Never in a million years would I consider myself an artist. But I came home from the Borestone Mountain Monson Arts nature journaling workshop, this June, having discovered a new way to communicate artistically through immersion in the natural world.
This, in a nutshell, is the goal of this collaboration. For the fourth year in a row, Maine Audubon and Monson Arts have paired up to offer a workshop and retreat held at Borestone Mountain Audubon Sanctuary’s unique lodges, nestled in the Hundred Mile Wilderness area of northern Maine outside of Elliotsville Township.
When the partnership began four years ago, it had felt only natural to reach out to nearby Monson Arts to create retreats at Borestone Mountain. Pairing the Monson Arts mission—to provide time and space for creative work—with Maine Audubon’s mission—to conserve Maine wildlife and wildlife habitat by engaging people in education, conservation, and action—felt like such a perfect blend. To slow down, to observe and reflect, to actively use all your senses . . . that could easily apply both to naturalists and to artists.
The retreat differs slightly each year, as we seek to find different ways to deepen connections to nature, and various ways to foster creative expression. This year, the focus was on nature journaling through art. Maine Audubon Director of Conservation Sally Stockwell was our guide to the old-growth forests, birds, and ecology. Sarah Shaw, a cartoonist, illustrator, and Assistant Professor of Illustration at Maine College of Art & Design, led the artistic exploration, offering writing prompts, visual storytelling exercises, and experimental illustration activities.
Our third teacher was the landscape itself.
This retreat is made special by its location. Just getting to the lodges requires some creativity! You’re immediately putting aside distractions like the Internet and your watch. To start, we met at the parking lot on Bodfish Valley Road where sanctuary staff loaded us and all our gear into pickup trucks and we bounced up the mile-long dirt access road. You pass by an old sugar house but then the twisty road quickly plunges into thick forest. About 15 minutes later, we arrived at a clearing by the edge of Sunrise Pond with the view of Borestone Mountain right in front of us. There’s a small visitor center and nature store where you can learn about the history of the mountain and the lodges and buy a T-shirt.
Unload and load: from pickup truck to motorboat, staff transported us across first Sunrise, then Midday, then Sunset Pond. It’s a quick ride across these small ponds, and as the lodges come into view, you start to sense just how unique this is.
Bags and gear get carried up to the lodges where we got our room assignments (there’s room for about 24 people). There’s a spectacular Main Lodge with a stone fireplace, a grand piano (for real!), a well-stocked library, and several charmingly rustic rooms with bunk beds. In the Dining Lodge, the long 16-seat communal dining table offers pond-side dining where the sound of tree frogs is your evening concert (and there’s a fireplace there too!). Through a hallway you get glimpses of the pantry and kitchen complete with six-burner gas stove. Other small outbuildings and cabins complete the area; there’s electricity, potable water, and hot showers. And though you’re with a group, there are plenty of places to find privacy with a sketchpad—comfy chairs along the wraparound porch, hammocks, the library, benches along trails.
This became our home for three days. We spent time taking guided hikes and learning about the old growth forest that exists along the back slope of Borestone Mountain. Sally taught us about boreal birds, about bird-friendly forest management practices, and why old-growth forests are so important and rare. About 90% of Maine is forested (the highest of any state in the nation) but less than 3% of that is old growth. Within the sanctuary, there is a 900-acre tract of old growth forest, with trees anywhere from 100 years old to 200 years old to even older. We saw large Red Maples, Sugar Maples, Yellow Birches, and other trees, large dead trees, snags, logs, and nursery trees that all support a wide range of species, from birds to mosses and lichens.
We spent time letting those experiences filter their way into our artistic practice as Sarah guided us through drawing and observation exercises, from making daily diary notes (what did you see/hear/small/touch/notice/wonder?) to creating a soundscape, from making a zine to using found objects to make gel prints. Each person found their own individual outlet; the range of work was remarkable. I quickly realized that the more you notice, the better you are at describing it to others. Details matter! Enhanced powers of observation lead to precision and evocativeness of storytelling.
We were also treated to thoughtfully planned and beautifully executed meals, prepared by local chef Kassie Hefferan of Pleasant and Center Community Kitchen. Kassie is committed to providing locally sourced food and before each meal, Kassie would describe the menu and tell us about the local farm or producer who had provided the components of our meal.
And, of course, there was still plenty of time to swim, canoe, make s’mores, nap, read, paint, and just sit.
Too quickly, it was leaving day. We gathered to show our work and share reflections. I packed my bags, put my watch on, said farewell to the sparrows, frogs, and dragonflies. But then, as we packed up and started to load up the boat, a ferocious gusting rain storm came pummeling across the mountainside. We hunkered down on the boathouse porch to wait it out. I saw a robin working hard to pull an insect out of the mud at the edge of the pond. I think someone sang a song. I felt mist land on my face, bringing with it that fresh earthly smell you never get along the salty coast. Water whipped horizontally across Midday Pond. Storm clouds wiped out our views of the summit and our plans for the afternoon. I took my watch off. It was perfect.
