The Working Waterfront - April 2023

Maine’s ports poised for growth

Wind turbines, refrigeration capacity point to active future

BY TOM GROENING

The future of Maine’s three state-supported shipping ports is bright, says Matt Burns, director of the Maine Port Authority.

“We have a lot of activities on our plate out to the end of the decade,” Burns said during a Feb. 14 online presentation hosted by the Waterfront Alliance, a Portland working waterfront advocacy group.

Chief among those activities are a growing capacity for refrigerated cargo at the International Marine Terminal in Portland and the role likely to be played in developing offshore wind turbines by Mack Point or Sears Island in Searsport. The third port, Eastport, is a focus for the authority as it works to develop business there.

Burns, whose career included stints on dredge, drill, and cruise ships, has been executive director of the port authority, the quasi-state agency, for less than a year, but he had served as interim director. The authority’s mission is to develop, maintain, and promote port and intermodal facilities “to stimulate commerce and enhance the global competitiveness” of the state.

UNFRIENDLY TEMPERATURES—

Portland has lost some ship traffic as oil deliveries have declined, Burns said, though he acknowledged the carbon-reduction represented by that decline is welcomed. He praised the work Iceland-based operator Eimskip has done in Portland. The company operates in ports around the world.

“They’ve brought the freight,” he said, and have maintained weekly ship service since 2018. The state has invested nearly $100 million in the port since 2009, Burns said.

“Almost everything is brand-new in the last five years,” he said.

Free community college gets good marks Program achieving workforce, educational goals

BY STEPHANIE BOUCHARD

Emma Brezovsky, 18, a senior at Bucksport High School, wants to become a teacher. To achieve that goal, she knows she needs a bachelor’s degree.

“My original plan was just going to be four years at [University of Maine] Farmington,” she said. “But now I’m going to do two at Eastern Maine [Community College in Bangor] and then finish at Farmington. It’s going to be a lot cheaper.”

CAR-RT SORT POSTAL CUSTOMER

What changed Brezovsky’s mind about doing all four years of her undergraduate education at one school is the Free College Scholarship program created through the allocation of $20 million by the state legislature last year. The program has been such a success that there is currently a proposal at the state house to extend funding to support the classes of 2024 and 2025.

While it’s still early, all indicators are that the scholarship program is meeting the first part of its goals, said Daigler.

“We’re getting the students that we’re hoping to get, which is a student who’s at risk of not going on and getting a college degree of any kind.”

Enrollment is up at the seven community colleges, and has especially rebounded at the most rural of the campuses in Washington and Aroostook counties, which as of the fall semester saw enrollment increases of 25% and 31%, respectively.

And Maine is bucking the national trend of young men backing away from higher education. Those enrolled through the

The Free College Scholarship program seeks to address two statewide concerns, says David Daigler, president of the Maine Community Colleges System: that a large number of Maine youth are not going on to get any education beyond high school, and building the state’s workforce. continued on page 8

What’s known as sea smoke, one of three kinds of fog, was captured on Feb. 4 on Friendship Harbor during that day’s double-digit below zero temperatures. See our story that explains how the different kinds of fog form on page 12.

PHOTO: JACK SULLIVAN continued on page 8

“We’re getting the students that we’re hoping to get, which is a student who’s at risk of not going on and getting a college degree of any kind.”

Fishermen’s Net— Vietnamese street food meets Maine seafood

Signature sandwich recalls French, Vietnamese traditions

STORY AND PHOTOS BY KELLI PARK

At Fishermen’s Net Seafood Restaurant & Market in Brunswick, the new owners are infusing the flavors of Vietnam in their cuisine with Bánh Mì, a traditional Vietnamese sandwich.

Co-owner Hoa (Flower) Truong, 30, purchased Fishermen’s Net on Forest Avenue in Portland in 2018 with her cousin, Quang Nguyen, 33, who wanted to continue his family’s involvement in the seafood industry after 30 years of raising tiger shrimp, fish, and escargot along the shores of Khánh Hòa, Vietnam. After the business was lost to a fire in September 2021, the family reopened on Bath Road in Brunswick within three months and have since made it their own, in more ways than one.

