A balcony vantage point allowed us to see the whole operation at the Fez tannery we visited.

Moroccan leather doesn’t just happen to be colorful, soft, and naturally dyed.  That’s just how we, the consumers, find it.  The real process of softening/dyeing/drying is labor-intensive, to say the least.  But thanks to the families who continue to do the work, tanneries like Chouara Tannery in the Fez medina continue to produce highly prized leather goods sold around the world.

At the end of the tour of the tannery, beautiful leather purses await their buyers.

All the tourist guides we read offered a warning:  Beware the rank odors.  Well, odorous it was in Fez the day we visited, but we were so mesmerized by the work in century-old tiled pits that we put down the sprig of mint offered to us for our noses so we could take pictures of a production we’re not likely to see again in our lifetimes.

Welcoming us to the showroom where leather goods occupied the shelves on all several floors.

From our balcony vantage point, the open space filled with circular pits resembled a child’s paint set — without the brushes, of course.

Two parts of a Fez tannery: white side for softening; colored pits for dyeing.

White pits offered one component of the process — cleaning and softening.  After skins are brought by donkey to the tannery, they are dipped into a mixture of that includes cow urine, pigeon poop, salt and quicklime.

Worker in white pits of Fez tannery.

The colorful dye pits use poppy seed, saffron, henna, and indigo as color agents for the leather which is soaked then lifted out for drying.

Workers are mostly born into the job, and the work is organized as old guilds would have done with men mastering and maintaining specific skills.

A worker rests on the side of dye pit in Fez.

It takes two: Fez tannery

Perched on a dye pit: Fez tannery

The entire tanning process is not without drawbacks, of course, as laborers standing in chemicals all day report frequent health problems.

Utilizing natural dyes of henna, indigo, saffron and poppy, workers add color to softened hides.

So, should you visit the tanneries in Morocco?  We say MOST DEFINITELY. If you’re interested in practices handed down through generations since medieval times and seeing how Moroccan leather gets — and deserves — its reputation for being the finest in the world, then, by all means, “Get thee to a tannery!”  (Hold your nose, if you have to.)

Man outside the tannery in Fez signaled his OK for our visit.

For more information:

Chouara Tannery located in Fes el Bali, the oldest part of the medina.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chouara_Tannery

For more pictueres of Fez, Morocco, click on our Flickr account.

And for more posts, check out Marvelous Morocco.

Remnants of a home in Volubilis, Morocco

Even if you’ve never heard of Volubilis, it’s a place we’d put on anyone’s must-see list for Morocco.

Rolling hills and green pastures: Volubilis, Morocco

With an idyllic setting akin to fields of green, Volubilis is a place to breathe deeply and listen carefully to sounds of gentle breezes, harvesters gathering wheat, and low-voiced scholars marveling at the mosaics in this city built by Romans in the second century, considered the ancient capital of the kingdom of Mauretania.

Roaming the remains of structures in Volubilis, Morocco

From this hill town, you can gaze at Meknes not so far away . . .

View of Meknes from the hilltop vantage point of Volubilis

and watch as country settings worthy of paintings unfold before you.

A farmer with his donkey moves cuttings along a country road.

People flock to Volubilis for its ruins — remnants of fine town homes with intricate mosaic floors still miraculously intact even after earthquakes in the 18th century rocked the foundations and looters carried off stones for the building of Meknes just over the hill.

Remains of the Arch of Caracalla at Volubilis stand tall against the sky.

Now, as a World Heritage Site, Volubilis commands the respect it deserves, and photographers, historians, and architects roam the grounds seeking insight into the past life of this olive-growing community nestled in the countryside.

But for all its remaining grandeur and historic lure, historic Volubilis lost out the day we were there to another sight, an unexpected one:  a rather large stork’s nest perched atop a marble column, home to a mother and little ones.

And unexpected sight:
a stork’s nest prominently perched on a column near the Basilica

In fact, most people that day were staring at the storks.

Sitting by the storks at Volubilis and taking it all in!

No matter how much the tourists wanted to look more closely at the mosaics or have their pictures taken as they posed in the archways of the Basilica, their attention just couldn’t — or wouldn’t — veer from that fascinating family of storks.

