For some folks, last Sunday morning’s Leonid meteor shower was a washout. (See Brad Viles’ contribution below.) Passing clouds discouraged many who awoke around 3 a.m., looked skyward and then decided to crawl back in bed to finish the rest of a good night’s sleep.

But a few of us doggedly stuck it out and followed through with plans made the night before to maintain a vigil for the errant ice and dust particles screaming into the earth’s atmosphere at 161,000 mph.

I heard of a good-sized contingent of insomniacs who gathered at Bangor Municipal Golf Course.

Myself? I opted to spend a few hours with my paddling buddies Karen Francoeur and Robert Causey at Causey’s Pushaw Lake resort (affectionately known by a few as the Bunny Hutch). We figured 4 a.m. would be a good time to gather and launch our kayaks, paddle out to the middle of the lake, raft up, pour a cup of coffee and watch the show.

The best manner for me was to scootch way down into our boats and lay back on the rear decks. That way we could get a pretty good panorama. It was somewhat disorienting, what with the breeze moving us about on the lake’s surface.

Turns out our early morning voyage wasn’t a bad an idea. Sure there were clouds, but there were also breaks in the cover that permitted good viewing. Even when there was a light covering of clouds there were flashes visible from behind as the larger particles burned out.

In all we counted nearly 60 meteors (and one satellite) in just about an hour. As it got closer to dawn, around 5:30 a.m. the clouds got quite a bit thicker and meteor-viewing dried up. But rather than call it a day (it really wasn’t one yet), we headed down the lake to circle a couple of islands and watch the sun come up. We had the lake to ourselves as we watched sun come up under the far eastern edge of the cloud cover and light the bottom to a brilliant fluffy pink. Our only companions were a few ducks on the wing.

Back at “resort central” we lit a fire and cooked oatmeal lakeside while the rest of the world came slowly back to life.

Meanwhile, over in Stratton, backpacking aficionado Brad Viles had his head in the clouds atop Bigelow.

I had this notion that the top of the biggest mountain I could find would be the best place to view such a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event. It would mean camping on top, which is strongly discouraged. But, I reasoned, I wouldn’t build a fire, and would practice Leave No Trace techniques so there would be no ecological damage. I decided to climb Bigelow Mountain because it has an open 4,000-foot summit providing unobstructed views.

All the way up the Fire Warden’s Trail to Bigelow Col I imagined how the sky would look, with thousands of meteors descending toward Flagstaff Lake. Maybe they would be reflected in the lake so it would look like meteors from above and below. I got to the col between Avery and West Peaks by 2:30 p.m., found a flat spot on the summit of Avery Peak near the old watchtower and set up my tent.

The site was on bare rock and I rock hopped over to it, minimizing my impact on the delicate alpine vegetation. As I set up the tent, the sun settled toward the west end of the mountain through layers of thickening clouds. The view across the valley to Sugarloaf and the Crocker Mountains silhouetted by the setting sun was spectacular. Then the sun was gone and after the shortest of twilight, it was dark, and cold.

It was 12 hours before the Leonid showers and I was right where I wanted to be. I cooked supper of noodles and pepperoni while snacking on cheese and crackers and thought about where I was on the landscape, my place, so to speak. This mountain is unique in Maine. Actually in the country there are only a few mountains like it which run on an east-west orientation. It would give me an excellent vantage point to witness the meteor light show.

After supper I read a magazine article about the psychology of getting lost and surviving, then went to sleep early so that I could make the 4 a.m. wakeup for the events about to unfold in the sky. I woke up shortly after midnight to check the sky – all clouds, no stars. Four o’clock came and still there were only clouds. I watched the sky for an hour looking for a sign of a meteor, just one, let alone the thousands per hour witnesses to the event would later tell me they saw. I never saw a flicker!

I had a hunch that once I felt the steady breeze blowing in with the clouds on Saturday from the general direction of the setting sun that the clouds would block out the sky that night. You know what? It didn’t matter. It was cold and stark and quiet on the mountain. The lights of the valley and the towns strung along its course were a pale comparison to the event that took place above. I never saw it. Instead I saw a magnificent mountain sunset, felt the wind blow and gust in waves, and slept on the top of a mountain on a bitter cold night.

Too bad the weather didn’t cooperative, Brad, but the chance to be in one of your favorite places was worth the trip, I know.

And this just in from Kathryn McGloin, another paddling buddy and member of the Maine Outdoor Adventure Club of Bangor. She wanted to remind everybody that MOAC will meet at 7 p.m. Tuesday, Dec. 4 for it’s monthly meeting at Cadillac Mountain Sports. The scheduled speaker is CMS’s Brad Ryder, who will talk about everything you ever wanted to know about snowshoes – how to choose a pair, what size, etc. On Jan. 8 Jeff Hunt from UM’s Maine Bound will conduct a winter comfort and safety workshop covering what to wear, what to eat, what to watch for both in the weather and in your body. In the meantime the group continues its casual weekly gathering at the Sea Dog fireplace on Fridays at 6 p.m. to meet, greet, play, and plan future outings.

Jeff Strout’s column is published on Saturdays. He can be reached at 990-8202 or by e-mail at jstrout@bangordailynews.net.