In addition to buying and selling wholesale seafood from local fishermen, including lobsters, crabs, oysters, scallops, and a variety of fish, they ship lobster anywhere in the U.S. within 24 hours. They also sell some specialty items, including caviar, sea urchins, and smoked fish, the most popular of which is salmon smoked with a spicy and sweet maple brown sugar.

Their creativity, however, extends beyond the market and into the restaurant, which has historically served fried seafood and lobster rolls.

“We didn’t have space in Portland because it was just a fish market, not a restaurant. We didn’t even have a chance to think about it,” said Truong, who was a law student in Vietnam and went on to study business administration at Southern Maine Community College.

“When we moved up here, we could think about adding something new.”

Located in between a Chinese restaurant and a seafood restaurant, and with an abundance of Asian-style restaurants in downtown Brunswick, Truong said she wanted to do something a little different by infusing the local culinary scene with a unique combination of Vietnamese street food and Maine seafood.

With that in mind, Nguyen’s mother, Hoa Le, agreed to join the family business after repeated requests to share her culinary talents with a new community. When she wasn’t busy farming fish in Khánh Hòa, Le cooked and sold street food, including the popular Bánh Mì sandwich.

“I make food from experience, not from a recipe. The recipe comes from my mind in that place,” said Le, through a translator. “I love the feeling that people love my cooking! When I cook, and people enjoy it, I feel happiness.”

Truong shares more.

“Her goal is to have people love her food,” she said of her aunt. “She wants everybody here to know about her sandwiches! If the customers support her, she will make 10,000 different kinds of food!”

At Fishermen’s Net, Bánh Mì balances the fresh flavors of Vietnamese cuisine with pickled carrots, cucumber, cilantro, mayonnaise, chili paste, pork pâté, and a choice of lobster, pork, chicken, or shrimp on a French-style baguette, along with Le’s secret sauce, which features zesty hints of lemongrass, ginger, and garlic.

Although the baguette was introduced when Vietnam fell under French colonial rule in the mid-19th century, it wasn’t until the 1950s at the end of French rule that the Vietnamese were able to infuse their own culinary traditions into the baguette to create Bánh Mì. After spreading throughout food carts on the streets of Saigon, it has since become popular worldwide.

“Every morning in Vietnam, I woke up and ate a Vietnamese sandwich. I love Vietnamese sandwiches. It’s a tradition for me,” said Truong. “My husband is American and he wakes up and eats bagels with ham and cheese every day. It’s not surprising that the sandwich is something we eat every morning,” she said.

“We’re proud to be Vietnamese and we’re proud of our cuisine. It’s a small country, but people know about our food,” said Truong. “I was very happy when I posted the Bánh Mì sign and the customers came in and, instead of saying, ‘I want a Vietnamese sandwich,’ they would say, ‘I want Bánh Mì.’” Bánh Mì, however, is

just the beginning. If Le’s culinary zeal is any indication, there’s plenty more where that came from, including Shu Mai, a traditional Vietnamese pork meatball, and lobster pho, a noodle soup, along with the future fusion recipes that will pair together the flavors of Vietnamese street food and Maine seafood.

When asked about her goals for the future, Truong replied simply: “To sell 5,000 Vietnamese sandwiches a day!”

Fishermen’s Net Seafood Restaurant & Market is located at 36 Bath Road in Brunswick. Their websites are www.fishermensnet.me and mualobster.com.

Hoa Le prepares a sandwich.

Hoa (Flower) Truong, left, and Hoa Le.

Hoa (Flower) Truong, left, and Hoa Le prepare food. Hoa Le holds two Bánh Mì sandwiches.

Quang Nguyen.

Lobster landings: catch remains high, price drops

Per-pound value of $3.97 is down from $6.71

FOLLOWING 2021’s historically high values for Maine’s commercially harvested marine resources, harvesters in 2022 earned $574 million, an amount that is consistent with more recent history, according to preliminary data released from the Maine Department of Marine Resources on March 3.

While overall value represents a 37 percent drop compared to 2021, it tracks with the average value of all Maine commercially harvested marine resources between 2011 and 2020, which was $586 million.

Maine lobstermen landed 97.9 million pounds and earned by far the most of all the state’s commercial fisheries at $388.5 million. The perpound value of $3.97 was on par with the average boat price of the decade prior to 2021, but a significant reduction from the all-time high that year of $6.71 per pound.

