{"id":36725,"date":"2025-09-02T08:00:35","date_gmt":"2025-09-02T15:00:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/?p=36725"},"modified":"2025-08-19T14:33:39","modified_gmt":"2025-08-19T21:33:39","slug":"facing-great-white-fears-in-great-wass","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/2025\/09\/02\/facing-great-white-fears-in-great-wass\/","title":{"rendered":"Facing Great White Fears in Great Wass"},"content":{"rendered":"

The sun rose red in a pale blue sky, glowering behind pine boughs on the low coastal horizon of Jonesport, Maine. It’s an odd portend for a fair-weather day, likely due to smoke drifting down from Canadian wildfires. The clock reads 4:50 am. My alarm was set for 5:00 am but I slept in my Subaru and it\u2019s already too bright for my nerves to ignore. Dawn comes early Downeast.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I stumbled out of the car, camera in hand, struggling to capture the sky\u2019s dusky pastel palette, the salt-tinged breeze and low rumble of lobster boat engines already lining out of Moosabec Reach towards Eastern Bay. I was there to face down a recurring fear: great white sharks in Maine waters. But as the day unfolded, I began to see that the monsters lurking for me in those frigid waters don\u2019t all have teeth.<\/span><\/p>\n

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My friend and master Maine sea kayak guide Karen Francoeur was scheduled to arrive around 11:00 am with longtime clients, and enthusiastic paddlers, Cynthia Crane and Steven Kirk. The plan was to paddle from the Beals Island boat launch to the lighthouse on Mistake Island while the tide receded, before riding it back to the boat ramp. In Maine, everything moves with the moon.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In the meantime, I head to Great Wass Island Preserve Shoreline Trail to stretch my legs and get a good look at the bay from the steady shoreline. It\u2019s a beautiful view, but the real reason for my jaunt is to try and get a handle on what had me so spooked when I first paddled this bay three summers ago. <\/span>A<\/span> muted dawn chorus trilled through sun-sparkled coastal jack pines. I paused, snapping photos of a rhoda to the tune of a hermit thrush\u2019s song.<\/span><\/p>\n

As I rounded the corner to Mud Hole, the trail steps down from shallow-soiled woodland to rocky shore and Eastern Bay expands to the horizon. I remember it as a vast, blowing wilderness. This morning though, it looks\u2026 contained.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The images my mind holds of this bay are gorgeous. Sweeping vistas and natural glory, tinged with the specter of great white sharks. Or, rather, tinged by my fear of them.<\/span><\/p>\n