Puffins, Fog, and the Wild Coast: A Birdwatcher’s Quest Through Maine

July 31, 2026

This piece was written by guest author Tahmina Watson, an immigration attorney, nature photographer, and author based in Seattle. She shares the winding journey of her long-awaited puffin pilgrimage to Maine, and how cancellations, rough seas, and dense fog ultimately made the experience even more unforgettable. All photos featured were captured by Tahmina.

It was during a summer trip to New Hampshire in 2024 that I first considered extending my journey into neighboring Maine. A curious search on eBird and a few clicks later, I discovered that the state is home to one of North America’s most beloved seabirds: the Atlantic Puffin. I was captivated.

That moment sparked a travel goal I hadn’t anticipated. I quickly found the Bold Coast Charter Company, a highly recommended operator offering puffin-watching tours off the remote Downeast coast. But by the time I reached their website, every tour was sold out. Disappointed but determined, I made a mental note, and a digital calendar alert, to try again the following year.

In March 2025, the reservations opened. At 5:55 a.m. Pacific Time, with the kind of nervous anticipation usually reserved for concert ticket releases, I logged on. Nothing happened. Then at 6:10 a.m., a message appeared: I was the 200th person in the virtual queue. My heart sank. But finally, I secured a coveted summer booking. The puffin pilgrimage was back on.

As the trip approached, real life intervened, work, family travel planning, and the usual logistics. With children and extended family involved, organizing this adventure wasn’t simple. But I was determined to see it through. When the day came to confirm details with the tour operator, I placed a call during lunch. That’s when I heard the words no traveler wants to hear: “I’m so sorry, but your trip has been canceled due to rough seas.”

There was a long pause. I asked her to repeat it, twice, hoping I had misunderstood. I hadn’t.

With my accommodations four and a half hours away close to Cutler Maine, where I was to take my original cruise, I pivoted. A quick search revealed other puffin tours available farther south, and I quickly secured two backup trips. I decided to make the most of it.

Driving through rural Maine revealed a version of America that felt timeless, long stretches of pine-framed highways, minimal cell service, and few signs of modern life. As the daylight faded and the rain set in, I finally reached the Machias River Inn, where a kind staff member welcomed me just as the skies opened. The inn was a welcome surprise: rustic yet airy, simple but well-maintained. My room overlooked the river, though at night, it looked more like a misty abyss than a waterway.

At sunrise, the view transformed. A soft glow lit the Machias River, and the landscape came to life. I took in the serenity, snapped a few photos, and set off toward Bar Harbor for my next scheduled cruise.

Bar Harbor, with its postcard-perfect coastal charm, greeted me with sea breezes, sun-drenched docks, and the cheerful bustle of summer tourists. Families strolled with ice cream cones, seagulls wheeled overhead, and boats rocked gently in the harbor. I boarded a puffin tour with Bar Harbor Whale Watch Co. and, while the birds were too distant for crisp photography, the sight of puffins skimming the waves was thrilling nonetheless. The chilly winds and choppy waters made me appreciate just how accurate the “rough seas” warning had been.

After the cruise, I drove the scenic loop through Acadia National Park, stopping frequently to photograph birds and soak in the breathtaking views. The park’s dramatic cliffs, forested trails, and sweeping coastal vistas were stunning in the golden afternoon light. One of the highlights was spotting a bald eagle hidden among the foliage, just its white head visible. It became one of my favorite captures to date.

That evening, I checked into the Pathmaker Hotel, a warm and thoughtfully designed retreat conveniently located across from a local grocer where I treated myself to a classic Maine lobster roll, fresh, buttery, and unforgettable.
The next morning, a heavy fog had settled in, and I headed to Petit Island Point for a more intimate puffin-watching experience. Run by a husband-and-wife team, this small boat tour Acadia Puffin Cruise offered close-up views of Petit Manan Island, one of Maine’s key puffin nesting sites. The sea was unforgiving, waves swelled high, and fog cloaked the horizon. But I was prepared. Birding has made me far more adventurous than I ever imagined.

As we neared the island, the puffins slowly emerged from the mist, almost as if they were appearing out of another world. At first, there were only a few tiny silhouettes bobbing on the gray water. Then more came into view, floating in small groups, diving beneath the surface, darting low across the waves with astonishing speed, and occasionally lifting into the air with their rapid, whirring wingbeats. Their bright orange beaks glowed against the muted landscape, tiny flashes of color piercing the fog like little lanterns.

Above us, Arctic Terns wheeled effortlessly through the sky, their graceful calls carried by the wind, while curious gray seals surfaced against the rocky island shores, then close to the boat. Their dark eyes quietly observing us before disappearing beneath the water again. Every direction offered another reminder that this stretch of Maine's coast belonged first and foremost to its wildlife.

The dense fog and rolling seas made photography especially challenging. The boat rocked constantly from side to side, making it nearly impossible to keep my camera steady. Each time I focused on a puffin, another wave would shift the boat just enough to throw it out of frame. But somehow, none of that mattered. I was simply grateful to be there. I reminded myself that if I came home with only one or two photographs I truly loved, it would be enough. Some moments are meant to be experienced first and photographed second.

Our journey concluded with a brief stop at Egg Rock Island, where harbor seals lounged across smooth rocks softened by the mist. The entire scene felt surreal, as though I had stepped into a watercolor painting, muted shades of gray and blue blending together, softened by the fog until sea, sky, and stone seemed to melt into one another. Everything was wonderfully quiet, peaceful, and dreamlike.

That afternoon, I began the drive back toward the airport, reflecting on the winding and unexpected path this adventure had taken. What began as a simple quest to see one remarkable bird had become something far greater: a journey through Maine's rugged coastlines, charming fishing villages, hidden harbors, and protected islands, each revealing its own quiet beauty.

Most of all, I carried with me the memory of those puffins in the mist. Their orange beaks burned brightly against the silver-gray sea, their fast, determined flights flashing past my camera before disappearing into the fog. They looked almost mythical, creatures suspended between sea and sky. I thought about how close I had come to missing this experience because of the weather, and how fortunate I was that a handful of dedicated tour operators were willing to brave the rough conditions, giving visitors like me the opportunity to witness these extraordinary birds during such a fleeting window of the year.

As I drove away from the coast, I realized that the photographs were only part of what I was bringing home. I was so grateful for this precious experience. The true gift of the journey was the reminder that nature rarely unfolds according to our plans. Sometimes the greatest beauty reveals itself not beneath clear blue skies, but through fog, uncertainty, and patience. Had the day been sunny, I might have captured sharper photographs. Instead, I left with something even more memorable: the image of puffins emerging from the mist like living brushstrokes on a canvas, a scene that felt less like wildlife watching and more like stepping into a dream.

Birding has expanded not only the way I travel, but how I see the world. Maine, with its wild beauty and weathered charm, reminded me that nature is never predictable, but always worth chasing.

About the Author

Tahmina Watson is an immigration attorney, nature photographer and author of the “Color Your Joy” coloring book series. She lives in Seattle and shares her work at tahminawatson.com.