Downeast Lakes Water Trail and Reading Room

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Gerald Pearson
5 years ago
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Downeast Lakes Water Trail and Reading Room Last summer my 25 year old daughter Anna and I did a "canoe trip" on the Grand Lakes. We paddled, but not for bragging rights.

1 Downeast Lakes Water Trail and Reading Room Last summer my 25 year old daughter Anna and I did a "canoe trip" on the Grand Lakes. We paddled, but not for bragging rights. We were there to absorb quiet, vistas, clear water, solitude, and undistracted time to read. We have had plenty of canoeing adventures in Maine and Canada. We didn't need the adrenaline of whitewater, not to mention the bother of long travel and the expense of outfitters. This time we came just to wander from one lovely campsite to another, to jump in the water whenever we felt like it, and to read on the beach. We decided to go to Grand Lake Stream because that part of Maine was a quadrant we didn't know. I had learned the remarkable story of the land conservation achieved by this small town from Mark Berry, Executive Director of the Downeast Lakes Land Trust. Mark circled a few campsites on a map for me. I couldn't find much in the paddling guidebooks, but I found a partial description of routes in a very old canoeing book mouldering on my bookshelf. Staring at the Maine Gazetteer produced a vague plan. With no reservations required, and short enough distances with the time we had to spend, we could improvise our route day by day. We drove from our home in southern Maine to the town of Grand Lake Stream. I had told Anna all about the land trust, and this great guy who directs it. I hoped to introduce her to him. I wasn't able to connect with Mark before the trip, but when we arrived at the boat ramp onto West Grand Lake, we learned that in true Maine style we could find Mark just across the water at the cook out following the land trust's annual canoe race. The one canoe in the twelve mile division was just then powering in. The tired paddlers told us about the wind we would soon face. We unloaded our gear and parked in the boat ramp lot. A short paddle to the other shore brought us directly to Mark and his little son, a water sprite. We said a quick hello and then waved goodbye to this idyllic scene of families celebrating in the golden afternoon. Our canoe was the gorgeous Old Town that my husband and I had bought in rough shape from a summer camp on Damariscotta Lake that was going out of business thirty years ago. We had painstakingly restored the old boat over a winter before we had had any children.

2 The lure of whitewater paddling in all the years since meant that this wood and canvas beauty had sat in the barn unscratched for decades. This lake trip put the beautiful boat in its element: traveling fast, tracking straight, slicing the waves. We made quick time to Little Mayberry Cove campsite and decided to keep going. We wondered what we would find when we were out of the shelter of the headland. Soon we understood why many paddlers on this lake opt for wind shedding sea kayaks. The wind and waves were just too high to go further that afternoon. We settled in to read and swim. The afternoon turned to evening. We watched the sunset. At one point in the night I fretted about the bright light that a cottage across the lake seemed to be shining through our tent wall. Then I realized this bright light was the moon.

3 The next day we spent a fun morning jumping into the water off of Caribou Rock, a big boulder a quarter mile from shore. A rope to help with climbing up the steep face dangled down to the water. We laughed til it hurt about our cowardice in launching off the drop the first time. After multiple jumps, we paddled on to McLellan Cove at the northern end of the lake. One remarkable aspect of the campsites here is that they are clean and untrampled. Usually canoe route campsites have the moss scuffed away, paths worn, and all nearby dead wood all burned up in the firepit. Clearly, these sites had had light use. The forest floor still had its beautiful leaf litter undisturbed. There was so much beauty to enjoy, not to mention books to read.

On this trip we intended to make short work of everything taking away from enjoying

4 We have been on many canoe trips where we spend so much time covering miles, making camp, cooking, and washing that we barely have time to go for a swim or even sit down. On this trip we intended to make short work of everything taking away from enjoying nature and our books. If dinner took more than five minutes to cook, we weren't interested.

5 The next day we paddled west, rounded Coffin Point, threaded The Thoroughfare into Pocumcus Lake, and landed at a campsite so wonderful that I'd like to keep the secret. The beach was sandy and sunny, the picnic table was shaded, the swimming was warm and calm, and the options for sitting with your book were hard to winnow. The next morning we paddled to where the water narrows and then empties through culverts into Wabassus Lake. The dirt road from town crosses here. We hauled out the canoe and put on our sneakers. A six mile run back to our car was hot and dusty, but much the simplest shuttle I've ever done. We jumped into the lake from the boat ramp for a cool down.

6 It's always fun to drive again after a muscle powered trip. We drove the dusty miles back to our canoe and loaded up. Next came sandwiches at the Pine Tree Store in Grand Lake Stream.

We found the offices of the land trust across the street and learned from Mark about the next challenge for the land trust: acquiring the 21,870 acres for the West Grand Lake Community Forest as the

7 We found the offices of the land trust across the street and learned from Mark about the next challenge for the land trust: acquiring the 21,870 acres for the West Grand Lake Community Forest as the last critical segment of the 370,000 acres conservation project that is part of a 1.4 million acre wildlife corridor between Maine and New Brunswick. We can marvel and take pride in the accomplishment of a tiny town's land trust in protecting a swath of land of a scope to give you the feel of wilderness. In the eastern United States, it is precious and worthy of heartfelt support to preserve a place where the only light shining is the moon. Visiting this enclave is free to paddlers, but the price is the hard fought vision, the years of effort, and the millions of dollars from generous people who cherish the natural world.

8 Karen Herold August 2012

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