Some posing for pictures, some staring at storks at the archway in Volubilis

And when in Volubilis . . . well, we did the same.  After all, stork sightings are rare for us.  With the exception of a few in Romania, we can’t say we’ve seen these high-mounded nests anywhere else in the world, although we know they’re there.  We just hadn’t been fortunate enough to see them. Until this day.

Mother and babies — the storks of Volubilis

But here they were.  And here also was that family of storks.  Almost everyone in Volubilis that day did as we did:  We all watched for long periods of time, holding our cameras still, hoping to see that mama stork pop her head up and smile at the crowd between feedings!

The object of our affection at historic Volubilis

And so it was.  We went for the ruins and the history and the countryside at Volubilis . . .

Looking back at Volubilis, but remembering the storks!

but what left us breathless (yet smiling) were storks. (And, as if this one nest wasn’t enough, we noted a whole tower of nests as we approached the highway headed to Fes the next day!)

A tower of storks in Morocco

We’re adding Stork Staring to our list of must-do’s when in Morocco!

— Bert and Rusha Sams

You can find more of Marvelous Morocco under Travel Series in the heading of our blog.

A walk through Chefchaouen takes you past shopkeeper’s wares, through blue-painted arches, and over uneven cobblestone streets.

Chefchaouen, originally called Chaouen, meaning “peaks,” sits firmly among the peaks of the Rif mountains. In 1975, the town was renamed Chefchaouen (Look at the Peaks).  It’s a colorful white-and-blue montage of buildings that can be seen from a pull-out along the highway. And the doors, windows, flat roofs and scrunched-up living quarters make for a memorable view from the road.

From the highway going in to this city, this is the initial view of the colorful “Blue Pearl” of Morocco.

A little rock hut with a blue door of its own welcomes you along with the flag of Morocco.

An inset blue door surrounded by white welcomes visitors to this town that is now discovered and “on the map,” so to speak.

The town, founded in 1471, began to grow quickly with the arrival of Jewish and Muslim refugees from Granada in 1494 who bought up the smallish tile-roofed abodes that lend a Spanish look to Chefchaouen.

Dry pigment awaits buyers in Chefchouen. When mixed with a bit of water, it defines this little city known for colorful walls and doors.

But it’s the blue you want to see — sort of a watery wash of blue that pervades the town as if residents bought the color in powder form, used a little too much water, and slung the paint willy-nilly all over the walls and steps and doors.

Blue steps lead to a blue door at a residence in Chefchaouen.

No one cares much about detail.  It’s the blend of sea blue, sky blue, marine blue and baby blue with pure white that sets this town apart. And the doors provide details, varying in form and construction and history, making you wonder why did they select that style, who lives behind them, and what their story is.

Doorways invite you to climb the steps and pose for pictures as we did — often!

Perhaps a perfect place to pose for a picture:
under a blue arched doorway in Chefchouen.

But sometimes, we just stood still, watching residents going about their daily chores.

A man in Chefchaouen sweeps off the walkway in front of his door.

Some doors are almost obscured as goods (mostly for tourists to take home) frame the openings, making you wonder what’s inside.  And, as we can attest, if you walk in, you’ll probably walk out with more than you came with!

Leather goods, perhaps made at the tannery in Fez, frame a doorway in Chefchaouen.

Just off the town square, Alcazaba, a fortress built in 1471, offers more glimpses into the architecture of this well-preserved building that’s now houses a museum.

Alcazaba, the kasbah in Chefchaouen, opens off the town square.

Of all the sites we saw in Morocco, the town of Chefchaouen  remains one of the most memorable — from its colorful blue walls, steep steps and simple, yet fairly complex doors.  “The Blue Pearl,” as it’s called in several guidebooks, is one town you don’t want to miss in this country that seems to have it all.

Best thing to do in Chefchaouen? Wander through the blue.

For more information:

We booked our trip to Chefchaouen and other towns in Morocco through Ortelius Travel.  Our agent, Lauren Gunnels, can recommend riads and restaurants — some of which even have blue doors! (We stayed at Lina Riad & Spa and dined at Auberge Dardara Restaurant, at the recommendation of our guide.)

For more Thursday Doors, click here.

For more about Morocco, go to Marvelous Morocco in the bar at the top of this blog.

