TRIP #5, 2014--No Dampening Color

There's No Dampening the Color
"We won't see the sun today," said Andy, peeking out the window about 7:00 a.m.
I thought he was probably right. The sky was heavily overcast, and I could see puddles in the parking lot.  "It already rained," I told him.
"Don't worry," assured Andy. "It wasn't enough to cause problems in Little Red."  But he spent an inordinate amount of time repacking my side of the car, just in case.   "If it does rain again, we had stuff in the back on your side that shouldn't get wet," he explained.
I really didn't need any explanation! I was the only stuff potentially getting wet.  We chose warmer clothes; it was 53 degrees, but in southern Maine only about five miles from the ocean, the autumn colors were spectacular.  Too bad it was so grey.

In addition to hiking trails, Wells Reserve offers educational
programs in nature study, ecology and fine arts. 

Signage in Maine leaves a lot to be desired if you're a driver--or a navigator.  The side streets all have a single name on each pole, so it has been tough to determine what street we are actually driving on.  "And there is one sign before any major road, not necessarily placed strategically," said Andy, "so it's hard to tell where to turn, much less what road you're on.  They aren't big on route numbers here either."
I wondered out loud if that's because of the small population and the fact that Maine is so "out-of-the-way" as a state.

Hardwood trees predominate in this part
of southern Maine.

 We delivered a sad good-bye to Maryanne this morning, with much pomp and circumstance, as Andy dropped her in the garbage.  For five trips Maryanne has been our untrustworthy GPS Navigon, named thus because Maryanne was the ditsiest girl Andy had ever dated.  She finally went dark and wouldn't hold a charge at all, but she hasn't been particularly useful since I blew out the cigarette lighter in Little Red about two years ago.  Even charging Maryanne in the motel room all night didn't work too well because when we needed her at the end of the day to find a restaurant or our next motel, she was already dead.  RIP, Maryanne!

Spectacular color greets hikers on
every turn of the trail in Wells Reserve.

We saw a sign on the road for Wells Reserve. I pointed it out to Andy.  "Let's see what it's all about," he suggested.  My thoughts exactly.  The Wells Reserve, originally a huge farm on the shoreline estuaries, manages grasslands, woodlands, freshwater wetlands, salt marshes and one of the last undeveloped sand beaches in Maine,.  The Wells National Estuarine Research Reserve created, maintains and patrols a network of trails for visitors to explore the beauty of the coastal ecosystem.  More than 100 educational programs are offered each year, and we passed three school groups along the trails.
A couple or more miles of trail--Knight Trail to Laudholm Connector to Pilger Trail to Laird-Norton Trail to Farley Trail to Saw-Whet Owl Trail-- took us through a variety of habitats for stupendous fall color.  The yellow birch, silver maple and undergrowth ferns had all turned and contrasted with the greens of Eastern white pine and white paper birch.
We followed Route #9 into Kennebunkport. "That's George Bush's house," said Andy, pointing to a huge grey mansion on the point.  He was right.  Taxis, cars and a tour bus slowed ahead of us. A sign said, "Absolutely NO stopping!" But tourists stood on the sidewalk and craned their necks anyway.  "I guess he's not there," said Andy.  "He's back in Texas by now, but he spends his summers here."

The town of Kennebunk has
already decorated for Halloween.

We parked in the village of Kennebunk and walked across the bridge to Kennebunkport.  The stores were crowded with tour bus passengers--art galleries, jewelry shops and clothiers interspersed with lobster shacks-- but all exclusive.  It was nice to window shop, but very little representative of Maine caught our eyes.

The tide comes in and fills the salt marshes
at Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge.

At the Rachel Carson (1907-1964) Wildlife Refuge, we took the time to walk the one-mile developed nature trail through deciduous and pine forests along the tidal salt marsh. The tide was just coming in.  Meadows of cordgrass in the distance bent and swayed in the breeze.  And farther off we could see the brilliant reds of the swamp maples from the lookout openings.  In her books, like Silent Spring, with ideas way ahead of its time for 1962, Carson challenged the widespread use of pesticides and fundamentally changed society's outlook on the natural environment.

The tiny Lobster Point Lighthouse stands
at the entrance to Marginal Way.

This refuge in her name is studying ways to give salt marsh plants the best possible opportunity to keep pace with sea level rise as global warming continues.  A sign asked visitors, "Will salt marshes be able to migrate inland as sea levels rise or will they be challenged by sea walls, roads and structures and ultimately destroyed?"  In The Sea Around Us, Carson wrote, "All the life of the planet is interrelated... each species has its own ties to others, and... all are related to earth.  This is the theme of The Sea Around Us and the other sea books, and it is also the message of Silent Spring."

Wild rose and yellow berry bushes line the ridge along
Marginal Way in Ogunquit as angry waves pound the coast.

Lobster Point Lighthouse, constructed by the town of Ogunquit in 1941 and renovated in 1998, marks the entrance to Marginal Way, an asphalt path along the coastline metamorphic rock ridge.  Wild rose bushes and red sumac colored the path.  On the other side of Marginal Way, huge homes hugged the inner shoreline. Waves crashed below us.  When Andy spotted two lobster pods tossed on the rocks, he climbed down to salvage the rope.  If nothing else, we have three authentic lobster pod souvenirs, and now we have the rope to go with them.
"The seventeen miles or so of New Hampshire coastline is all built up," said Andy.  We crossed the rusted bridge into Portsmouth.  It was sudden civilization.
A slow drive down Route #1A took us the whole length of the New Hampshire seacoast to Hampton Beach.  The vacation town, crammed with hotels, was closed down. People don't come here for leaves, and the summer break vacation season was long past.  Hampton Beach had curled up for the winter.

Andy tackles a delicacy dinner of twin lobsters.

The last time we were at Hampton Beach was 1971.  Since then much of the beach is washed out.  A reinforced concrete wall and sections of granite boulders now protect the highway and businesses on the other side of the road.
One of those protected businesses was Ray's Seafood Lobster Restaurant.  It's where Drew had dinner when he completed the Tri-State Seacoast Century bike ride out of Hampton Beach two years ago.  He had told us not to miss Ray's for lobster on Route #1A.  So we didn't. 

The Sailor's Memorial
statue looks like a sea goddess
stretching toward the water.

We're glad we took his advice.  Andy said he probably had not had a lobster dinner in 35 years.  But he had not forgotten how to eat the delicacy!
We parked on Pierce Island and walked out to Four Tree Island in downtown Portsmouth to see the Sailor's Memorial  A great blue heron landed and took off as we approached.  Many birds had visited this statue before the heron and left evidence.

Anne Jaffrey's tombstone reminds
visitors of the fragile nature of life.

Point of Graves in downtown Portsmouth is an old cemetery.  The oldest stone marks the grave of Anne Jaffrey, who died in childbirth in 1682.  She was the 18-year-old wife of a Scottish sea merchant named George Jaffrey. Would she ever be surprised by Portsmouth today!

Prescott Park is deserted in the early
evening chill, but statues, like this one
of a whale, compliment the colorful
late fall flowers. 

The Portsmouth Burial Ground has some of the finest Colonial Era gravestones in northern New England, and it's hard to believe the etchings and carvings on some can still be read after 300 years. 
Portsmouth residents patronized Massachusetts carvers until the early 1800's. Quaker William Mumford is one of the most famous.
Just off the walkway around Liberty Gardens, the Piscataqua was moored, along with a number of lobster boats.  But as dusk and darkness set in around 6:30 p.m., there was little activity in Prescott Park.  Our day of spectacular color had come to an end.