Puffins and things by
Cowan Stark
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Machias Seal Island
(and a restaurant review)
I don't know what it is about those puffins that made me want to do this
trip. I guess the thought of getting some up close shots of these little
guys sounded pretty cool. These birds used to be heavily hunted and.for some reason they were in demand so that people could wear them as headgear.
They are pelagic, and will live for up to 35 years. Their recovery has
been impressive, and there are estimated to be 3000 of them on the island. They recently graced the covers of
Yankee Magazine and this May's
Downeast Magazine (where's there's a fascinating article about the puffin
restoration). I'd also learned a lot from my friends at
Photo.net about times to go, who to go with, and so on. I'd heard that
you have to book the trip well in advance. There are only two
options from the Maine side, Barna Norton out of Jonesport or
Andy
Patterson out of Cutler. Machias Seal Island is only a 45 minute boat
ride from Cutler, but a little over twice that from Jonesport. However,
Jonesport is a shorter drive, so Barna got the call. I called them in April for a trip
sometime in the end of June. There was only one day open I could go, which
was the 23rd. The cost is $60, and you have to pay by check in advance.
Getting there from here...
I set out from my home in Durham, New Hampshire, for the 260 mile drive
downeast. The Maine Turnpike is always fun this time of year between York
and Portland. They seem to thrive on doing construction during the height
of the tourist season. I remember stopping in the town of Gardiner for a
great meal at the A1 Diner
when we went to Bar Harbor four years ago. So, I conveniently timed my trip
such that I'd end up there just about
lunchtime. Now,
the word 'eclectic ' doesn't even begin to describe this place. It's an
old fashioned (1946) Worcester Diner perched on a bridge, that looks like it
could fall in at any time. You have to walk outside and around the back to
get to the restrooms.
Inside, it looks like all original equipment but spotlessly clean. The
menu is a mixture of classic diner fare and some really adventurous offerings.
Obviously, they're catering to the locals and people like me who show up for
the unusual stuff. There are always 13 entree specials, 12 desserts and 4
soups. Some examples included Moroccan Lamb Stew, Gorgonzola Risotto
Cakes, Crispy Asian Game Hen, Salmon with Wasabi Butter. Desserts included
Russian Cream with Strawberries, Chocolate Hazelnut Cheesecake, and Zabaglione.
I settled for the Finnish
Salmon Stew. This was a large bowl filled to the
brim with a creamy, buttery stew, chunks of potato, dill and a ton of freshly poached salmon.
Curiously, it wasn't busy on a Saturday lunchtime. A few locals came in
(for meatloaf and cheeseburgers), as well as a couple of young fly-fishing
dudes dressed in Orvis' finest. One ordered a Portobello mushroom
sandwich, the other, a grilled tuna to go. I'm sure they must have had
carbon fiber fishing poles stashed in the back of the Bimmer. Cindy, the
waitress patiently read off the list of specials from a card, and when asked for
more details would flip the card over and explain the dishes' preparation with
all the aplomb of a server at the Four Season. After a trip out back,
where you can't help but peer into the spotless kitchen, it was time to move on
up to Jonesport.
On to Jonesport
It was heavily overcast and starting to spit rain as I got north of Ellsworth
and left all the Bar Harbor bound traffic
behind. Rolling hills and pinewoods gave way to glimpses of the rocky
Maine coast and inlets sleeved with incredible fields of lupines with colors
popping from the fresh drizzle. The fog just started getting thicker and
thicker, and I was really starting to have serious doubts as to whether or not
we'd go out the next morning. I found my way to the
Jonesport by the Sea Bed and
Breakfast by about 4:30 p.m. where I found nobody, at home, but a note
tacked to the door welcomed me and told me which room was mine. They'd be back
shortly. The room was neat, a bathroom was down the hall, and I was the
only guest that
night.
I could have done much worse for $60. I spent the part of the evening
stopping at the IGA to pick up some sundry items. In the store was a spry,
elderly gent with a Machias Seal Island Patch on the sleeve of a well worn ragg
sweater. He seemed to know everybody. It had to be the legendary
Barna himself. He shot me a friendly "good evening" as I passed to the
checkout counter. There seemed to be only two choices for dinner.