Camel riding in the Sahara: just do it!

replied, “You’ve got the wrong people for that.”  After all, we had done just that at the Knoxville Zoo atop a mangy, reluctant beast who shuffled around a dirt ring with us and our granddaughter hanging on for dear life.  But when in the Sahara, ya gotta do what ya gotta do.  There’s only one way to see sundown in Morocco:  on a camel’s back.  And yes, you still may be hanging on for dear life.

After leaving Ourzazate, you drive half a day (at least) past oases, farm land, clusters of homes surrounding yet another beautiful mosque until you finally come to Merzouga, the

The “road” from Merzouga to Erg Chebbi

place where you leave the comfort of your guided tour and hop into a jeep headed to the desert.  You travel along an unmarked road.  (Well, really there is no road.  And how the Jeep drivers know their way through sand was just one of the baffling realities of our trip to Morocco.)

We went past campsites of nomads, past tourists mounting camels, and into what seemed to be the end of the earth as we knew it.  But it was really just the edge of Erg Chebbi.  Now, an erg is a sea of dunes formed by wind-blown sand, but this erg is dotted with campsites the likes of which you may have never seen before.

With mint tea and cookies in front and luxury behind the door, we approached our tent in the Sahara.

Welcoming us with open arms and a pot of herb tea in a silver pitcher, our hosts for the evening guided us to a white tent worthy of Lawrence of Arabia.

Welcoming us to Erg Chebbi with open arms.

And once inside, we were surprised by red velvet “walls” and down comforters — not like any tent camping we’d ever experienced.  On one side of the tent: a private shower.  On the other side: a private toilet.  Sinks, mirrors, and hot water, too:  all part of the standard luxury treatment.

Deep red walls and plush bedding greeted us in our tent for the night in the Sahara.

But behind the tent was what we came to see: dunes piled high against an afternoon sky with camels sitting idly by, waiting for a sunset run with yet another batch of tourists.

Camels await the sundown tour through the desert.

Wrapped tightly in all white, our guide waited patiently for our party of six to arrive.  And then he shared secrets of successful mounting — some of which we understood, some of which we didn’t.

Posing with the guide who would help me mount a camel — hopefully!

It was all good advice, we quickly learned, even if we didn’t fully comprehend:  “As the camel moves, you move in the opposite direction.  If he comes up, you bend down. If he dips down unexpectedly, you move upright.”  And we thought about that, not really knowing any more than when we started the journey.  But with a few flourishes and counter moves, we were up.

Success! Bert mounts a camel!

And then (even before we were ready) we were off!  The guide held the rope of the first camel which was tied to all the others, and the camels knew the drill.  (Take the tourists one careful step at a time: up and over and around those dunes!)

A camel caravan in the desert. (I’m number five, taking pictures from behind.)

We dismounted once, as we were given the opportunity to climb to the highest mound of sand.  Some did. Some didn’t.  But all took in the afternoon glow as the sun began its descent.

Dismounting to rest and take it all in.

Want the best view of the sunset? Ya gotta climb!

By the time we re-mounted, we had only a few shaky camel steps downward before we all held tight to the reins with one hand and our cameras with the other to capture sundown in the Sahara.  Worth it.  Totally.

Riding again — into the sunset

Sundown. At last.

Meanwhile back in the camp, dinner was bountiful — Moroccan dishes, one after another.  And entertainment that got us up: bouncing, singing, clapping and cheering on the brave ones selected by the drummer to entertain the group.

Circling the firepit and waiting for the stars to come out.

After dinner the light show began. With nothing more than a fire pit for a soft glow, we sat around and pointed at stars, the moon, and the pitch black sky before turning in and putting our tired bodies to rest on those plush beds in the tents.

Dawn’s early light in the Sahara

Morning began at 4:30 a.m. when we did as we were told the night before: “Put on your clothes and get outside.  You may only have one chance to see sunrise at the Sahara.” And the host was right.  Worth it again.

How’s this for a screen saver shot of dawn in the Sahara!

Saying good-bye was like parting after a week of camping — sweet but a little sad.  But back into the Jeep again — and on to the next adventure.  Morocco just may have it all — cities with medinas, vast stretches of fertile land and small farming communities, coastal towns, and sand.  Lots and lots of sand.  What a country!

Saying good-bye at Bivouac Sahara, a perfect desert experience.

For more information:

Contact your travel agent and ask for information on camping in the Sahara.  Or just Google “Camping in the Morocco desert.”  You’ll find prices, dates, and accommodations for just about every budget.  But, for sure: don’t mark it off your to-do list ’til you’ve done it!

