The Places Between 7
Mousam River Wildlife Sanctuary
I’ve had the absolute privilege to run around the state, chasing down beautiful spots next to the water. All the travel has me aching, with my hair smelling of sea salt and my shoes dusted with sand. As far as most aches go, it’s a good ache. With my mix tapes playing and the autumn colors claiming the trees, I’ve got a few more places to add to my ongoing series: The Places Between.
One of my first stops was at Mousam River Wildlife Sanctuary. I stuck to the walking trail across the road from the parking lot which was a flat, dirt path that wound between the river and the adjoining wetlands. A flock of white geese took flight from the water as a person with a dog passed me on the trail. The clouds parted enough to let the warm sun hit the grass, enhancing its auburn hue. There are some places where a million photographs will never be enough, and by my hundredth click, it dawned on me that this was one of them.
That same day I swung by Rogers Pond in Kennebunk. The spot is home to a handful of recreational fishermen and few others. The pond is stocked with fish, including brook and rainbow trout. Beside it is a tidal river that winds through the woods all the way to the Atlantic ocean. The river is home to naturally occurring fish, such as alewives, though those are a protected species from fishing.
Part of my work meant chasing down any salt water, even if it was an estuary that was accessible by a hike through the forest. Field Estuary in Freeport was one of those places. The day I arrived, I was lucky enough to run into someone who warned me that the water was low. I didn’t worry about snapping perfect pictures of the river, and instead focused on capturing some closeups on the last flowers to surrender to autumn’s chill.
Like Field Estuary, Walsh Preserve was a hop and a skip through the woods before I came across a sprawling salt marsh. was the only one on the trail that morning, and after the comfortable stroll through the trees, I took a seat on the wooden bench that marked the end of one of the two trails and watched the sandpipers dart around the ground, prodding the wet soil for a late breakfast.
Maine’s rich fishing industry meant I was visiting several harbors, complete with lobster traps and a strong fish smell. Fortunately, Falmouth Town Landing only smelled like a clean sea breeze. The harbor was well kept with beautiful views across a long, wooden pier. A private beach next door made for a lovely picture before I got back in my car to head home.