Tall Barney's, a seafood joint popular with the locals, or The Old Salt
Cafe/Seafarer's Wife combo. This was another variation on the A1 diner
theme. If you walk in one door, you are in the Old Salt Cafe, where they
serve decent, albeit very standard fare. Through the other door of this odd
building, part split-level ranch, part chalet, is the Seafarer's Wife which is a
'fine dining by reservation only' restaurant. Anyway, I stuck with the
cafe, I was too tired to explore anymore. I'd recommend the crab stuffed
haddock. The service was friendly, and attentive. "Here for the
puffins are you ?" asked the genteel elderly white haired server.
"Yup", I replied and tried to feel her out as to whether they would go out in
fog like this. She was keeping her cards very close to her chest, it's the
only business in town except for commercial fishing. No sense scaring anybody away
"Well, that Mr. Norton's quite a character, he's gone out in worse."
I wasn't going to get an answer tonight. I headed back to the B&B just
shortly before my host arrived at 9:30 p.m..
The trip...Gilligan's Island meets The Perfect Storm
I got up at 5:45 the next morning and enjoyed a breakfast of bacon, fresh
pancakes studded with those tiny sweet blueberries Washington County is famous
for, and a couple of really good cups of black coffee . I headed through
the thick fog down to the dock, just a quarter mile down the road. There was
Barna (who is no less than 86 years old) directing traffic into the parking area
holding a clipboard with the reservation list. As I signed my life
away, agreeing to accept the rules and risks of the trip, I asked if he'd be
able to get out today. "John's running the boat today. I wouldn't go out
in this weather anyway,...probably wouldn't find our way home." This was
not reassuring. There were thirteen souls on the trip. The group was
made up of photographers, bird watchers, and dutiful spouses along
for the trip. One women looked familiar, and she told me the same.
Turns out she works as an Audubon volunteer at
Corkscrew Sanctuary
in Florida where I've spent many hours photographing when I'm down that way
visiting my parents. "So you're probably the one who yelled at me to get
back on the boardwalk!" I joked nervously. I may have been
right.
This is near the home of some of the highest tides in the world. It was
low tide that morning, notice the height of the jetty in the background. Barna boarded
the Chief and
proceeded with the
formalities. He showed us where the life jackets were, and how to put them
on. "They make us do this, but you won't need them. If you go over
in this water, you won't last long enough for anybody to rescue you anyway.
If I go over, just throw me the anchor instead and get it over with".
He explained that his first Puffin trip was in 1940, until "somebody had to go
over and win the war", and his excursions were put on hold to the US Navy in
WWII. John Norton arrived, I suspect quietly shaking his head at this
bunch of nuts going out on a day like this to see a bunch of birds. We
cast off and headed out into the fog towing the landing craft behind us in our
wake. "Should be an interesting ride" John announced. "Several of
the draggers have turned back because of the rough seas." We went through
the breakwater and other than the lobster traps, this was the last object we saw
for the next hour and a half. I would guess the visibility was less than a
quarter mile, and the seas built to four to six feet. The Chief however,
had a surprisingly soft ride. Part of this I think was John's skill
in maneuvering through the swells. Finally, we could see artic terns flying
in our direction above us. Then, suddenly the bomb shaped puffins furiously flapping their seemingly
aerodynamically too small wings appeared. These suckers are fast!
You could
just see the outline of the Canadian Coast Guard begin to come into view when we
anchored the Chief and were handed life jackets to put on for the trip to shore.
We piled into the 8 passenger tiller outboard craft in two lots and were ferried
out into the fog to make our landing. Photographic equipment was gingerly
handed over the gunwales and lowered into the boat.
Now there's quite a bit of controversy as to who actually owns Machias Seal
Island. Canada claims jurisdiction since they man the lighthouse there and
wardens restrict the flow of visitors There are also researchers there
during the summer months. Barna Norton maintains that a Canadian
survey done in 1832, shows the island to be in the USA. The Canadian government has
been threatening to prohibit landings due to safety concerns at the landing
area, but the Nortons maintain that it hasn't changed in years.