Thanks for traveling to Morocco with us —

Bert and Rusha Sams

For more places to see in this fascinating country, click on Marvelous Morocco under Travel Series.

Sweet Southern home in McClellanville, SC complete with front porch, quiet grounds, and trees festooned with Spanish moss.

Visiting McClellanville is a trip back in time: Lovely homes with wide front porches sit underneath trees dripping with Spanish moss.  We generally park the car, walk the two or three blocks known as “downtown,” eat lunch, and then head home with our blood pressure lowered and our need for a small- town fix satisfied.

But not this time.  As we walked down the uneven sidewalk beneath draping trees, we suddenly — and I do mean suddenly — stopped dead in our tracks with this sight.  Yes, you’re seeing this correctly:  a head.  Tall as the bottom story of the house, tucked under a porch, unpainted, and apologizing to no one.

Somethin’ creepy in McClellanville

I desperately wanted to go toward it to see what it was made of.  To see if it had a back.  To see if I could figure out what it was used for.  But going onto the grass might mean I was trespassing, and I was a little freaked out thinking what someone might do if that someone saw me patting down the forehead or looking behind the ears.

So, with my trusty iPhone, I moved as close as I thought the law would allow and snapped a picture as surreptitiously as possible.

A little bit closer, but only a little bit!

And then both of us beat a hasty retreat to the car, only to pass this house in full decay mode.

Seen better times in McClellanville.

I guess it’s true:  What’s real is sometimes pretty surreal.

Happy Halloween!  And beware:  a slow stroll through a cute town might actually creep you out.

— Bert and Rusha Sams

Wood turner in Marrakech medina working with his feet!

Moroccan woodturners are pros, though.  And with skilled hands and strategic balance, they seem to be quite productive even with tourists looking on.

Chef Joanne Weir grabs a shot of a wood turner in the Marrakech medina.

Take this guy, for example.  He places the wood on a pole, lays a knife on top, and spins a little make-shift lathe with — you’re seeing it correctly — only a foot or two!  We watched.  We clapped.  And then we purchased freshly turned pieces of an art you don’t see often, if at all, in the U. S.

Later in Fes, we happened upon this workman who — everyday, no less — sits in this little box-like space in the medina and shapes combs out of natural bone.  He, too, uses his feet to steady the piece of bone.

A craftsman in Fes uses his feet to shape bone into creative combs.

He carefully presses his foot against a large piece of bone while he cuts shapes such as whales, ducks, birds, etc. to top off his combs.

Bird comb made of bone and shaped with a workman’s foot: Fes, Morocco

In Morocco, most craftsmen we met or acknowledged with a head nod absolutely, positively didn’t want their picture taken.  But the comb maker seemed genuinely enthralled when our guide asked if I could pose with him.  So, here’s one of the happiest people I met in Morocco — a man who goes every day to his workplace, sits in what seems to me to be a cramped space and cranks out the finest examples of bone combs in creative shapes.  A fine memory, for sure.

It’s a rare to find someone who not only allows photos but actually poses with a tourist!

For more posts on Morocco, take a look here.

And to see pictures of our journey, head to Flickr to take in the sights of this colorful country.

Thanks for traveling with us,

Bert and Rusha Sams

Mats laid out for the Call to Prayer at Koutoubia Mosque, Marrakech

Since we love the brevity and pop of Instagram, we’ve decided to share — in short bursts of photography — a few images that have stayed with us after a visit to the colorful, exotic city of Marrakech in a series titled Memories of Marrakech.  Here’s the first one:  The Mats at Koutoubia Mosque.

Prayer mats laid out end to end on an area adjacent to Koutoubia.

Koutoubia Mosque is a central landmark of Marrakech, a place where tour guides begin an explanation of the city and its people.  We marveled at the sandstone and brick architecture, the horseshoe windows, and multifoil arches.  And we were fascinated by the fact that the first mosque built on the site had an error in orientation — those who prayed on the plaza surrounding Koutoubia really weren’t facing Mecca as they should be doing.  A new mosque soon took the place of the first “disoriented” one.

