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Leaving the place better than we found it
Seeing with my eyes closed
Thomas Jefferson on gun control
How to lie convincingly
Our hardy heartland
Breaking the cycle
How to catch the sun's comings and goings
Thoughts from the inside
Leveraging the internet to build our walls
Twitters from the past
And the invincibility of youth
Without ego projection
Yet another gift of the road
The charming side of obstinance
The creative part of photography
A movie critic looks in the mirror
We are not alone
As part of the system
Defecting from the rear guard
The end of Kumbaya
The wanderer's poet
Running out of dirt
Striking a balance
You are on this page
How to photograph them with anything, even your cellphone
A simple question we get every day
We may be failing to fail
And why no one should hesitate to examine them
Becoming a hero in one's own life story
A writing assignment
A new discovery of something old
Finding new eyes to see old landscapes
Hick humor
Toys for photographing wild places
Experiencing life with God
A radical thought about our radicals
Redemption with style
Hidden heroes among us
Resetting our parallel processor
A village with heart
A lesson from the road
The bullet dodged
A soul sparkles
Isolation in style
Painless ways to lose your virginity : 11/12/15
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The Bay of Fundy, where the sea breathes

Maine was to be my turnaround point, seeing how that's where I run out of USA. Eastport changed that. Located on the southern edge of the Bay of Fundy, Eastport introduced me to extreme tides like I've never seen.

According to Wikipedia, the open ocean tidal range is 2 feet, and the average coastal tides vary 3 feet. With 6-foot tides, I thought home base in San Clemente had good sized tides. That was until I saw 30-foot tides in Eastport.

I scoped out a picture shoot, grabbed lunch in the RV, and when I came out to take the shot, the bay was gone. Another time, I crept over to the edge of a dock and looked down to see a small boat far below. My celebrated vertigo ambushed me, I grabbed a piling, and backed away.

The sea seemed this huge living, breathing creature. Walking on the sea floor, poking into holes recently the home of eels and lobsters, looking up at cliffs with seaweed hanging down at me, I felt the ocean was revealing secret tabernacles to my heathen eyes.

My fascination grew until I went out with a clammer to dig clams on the mud flats. He spoke of clammers taking those extra few minutes and getting caught by the tide. "When it rounds the headland and pours into the bay," he said, "a horse couldn't outrun it. And it doesn't just push you ashore. It comes angry, with whirlpools and waves. No escape."

Seeing how I was so taken by something that was as regular to him as a Californian's commute, he pointed out, "If you like 30-foot tides, you should go to Nova Scotia where the tides pass 50 feet."

My itinerary was instantly changed.

Pictures to come will show Canadian harbors with fishing boats flopped out in the mud, waiting for the tide. With tides so extreme, it makes no sense to build docks 60-feet tall. If they did and someone walked off the edge at low tide, the fall to the water could kill them.

More fun was to pay outfitters to take us out in Zodiacs to catch the incoming tidal bore, and frolic in the 10-foot waves behind them.

New Brunswick has a Reversing Falls where the tide to fill a bay has to pass a narrow inlet. Kayakers are forbidden from trying their luck with the powerful, churning water in either direction.

An Arcadian I met at low tide was collecting small snails, thick by the thousands on the rocks. He called them periwinkles, and I bagged my share. They were tasty boiled, and scooped out of their shells with toothpicks. We had so many that I even shared with Puff.

As an avid mud runner, I was disappointed to learn that I would be missing the mother of all mud runs at the end of August. That's when the lowest tides of the year empty a section of the Bay of Fundy, and the Canadians have their Not Since Moses Run. I was told that a peek over your shoulder at the incoming tidal bore insures your best time. Whereas some marathons have a chase car to pick up stragglers, they have a chase boat.

Watch for more tidal pictures from New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.

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Lovers after all those years on Old Orchard Beach

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Fort Popham casemates

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For some reason, business has fallen off

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Great place for Halloween parties

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Sunset above the Penobscot Narrows Bridge

For more pictures of Maine, click here.

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