My house is running on a generator. I’ve been without power for three days, and I know I’m not alone. People are reshingling their roofs and struggling to keep their pipes from freezing across Maine. The recent storm did a number on the state.
My plan was to write about some incredible ice formations I found during a recent hike at Patten Stream Preserve in Surry. And I still will. But I want to preface that tale with a warning: After all the rain we just had, Patten Stream is going to be — I think the best term is — crankin’.
The preserve’s trails travel right along the edge of the stream. So I have no doubt that they’re currently underwater.
In fact, some of the footbridges near the stream had already been swept to the side when I visited the preserve last week, pre-storm. We had to rock-hop to stay on track. And it’s a good thing we wore waterproof boots.
But when the water level lowers a bit, Patten Stream Preserve is a lovely place to explore, with a 1.5-mile trail that forms two loops, like a figure eight. Marked with blue blazes and signs, the trail is easy to follow as it travels through a beautiful forest to visit the rocky banks of the stream.
I’ve visited the preserve a few times, during different seasons, and the stream always impresses me. It’s a swift-moving section, with the water swirling and frothing as it moves over and around boulders.
In the winter, it’s the ideal place to find intriguing ice formations. Still, I was surprised at what I found during a recent hike there with my dog, Juno, and our friend Jeff.
It was just a few days from Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, so when we started our hike around 1:15 p.m., daylight was already fading fast. Luckily, it’s a place that you only need a couple of hours to explore.
We traveled the figure-eight trail network so that we walked through the forest first, away from the banks of the stream.
Purchased by the Blue Hill Heritage Trust in 2008, the preserve covers 41 acres and features some impressive glacial erratics: boulders that were transported and dropped off by glaciers thousands of years ago.
Some of those boulders are topped with beds of ferns — or as Jeff put it, they “have bangs.”
According to the preserve brochure, the property is also home to the summer-blooming cardinal flower, which are bright red flowers that grow along riverbanks. Native to Maine, these brilliant wildflowers are magnets for butterflies and hummingbirds.
In December, they were nowhere to be found but in our imaginations.
Having been cooped up all day, Juno was in rare form, sprinting up and down the trail. Jeff offered to hold her leash a few times so I could photograph frozen mushrooms and iced-over woodland pools without the added challenge of a lurching leash.
One mushroom — a large, shelf-like tree mushroom called an artist’s conk — had grown out from a tree trunk and around a sapling, encasing the small tree in its white flesh.
It reminded me of the many trees I’ve seen grow around boulders. Nature will often change course, almost improvising, to survive.
We finished our hike by following the trail along the edge of the stream. At the northernmost point of the trail network, we stood on a large rock outcropping to view the waterway in both directions.
There we found a number of ice balls hovering above the water on bare branches. About the size of golfballs and irregular in shape, they swayed in the breeze, sometimes clacking together.
How did these balls of ice form? I have no idea. But an even stranger ice formation was yet to come.
Farther downstream, we came across a tree that had fallen across the stream but remained a few feet above the rushing water. From that tree hung about a dozen nature-made ice sculptures that stretched down 3 or 4 feet, ending just shy of the water.
These ice formations were like icicles, but instead of narrowing at their tips, they widened and divided into little ribbed fingers that reflected the light of the sinking sun.
It was a spectacle I’d never seen before. It was a wonder to me that the ice could hold onto the tree, with each base so slender and bottom so bulbous and heavy-looking.
After this recent rainstorm, I’m sure they’ve been destroyed. Fortunately, I took some photos.
Every winter, I find ice formations that amaze and confound me. Last December, I stumbled upon what’s known as needle ice holding a rock a few inches off the ground. To me, it looked like a mushroom of rock and ice.
BDN readers have written to me and sent pictures of their favorite ice formations, including floating ice discs called “ice pancakes.”
Yet I don’t tire of the topic. The artistry of ice is one of my favorite things to enjoy during winter hikes. And it can be found everywhere, from remote mountain trails to city parks.
As we move back into winter weather after this strange storm, I hope you find your own unique ice displays. And if you don’t mind, send me a photo if you do.