But what we found most fascinating during Ramadan (when we visited) were the dozens and dozens of mats all lined up ready for Call to Prayer.  It’s an image that has stuck with us ever since.  Although we never witnessed people praying, we could imagine how the plaza might look with so many devout worshipers in one place.  Definitely a focal point for Marrakech and this cultural, religious center of town.

Ready for Call to Prayer!

We hope you’ll check out our whole series:  Marvelous Morocco!

— Rusha and Bert Sams

A stall filled with pierced metal lighting in the Marrakech medina.

Shopping is nothing new to Marrakech.  Located at the end of the Salt Road and on the way north to Casablanca and Rabat, visitors have poured into Marrakech for centuries as a place for goods, but mostly a feast for the senses.

I don’t pretend to have seen all of the Marrakech medina, even after three trips.  But I loved what I saw.  From the outside tourist stalls to the winding, skinny unnamed streets that take you past booths filled with everything from antiques to leather goods to basketry and pierced metal lighting, the medina offers an overload of colors, smells, and sounds.

If there’s one piece of advice to pass on, it’s this:  first-timers need a guide.  Negotiating narrow alleyways with sharp turns where stalls can look alike means you can — and probably will — get lost.  After all, you’re rarely focusing on where you’re going.: You’re too busy looking at what’s for sale. My first day in the medina was spent with two women from California, Susan Gaither and Kendra Hodder, who arrived at Jnane Tamsna one day early, as I did, for our Culinary Journey to Morocco with Chef Joanne Weir.

And when you arrive at the medina, there’s more to see than you can imagine.  Like these hands of Fatima, named after the daughter of  the prophet Muhammad.  The hands, our guide told us, are protective signs bringing the owner a sense of safety, happiness, and good luck.

Hands of Fatima offer protection from evil. We all need one, right?

I really had to hold back in this shop offering some of the finest work on inlaid pieces of furniture, hand-painted pottery, and carvings all in rich Moroccan style.

Pottery shops became one of our favorite places as well, but we had a hard time figuring out how to pack blue-and-white painted bowls, platters, and salt cellars into our suitcases to take home.  (Some of us — I’m not saying who —  bought an extra suitcase!)

Lovely painted pottery lined the walls of one stall in the Marrakech medina.

Designer clothing hung over our heads in this shop, but the owner willingly brought pieces down to our level to try on or hold up to see if they would fit.

The designer himself was in this clothing shop to take down any items we wanted to try on.

Our guide, Sharif, took us to a basket place that was touristy, but we didn’t mind.  After all, we thought we’d look pretty sassy carrying a Marrakech tote to this beach this summer.

Our guide, Sharif, shows Kendra Hodder the popular pompom we saw on baskets and shoes.

But my favorite areas of the medina were the souks where artisans work every day but Friday crafting specialty items by hand.  Families sometimes worked together as this one did in Souk Cherratine where bags, poufs, and coats of camel-skin (most expensive) or goat-hide (more reasonably priced) are made.

This young boy helps his father make leather poufs by cutting out the circles for the bottoms.

A maker of leather poufs took time to pose with my friends Susan Gaither and Kendra Hodder from California.

Souk Smata is devoted to traditional leather slippers.  Saffron yellow slippers, we were told, are most popular among adults in Fes.  But we chose some for our grandchildren embellished with pom pom balls.

Yellow slippers all in a row in the Marrakech medina.

Overhead in the dyers souk (Souk des Tenturiers) you dodge shanks of yarn hanging from rafters or bamboo coverings.   Shopkeepers told us this was cactus silk made from the agave plant.  Whatever it was, it took the rich color of the dye quite well.  And it was here that we found men who actually didn’t mind if we took their picture.  One even posed for the “crazy ladies from the U.S.”

Finally, our guide found us a place to sit down — in a carpet shop.  Little did we know that we would spend two hours watching as men rolled out one Berber after another, letting us know regions of origin or weaving techniques or the meaning of the embedded patterns.  But sitting down felt good.  And we bought rugs we didn’t even know we needed. Not only that, a special treat awaited:  hot mint tea! Let the carpet show begin!

In our last souk of the day, Souk Haddadine, blacksmiths and woodworkers plied their trades in small, small spaces.

On the way out, we stopped by an argan oil shop to watch ladies in traditional dress shell argan nuts from the Argania spinosa tree.  The oil is extracted from the nuts and sold in several forms from lotions to pure oil meant to soften your skin.  A great takeaway from Marrakech.

