One Down, Seven To Go

Well, the first week of my eight-week-long YCC duty went pretty well, all in all; nobody got hurt and nobody got strangled. (This was only the first week, though, so there'll be plenty of opportunity for that later, I'm sure.) Since we've been slated to help high-line the remains of the big slab on Homan's Path out of the way -- and since it's not quite ready for such things yet -- we've been assigned a number of other projects and worksites to help out on while we get our season underway.


One such project was to go up on the daunting Precipice Trail and clear out some blowdowns (or, rather, knockdowns) in preparation for beginning work on the earthquake damage to that trail. These are my kids lugging the chainsaw and attendant gear across the somewhat delapidated little bridge that got hammered by boulders back in October. In addition to the bridge taking a beating, check out the railing between Zach -- in the lead -- and the stairs on the right-hand side of the frame. (Click image to enlarge) That will, of course, have to be dealt with before the trail is reopened.


And here we go heading down that little ledge section where, as you can see, the bottom just falls right off. Until the beat-up railing gets put back to rights, you just have to lean toward the mountain. By the way, this trail is still closed to hikers until all these repairs are done, just so you know. Can't have folks falling off the mountain unsupervised.


Add to that that some of the steps on this section are almost leg-high on a normal-sized person, I can only imagine what's going on in Felicia's 4'10"-high head right about now. (That's her in the foreground.) She did well, though, and made it all the way to the downed tree area -- and even the "Dead Zone" where the trail got wiped away -- without even so much as a whimper. I was much impressed.


But I don't want to give you the impression that the entire week was filled with nerve-wracking episodes of derring-do. Aside from the trecherous hour-long ride to Brewer to get safety boots on Tuesday (hey, don't laugh -- the brakes went out on my truck about halfway there; I fixed them, though) and the gastronomical dangers always inherent in the annual Park Picnic on Thursday (okay, you can laugh now), we did manage to slide into Friday and relax by doing a little gardening. The revegetation crew here at Acadia is in the process of replanting certain areas of Blackwoods Campground that have been renovated lately, and we got to help them out by doing some of the planting. Here are my kids -- Zach, Felicia, and Alex -- toward the end of the project, when backs are beginning to give out. They did a great job and in record time, much impressing the reveg crew. Keep up the good work, guys!

Cedar Waxwings With Moon

Just so you'll know my whole life is not caught up in work, here's a shot I took this fine evening of a pair of cedar waxwings. The one at the top you'll have no problem seeing, of course, but the other one is hiding out at the right-hand edge of the leaves of the lower tree. (Click on the image to enlarge.) They're such pretty birds, especially if you can get the light just right striking the gold band at the edge of their tail. Unfortunately, I'm afraid they were too far away and not in the right position for me to show this feature off (it's on the top side of their tail), but it really is a beautiful display. Maybe next time, okay?

The Boulder Buster

Okay, maybe I got a little ahead of myself in the last entry. For some reason, I just supposed you all would know what a "Boulder Buster" is, but now I'm thinking there's probably no way. So allow me to explain . . .


First, a 1-1/2" diameter hole is drilled into the boulder at least 3/4 of the way through the rock. As 1-1/2" is too large for any of our standard rock drills, this jackhammer-of-a-rock-drill -- weighing in at 50-60 lbs -- has been brought into play to fill in. After a full day of drilling holes with this obnoxious thing, I count my teeth before retiring.


Here is a fellow trail worker, Zev, drilling away. Due to the extreme tilt of the rock, we've had to use climbing rigging to keep ourselves from falling off while drilling with this thing. I was a bit worried at first, but it's really quite safe and comfortable.


After the hole is drilled to the proper depth, it's filled with water and "the unit," as we call it, is placed into position. Basically, a Boulder Buster is a heavy cast iron device that uses what amounts to a .22 blank to fire off a shotgun shell-sized charge that vaporizes the water. If the boulder is too big for the shotgun shell-sized charge itself to handle, a booster charge is inserted into the water first, then the unit is placed in the hole on top of it. This is what we've had to resort to with this particular hunk of rock. Even with the extra power of the booster charges added, it's still a helluva lot safer -- and far less destructive -- than using regular explosives.


Here we are loading it up for a blast. The chain you see here goes through a hole in the side of the unit and down to a firing mechanism that touches off the .22 shell initial charge. Our first attempts were pretty miserable, as the rock was just too much for the primary charges alone, but with the addition of the booster charges, big stuff has been happening.


