Local Color

The town of Northeast Harbor has quite the legacy on the Maine Coast. Widely considered one of the state's most beautiful harbors, this elegant town is also home to one of the country's most exclusive and refined summer colonies. Much like North Haven, Dark Harbor, Prouts Neck or Christmas Cove, Northeast is no stranger to the Waspy and well bred. Scores of Vanderbilt's, Rockefeller's, Morgans and Astor's have all summered here for decades. Main street in July and August is filled with well tanned and well dressed men and women out for a shopping stroll or gearing up for an afternoon sail. All forms of classic sailboats come to this deep water harbor for it's excellent protection, but mostly for it's unmatched beauty. You are likely to see at least 10 to 15 Hinckley's cruising around, and at least a few 100 foot yachts with towns like Newport, St Barth's and Cape Town painted on their hulls. The stately Asticou Inn stands proud at the head of the harbor, with it's numerous tennis courts and croquet lawns. Mercedes and Volvo's with Virginia, Connecticut and New York plates sit parked in front of quaint and expensive boutiques and art galleries. If the Preppy Handbook was looking for a place to visit, they would come to Northeast Harbor. While all of this is fascinating in the eyes of many, and has been written about and talked about for years, it really doesn't mean shit on a frigid day in the middle of January where the temperature never touched the 10 degree mark. Throw in a stiff breeze of Somes Sound and you had yourself a truly freezing Winter's day in Down East Maine, where there were no summer people or Bermuda shorts to be found. When the tony trappings of a summer colony are tossed away, you get to see the true color of a town and it's people, and it is then and only then, that you can see the coast and it's salty towns in their truest form. I had left Camden about 7 that morning to make the two hour trip east to Mount Desert Island. It was -4 when I left and the majestic sea smoke that forms on cold mornings like this was holding sway over Penobscot Bay. As I crossed over the bridge in Belfast, the smoke seemed to lift right up to my car and enveloped the town in a whirl of white fog. As I shot through Ellsworth and reached the Island, the temperature had finally climbed past the zero mark, topping out at a balmy 3 degrees. Damn it was cold! I had decided to hike in Acadia first and then take some photographs in the afternoon. Layered up and covered up, I began to hike the icy cliffs of Valley Peak in Southwest Harbor. A short hike with a stunning view, Valley Peak is truly one of the hidden gems of Acadia. Though the terrain is challenging, and the Winter ice treacherous, the hiker is rewarded with a birds eye view of Somes Sound, Northeast and Southwest Harbor, Norumbega, Cadillac and Door Mountains and outer Blue Hill Bay, which leads gracefully to the mouth of the sound and the Cranberry Islands. I reached the top in just under an hour and took in the surroundings with a special sense of pride. I had conquered this nasty little peak in the middle of January when there was not a soul around. I had not let the brutal cold stop me, and I was no worse for the wear. I love hiking in the winter! Your blood flows and your heart pumps as the cold winds hit your face. The landscape is caked in white fluffy snow and the degree of difficulty is always higher. Your mind and you instincts must be on full alert at all times. I lingered at the top for a good half an hour before carefully descending the trail to Valley Cove below, where I roamed the shores of Somes Sound and reveled in the complete silence of my surroundings. A lone white seagull drifted past me on his way into the woods and I could see a few squirrels dancing around the tall spruce trees that covered the cove like a green blanket. The Island had received 26 inches of snow two days before and the trail back to my car was truly a winter wonderland. I half expected to see the Budweiser Clydesdale's come tromping down the path on their way into town, much like they do in the commercials you see during football games. My hike over, and my body rested, I proceeded to cut across onto route three and down the other side of the Sound to Northeast Harbor. My faithful Nikon at the ready, I prowled the docks of this fabled harbor in search of the true local color of the town. After shooting the powdery landscape and the crystal blue water, I happened upon three very friendly lobster men who had just returned from a cold day on the water. "That was a fucking waste of time," one said as a sarcastic smile crept over his face. "Got maybe twelve total, and been out since 4." That's right, 4 in the morning. For all of those people who want to see true work ethic, come up to Maine in January and talk to the fisherman. These hardy souls leave their warm beds before the sun comes up and they most often return as the sun is going down. All while battling Arctic temperatures and brutish seas. Some days the make money, and some days they don't. Quite the way to make a living! The three men were all gathered around the back of the boat where two very large fish sat dead on the side rail of the boat. "Most likely a carp," one said as he proceeded to slice it's stomach wide open and remove its innards. "I got myself some dinner tonight." I chatted with the men about prices and their boat, which was quite the monster. At least 40 feet long and bulky as hell, the craft had a certain rugged character to it and looked quite imposing with scraggly strands of ice clinging to it's windows. The men unloaded their measly catch and cleaned the boat up. I walked off the dock with them and thanked them for their hospitality. They asked me where I was from, and I told them I had come up from Camden. "Right down the road," the captain said. "What brings you up here?" I told him that I was a photographer and that I liked coming Down East to shoot because of the lack of people and distractions. "Yep," he said. "I definitely like it this time of year. Just us and few other people. Nobody to hassle ya." I waved goodbye and took my last shots of the day. The temperature had dipped below zero again and the afternoon sun was beginning to set over the snow covered peaks of Acadia. I drove home that night with a smile on my face. I had entered the belly of Winter and had returned to live another day. As for finding the local color of the town, I guess that had been a success too. Not too hard to find in the middle of January!