Project Puffin Research Intern Aubrey Alamshah spent the past few weeks on Maine’s Eastern Egg Rock Island, banding terns, setting up blinds, and performing other research tasks. She shared her experiences in a personal travelogue so we can join her in a first hand account of what it’s like to visit, live, and work on the remote outpost.
“Getting ready to head out to the island was as exciting as it was daunting. I remember packing and repacking all my things, double checking the checklist, making sure my backpack wasn’t too heavy. The packing didn’t stop once I got to the base. Several weeks’ worth of food had to be packed into waterproof bags, jugs of fresh water had to be filled up and stored away, by the time we were finally ready to leave, I was pretty confident we’d be ready for just about anything, and a little worried we wouldn’t be able to fit everything on the boat. Everything managed to fit, however, including us, and before I knew it we were sailing out away from the mainland and off to my new home for two weeks, Eastern Egg Rock Island.
I couldn’t have picked a better day to start! The sun was shining, the ocean was calm, the sky was clear and we could see the islands all around us as we made our way to Eastern Egg Rock. The cool breeze tossing my hair back and the gentle rhythm of the boat skipping over the waves brought back that familiar sense of freedom and excitement that comes from starting out on a new adventure. Standing next to me, driving the boat, was Steve Kress, the founder of Project Puffin and about as close to an expert on these islands as anyone will ever be. He would point out the interesting aspects of the smaller islands as we sailed by: This one has a population of herons nesting on it, that one’s been taking over by a parasitic plant. They were all so interesting and unique, I wanted to explore them all!
Finally, our island came into view. A small, rocky bump on the horizon, devoid of any signs of civilization save one, tiny, wooden shack.
“The Egg Rock Hilton”
‘The Egg Rock Hilton’, Steve explained with a knowing smile which led me to believe the cabin’s illustrious name was perhaps more than slightly ironic. As we approached the island, it became evident that the Hilton wasn’t the only sign of humanity that had been left behind there. As we approached the rocky shore, we were greeted by a large, imposing sign which read “Allan D. Cruickshank Wildlife Sanctuary”, and piled in front of the sign was a veritable mountain of buoys, lobster traps, and piles upon piles of unidentifiable trash which had been washed ashore.
There was no time to take in the symbolism, however. Our work was far from done. There’s no place safe enough for boats to dock on the island, so everything (and everyone) had to be rowed to the shore on a small, inflatable Avon. That monumental task complete, we then had to haul all our things up the path to the Hilton and the platforms where we’d set up our tents.
“Watch where you step!” Col, our island supervisor, explained as she hauled the Avon ashore, ‘There are tern eggs everywhere!’ And so, I grabbed as much as I could carry and teetered my way up the rocky path, avoiding tern eggs and angry tern parents all the way, and so my adventure on Eastern Egg Rock began.”