The result was an overall value decline from 2021 of $353.6 million.

“Maine’s lobstermen were facing tremendous uncertainty about their future last year over pending federal whale regulations, compounded by the high costs for bait and fuel,”

said Gov. Janet Mills. “Yet they still brought to shore nearly 100 million pounds of quality Maine lobster, which reflects this industry’s resilience when confronted with a difficult and dynamic economic environment.”

The lower landings may not speak to a decline in lobster population.

Kristan Porter, president of the Maine Lobstermen’s Association board, told Maine Public that harvesters did not fish as often in 2022, given the lower boat prices. DMR Commissioner Patrick Keliher told WCSH-TV that lobstermen took 50,000 fewer fishing trips in 2022.

On the strength of a per-pound increase of nearly $300, Maine’s elver harvesters earned $20 million in 2022, placing it as the state’s second most valuable commercial fishery. The value of Maine-caught elvers reached $2,131 per pound, which has only been exceeded twice in the history of the fishery.

Soft shell clams netted Maine harvesters $16.6 million, ranking the fishery as the state’s third most valuable in 2022.

“By funding new positions at DMR to address climate change impact on clams and other nearshore species, the state has taken the vital step in supporting the resilience of this and other important fisheries in the nearshore, like mussels, seaweed, and worms,” said DMR Commissioner Patrick Keliher.

At $12 million, the value of Maine’s menhaden landings in 2022 increased by more than $1.6 million over 2021 and ranked the popular lobster bait as Maine’s fourth most valuable fishery.

“Maine achieved a major win in 2022 for both lobster and menhaden harvesters, with an increase in state quota from two million pounds to more than 24 million pounds,” said Keliher. “That ten-fold increase in state quota will provide both menhaden and lobster

harvesters much-needed certainty in their ability to harvest and source bait.”

The value of Maine scallops in 2022 reached $8.7 million, one of the highest in the history of the fishery and making it the fifth most valuable overall for the state last year.

An additional bright spot for Maine harvesters was the jump in landings and value for alewives, another important lobster bait. Alewife harvesters caught 3.3 million pounds, an increase of 1.4 million pounds over 2021, and earned $1.5 million, an increase from the previous year of over $800,000.

“The work of our harvesters, dealers, and processors to sustain our resources and deliver the world’s best seafood is something for all Mainers to take pride in,” said Keliher. “I urge all Maine people to support our fishermen and coastal communities by enjoying Maine seafood.”

To locate a dealer selling seafood from Maine, visit www.seafoodfrommaine.com.

Reports for all species can be found at www.maine.gov/dmr/fisheries/ commercial/landings-program/historical-data.

John Martin, Bud Staples, and Elsie Gillespie chat around the woodstove at the annual town meeting.

The shameful history of a ‘notorious’ slave ship captain

Maine’s Frederick Drinkwater flouted ban on slave trade

BY TOM GROENING

Maine has a proud history of seafaring captains who braved the open ocean in pursuit of trade and fish. Capt. Frederick Drinkwater is not one of them.

Drinkwater, according to research completed and presented by Kate McMahon of the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture, participated in the slave trade. McMahon shared her research in a Feb. 3 online presentation hosted by the Maine Conservation Voters group.

Drinkwater, born in Yarmouth, “was one of the most notorious slave ship captains of the 1850s and 1860s,” said MCV’s Kathleen Meil in introducing McMahon. What is especially shameful about Drinkwater’s story is that he—and many other Maine- and New England-based ship masters— engaged in the slave trade decades after the 1808 U.S. law making it illegal.

“Slavery touched nearly every continent on the planet,” McMahon said, “and it really was driven by waterways.”

The slave trade began in earnest in the late 1500s, she said, and by the time it ceased in the 1860s, there had been about 40,000 trans-Atlantic voyages dedicated to transporting enslaved people, mostly from West Africa. The voyage itself was the first threat—some 12.5 million left Africa as captives, but only 10 million landed on U.S. shores, a mortality rate of about 15%, McMahon said.

“By 1750, enslaved people were being brought to Maine,” she said.