Shelling argan nuts in the Marrakech medina.

Of course, there’s far more in the Marrakech medina.  My next post will feature food (at least the stalls that would allow photos of what they offer) sold within and outside the medina.

A sight to see: the Marrakech medina!

Colorful stalls, sounds of motorcycles whizzing through winding maze-like alleyways, artisans hard at work  — just another day in Marrakech!

— Rusha Sams

For more pictures of Marrakech, check out my Flickr album: Marrakech 2018:  https://www.flickr.com/photos/placeswesee/albums/72157697015074334

Early morning sun brightens the waters of Castine harbor where the sailing vessel Bowdoin resides.

Coastal Maine offers glorious sunrises if you’re willing to wake up early, bundle yourself in layers, and stand on a dock for the morning show.

And you’re never alone.  From birds gliding overhead to lobstermen checking traps before dawn, docks like Acadia in Castine put on a spectacle like no other.

Leaving Acadia Dock before dawn is the Maine Maritime Academy tug awash in early-morning sunlight.

Sunlight filters through lobster traps at Acadia Dock, Castine, Maine

Dawn comes in layers.  First a subtle orange or salmon or pinkish sky.

Aglow in morning light, a lone tethered boat stands ready.

Then a peep of light that quickly washes over anything in front of it.

Sunrise: Castine Harbor.

To a full-blown wake-up of morning activities.

Morning light: Castine, Maine.

Just another sunrise?  No such thing.

For more sunrises and sunsets, visit the WordPress DailyPost Weekly Photo Challenge:  Rise/Set.

For more posts on the beautiful state of Maine, check our Travel Series:  Autumn Down East.

Main road in Monhegan – pleasantly untouched.

It’s no wonder artists and writers hole up in Monhegan.  The entire island could fittingly be called “land that time forgot.”  Weathered gray shingled houses, grass growing through piles of lobster traps, dirt paths proud to be left alone — it all adds up to the lure of a scene you can’t make up nor one that you can quickly forget.  Not that you’d want to.

From lighthouse hill: a view of the town of Monhegan. Dominating the landscape: The Island Inn. But also noticeable — the red house among the grays.

A day spent on Monhegan, even a week, may not be long enough.  But if you visit in October — after Columbus Day — you don’t have to fight crowds or residents or anyone, for that matter.  You almost have the island to yourself.

Enjoying the quiet.

The owner of Shining Sails graciously rented a room to us after tourist season, adding sage advice:  “Bring everything you need.  Nothing is open.  No restaurants, no coffee shops, not even the lighthouse museum or the library.  Everyone’s shut for the season. Pack it in.  Pack it out.  No public trash cans on the island.” And we believed her, packing the basics for dinner in our room.

Sage advice for our trip came from Shining Sails, the only inn we found to be open.

But even with the promise of an almost-deserted island, we found five great places to see on Monhegan in 24 hours.

1.  The Dock at Monhegan

Silently monitoring the comings and goings of the island, the dock at Monhegan has seen its share of activity.  What with the Laura B bringing somewhat sea-weary travelers to shore and then taking them back to Port Clyde, the dock would seem busy enough with three trips daily during high tourist season. (Only one trip in October.)

Bringing cargo and people to Monhegan: The Laura B

But tourists aren’t the only thing landing here.  Think food, furniture, fishing gear — well, you get the picture.  Everything that comes in or goes out moves across this hard-working dock, the unequivocal hub for loading/unloading and checking up on what — and who — is new.

Monhegan Dock can be a welcome center, but it also doubles as a place for teary send-offs like this one when year-round residents put the summer museum curator on the boat to winter-over at home.  She promised to return when the lighthouse re-opens.

Permanent residents waving good-bye to the summer curator of the lighthouse museum.

2.  Monhegan Architecture

Ten miles out of Monhegan, we leaned over the rail of the Laura B to get our first glimpse of homes on Monhegan.  They were different, of course.  And nothing like what we expected.  Stiff-legged houses balanced on stilts lined the shore. And up the hill, firmly planted, gray-shingled homes blended in with the landscape.

Sitting right on water’s edge, a gray shingled house balances on sturdy legs.

Some homes were unadorned.  Plain, in fact.  Others looked abandoned with their cast-aside-til-another-day traps and chains and unpretentious boats piled up in yards that rarely get mowed. But some had the New England charm you might see on Cape Cod or Martha’s Vineyard.

