River views

Heading downstream

On this chilly night at Riverview Circle, I'd like to retrieve memories of a mellow ride on the Medomak in September 2009. Daughter Rachel was bow paddler and photographer. The first shot shows me in the stern, but lazily drifting through sea grass barely covered by the advancing tide. Waldoboro Village is retreating into the distance. It's likely the tide was almost at its height.

179 Friendship St., from the river

Here, we pass my house and barn. In the way of frugal Yankees, the front and sides of the house and barn were elegantly sided and painted, while the rear -- invisible from the street -- is plain to the point of severity. Did we swim in the river? Yes, following the lead of Tom the Intrepid. Not only is the bank choked with scrubby undergrowth and the edge marshy, but one must wade through or float over yards of tickly-sharp sea grass before reaching clear water. The estuary water is brackish.  However, swimming there is fun. I loved the extra boost from salt water flotation and the feeling of immersion in another world, so close to home.

Eagle landing

Cormorants on a dock

On this trip, we spotted an eagle, coming in for a landing in the evergreens. Then we saw a gulp* of cormorants drying off on one of the few docks allowed on this section of the river. Soon, the birds will return to diving for supper. There are almost no signs of human activity on the upper reaches of the tidal Medomak south of the village of Waldoboro.

The furthest extent of our trip.
The village has disappeared and
we appear to be alone in the wilderness.

Looking back on a fulfilling trip. 
The old button factory is across the river
from the town landing where we
started and ended our afternoon.

 
*http://www.npwrc.usgs.gov/about/faqs/animals/names.htm

Messing about in boats

Mom and daughter, just in off the water.

There's more to say and show about the Old Stone Bridge, but it's the turn of the Medomak today.

The photo of Rachel and me is blurry, a hand-held selves-portrait, taken at the close of day. We had just been out in the red canoe.  Midcoast Maine is plenteous in opportunities to mess about in boats.

Waldoboro lies at the Medomak's head of tide. A series of waterfalls bisects the town and transforms the river from a small, swift, woodsy freshwater stream into a broad, brackish estuary. Putting in here, at the town landing, sets one up for boating among great blue heron, cormorants, and the occasional exploratory seal.  Putting in at the top of the falls, perhaps in the town picnic park, sets one off upstream, under the low route 1 bridge. A few strokes of the paddles brings your craft past the back door of Smeltzers' funeral and cremation business, housed in a log cabin. Then behind a hairdresser's, then past Waldoboro's work-out center. Now, the trees close in overhead and the hum of Route 1 traffic fades. If it's late in the day you may be treated to the attentions of a sturgeon, leaping out of the water (always in the direction you are NOT looking) and slapping the surface. By the time you turn your head at the loud Thwack, the fish has sunk out of sight. I don't know if they play this way with fishermen. I still have the large feathers we picked off the water after we disturbed a wild turkey perched on an overhanging bough.  Although I've never canoed that far, I know that eventually the Medomak becomes too rocky for my tame version of messing around in boats.

There's a lot more that can be said about the Medomak, about its lower reaches that bring one to the Gulf of Maine and about its glory days of wooden ship-building and commerce. Tomorrow is another blog. Or maybe this afternoon!