Landing at low tide was tricky, the Canadians may have a point. There
isn't a dock at all, just a gap in the rocks where they beach the boat. We
clambered out onto the greasy seaweed covered boulders taking small deliberate
steps, some of us completely unbalanced due to the weight of photography gear in
backpacks. The warden greeted us and kindly helped us up somewhat more sure footing
on a rusted out slipway. If this was disputed territory, it didn't show.
We were treated very cordially. Note, the transom of the Chief reads
"Machias Seal Island, USA", and when Barna goes along he raises an umbrella
covered with the Stars and Stripes.
Then came the terns! Artic terns dive-bomb you as soon as
you hit the island. They're protecting their nests, swooping
down angrily, hovering above you protesting loudly, dropping their payload on
your head. We were handed wooden stakes to carrying raised above our heads
since they will instinctively go for the highest point. It looked like
some kind of weird ritualistic procession as we were led single file up to the main
building holding our sticks high. From time to time I could feel the terns
tapping the end of my stick. We then were split up into small groups
to go into the blinds and see the what we came for. There were puffins and
razorbill auks everywhere, including right on top of the blinds.
Taking Pictures
Since I'm a photographer, I'm including a section on the technical aspects of
shooting here. I was able to share a blind with two others. It
was tight, but
not unpleasant by any means. The blinds had three windows on each side and
one at each end you could use for viewing. A tripod would be just
about
out of the question however. There's just not enough room unless you're lucky
enough to be the only one in a blind. You could get away with a monopod
though, and a beanbag would also be an option. I brought along a Canon EOS
3 with a 300/4L IS lens with a 1.4 teleconverter, and a Canon A2E with
70-200/2.8L lens. A photovest came in handy since I didn't want to haul
the backpack in with me. By this time the fog was just a bright white
background and I had to be very careful not to have my cameras' meter
underexpose everything. There were a couple of ways around this.
Bracketing, the exposures like crazy is one, but I found the easiest way was to
spot meter off the rocks which were very conveniently a medium tone grey.
With the sky out of the frame, the light was actually very nice and soft.
Had there been bright sun, I might have thought about using fill-flash, but it
would have been a tight fit given the size of the window openings. I found
myself using the 300/4 lens most often, half the time with the teleconverter.
Canon's 100-400/IS (or Nikon's 80-400 VR, if you're so inclined!) would be a
killer lens for this application. For film, I took a hodgepodge of slide
and print film not knowing what to expect. I used Kodak's new Supra 800 print film, Fuji Provia
100F, and 400F for slides. I was allowed about an hour in the blinds, and that was
plenty. Sometimes, the birds would get within 10 feet of the blinds, and
weren't at all bothered by the firing of my shutters. A knock on the door of the
blind ended the photo session and we were led back to the staging area.
Homeward bound
The bright fog was getting darker and the light drizzle turned to rain.
The decision was made to head back to Jonesport. We gingerly shuffled over
the the seaweed covered rocks after our strange parade carrying our sticks held
high through the tern's minefield. Getting back on the boat was slightly
easier since the tide had come up quite a bit. John Norton was the picture
of concentration, craning his neck over the wheel attempting to look beyond the
fog.
I never really understood why he was doing that, you couldn't see anything
anyway. Fortunately we had GPS and radar. It's an eerie feeling
trusting your life to a stranger like that. I guess I felt the same way
when I flew into Interior Alaska with a bush pilot, rain pouring down the inside
of the windows. He reassured us that he too had a family to get back to
and dinner waiting for him on the table. Why wouldn't he be
careful? Anyway, we got back to Jonesport in one piece, some of us a
little worse for wear. John was asked if he'd inherited this job now that
has father wasn't doing it full time. He replied, "No, I had to work my
way up to this position. Anyhow, I hope you all had a great trip."
Then he muttered quietly, not quite out of earshot, "I know I've had a
blast". Somehow, I think in a strange way he did. So, I'd definitely
do this again, maybe take a chance, as some did on booking, a couple of
consecutive days Of course the next day the wind shifted, the fog lifted
and the weather was near perfect. You can also buy the exclusive Puffin
Patch for $5.00 which becomes available for sale on the return trip only to
those who have actually landed on the island. So they say.
A special thanks to Captain Andy Patterson for his editorial help!
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