" I Must Go Down to the Sea Again"

 “I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, 

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.”

Excerpt from John Masefield’s poem “I must go down to the Sea”

My sentiments exactly; I MUST go down to the sea again, and after a week of waiting for the reluctant-to-be-born grandson, I took a “Nona holiday” and headed to Acadia National Park which is only a little over an hour from my daughter’s home.  The “grey mist” was in place, a steady drizzle and low clouds concealing the smooth granite mountaintops of Cadillac Mountain and all the other famous peaks on Mount Desert Island. 

But I wasn’t here for the mountaintop views anyways, but to “go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky”.  Considering it was Memorial Day weekend, it wasn’t exactly a “lonely sea”, however the clusters of hardy tourists who braved the rain and the cold temps, I think it was a high of 50 that day, seemed content to visit only the high points and skip the trail that connected them.  From Sandy Beach to Otter Cliffs there is a fabulous trail that takes you along the headlands, and offers many chances to leave the path and head out over the granite cliffs themselves.  I took every one. 

The island is primarily composed of granite, which isn’t so easily weathered, ergo the proverbial “rock-bound cliffs of Maine”.  Walking on the edge was beyond exhilarating, especially after a year’s absence   from the ocean in Texas.  It’s been storming all week, so the ocean was whipped up, the tide was coming in and the surf was crashing as dramatically as advertised.   No amount of wind or mist could dampen my spirits; it was all exactly as it ought to be.  Of the many things I have missed over the year in Texas, one of them is getting to see sea ducks that find life at its best when the waves are crashing around them.  But the most prevalent birds I saw that day weren’t sea ducks, but rather, cooler yet, members from the Puffin family, Black Guillemot’s.

The dramatic thing about Guillemot’s is that they are circumpolar birds found in the largest numbers around the Arctic, but the southern end of their range is right off the coast of Maine, so much cheaper than a trip to the Arctic, you can see them right here in Acadia.  And, whereas you really need to take a boat out to see the Puffins, which I can’t wait to do someday, the Guillemot’s have found the pickings easier for their fledglings here, close to shore; so, especially during the months of May and June they are easy to spot.

They use their wings for propelled swimming and can dive down 165 feet and stay down for 2 minutes as they search for the bottom dwelling fish they dine on.  I can vouch for their breath holding, for my binoculars were getting soaked as I awaited their “pop-up” return from the bottom.

 Everywhere I spotted them, they seemed to be in pairs so it seems a good chance their nests were nearby. 

 At the bottom of these rocky cliffs perhaps, which is one wild place to have a nursery.  Whereas puffins are likely to raise just one chick, these birds have 2, which may seem like a small clutch compared to other species.  Considering they have to feed their young about 20 fish a day each, and do that for 30-40 days, well,  you can bet they won’t be buying into the theory of “cheaper by the dozen”.

Part of the trail took me through the woods, which smelled intoxicatingly of balsam firs, and the mosses and the reindeer lichen completely coated the ground.  Half the time the trail was a stream

itself for it had been raining for days, and with the island being mostly granite the rain runs off, rather than soaks in, so waterfalls abound and my toes were completely pruny by the end of the day.

 The area is famous for warblers this time of year and I was lucky to see some of the more common ones; Myrtle and Yellow Throated and Black and White, but I could hear more than I could see.

 

 

In the end, it was the sea I had gone to see, and it was grand, but the best part is, with a daughter that lives here, I can take my time, and go again and again.  I shall take in the views from Cadillac Mountain on a clear day, and hike to the glacial ponds, and admire the hanging glacial valleys or look for the 500 types of wildflowers that grow here in this wild blend of habitats.  God-willing, there is so much more to see.  But now, back to that 3^rd grandchild waiting in the wings, our own nesting season is about to begin and I had better turn my mind back to that.  But thank you God that I did get to “go back to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky”.