Maine Downeast - December 12, 2011 - Lighthouse, Whirlpool, Chandlery, and Sardines

Acadia - Schoodic Point

Another day to explore!  I am out at 8:00 a.m.  Blue sky, 27 degrees, looks like it will be another gorgeous day.  Because the sun set so early, there were several sites I did not have a chance to visit yesterday.  So I will head north again, exploring the areas I missed.  My goal is to end up in Eastport before dusk.  I decide that on my way north I will visit Acadia at Schoodic Point again.  I enjoyed the area, including the beauty of the blue water, blue sea, and distant blue mountains; its remoteness; the dramatic juxtaposition of the red granite against the water; and the solitude.  Since I do not make any stops before this, I arrive at the Schoodic Peninsula much earlier than yesterday.

Acadia - Schoodic Point

The ice that had covered the water in the inlet has melted.  It feels a bit warmer than yesterday, though the wind is blowing fiercely. Waves are pounding the rocks, and the surf is flying through the air. I spend more time at Schoodic Point, scrambling out on the rocks, working the scene from every angle.

Acadia - Schoodic Peninsula

The difference of about two hours gives me a different “view” of the land than yesterday, and I am able to capture some scenes that I could not before, because of the angle of the sun. I attempt to get down closer to the water than I did yesterday, however the spray from the sea soon coats the lenses of my cameras, and I must move further up the rocks.

Acadia - Arey Cove

     
I head on around to Arey Cove, to the spot of beach that is composed of cobblestones and smaller rocks.  I love this spot. Because the cove is sheltered, I am not hit by the fierce winds that blew off the Point. The waves washing gently up onto shore cause the rocks to knock lightly against each other, creating a magical tinkling sound.  It reminds me of the beach at Yaquina Head Natural Area, north of Newport, Oregon.  I wander along the water’s edge and play amid the stones for a bit.  I spend about an hour in Acadia then head back out through Winter Harbor to U.S. 1. I stop long enough along the way to take a quick photograph of some of the stacks of traps in a yard.  I note the name of one of the boats, Easy Come, Easy Go. 

As I travel north, I am struck once more by the bleakness of some of the landscape.  I’m sure winter plays a part, given that there are no leaves on the hardwoods.  But I have also seen the landscape described similarly in tourist literature, “over 200,000 acres in the vast barrens of low-bush wild blueberries.”  In some places the land reminds me of the salt marshes in the southeast.  At East Machias I take a detour down a finger, Route 92, headed toward Machiasport.  I pass even more homes with boats and traps in the yard.  Some are nice homes on larger lots of land, some are small homes, no more than shacks. But the presence of the boats and lobster fishing paraphernalia is pervasive.  I am most definitely in lobster country.  What I find most interesting is that I don’t see any” lobster pounds,” those restaurants peculiar to Maine that one finds throughout Mt. Desert Island and along the coast as one drives south - where one can dine on fresh lobster by the pound.  I see very few restaurants of any kind as I drive north, and definitely no lobster pounds.  Interesting.

Jasper Beach

Soon I reach my destination, Jasper Beach. Jasper Beach is a crescent shaped, gravel beach located on Howard Cove.   Tourist information I read last night described Jasper Beach as one of only two beaches in the world made of jasper.   I learn that this information is incorrect.  Though the rocks are red and resemble jasper, they are fine-grained volcanic rock called rhyolite.  The shore here is protected by the cove, thus there is little wave action.
   


Jasper Beach


            The gentle movement of the surf has polished the rocks and rounded them.  The beach is about half a mile long and totally deserted.  It is not as pretty as Schoodic Peninsula, but it has its own beauty, and I am satisfied with my find.


West Quoddy Point Lighthouse







I head back to East Machias, up U.S. 1 a bit, then take another detour down Hwy 191. More travel through even less populated land brings me to the outskirts of the town of Lubec, then to my destination, the West Quoddy Point Lighthouse.  The lighthouse was named for the Passamaquoddy Indian Nation.  This quaint, red and white striped lighthouse is renowned for its location, on the easternmost point of the continental United States.  Across Quoddy Narrows is Grand Manan Island, Canada.  The Park that is home to the lighthouse is closed, and the area is deserted.  Once again, it’s just me.