Among the known ships built in Maine for the slave trade before it was banned include the Knutsford (1761) of Berwick, the Hereford (1770) of Sheepscot, and the Rising Sun (1772) of Biddeford. The last of these sank with all 241 captives perishing at sea.

Opposition to the horrors of slavery emerged as early as the late 1700s, with Rhode Island passing a law banning slave traders in 1787. Massachusetts did the same in 1788.

Some were prosecuted for violating the law, but the merchants continued “with ease,” McMahon said.

And yes, “Mainers were quite involved in this trade,” particularly in the 1840 to 1850s era, transporting enslaved people from the upper South to the lower South. Manifests for the Susan Soule and Venus, built and/or owned by Rufus Soule of Freeport, show a 15-year-old girl and one-year-old and six-year-old children among the “cargo.”

McMahon said while Great Britain banned the slave trade in 1807 and the U.S. followed in 1808, the law lacked teeth. The Act of 1820 asserted that participation in

the African slave trade was now to be “considered the most heinous crime on the high seas,” equal to piracy, a crime carrying punishment by death.

“But it really didn’t suppress the American slave trade in any substantial way,” she said, and in fact, officials seemed to look the other way on this illicit activity.

Only one Mainer, Nathaniel Gordon of Portland, was convicted under the law in 1861 and executed in 1862.

Frederick Drinkwater, who served as a kind of case study in McMahon’s presentation, began his seafaring career captaining ships in the coastal trade between Portland and Boston. But by 1850, he was deeply involved in the slave trade.

Among his exploits, flouting the law, were trips to Liberia with a cargo of freed AfricanAmericans, taking as many as 500 back to that continent “whether they wanted to go or not,” she said.

Drinkwater seems to have transported slaves to Havana, Cuba, and in 1857, he lived for part of the year there. One of the ways captains like Drinkwater escaped legal action was by disposing of ships used in the illegal trade or by renaming them, McMahon said.

“Frederick Drinkwater never suffered a single legal consequence,” she said.

The illegal slave trade fleet employed as many as 1,000 men. In the period from 1850 until 1865, some 20,866 enslaved people were transported in Maine vessels from Africa to Cuba, with an average of 647 per voyage.

A report in 1854 by the New York Times estimated the industry’s value at

$11 million, or about $330 million today.

“Maine’s slave ship fleet was nearly four times more valuable than the timber industry” in the 1850s, she said.

McMahon is an advisor to the Atlantic Black Box Project, which works to unearth the region’s ties to slavery.

“I think it’s important for us to unpack this history,” she said.

Kate McMahon

Only one Mainer, Nathaniel Gordon of Portland, was convicted under the law in 1861 and executed in 1862.

A slave manifest for the brig Venus, owned and/or built by Rufus Soule of Freeport. The top line lists “Mary,” a 15-year-old.

A newspaper report on a slave ship arriving in Kittery.

From here to there—

Adventures of a yacht delivery skipper

Castine’s Cam Brien finds maritime niche

BY STEPHEN RAPPAPORT

It’s early October, still hurricane season, and Cam Brien, a professional yacht delivery captain, among other nautical gigs, is sailing a brand new 39-foot sailboat across Frying Pan Shoals, 15 miles off Cape Fear on the North Carolina coast, headed for the Annapolis Boat Show.

Brien had flown from his home in Castine to St. Augustine, Fla. where he planned to pick up the boat and head north, sailing “outside” along the coast from Florida to Beaufort, N.C. before following the sheltered Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) to Norfolk, Virg. then up Chesapeake Bay to Annapolis. As so often happens with boats, the plan changed.

Brien had already lost a couple of days before leaving St. Augustine because the boat wasn’t ready for sea. Besides normal provisions, he had to buy some basic navigation equipment required for a safe passage—a not uncommon situation for a delivery. Such purchases are always billed to the boat owner.

At the boat show, the broker offered Brien a chance to join his office and Brien seized the opportunity, though three days later, Brien said, “all of a sudden, the world is locked down,” thanks to the onset of COVID.

Despite the pandemic, or perhaps because of it, Brien has stayed busy delivering yachts—larger or smaller, primarily sail—locally in Maine and along the Atlantic coast. Not all those deliveries have been exactly low stress.

