part, revealing rays of sun that reached down to the water and neighboring islands off to the west.  We all made our ways to the shore to absorb the scene and for the first time on the trip, a general sense of contentment seemed to pass over the group.  As the sun finally sank below the horizon, we were treated to a gorgeous and memorable sunset.

After a dinner of Curried Mango Chicken, Nelson broke out a pouch of Anniversary Kake tobacco and some corn cob pipes.  John, Doug, and Steven bravely accepted the offering which was smooth going down, but seemed a lot of work to keep lighted to the uninitiated.  Steven was rumored to have woken in the middle of the night with the desire to step in front of a fire hose with his mouth wide open.

The day ended out on the rocks, gazing up at the stars.  The big dipper was in prime form and the occasional shooting star made for a spectacular evening.  Unfortunately, this scene isn’t as impressive when witnessed near the multitude of lights and air pollutants of home.  

MONDAY ->