So far this winter has been a strange one. But when has Maine had such predictable weather? If you’ve lived here long enough, rain, sun, snow, sleet, mud, or ice enough to bend even the noblest of trees. When you lose weight, you realize that you have to roll with it.
Over the past few weeks we have been through all of the above.
The start of winter this year was surprisingly warm with very little snow. Skiers and snowshoeers are understandably saddened by this, as are ice anglers, especially those who were looking forward to competing in the canceled Derby.
But the main people are nothing without adaptability. See the Penobscot County anglers fishing in kayaks this month. And when it snows, skiers jump at the opportunity to glide before it melts.
I, too, have tried to stay optimistic and adapt. To find snow, I climbed the mountains of Moosehead and the Carrabassett Valley. And to embrace the quiet beauty of the season, I traveled along the coast to photograph lighthouses and birds.
When it was particularly sunny and warm in mid-December, I decided to hike Mead Mountain and soak up the sun in the Great Pond Mountain Wildlands. And when it snowed a little, I hightailed it to the nearby Great Pond Mountain. This was also in the Wildlands and we slowly made our way through the powder while the snow continued.
Still, I hope it gets colder and snows finally enough to wear snowshoes. As I look down on the lake below my house, I dream of past winters when I sailed across the water on ice skates. Tell yourself you still have time.
I planned a week-long trip to Florida in early January, thinking I needed a break from the cold. Back in Maine, the state was gearing up for a freezing rain, snow, and sleet storm. At first, I was fed up with it. Why isn’t it just snow? Fluffy snow? Why did ice have to wrap my car like a glazed donut?
But then I realized that the wilderness after the storm could be a magical place, surrounded by shimmering ice and shimmering snow. So I went to Acadia National Park, and it just so happened.
Wearing ice cleats for extra traction, we walked along the edge of the carriageway, being careful not to step on the cross-country ski tracks tucked into the shallow snow bed. The ice-covered spruce trees swayed in the wind and creaked overhead. Bubbles danced along granite ledges and under rows of icicles slowly melting in the sun.
Leaving the multi-use road network behind, we headed for the Sargent Mountain South Ridge Trail and kicked our toes up through the idyllic forest. Only one set of boot trucks came before me, and the manufacturer was nowhere to be found. Hiding in the frozen branches, birds chirped here and there.
I chose the south facing trail and wanted to enjoy the sunshine after a few days of storms. But that also meant hiking through thawed forests. Overhead, the ice melted from the tree branches and poured cold water. All I could do was laugh.
Luckily, I didn’t make it that far, so I didn’t put my heart and soul into climbing Sargent Mountain. Constantly distracted by the beauty of the landscape, I proceeded slowly and spent many hours kneeling in the snow photographing how the ice covered and transformed various plants. .
The snow was rapidly sinking toward the horizon when we reached the top of Cedar Swamp Mountain, which the trail visits en route to Sargent. I had hiked from the other direction only a few weeks ago, and the scene almost took my cloudy breath. bottom. Golden sunlight penetrated the ice and the frozen forest, making everything glow.
A smooth layer of snow covered the bedrock, forming small streams that obscured the granite formations below. Frosty ice-covered lowland berry bushes and stunted pines. Dark islands dotted the silvery blue horizon.
After enjoying such a fantastic view, I had a headlamp in case I needed it to light the way, but before it got dark I was able to turn around and rush down the mountain. On the way, I almost ran into a white-tailed deer standing in the middle of the road. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or it.
The hike refreshed my memory of the beauty of Maine winter. And I renewed my belief that no matter how bad the weather, you can still find fun in the mountains, along the coast, or in the depths of the forest.