With bad weather forecast and the boat pounding, going head on into the wind-driven seas, Brien headed for shelter and ducked into the little port…

“You always think you’re going to fly in one day and take off the next, and it never works out that way,” Brien said. “I think there’s a certain sentiment out there that the boat is just what it is, and a lot of times the clients don’t want to pay for extra stuff. But I’m not going out there half-cocked.”

With bad weather forecast and the boat pounding, going head on into the wind-driven seas, Brien headed for shelter and ducked into the little port at Wrightsville Beach where he could join the ICW. After a few days on the ICW, with a couple of nights spent in marinas and a couple more anchored out— in the remote Alligator River and behind a stuck bridge just outside of Norfolk—Brien and the boat reached Annapolis.

Along the waterway, Brien and his crew enjoyed the hospitality at the marinas where they waited and avoided the worst of the weather, as well as anchoring in remote rivers miles from any signs of human activity.

“You always have a good time when you stop when you weren’t really supposed to be there, but circumstances worked out,” he said.

A 2014 alumnus of Maine Maritime Academy’s small vessel operation’s program, Brien worked on tugs in Alaska and spent several years working for Moran Towing on the Gulf Coast, moving barges loaded with grain from New Orleans to Puerto Rico and, more stressful, barges loaded with petroleum products.

“That was really interesting, but it really wore on me because I really worried about either spilling it or blowing it up,” Brien said. Eventually, he returned to Castine, teaching at MMA for a year while also doing occasional stints on tall ships in the Caribbean and starting Fairwater Marine Services.

About four years, ago, a phone call to a yacht broker friend in Florida got him into the yacht delivery business—his first trip as skipper, delivering a new 41-foot sloop from Palmetto, near the mouth of Tampa Bay, to the Miami Boat Show and back again afterwards. On the way to the show, Brien made an unplanned stop in Key West for a night to avoid heavy weather.

One trip involved delivery of a 66-foot, $2.5 million sailboat— the first of its type delivered to the U.S.—from Baltimore, where it came off a ship from France— to Newport, R.I., where the new owners would take formal delivery. The summer trip—down the Chesapeake then offshore from Cape May, N.J. to Narragansett Bay, but no more than 12 miles offshore thanks to the boat’s insurance— was complicated by the failure of the yacht’s high-tech mainsail furling system, non-functioning air conditioning, and the presence of the owners.

They turned out to be good shipmates who let Brien do his job as captain, and one of them was a professional chef, so meals were better than usual on deliveries.

Not all of Brien’s memorable deliveries involve big boats doing offshore passages. Recently, he delivered

Cercerelle, one of three classic Rozinante yawls designed and commissioned personally by L. Francis Herreshoff in 1972, from Rockport to East Blue Hill. The elegant little sailer easily made the 40-plus mile trip through exquisite Maine scenery in one day, despite light breezes along the way.

Cam Brien

The Sedna, a J/46 underway near Gloucester, Mass. Rappaport delivered the boat from Darien, Conn., to South Freeport in 2020.

book reviews

Defying authority in a Maine mill town

Memoir recalls battles against poison, abuse

represented success in America. The two things towering over the towns were smokestacks and steeples. That visual cue symbolized power and authority—the mill and the church could demand unquestioning respect.

newly-divorced with six children, and with a pronounced “cockiness.”

And Poison Fell From the Sky: A Memoir of Life, Death, and Survival in Maine’s Cancer Valley

By Marie Therese Martin (Islandport Press, 2022)

REVIEW BY TINA COHEN

THE POISON IN Marie Therese

Martin’s And Poison Fell From the Sky: A Memoir of Life, Death, and Survival in Maine’s Cancer Valley is the toxins emitted by the paper mill she grew up near in Rumford. Few people called it poison; denying the health threats was a way residents of Rumford and Mexico, flanking the mill on the Androscoggin River, tried to avoid that reality, instead seeing the mill as a source of steady paychecks and the industry as inevitable, with generations of ties to it.

Many in the community had Acadian roots, coming from Canada originally. With new opportunities, this life

Martin’s childhood was typical, she writes, one of three children of Catholics, with French-Canadian ancestors. But the family was decimated by the father’s philandering and her mother demanded he move out. Shock and shame followed the divorce.