And BOOM!!! Thar she blows! Actually this was taken in our first attempts, as we didn't use the black plastic "blanket" that came with it to cover the unit. With the addition of the booster charges for our latest attempts, it was felt we needed the added protection to keep rock chunks from flying out at us. With the boosters, this thing literally jumps out of the hole and heads downhill, as you'll see in the video.


And here we have what we've been trying to achieve -- the blowing off of movable chunks of this rock. We knew when we got started on this project that some movement of the slab was inevitable while trying to "chunk it up," we just didn't quite expect the amount of movement in the video. That was probably what it looked like when this thing let go after the earthquake back in October, although on a somewhat smaller scale, I imagine. I've never witnessed an actual landslide in person before, and I'm not sure I'd ever want to again, either. I mean, it was really pretty cool to watch, but the potential for disaster is right up there.

Anyway, I just wanted to give you all a visual account of the Boulder Buster and what goes on in this little project of ours. Today's work went really well, with the slab chunked up in doable pieces and with very little movement of the slab. I really don't think we'll have that kind of excitement with the rest of the project -- at least I hope not.

An Unexpected Situation

Well, the good news is, we finally got the giant slab laying across Homan's Path busted up a bit and moved downhill a ways. The bad news is, its companion -- a boulder the size of Pepe (that's it at the top of the frame) -- slid down the hill with it and landed smack dab onto the stone steps we were so very diligently trying to uncover, unearthing them and sliding them downhill, as well. In fact, they weren't even covered to begin with. Sometimes you win; sometimes you don't. Now we have two big rocks to bust up and move out of the way. Hey, nothing like a little job security, huh?

Recommended Viewing: Boulder Buster (see the right-hand pane)
[The aforementioned Pepe-sized rock can be seen diving head-first out of the frame after the slab slides to the left. It wasn't expected to do such a thing, but . . . oh, well.]

The Mink

After my last blog entry about Isle au Haut, there was some interest in just what the mailboats look like, so here's a shot of the Mink on approach to the Town Landing I took on my way off-island last year. She's a pretty boat, and it was such a beautiful morning -- a perfect combination.

Wasted Away In Mosquitoville

This past week, myself and three other co-workers went on a week-long work detail on what is usually one of my favorite places on Earth: the little island of Isle au Haut. (Prounounced EYE-la-HOE; French for "High Island") While still a pleasure to see and be on this little nugget of Paradise, as always, this particular visit was marred somewhat by being ever and annoyingly surrounded by hordes of blood-thirsty natives -- namely mosquitoes. From the time I left my tent in the morning (only three beds in the cabin) until I returned to it in the evening, it was this constant nyee... nyee... nyee... in and around my ears until I thought I'd surely go out of my ever-lovin' nut, once and for all. On top of that, I'm afraid it may be some time before I can give blood again, due to my current anemic condition, so I do hope the good folks at the Red Cross understand.


Okay, enough of the whining; let's concentrate on the adventure, shall we? Here we are sailing for the island aboard the mailboat Miss Lizzie, named for Elizabeth Rich, the late island matriarch and postmistress (from 1926 until her passing in 1988). Isle au Haut is the high island in the distance, hence it's name.


And here we are on approach to the Town Landing. This was my seventh trip out here -- two earlier work details and four personal trips -- but still the feeling is the same as I used to get as a child on Christmas morning, that of pure unadulterated joy. It never fails.


This is the highlight of any trip out here -- the little log cabin on Eli Creek. Built by a dentist in 1947 for his son, it and its land were sold to the Park after the father's death some time ago and is now used for both work-related and recreational stays on a first-come first-served basis. The amenities, as it were, are: Running stream for water (seasonal), Coleman lanterns for light (if they work), wood stove for heat (if there's any wood available), and mice for company and entertainment (a-plenty). All food stuffs should be put in the metal locker and all trash should be hung outside before retiring, or else the game is on. On one of my trips, I was awakened in the middle of the night by a mouse impersonating Tito Puente while attempting to remove the top on a can of Planter's Peanuts I just so happened to leave lying around. He was really pretty good, as mice go, but I do enjoy my sleep.