Though I cannot drive my car into the Park, I can walk in.   I wander the grounds with my camera, and I smile to myself and engage in reverie.  In 2005 I visited Anchor Beach, Alaska, the westernmost point of the United States that is on the continuous road system.  I had visited the southernmost point at Key West, in 1978.  In 2010 I visited Cape Alava, Washington, the westernmost point of the contiguous United States, located in Olympic National Park and the Ozette Indian Reservation.  I have now stood at eastern, western, and southernmost points!  I wonder to myself where will be the northern exploration. . . .   Then the foghorn sounds and I move on.

Lubec

My explorations have taken time, and I begin to worry that I will not reach Eastport until dusk, so I head on out, passing through the town of Lubec.  Lubec is one of the communities of which Mick spoke when he spoke of the struggles of the people.  From what I understand, Lubec was once a sardine packing capital of the world.  With more than twenty canning factories and a can-manufacturing plant, the community was prosperous.  The loss of the sardine-canning business in the 1960's was the downfall for the economy.


Lubec


Lubec is a point at which Americans can enter Canada, across the International Bridge to Campobello Island, therefore there is some income from tourism.  However, this is not enough to sustain a healthy economy.  Though tourist sites tout new “industry,” such as sea salt making, sea urchin and sea cucumber harvesting, and salmon farming, as I ride through town I see evidence of the difficulty the community has experienced.  Numerous pretty, shingle-sided buildings stand empty, shingles weathered with age and wear. Few cars are on the streets. 

Lubec

I head back to U.S. 1 and drive steadily toward Eastport, past more yards with boats and traps.  I am beginning to see an interesting pattern to the naming of the lobster boats.  Living in Florida I have had multiple opportunities to visit marinas and view boats.  The pleasure boats seem to be named differently than these working boats.  It is somewhat of a custom to name boats after women, and I recall numerous pleasure boats which have been named as such, along with names depicting the good fortune of the owner, e.g., Lucky Lady, High Life, and so on.  But these working boats seem to depict a tougher life.  Though some are named after women, I note names such as Relentless, Persistence, Gamble, Bottom Line, and Last Chance.  It sounds like it is perhaps a difficult existence.

Eastport - Main Street

I arrive in Eastport while there is still daylight.  I grab a cup of jo from Dick himself at Dastardly Dick’s Wickedly Good Coffee shop, and I explore.  I learn that Eastport and Lubec share the distinction of being the easternmost city in the United States.  They also share the past distinction as twin centers of the sardine canning industry, both being named sardine packing capital of the world.  They are located in Washington County, nicknamed the Sunrise County, but also having the distinction of being the poorest county in Maine.

As I wander through town, I see evidence of the poverty, of which Mick spoke, of which Terkel wrote. Eastport is the Easternmost as well as the deepest deep water port in the United States. Its proximity to Europe and the depth of the water would seem to portend good things for its shipping industry.

Nature's Grace*



Funds have been allotted to Eastport to rebuild the waterfront, which now has a large cargo pier from which freighters load cargo for shipment overseas. Indeed, last evening the owner of a local art store told me that the 3 young men who were wandering the street ahead of me are crew on a Dutch ship that will be sending pregnant dairy cows to Turkey, to help re-establish the Turkish herds.  However, a lack of rail service hinders the community’s ability to garner lucrative business in an industry that needs rail access, and the port is underused.  



I wander through town by car and on foot. I smile at the two sculptures on the waterfront off Main Street.*  I smile when I learn how the town observes the ringing in of the new year - by dropping a giant sardine and a maple leaf from the top of one of the historic buildings downtown.



Eastport



S.L. Wadsworth & Sons
Ship Chandlery

I briefly visit S. L. Wadsworth & Son, known as both the Nation’s oldest ship chandlery and Maine’s oldest retail business. Though the store no longer sells harpoons and whale oil, it does sell marine items, hardware, and nautical gifts.