The community blamed her. Martin’s conflicted feelings about Catholicism grew when her mother sent her off to boarding school where she was expected to become a nun. After two years of misery and loneliness, she returned home, gratefully, to Rumford.

But again being exposed to sickening smells and visible pollution in the river, Martin began to recognize the mill’s lethal potential. She writes, “I had always been interested in environmental issues. I loved my hometown but hated the familiar smell of caustic chemicals that invaded everything... On bad days my eyes burned and taking a deep breath made my lungs ache.”

A nursing degree, supported by a scholarship, meant she returned again to Rumford to work at its hospital. Disregarding warnings from co-workers, she dated a doctor she found appealing, despite his being twice her age,

Generational conflict follows star-crossed sailboat

while superficially an account of her year on a star-crossed sailing vessel, is at its core an account of a family grappling with its own version of those troubles.

Her surprise pregnancy served as entrapment. “Doc” said he’d marry her, and expected her to take on parenting his own children (plus the three they’d have together), be his full time office assistant, and sublimate her own needs, always, to his.

While that might seem a traditional arrangement to some, Martin saw the dark side and how he controlled her. But she would not consider divorce. She began to see similarities between what she was expected to overlook as dangers—the mill spewing poison, the church teaching unquestioning obedience—and ignoring her husband’s verbal and emotional abuse.

Yet the toxic relationship served as a catalyst—they began working together to document the illnesses and cancers occurring locally. With so many reported cases, their area had become known as Maine’s “Cancer Valley,” and more people were asking questions.

On a national level, Maine Sen. Ed Muskie was crafting environmental protection laws, leading to the Clean Air Act of 1970 and the Clean Water Act of 1972.

Martin writes: “Despite these changes, our local and state governments were not doing anything to protect the people impacted by a polluted environment… Without

good-paying jobs, there would be no economy here or anywhere else in our rural state. The mill provided a living wage for the whole town, and in exchange, the paper industry as a whole was given carte blanche.”

The couple began to speak out about the cancer, linking it to chemicals released by the paper mill. They paid a high price for their advocacy, receiving tax audits, record reviews, a lawsuit, and social ostracism. When Doc died of cancer, his heroism in confronting the polluters was noted. One editorial said, “He spoke truth to power.”

Martin kept up the fight. Readers of Kerri Arsenault’s award-winning memoir, Mill Town, will be familiar with Martin’s work because Arsenault, who grew up a generation later in nearby Mexico, also recognized the toxic environment. Her investigation utilized the careful records Doc and Martin had kept.

Poison Fell From the Sky deserves your attention as Maine’s coastal waters continue to be impacted by the mills still discharging waste into the rivers that flow into our bays. Humans and wildlife are still exposed to toxins. Questions continue to need to be asked.

Tina Cohen is a Massachusetts-based therapist who spends six months of the year in Vinalhaven.

Elizabeth forms a close friendship with another teenager escaping her family, Kim. Amid recollections of shipboard misadventures, Elizabeth returns persistently to her poisoned family life.

They then sail from Veracruz to the Panama Canal, with plans to sail on to the Galapagos Islands. A storm at sea makes up one of the story’s most vivid episodes.

Sailing at the Edge of Disaster: A Memoir of a Young Woman’s Daring Year

By Elizabeth W. Garber, Toad Hall Editions (2022)

REVIEW BY DANA WILDE

AMONG THE MANY weird things that were happening during the social upheavals of the 1960s and ’70s, one of the weirdest was the wholesale revolt of children against their parents. Of course parent-child enmities have never not existed. But in those decades an unusual resentment developed between the generations.

Every family stricken by those rifts dealt with them in their own ways, and Belfast resident Elizabeth Garber’s book  Sailing at the Edge of Disaster,

Garber tells us in mainly chronological order about her father’s decision in 1971 to send her, age 17, and her brother Woodie, 15, to an alternative school aboard the square-rigged sailing ship Antarna. We get a very uncomfortable picture of the emotional abyss between the kids and their overbearing father at home in Ohio. The father arranges for Elizabeth to be a summer assistant to the organizer, Stephanie, of the Oceanics School. By September the students and teachers are gathering at the ship docked in Miami.

