When I moved from Oregon to Maine, I realized that my climbing season was about to be shrunk pretty significantly. In anticipation, I tried to start learning a thing or two about ice climbing. I got bits of experience here and there, climbing some ice and mixed in with a bit of dry tooling at the few spots Oregon has to offer: Klinger Springs, Danger Cliffs, and Mt. Hood. Unfortunately, schoolwork and a lack of experienced partners have largely kept me off of the ice this season. When I saw a frozen waterfall on a hike with some friends a few weeks ago, my blood began pumping. A week later, I corralled a couple of friends, packed up my backpack, and made the 10-minute drive from campus to islands in Harpswell, Maine. We followed a beautiful trail for some 15 minutes through the woods to the edge of a cliff that drops over 150 feet down to the bay below. It was in a small break in the cliff band that water flowed over the edge, forming a series of waterfalls ranging between 25 and 40 feet tall: not much, I’ll admit, but it was something. I set up a quick anchor using nearby trees, popped on my crampons (Grivel G14s on Scarpa Phantom Guide boots) and rappelled down the face. Knowing only the basics of ice climbing and armed with relatively little knowledge as to the sturdiness of a given waterfall, I carefully started up the shortest “route.” After realizing that the ice was sturdy and there was much fun to be had, my nervous face turned to one of genuine excitement. I hollered with joy as I topped out, to be greeted by the awed face of my partner, who had never so much as worn crampons before. My partner, Cooper, and I traded belays as we took turns on the various route options. The sun descended behind the islands as I rigged one last anchor. The route I wanted to do hung much further to climber’s left than the others. The large dangling icicles intimidated me, and unfortunately, I couldn’t get the anchor far enough left. I took my first fall about 15 feet off the ground and immediately swung out right. The route now in front of me looked more plausible, but difficult. The line followed a series of small edges in the rock with patches of ice here and there. Thankful for my small amount of drytooling experience, I started up the mixed route in front of me, falling at least once more due to fatigue before topping out amongst a patch of brush. The spot we discovered is by no means a quality crag. In fact, it offers very little. However, there is something to be said for finding your own spot, going on an adventure into the unknown, and doing it with a big smile on your face. We watched the pink light across the frozen bay as we de-rigged our anchor and packed up our gear, satisfied in thirst for adventure.