Eastport

I drive through and around town. The residential area begins at the edge of downtown, beautiful old wooden homes. Some are freshly painted and well kept, some show evidence of wear, peeling paint and unkempt yards.The pier seems to be a gathering place for folks, so I park and wander a bit.  There are no ships at the cargo pier, just some working and pleasure boats and a tug.

Then I stand at the edge of the pier and gaze far off into the distance.  I am determined to see it, the Old Sow!   Old Sow is the largest whirlpool in the western hemisphere, the second largest in the world.  It is called Old Sow because of the noise that is made by the churning of the water.  Old Sow is located in the Western Passage of Passamaquoddy Bay.  According to the Old Sow website, “40 billion cubic feet of water floods into Passamaquoddy Bay with each incoming tide and mixes with the countercurrents from the St. Croix River to the north of the bay.

There's a 400-foot-deep trench to the southwest of New Brunswick's Deer Island Point that continues as a 327-foot trench to the northwest. Bisecting the trench is a 281-foot undersea mountain. All that water flooding into the bay has to negotiate a right-angle turn to get around Deer Island Point, and then it slams into that undersea mountain. When heavy winds coincide with especially high tides, it becomes liquid chaos and disaster for the unwitting seafarer” - Old Sow. According to the site, one can purportedly see Old Sow from the shore of Eastport.   It is beginning to get dark, so my ability to see into the distance is limited.  But briefly, I swear, there it is, I see it!  I think I see it, maybe . . .

Passamaquoddy Bay

I head on out of town, catching sunset at Passamaquoddy Bay.  I will fly out of Bangor tomorrow  morning, so that is my destination tonight.  Traveling north on U.S. 1 to Calais, I then head east on Hwy 9.  I am aware that I am traveling through heavily forested land.  I am aware that I am climbing.  I briefly see snow on the road.  But there are less than a handful of villages on this route, and all is dark.  I will need to return if I wish to see what there is to see.  But I will return, to see what there is to see.


Donna
©December 2011

*The two pieces of art in Eastport have an interesting history.  The colorful fisherman was built for the filming of a 2000 FOX reality series, Murder in Small Town X,  which had ten contestants.  The winner was a firefighter in New York City, who was killed when the Twin Towers fell.  The community purportedly left the statue standing, in his honor.   Eastport was chosen as a recipient of the 9 1/2 foot tall sculpture Nature's Grace from the Schoodic International Sculpture Symposium.  Created by artist Jim Boyd of Hampton, New Brunswick, the sculpture depicts a sail and a large leaf with a fish.

Maine Downeast- December 11, 2011 - Reversing Falls, Red Granite Beaches, Wreath Factories, and Blueberries

Acadia at Schoodic Peninsula - View towards Mt. Desert Island

I am up and out of the hotel by 8:45. It is cold outside, 25 degrees. I am most thankful that the LL Bean Outlet was open last evening. My newly purchased long underwear are doing their job well this morning. The sky is blue, not a cloud in sight. The smiles begin. I grab a cup of steaming coffee and head out. My plan is to drive up the coast on US 1, taking side trips to specific places of interest along the way. I love days like today, with no set itinerary, no set time frame, exploring where I please when I please.

Ruth & Wimpie's

Just after leaving Ellsworth I pass Ruth & Wimpie’s - Home of Wilbur the Lobster. I had planned to eat dinner here tonight, but signs indicate that it closed for the season last evening. I am disappointed; it looks like a fun place to dine.  I travel on.  At the town of Hancock, I veer off of US 1, down to Hancock Point.  My mother's family are Hancocks, and I wonder if any residents are relatives?  I take Carter’s Beach Road, passing vacation cabins and homes, referred to as camps by locals.

Carter's Beach Road - Hancock Point

I turn onto Carter’s Beach Road and am now at the edge of Frenchman’s Bay. The view is beautiful, blue islands rising out of blue water into blue sky. I am facing into the morning sun, so photography is difficult, but I sure do appreciate what I see.

I follow the road back up the peninsula to US 1 again, and continue my trek north, or way down east, as they say. I see a sign for Tidal Falls Preserve and veer off the highway once again. How can I ignore a sign for falls? I find myself at Frenchman’s Bay Conservancy at Tidal Falls - or Sullivan Falls, as they are also called, where I learn about reversing falls.

