A couple of weekends ago on my way back to Bangor from a swim in Eastport, I took a detour down Route 187 to Jonesport – willingly. Actually, I was headed for Great Wass Island, which lies two bridges to the south. But to get there you gotta go through Jonesport.

It has been a couple of years since I last visited the area, and making that 10-or-so-mile trip south from Route 1 reminded me of how isolated the community is from others and how self-sufficient folks must be just to get through each week.

I attempted a day trip to Great Wass a couple of years ago. At the time, I made a left on Beals Island instead of a right and wound up on the eastern side of the island a couple of miles from where I should have been. I had landed, according to the posted sign, on Nature Conservancy property, but not where I’d intended. Worse yet, I didn’t fully comprehend my mistake until after I’d spent an hour walking about the place. And by that time it was getting dark and I abandoned my exploration.

Great Wass Island Preserve, a 1,540-acre parcel, was acquired by the Maine Chapter of the Nature Conservancy in 1978. It has many natural features which have been recognized by the state Critical Areas Program. According to the Nature Conservancy, “The island projects farther out to sea than any other land mass in eastern Maine resulting in extensive marine exposure. The waters of the Gulf of Maine and the Bay of Fundy meet here, and mix to produce a cool humid oceanic climate which is excellent for several plants and natural communities that are rare not only in Maine, but throughout the United States.”

On this visit it was important to make all the right turns because I was supposed to meet friends at the trailhead. Karen Francoeur of Orono and I had departed Eastport, where we’d participated in the polar dip, in separate vehicles to rendezvous with Dave and Deb Morrill of Orrington. We were late, really late, having misjudged grossly the travel time from Eastport.

By the time we’d crossed the bridge over Moosabec Reach to Beals Island and across to Great Wass, then down the snow-covered dirt road on the western side of the island to the trailhead, the Morrills were long gone – nothing but snowshoe prints in the woods. (Not that it was planned, but thanks for doing the trail breaking, folks. It made the two-mile trudge in snowshoes much easier.)

The trailhead is near Black Duck Cove. At the parking area you’ll find a sign-in sheet and trail map as well as a wildlife checklist. Since this is a preserve, dog owners are asked to leave their pets at home. The preserve’s two trails begin at the same point and diverge about 100 yards into the woods. Mud Hole Trail (1.5 miles) branches off to the left and will take you northerly to Mud Hole, an elongated gut that cuts deeply into the island. The trail follows the southern shore to Mud hole Point for great views of Eastern Bay and the many islands to the east.

We followed the Little Cape Point Trail (2 miles) which cuts southeast through the center of the 1,579-acre island to the eastern shore at Cape Cove. Snow-covered bog bridges (which are a trick to negotiate on snowshoes) cross fragile areas where in warmer weather you’d see cranberry, black crowberry, pitcher plant, sundew and baked-apple berry, according to the brochure. Jack pine and black spruce abound.

In the Nature Conservancy’s Maine Forever publication, a guide to its properties in this state, is a passage on the special climate of Great Wass, which “encourages a specialized flora composed to a great extent of plants that are normally found much farther north in the sub-arctic regions. The islands [in the Great Wass archipelago] are a kind of southern outpost for these plant species and natural communities, several of which are rarely seen elsewhere in the United States. Jack pine is one of those species that reaches the southern edge of its range in Maine. The second largest stand in Maine, 550 acres, is on Great Wass.”

The jack pine grow in clumps on higher spots in the heath, and, according to the Nature Conservancy, this is the “only place in the U.S. known to have jack pine growing in such a bog.” Jack pine normally require the heat of wild fires to open their cones, releasing the seeds, but these trees’ cones open without fire.

(My curiosity was piqued this week while writing this. What’s the largest jack pine stand, I wondered? Andy Cutko of the Maine Natural Areas Program in Augusta told me it is in northernmost Somerset County around Holeb and Attean ponds. If, however, you consider that you can divide jack pine growths into coastal, rocky zones and inland sandy-soil areas, the Great Wass stand is the largest of its kind in Maine in a coastal setting, and the Holeb stand is the largest inland stand.)

As you cross the island on the Little Cape Point Trail (follow the blue blazes), you’ll have several different views out over the peat bogs (heaths). Snow-covered, they look like meadows, but here’s what the Nature Conservancy has to say about them: “The bogs [or heaths] on Great Wass are of statewide and national significance. They are coastal raised bogs, a type of peat land peculiar to extreme maritime settings in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and eastern Maine. These bogs are thousands of years old, originating when sphagnum moss began accumulating in basins left by retreating glaciers 10,000 to 12,000 years ago. The acid, peaty soil supports fascinating carnivorous plants and tiny stunted shrubs which survive in this harsh environment.”

All of this is worthy of a return trip in milder weather. But it’ll be difficult to match the winter glory we observed on our visit. Boulders and stones on the southeastern shoreline were encrusted in white icing, giving them a marshmallow-like appearance. Above the high-water mark, the pink granite was partially exposed, partially snow covered.

We caught up with the Morrills at the shore. They had stopped for some R&R and bird watching. We ditched our snowshoes and set out southerly along the shore, slipping and sliding over the rocks and taking advantage of snow-free gravel beaches when possible. Along the way we stopped to explore a whale’s skull and the burned out remains of a lobster boat. Our destination was Little Pond Head, a dome of rock about 35 feet high just off the beach. The tide was low so we could walk out over the ice near shore to get to it.

After a brief and breezy visit we came back to shore and picked out a place on the ledges out of the wind to have lunch and watch the sea swells wash the shore.

Our return trek was punctuated by frequent stops to watch longtails, eiders, common golden eyes, an eagle, red- breasted mergansers, black ducks, mallards and pipers. A sole female golden eye entertained us in the small waves near shore. The late afternoon sun cast a rosy glow over Eastern Bay’s many islands and ledges and the Moose Peak lighthouse at Mistake Island. Snowcapped islands, blues and greens of the ocean, the pink of granite, and the dull greens of winter spruce … does it get any more picturesque than this?

Somewhat begrudgingly we strapped on our snowshoes and headed back to the trailhead. It was dark when we reached the cars. Our 6.5-mile hike had taken us a little more than six hours at a moderate pace taking time out to “smell the roses,” drink in the scenery, and savor a lunch.

I’m already thinking of a return trip, say in warmer weather. This time I’d like to make it to the very southern tip of the island to see The Pond and Red Head, described by the Conservancy thusly: “The exposed granite bedrock shore on the southern end of the island is particularly striking. Here the rock drops steeply into the sea, giving evidence of the Fundian Fault, a long crack in the earth’s crust which extends from the Bay of Fundy to the coast of New Hampshire.”

Jeff Strout can be reached at 990-8202 or by e-mail at jstrout@bangordailynews.net.