Leg 30, April 3, from Stepping Stone Brook to and around Holt Point.
Stepping Stone Brook meanders through a long salt march before finally reaching the estuary this side of the Mill Creek Bridge. It's worn a deep gully in the clay. Halfway to the bridge is the remains, like those in similar areas on the island, of a makeshift dam, an effort to hold water back or maybe to keep the coming tide at bay. This is a large area to dam off, much larger than those found elsewhere, and it appears to have been abandoned before it was completed. It now serves as a cafeteria of sorts for racoons and birds feeding on shellfish they've dismembered on the rocks.
Vinalhaven is the same size as Manhattan and each island has seven bridges. Here's one of ours.
It's not as busy as the Brooklyn Bridge but both were constructed using Vinalhaven granite.
Allthough its been my practice to only photograph what I could see from the shore, I knew this area to be home to a great symbiotic relationship and so I walked up the road a way to photograph it.
Dr. Marion Loizeaux was a physician in the Second World War. For decades she kept a little camp next to the Mill Creek Bridge and spent as much of each summer there as she could. That the little cottage had no conveniences and was served by an outhouse didn't trouble this formidable lady a bit, even as she advanced into old age. For years Dr. Loizeaux was an instituion on Vinalhaven. She never ceased to express her gratitude for the island and for her little place on it. Now that I've lingered there I can certainly understand. It's a pristine oasis of natural beauty; even the bridge and the little camp seem to have been there since creation and the prospect of falling asleep, to the ambient sounds of the water flowing in and out of the Creek, was very appealing. Although I've photographed every structure or utility building visible from my walk, I have made it a point not to publish the photos on this blog, fearing, perhaps, an invasion of privacy. This is an exception. I know Wazzy wouldn't mind.
When I was a kid one of the eight girls in my class lived out here on Holt's Point at the Mills Farm. I came out once or twice to play as a youngster but those oppportunities faded as I got older and became more of a handful and a nemisis of sorts to her father, who served on the school board. Betty was the smartest kid in our class of 16 as I recall. The farm was very well kept, still is, and is home to several carefully constructed and lovingly maintained stone walls. Again I ventured up from the shore to showcase on of them.
Elaine bought me a pair of nice L L Bean walking shoes. I promised to take good care of them.
Looking ahead to the next leg, from Holt Point to somewhere around the former Kulka place, opposite a little spot identified on the map as Mt. Ephraim Island. I'm looking forward to seeing what that can possibly be.