Sullivan Falls

Sullivan Falls is found at the mouth of the Taunton River, where it enters Frenchman’s Bay. The geological structures of Falls Point, which juts out into Sullivan Harbor, causes rapids to flow in one direction during high tide, but another direction at low tide - thus, reversing falls. Sullivan Falls has the distinction of being the largest saltwater reversing falls on the east coast. The rapids are only moderate during my visit, and I find I am as interested in the birds on the water as I am in the water. 


Common Eider (not my photo)



The birds appear to be the Common Eider, stocky, thick-necked birds, the largest duck in the northern hemisphere. I think they are beautiful. They are too far away to photograph well, but I enjoy what I see. Then my fingers and my nose begin to freeze, and I decide to move on.

As I travel I realize that this part of the coast is composed of fingers, fingers of land jutting into the sea, as the sea in turn grasps the edges of the land with its own. I occasionally glimpse the water and far islands from US 1, but to get to the edge of the water I must travel down the side roads, down the fingers, which is my plan. My next stop is to be the section of Acadia National Park that is located on Schoodic Peninsula.


Acadia at Schoodic Peninsula

Most of Acadia is located southeast of Ellsworth, on Mt. Desert Island. This is the section of Acadia that is most visited by tourists. But a section of Acadia is found across Frenchman’s Bay, at the tip of the Schoodic Peninsula, and that is my destination. I head down Hwy 186 through the village of Winter Harbor. Along the way I pass homesite after homesite in which a boat is parked next to stack after stack of lobster traps and buoys. These aren’t small boats, rather large, lobster-fishing sized boats. I’d like to take some photographs, but the lobstermen are obviously home.  I don’t want to make someone suspicious then angry, so I take note and travel on. 


Icy water, Acadia at Schoodic Peninsula



Soon I enter Acadia National Park at Schoodic Peninsula, and I am thrilled at what I find. A one-way road runs along the coast, bounded on one side by spruce-fir forest, by the waters of Frenchman’s Bay on the other. Across the Bay I see Acadia, including Cadillac Mountain, and the Prospect Harbor Lighthouse. The shore here is composed of rocky outcroppings of pink or red granite. It is so cold that I pass one inlet that is partially iced over. A two-way road branches off and takes me to Schoodic Point and the Schoodic Education and Research Center.



Diabase dike on left

At Schoodic Point, I can walk out on the granite ledges, down to sea level.  The wet rocks are very slippery, and I choose to venture only so far. An interesting geological feature here is the presence of diabase dikes, large veins of dark basalt that intrude into the granite. And though the granite is called red or pink, it looks orange in the strong morning light.



Rocky Beach at Acadia

This area is fairly isolated, and I see few other adventurers. Continuing on the one-way road, I stop at beaches composed of cobblestones and smaller rounded rocks in rainbow hues. In the distance are forested islands edged by granite, all tinged blue in the cold winter day. Though I, too, am tinged blue by the frigid temperature, I cannot resist exploring this marvelous land. I wander among the cobblestones, atop the outcroppings, and beside the water.  I find myself breathing a bit more slowly and a bit deeper.   I lose track of time. I enter a relaxed state that seems to come to me on days like today, when I am given the opportunity to explore the natural world.  It is restorative.

 

I return to US 1 and head north again, passing through some fairly bleak landscape dotted by small villages: Goldsboro - more homes with boats, traps and buoys; Steuben; Millbridge. The village of Cherryfield boasts itself to be the Blueberry Capital of the World, and I realize that the barren fields of bushes along the side of the road are wild blueberries!



Worcester Wreath Company

I am delighted when I pass through Harrington and see a large white wooden building wrapped in a red ribbon with a bow - the Worcester Wreath Company! I am more delighted when I learn that no balsam trees are cut down to make the wreaths, rather the tips of the branches are used, and these regenerate every 3 years.
 

