I was blown away by the beauty of Harriman Point Preserve recently, even though I’d visited it before — back in 2016. Sometimes you just have to return to a place to rediscover its majesty.
The 138-acre property, located on the coast in Brooklin, features some of my favorite things in nature: lush moss, trailing lichen and fascinating rock formations along a scenic shoreline.
It’s owned and managed by the Maine Coast Heritage Trust, a nonprofit organization that works with partners to protect more than 170,000 acres and 330 islands in the state.
At Harriman Point Preserve, the land trust maintains about 2.2 miles of trails that form a “lollipop”: a single trail that breaks off into a loop at the end. Near the start of the lollipop is a small field filled with old apple trees, plus the stone foundations of an old homestead.
The Harriman family settled the peninsula in 1795. Subsequent landowners also left their marks on the property, according to the Maine Coast Heritage Trust.
During my recent visit, the ground was bare of snow due to recent rain storms and unseasonably warm weather.
My dog, Juno, sniffed around the edge of the stone foundations, snagging her leash on thorny plants, while I photographed a big apple tree growing out of the center of what was once a house. Its bark was peppered with rows of tiny holes made by a bird — the work of a yellow-bellied sapsucker.
The loop of the lollipop travels along the edge of the shore and across a beach at two locations.
In the forest, which was largely made up of hardy spruce trees, I found a number of large tree mushrooms.
And a particular stretch of trail between Allen Cove and Eastern Beach was filled with trailing lichen, often called “Old Man’s Beard.” Hanging from tree branches, the pale green lichen created a fantastical scene.
We traveled the loop clockwise, which led us to Allen Cove. There you can look west, across the cove, toward the former residence of E.B. White, author of the childhood classics “Stuart Little” and “Charlotte’s Web.”
At Allen Cove, you can do plenty of exploring, especially at low tide. A spit of sand, gravel and ledge leads out to an islet that features a few trees and bushes.
The rocks in this area are especially interesting, ranging in color from turquoise to pink to nearly black. Some boulders were covered with bright yellow-orange lichen. And I found one shelf of granite with a frisbee-sized hole in it that looked to be the work of weathering.
Wildlife watching is a great activity for this spot. In fact, while out there, I came across a group of three highschoolers who proudly claimed to be “nature nerds” and were looking for tide pool creatures.
In the span of five minutes, they taught me at least five new things about Maine flora and fauna.
For example, did you know that sea urchins are venomous? You really don’t want to step on one.
In addition to sea urchins, the young naturalists had found a group of sea squirts, which I happily discussed with them. I’d written about those creatures before. But again, I learned something new from the conversation.
While a sea squirt is a tiny animal that resembles a squashed grape, it actually has a backbone early in life. So if you look at the entire animal kingdom, it’s practically a close cousin to humans. Weird, huh?
We also got to talking about the holes I’d seen drilled into the apple trees by yellow-bellied sapsuckers.
And that evolved to an awe-filled exchange about mourning cloak butterflies, which feed on the sap that seeps from those holes. They’re one of the few butterflies that overwinter as adults in Maine, hiding under bark and leaf litter.
I felt a kinship with the three teens, and I left our conversation with a little more hope for the future. I have a feeling that they’ll grow up to care for the wild places they love, in one way or another.
Around the peninsula, we found Eastern Beach, which was quite expansive. As we walked over the gravel, rocks and coarse sand, we came across a group of three women who were happy to give Juno a scratch behind the ears.
Out on the water, I spied a common loon, gray and white in its winter plumage. It bobbed in the gentle waves, all alone.
Now that my memory has been refreshed about Harriman Point Preserve, I’m eager to return during other seasons and introduce friends to its beauty. I’m willing to bet that the small parking lot sometimes becomes crowded during warmer months. So I’ll try to plan accordingly — visiting at less popular times and showing up with a plan B.
If there’s a preserve that’s fading from your memory, I suggest you return to it. It’s just one more good excuse to get outside.