As always, no trip to the island or the cabin would be complete without a "fridge" full of beer. The creek does a very nice job of keeping liquid refreshments cool, but not ice cold, I'm afraid. The creek's rather mild temperature, while a minor inconvenience for the beer drinker, can be a true blessing for those of us who had to wash off the long day's application of insect repellant.


Now, these people are doing it right. After returning to the cabin for the evening, we were pleasantly surprised to find this schooner, the Mary Day, cruising into Moore's Harbor down below the cabin. What a way to travel, huh?


Home Sweet Home-away-from-home, my beloved Sierra Designs Meteor Light tent. I bought this for myself for Christmas 1995 while working at Mount Rainier, and couldn't wait to set it up once it arrived. As the ground outside the tiny cabin I was living in at the time was covered in several inches of snow, I proceeded to clear the furniture out of the way and set it up right there in the cabin. It completely filled the living room up, but that didn't stop me from sleeping in it that night, nosirree. I just love this thing.


This was our first sunset of the trip, looking across Moore's Harbor. It would've been nice if the Mary Day hadn't moved on further into the harbor, or had waited until this time to enter. Oh, well, this is still one fine sunset in my book.


Okay, just so you'll know this was in fact a work detail, here's a shot of a section of bogwalk we did on the Duck Harbor Trail, just in from where it crosses the road. This shot shows the completed work, after I camouflaged the scarring from our labors. Not too shabby, huh?


Here's another bogwalk section we did, this time a bridge of sorts crossing a stream. This piece was always found downstream due to the heavy run-off, so we returned it to its original place and added the two long "deadmen" to the end of it to anchor the one end in place. The tree on the far side of the stream, which flows from right to left, will keep the other end in place -- we hope.


Our last evening in the cabin, and Pete is cooking up the mussels that he and I harvested from the harbor. This was the first time I ever harvested mussels and it was really fun -- and tasty. They're really teeny, though, compared to the size of their shells. I wonder why they need all that room?


One of the things I always look forward to is checking out all the "island trucks" and "island cars" on the island. You can get away with pretty much anything out here as far as vehicles go, as who's gonna write you a ticket? Now, I thought I'd seen them all out here, but I've never seen this particular one before. What a hoot! Check out the gravity-fed fuel tank on the top. No fuel pump available? No problem!


Here's something that'll give you pause. So, if there aren't any brakes, I wonder how he actually stops this thing. I don't think I want to be around to find out -- especially if I'm in front.


You want to see Mosquito Heaven? Well, here it is. This is actually a little wetland area with about two or three inches of standing water; just perfect for our little buzzing buzzards. The large-leafed plants you see everywhere are called Skunk Cabbage, and smell just like skunks when the leaves are damaged.


Okay, I just realized that this is getting as long as an official photo album, so I guess it's time to say "Anchors A-weigh" and close this entry down. Here we are aboard the sister mailboat to the Miss Lizzie, the Mink, waiting to shove off for home and a nice, long, hot shower. After four days of sponge baths, that's gonna feel mighty good, let me tell you -- that and an actually cold beer. Oh, and pizza! Mmm... pizza.


And it's off we go, at last. Even though I had been eaten alive the entire week, I still hated to see the Town Landing trail away off the stern. I'll be back on Labor Day Weekend, though, so I get to visit twice this year. The next time I'll have the cabin to myself -- mice notwithstanding -- and the bugs should all be gone by then. I realize this entry went a little long, but there are even more pictures to be seen of this trip (42 to be exact), so check out the new gallery on my SmugMug site. Just click on the link over on the right-hand pane, right above the soon-to-be-defunct Yahoo Photos. As always, thanks for checking in!

A Sad Day

SUNKA

It was a sad day around here today as I had to say my goodbyes to Sunka, one of my all-time favorite doggie buddies. Sunka was Keith and Angi Johnston's pet and one I dog-sat on numerous occasions, always at their former home on Southwest Harbor. This shot is from the first of such dog-sittings -- the one which spawned my famous bird-sitting primer, by the way -- and we were deep into the Blanket Game, one of his very favorites. He actually sat there like this and waited patiently for me to get my camera from the next room. He knew, somehow.

If all went as planned, Sunka's gone from us now in body, but he will never be gone from us in spirit. He was a total nutcase, but he was an affectionate sweetheart, too, as well as a good and loyal friend. He will be sorely missed. So long, Sunka Buddy, and thanks for all the fun memories.