Wild Blueberry Bushes - Roque Bluffs State Park

First Class friend Mick had told me about Roque Bluffs and Roque Island, so I am delighted to see a sign for the turn to Rocque Bluffs State Park. I am disappointed when I arrive and discover that the part of the Park having automobile access is very small, and the beach area is only a hundred yards or so long. The bluffs are not accessible by car. One serendipitous find is that the bushes edging the beach are wild blueberry, and they are covered in red berries.


Centre Street Congregational
Church - Machias

Heading back to US 1 again, I soon enter the largest of the towns or villages I’ve seen since Ellsworth.  Most of the villages I've passed thus far do not have a gas station or convenience store, much less a grocery store.  This one, Machias, boasts a grocery store, pharmacy, Dollar Store, and a Mickey D’s! I am taken by Centre Street Congregational Church, with it’s tall white spire. I smile when I next pass through East Machias and see an almost identical version, First Congregational Church. I think they must have used the same architect.

First Congregational Church
East Machias

I am disappointed when I realize that it is dusk by 3:15. We are so far north and so far east that night falls quite early. I pass through countryside I’d like to explore but cannot, because of timing issues. By the time I arrive at the Passamaquoddy Reservation, the sun is setting. By the time I arrive in Eastport, it is dark.

Eastport appears rather quaint, and I want to explore further. I stop in at Raye’s Mustard Mill, the last remaining stone ground mustard mill in the United States.    Raye’s, originally built to supply the sardine industry, uses a cold-grind process developed in Europe during the Middle Ages.  Mustards produced here have won numerous prestigious awards across the country over the last ten years.  I purchase some mustard for Christmas gifts, then head into town.  I note the large statue of a fisherman and the historical marker that indicates Eastport was once the sardine capital of the world. By the late 1800's, there were 13 sardine canneries.  Mick is right, this is Cannery Row!  It is too dark to see much, so I decide I will probably head back up this way again tomorrow. As for now, I head back to Ellsworth.



Donna

©December, 2011

 

Acadia at Schoodic Peninsula





Maine - December 10, 2011- Delta Gold, First Class Mick, and a Full Moon



Prospect Harbor Lighthouse, Cadillac Mountain, Frenchman's Bay


I grin as I stow my suitcase. It’s silly, I know. But I smile all over when I see the ice scraper in the rental car. It means I’m somewhere that is likely to be cold, and snowy, and cold, and in all probability quite scenic, oh, and cold and snowy! Obviously I don’t live in cold weather country. And it’s probably a short leap to figure out I’ve never lived where one had to dig out of snow drifts or shovel driveways on a regular basis. Nope, I haven’t. Having lived in Florida my entire life, I love cold, snowy weather, and I am looking forward to two days of play, in the cold, in Maine!

It’s been a good day. Needing just five more segments to achieve Delta Gold status this year, I booked a trip to Bangor. It’s a bit extravagant, I think. But when you fly a lot, little things take on great importance - like boarding early and getting overhead bin space, and choosing your own seats, and sometimes being upgraded to first class for free. I found a very cheap flight, and here I am. The day has been long: Gainesville to Atlanta, Atlanta to LaGuardia, LaGuardia to Bangor. But all flights have been on time. And I was upgraded to First Class for free from LaGuardia to Bangor. And Avis has upgraded me for free to a small SUV with all wheel drive. If I have to drive on snowy roads, hey, I’m all set! 



Home in Hancock, Maine

When I booked the flight I wasn’t sure what exactly I would do once I got here, other than visit a scenic spot and shoot a lot of photographs. But by the time I land, my course is clear, having been steered by my first class (literally and figuratively) LaGuardia to Bangor seatmate. I usually don’t talk much to seatmates when I fly, generally just work, read, or sleep. But I couldn’t not interact with Mick. I’m not sure how the conversation started, but soon we’re chatting like old friends. A university professor here in Maine, an engineer by training and trade, Mick sounds more like a sociologist than a hard scientist. His enthusiasm for the conversation - which is probably fueled, admittedly, by the wine he’s been drinking during his long day of flights - is infectious, and we rattle on.