Blending in yet standing out, The Island Inn caught our attention right as we landed. The 32-room hotel revamped in 1910 was hard to miss.

Looming from behind the seaside houses: The Island Inn of Monhegan.

3. Lobster Cove

Normally fairly crowded, this well-worn path to Lobster Cove becomes a place of quiet after Columbus Day.

Visiting Monhegan without hiking to Lobster Cove would be like touring Maine without seeing a lighthouse.  Two-thirds of the 700-acre island is conservation land with 12 miles of walking trails.  The trek to Lobster Cove is only half a mile with one relatively steep climb up Wharf Hill Road (not marked, by the way). Located at the south end of the island, Lobster Cove is home to a shipwreck, a site well-marked with a wooden cross adorned with a ring of coiled rope. According to “1-Minute Hike: Lobster Cove on Monhegan Island,” the 110-foot tug D.T. Sheridan was declared a loss by Coast Guard authorities after grounding at Lobster Point on November 8, 1948.

Temporary residents of Lobster Cove

Photographers and birders love Lobster Cove for its completely natural state, but tourists are warned not to swim since undertow and high waters can be quite hazardous.

In the distance: remains of the D. T. Sheridan on Lobster Cove

Aside from staring at the untouched landscape and listening to the dash of the waves against rocks, we were struck by the beauty of this house standing alone facing the sea.  Although there was not a single other human at the cove the day we were there, we later asked a resident hiking in town, “Who lives in that house?”

The house at Lobster Cove

His answer:  artist Jamie Wyeth. But he quickly added:  “He’s hardly ever here anymore.”

4.  Downtown Monhegan

As we strolled the dirt paths and gazed at remnants of lobster buoys and traps leaning against unoccupied homes, we wondered if there even was a Downtown Monhegan.  But collectively the little buildings form a downtown like no other.  At one end of the “main street,” a solitary white schoolhouse stood calmly on a hill, proud to house its five students, soon to be four.

Walking the hill to Monhegan School

Nearby was the library whose inside belies the feeling that this is a mere small structure. It’s not.  Tomes both new and old line the walls from floor to ceiling.

Then there was the general store.  (Thank goodness!) We can be “packers” on an island, but oh, how we missed morning coffee! The owner of L. Brackett & Son Provisions greeted us, handed over a mug of steamy goodness and welcomed us to Monhegan.  Never has a breakfast tasted better: fried egg on English muffin eaten while perched on stools at a two-seater counter.

Other downtown establishments were closed for the season except for the U. S. Post Office.  Now, if only we could have found a postcard to buy . . .

5.  Monhegan Island Light

At the pinnacle (literally and figuratively) of the island stands the last creation of architect Alexander Parris, the 1850 structure known as Monhegan Island Light.  And we, standing among the buildings that comprise this hilltop assemblage, felt that we had been incorporated into an Edward Hopper painting:  stark white boxy shapes topped with reddish roofs casting long shadows at both sunrise and sunset.

Monhegan Island Light at sunrise

Beside the buildings, an empty boat sits idle, reminiscent of busier times.

Boat at Monhegan Island Light

And the buildings themselves, now operated as a museum, form a complex made up of the the lighthouse keeper’s house, a storage building, and oil house.

Greeting the sun: buildings at Monhegan Island Light

The 47-foot circular tower built of granite blocks stands tall against the sun while light streams through the lantern house. At sundown — at least during October — you can catch a stark silhouette of the tower against an orange sky.

Catching the last rays of sun at Monhegan Island Light

For us, being alone atop lighthouse hill at sunrise watching daybreak over Monhegan remains one of our fondest travel memories.  And seeing the tiny village below bathed in waves of sunlight and shadows was an experience we will never forget.

Sunrise on The Island Inn from Monhegan Island Light

Of course, there are more good times to be had in Monhegan, ones that can only occur during busy times when people fill the inns and pack the trails and capture unspoiled scenery at every turn. But we were content with our solitary, yet brief, sojourn when we relished the quiet life on this heavenly isle.

For us, Monhegan was magical — a land perhaps that time has forgotten.

But we never will.

— Rusha and Bert Sams

For more photos and posts on our month in Maine, check out Autumn Down East in the Travel Series bar at the top.