On The Green

No, that doesn't mean I've taken up golf (God forbid!), even though I do, in fact, live right next door to Bar Harbor's Golf Course. (I just don't get that game, although I do enjoy golfing movies: Tin Cup, Happy Gilmore, Caddyshack, etc.) What the title refers to is my wandering about the Village Green in town this morning, prior to my eye doctor's appointment. This is a shot of the green, showing off our bandstand gazebo and one of several lamp posts. Wikipedia says: "Traditionally, the village green was often common grass land at the centre [sic; they're British] of a small agricultural settlement, used for grazing and sometimes for community events." The grazing of livestock in town is pretty much frowned upon these days, but there are lots of community events happening here, to be sure.


Here's another angle, with bandstand and fountain. I was going to use this as the opening shot, but the other one shows off the grass better -- hence the green. Get it?


A much better shot of our fountain, which is pretty nice. It wasn't until I was shooting it this morning that I realized the figure is a fisherman-type person. A young Poseidon, perhaps? Well, hang on, folks, 'cause it gets better.


Here we have our fisherman guy in all his glory -- all his glory. Hey, that's pretty racy for New England, don't you think? I'd like to find out just how old this statue is and what its impact was on the community of the day.


And here's a detail shot of one of the fountain's spouts. Good thing the sculptor wasn't a comedian, too, as he could've had a lot of fun with the fisherman guy -- reminiscent of the "peeing cherub" you used to see around. That might've put it over the edge, though.


This fountain's just chock-full of mythology, as here we have a Pan waterspout. I can see I'm going to have to wear my swimsuit next time I come here and do a detailed study of this thing. This is really cool. I can't believe I'm just now seeing all this after all these years, but isn't that the way? You have to look to see these things.


As I still had a good amount of time after shooting the Village Green, I decided to head on down to Sand Beach and take advantage of the morning light to check on the volunteers' work. If you remember from my last entry -- or just scroll down to it -- a few of us trail crew guys went down and moved a bunch of the huge rocks out of the way so folks could get from the steps to the beach without turning an ankle, or worse. I was amazed at the amount of sand that was missing. Here's this morning's shot looking down the beach from the bottom step.


And here's the finished product of our labors. I noticed that the two granite "steps" at the very bottom of the stairs were just above the surface, which makes for a larger-than-normal step. I expected them to be buried and the sand a good deal higher than this, but it's definitely better than it was.


And this is the new lifeguard stand, this one made of wood. It'll probably be a lot easier to tear down than the old steel one was, if this sort of thing ever happens again. We almost set the dunes on fire cutting that old one up. I kept having to run over with shovels of wet sand to put the grass out. I guess it's a good thing I had wildfire training, huh?


As a parting shot, I thought I'd include one of my favorite of the morning's beach shots. As the tide was going out, the water stored in the beach was making its way back home and left these little rivulets in its wake. I was just fascinated with the patterns. I'm like that.

So, that's it for now. My next entry will most likely be from the Owls Head Transportation Museum, as I plan to head down there for their weekend festivities. This weekend: "Rods, Mods & Tuners & Antique Aeroplane Show See 250 hot rods & custom vehicles plus a variety of 60s and 70s muscle cars. Featured exhibitors: Vintage race cars." Does that sound like fun, or what? Woo hoo!!! See ya next time!

Hey, I'm Back!

Well, howdy, everybody! After a long absence from my blog site (I couldn't even remember my password!), I'm back at last to catch you up on what's been going on in my world recently. Mostly, it's been work, as I've been quite busy in my off times working on the computer, so I guess we might as well start there.


One of the first jobs I had this season was re-installing the signs regarding trail closures on Champlain Mountain, namely the East Face Precipice Trail. This was the one at the Bear Brook trailhead. There were more, but I liked this one the best.


Here we are on the East Face Precipice Trail, assessing some of the earthquake damage. This is Ray and Pete looking at a section of wall that is attempting to fall apart and head downhill, probably onto the main worksite on a section of wall down below, where Ray and Chris would be working. We wouldn't really want that, obviously, so Pete and I eventually fixed it.