Acadia at Schoodic Peninsula

Mick grew up in Leadville, a small mining community in Colorado. I had never heard of Leadville until I took my first trip to Colorado two years ago. But I spent several nights each of the last two summers in a community just fifteen miles away, and we begin to share stories. We chat about Colorado, then we chat about Maine, and soon Mick  engages his right brain and begins comparing Leadville to the parts of Maine I have considered visiting, the coastal area called Down East. While assuring me that there is great beauty along the coast Down East, Mick also talks about the people and their struggles. In this part of Maine it is lobster fishermen who work seasonally and don’t always have enough money to pay the bills year round, as well as blueberry harvesters, fishermen, and others. He tells me there are pockets of deep poverty Down East. Mick asks if I have read Steinbeck and Terkel.  He says Eastport, Maine is literally Cannery Row.  He says that many of the people Down East are those who were written about by Terkel. He talks of the Passamaquoddy Reservation adjacent to Eastport, references the sometimes conflicting politics of tribal, city, and county governments. And he talks of wealthy folks who live and work in New York and other cities but retire to their island homes Down East for relaxation.


Acadia at Schoodic Peninsula

By the time the flight ends, I am decided. I will explore Down East! I have enjoyed my conversation with Mick, who now seems like an old friend, and we exchange contact information. Then I head off to baggage claim. As I drive out of the airport I shout with glee. Though it is not yet 5:00 pm, it is already dark outside. Hanging in the distance, just over the horizon, is a large full moon. A very large full moon. I have reservations at a motel in Ellsworth, about thirty miles from Bangor. As I travel toward Ellsworth, the moon remains in my vision, rising slowly, impressive in its reserve, quietly ascending the cold, clear night sky.  I have been graced by the beauty of Maine moons many times. This portends good things. 

Donna Lawson
© December, 2011

May 5, 2011 - A Day In the Life of a Family Promise Regional Director

Plans are to meet with a Family Promise of Volusia County (Florida) Board member in Daytona for lunch, then to head up to Bunnell for the first meeting of folks wishing to develop Family Promise of Flagler County.


Paynes Prairie


My morning route takes me south from Gainesville on Hwy 441, first past Paynes Prairie State Preserve, that sea of grass, sedges, and flowering plants whose wet lands harbor alligators, wild horses, bison, and a multitude of herons, egrets, ibis and other birds. I then roll through Micanopy toward McIntosh and Orange Lake, rural countryside dotted with alligator-laden lakes. Between Micanopy and McIntosh, I note signs for the homestead of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, author of The Yearling. This is the sandy soil of which she writes.



Orange Lake

It seems to me that the earth may be borrowed but not bought. It may be used but not owned. It gives itself in response to love and tending, offers its seasonal flowering and fruiting. But we are tenants and not possessors, lovers and not masters. Cross Creek belongs to the wind and the rain, to the sun and the season, to the secrecy of seed, and beyond all, to time. ---Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, Cross Creek

 

I think, I wish I could write like Marjorie. I do like the things she thinks about.  I think on the land as I drive on. Soon I’m in Marion County, in the midst of beautiful horse farms on rolling green land. Foals cavort in the fields as I drive by. I wish I had time to stop and watch for a while. 

Marion County Horse Farm



Who knows, I could see a future Triple Crown winner testing his legs! Instead I take a bypass around Ocala and head east on Hwy 40, through the Ocala National Forest, the southernmost forest in the continental United States. 



The Ocala National forest is the world’s largest contiguous sand pine scrub forest, high dry sandy ridges of pine and palmetto rich in water, including more than 600 creeks, lakes, rivers and springs. Signs warn to watch for bears and deer crossing the road. I've seen deer in the past, as well as lanky sandhill cranes, but never a bear. I pass through small crossroads of convenience stores, gas stations, and mobile homes clustered around small lakes. The land becomes more isolated and soon there are few signs of civilization. I stop at Wildcat Lake. The sky is blue, the lake is blue, the trees are green. It is a beautiful day in the forest!

Wildcat Lake, Ocala National Forest

I do not know how any one can live without some small place of enchantment to turn to.

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings



Fern Farm



I breathe, take a few photographs and move on. Just past Astor are the fern farms, row after row of tropical greenery thriving under translucent tents. Soon I find myself in Barberville, the intersection of Hwys 40 and 17.

 

Barberville Fruit Stand


This small community always makes me smile. Its landmark (for me) is the garish Barberville Roadside Fruit Stand, which sells much more than fruit - including bright yellow metal sunflowers, colorful imported pots, and tall, bright statues . . . of dinosaurs, chickens, horses and various and sundry other .... critters. I should stop some time and check out the quality of its wares. For now I just smile and move on.



Daytona Speedway

In short order I am in Daytona. I am scheduled to meet Audrey at a restaurant located across from the Daytona Speedway, home of the renowned Daytona 500 NASCAR race. I am a bit early, so I stop to take a few photographs of the Speedway. Though I normally prefer wild places, this edifice fascinates me. The track is a 2.5 mile "trioval." I’m not quite sure what a trioval is, but I do know that the track is enormous.

There is a 29 acre lake in the infield! Because of the diverse schedule of races held at this speedway, it has earned the name World Center of Racing. I smile at the photos of drivers adorning the track supports, then head over for my meeting with Audrey.

After a warm, long lunch with Audrey and updates on Family Promise of Volusia County, I head up I-95, then exit west onto SR 100 at Palm Coast. Flagler County is composed of three distinct communities, Flagler Beach, Palm Coast, and Bunnell. Flagler Beach, known for its orange-colored sand, is sandwiched between the beaches of St. Johns County to the north and Volusia County to the south, both of which allow cars to drive on the beach. I personally prefer unmotorized beaches, which is one of the reasons I appreciate Flagler Beach (which even has a stretch sans buildings that runs alongside A1A). When I drive through Palm Coast I think of new Florida, subdivisions of ranch-style homes set amid thick lawns of St. Augustine grass. Palm Coast and Bunnell are connected by a corridor of pine trees and modern strip mall.

Bunnell, population less than 5,000, represents old Florida to me. Indeed, descriptions of the county report that Bunnell is one of the oldest communities along the east coast of Florida. The town is named after Alvah Bunnell, who established a small cypress shingle mill in the area in the late 1800s. The abundance of pines allowed for growth of turpentine businesses in the area as well. Town is composed of low rise, historic buildings of stone, red brick, and wood. A source of pride is City Hall, erected in 1936-37 and built of coquina, that soft, white Florida rock composed of crushed marine shells and coral. As I enter from the east I am greeted by a stereotypical name-emblazoned water tower. Its been several years since I’ve been through Bunnell, and I am surprised to note the large, modern county government building.

After dinner with Jim and Jackie, who are spearheading the Family Promise development efforts in Flagler County, we host a meeting at First United Methodist Church of folks from the community who are interested in developing a Family Promise affiliate. This community has a strong interest in serving homeless persons, and there is much excitement in the room. By the time we’re finished, violin-playing Father Al from Santa Maria del Mar Catholic Church has invited everyone to attend the next meeting at his church, which will include an italian dinner cooked by Father Al himself!

Satisfied with a day that included interaction with numerous good-hearted folks as well as drives through intriguing countryside, I soon turn toward home. I take Hwy 100 west toward Palatka, through farms of cabbage and potatoes and across the St. Johns River. Then I head on in on through more sandy pine forest interspersed with ponds and lakes. It is late by now, quite dark, and I content myself with thinking of this day, as well as times past. I have held jobs before that confined inside buildings all day. Those were difficult days. I am grateful for a job that allows me to traverse the countryside while working with good people at a good and necessary task. Though the land I traveled today may not include mountains and cliffs, it has its own beauty, or as Marjorie describes, it’s own enchantment.

Enchantment lies in different things for each of us. For me, it is in this: to step out of the bright sunlight into the shade of orange trees; to walk under the arched canopy of their jadelike leaves; to see the long aisles of lichened trunks stretch ahead in a geometric rhythm; to feel the mystery of a seclusion that yet has shafts of light striking through it. This is the essence of an ancient and secret magic. --Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

I close the day tired, but content.

Donna


©May 5, 2011
Photos of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings' Homestead in Cross Creek

Barn

Main House







Inside Barn


  

Marjorie's beloved orange trees



House for Caretakers