And here's a shot of our view from our worksite. I took this shot just before Memorial Day Weekend to document our view and show the Highseas home far below. An interesting -- and tragic -- story about this home (paraphrasing the Highseas website): "Professor Rudolf-Ernst Brunnow of Princeton University built Highseas in 1912. The mansion was meant to be a gift to his new bride, but according to legend she lost her life on the Titanic. Brunnow, too, died tragically after a fall from the Precipice Trail." In fact, I've heard Brunnow had this particular section of trail I'm standing on built just for him, so that he could sit here and enjoy this view. I do love a good story, don't you?


And here's almost the same view taken a week later, after the hot Memorial Day Weekend. Boy, the trees just loved the two 90-degree days we had and put out leaves all over the place. What a gorgeous morning this was, especially now that we were back to our normal temps.


Now we're on Homan's Path, looking at more earthquake damage -- a giant slab that slid or fell onto a section of our new trail we had just re-opened not too long ago. That's Pete standing at the far end of the 26'-long behemoth, adding a little scale to it. We were up there to lay out and measure a path through the woods to the Hemlock Trail below to run compressor hoses up to this site. The hoses will provide air to a pneumatic rock drill (a variation on a jackhammer) which will drill numerous holes into this thing, in order to insert Boulder Buster charges to blast it into pieces and remove it. That'll basically be my job, mine and a junior co-worker's. Cool, huh? I'll let you know if I have any teeth left after this.


And here's why all the fuss -- this thing's sitting right astraddle our new section of stairs. There was some discussion early on of just leaving it there to demonstrate Mother Nature's abilities, but it was ultimately decided to do away with it instead. Sorry, Mom.


This is a staircase leading down to Little Hunter's Beach that had been undermined by runoff from a pretty nasty storm. Pete and I put the griphoist you see there as a safeguard measure to keep the stairs from attempting to slide any further into the stream, until the situation can be dealt with and the staircase properly secured. If the griphoist looks like it's pointed the wrong way, that's because we're using a block pulley as a directional device for better leverage.


After we tilted the staircase back a bit and shored up the piers' footings, we attached the nylon webbing to two of the piers to provide security. This is what the griphoist is attached to.


Down at the very end of the stairs, the tremendous waves caused by the storm floated and emptied this section of log cribbing stairs, making for tricky footing. Pete and I had to put them back in place and refill them.


And here we have it! Lowered back in position and filled with cobbles and pebbles from the beach down below. God, our aching backs!


And Little Hunter's Beach wasn't the only place on the island hit hard by the storm. Here we are at Sand Beach, looking at an area that used to be only sand dunes. I never even knew there were rocks there under the sand, but I guess that only stands to reason. The iron structure you see to the left is the lifeguard's tower, which used to be down on the beach, not on the dunes -- or where the dunes used to be.


Here was our main call-to-arms (or, rather, shovels) -- the area just below the stairs leading to Sand Beach. Used to be, there was sand leading all the way up to the lower steps. In fact, you can make out two granite steps that were never even seen. They'll eventually be buried again to allow firm footing under the sand as you step onto the beach, which was probably their original purpose.


And here's the finished product, or at least our portion of it. We've removed most of the stones that were sticking up in the path and added the two long stones at the end as "checks" to hold the cobble underlayer and sand finishing layer in place. These will eventually be buried, as well. You can see the two granite steps better here. When the Friends of Acadia volunteers put the finishing touches on this, there will be a sand walkway for folks to get to the beach safely without fearing for their ankles. Nature will eventually take its due course and bury the area in sand once again, but probably not for a while.


And last but not least, here's a little project I finally finished up. The Interpretive staff wanted an exhibit put in of Bates Cairns and their importance to the safety of visitors and landscape alike, and I was given the job of installing it. They had the exhibit signs made up and I first dug the five holes for each sign. Then a co-worker and I installed each sign, using a 4' level to insure they were nice and straight. Finally, the stone epoxy we ordered to hold the cairns together -- something we never use on actual cairns on the trail -- came in, so another co-worker and I went back and spent the past two days assembling them. It was kind of slow at first, not being used to the mixing and applying of epoxy, but I finally caught on and they went together really well. During the assembly of one of the cairns, a visitor actually said to me, "Yeah, I usually take the little stone off the top. They make great benches," to which I wanted to reply, "Yes, and that's exactly why we're gluing these in place." And it's true. You gotta stay one step ahead of these guys, let me tell you.

Well, I guess that's about all for now. I'll try to get out and about and explore when the weather gets more agreeable, and try not let it get so long in between entries. Thanks for tuning in again.