The ship is not ready to sail. The students are put to work on the extensive repair and maintenance projects needed to make the vessel seaworthy.

Elizabeth, being something of a bookworm and an obsessive journal writer, is charged with creating the onboard school library. It soon becomes apparent that not only is the ship not ready, but there isn’t much of a crew either, including no captain.

The narrative follows a kind of picaresque of events re-created from journals, letters, and other sources.

Late in the Miami part of the story, her father turns up unexpectedly to “help out” on the ship. When he announces at the end of his weeklong stay that he’s decided to remain and sail with them, Elizabeth and Woodie close ranks to stop him. This is a turning point for both the kids and the story.

Shortly afterward, more than halfway through the book, the Antarna is finally seaworthy, has secured a captain and crew, and sets sail. Even the departure, however, is complicated by legal obstacles stemming from frictions between organizer Stephanie and the ship’s owners who, for reasons unknown to the kids, seem to be undermining the project.

They sail to Key West, then Veracruz, Mexico, where murky maintenance and legal problems have to be addressed. The students are sent off to explore by themselves in Mexico, providing to the narrative a welter of episodes of wild rides, drunken fiascos, and close scrapes typical of what you’d likely expect of American youth turned loose with a backpack, a few dollars, and a bus ticket.

In Panama, the trip comes to a bizarre end when the ship owners conspire with the Panamanian military to block the Antarna in the canal. Shots are fired. Amid a zoo of wayward adults— including the apparent con artist and probable procuress Stephanie—the kids have come to admire the old captain.

Like the father young Elizabeth seems always to have wanted, he comes through to get them all out safely.

The Antarna adventure is over. But the story continues on to detail the aftermath, involving partly an aborted project to find a second sailing gig, and particularly Elizabeth’s desire to deal with her family life. Back home in Ohio, she makes a detailed plan to kill her father.

The book is framed and infused by this fraught relationship. In the shadows of  Sailing at the Edge of Disaster’s tale of teenagers’ life in a floating experimental school, is a picture of the troubling family issues that drove parts of the culture-wide youth rebellion in the tumultuous 1960s and ’70s.

Dana Wilde lives in Troy. He is a member of the National Book Critics Circle.

Fraying family is unwanted ballast

When admitting you’re wrong is the right move

A captain’s candid confessions reveal the vagaries of ocean

relationships aboard ship, what it’s like to make difficult decisions under lifethreatening circumstances—in short, all the important things one can only learn from time at the helm in the dead of night, on the bridge, or in the privacy of the captain’s cabin.

It’s this point of view that makes Reading the Glass so fascinating, even to a sometime sailor like myself.

Reading the Glass: A Captain’s View of Weather, Water, and Life on Ships

By Elliot Rappaport, Dutton/Penguin Random House (2023)

REVIEW BY DAVID D. PLATT

A FEW OF us get to know everything: doctors, editors, various experts, philosophers, TV pundits, religious gurus—and, now after reading Elliot Rappaport’s Reading the Glass: A Captain’s View of Weather, Water, and Life on Ships, I must add sea captains.  Rappaport has served worldwide aboard a variety of vessels, including Maine Maritime Academy’s schooner Bowdoin and two sail training ships of the SEA Education Association that have taken him across the Atlantic, into the Arctic, and to the far reaches of the Pacific.

In the process he’s learned just about everything there is to know about the world’s weather, sea conditions, and maritime history—plus lots more about customs on faraway islands,

Lest he leave the impression he’s always right, this author/captain isn’t afraid to admit he’s wrong, especially when it’s time to turn the ship around as conditions deteriorate. Predictions are only as good as the information that goes into them, Rappaport makes clear, and new or better information can change everything.

His is a voice with real authority, made more so by the admission that from his shipmates’ perspective, a captain with the guts to listen to others is the best kind of captain to have.

Some of this book’s best passages are Rappaport’s descriptions of weather and the forces that drive it from below, on the sea surface, or aloft. Natural forces merge with history at times.

“The Pitcairns,” he writes of the islands made famous by the Bounty mutineers, are “the newest rocky extrusions of a continuous land factory” where undersea volcanoes beget mountaintops surrounded by barrier reefs, all exacting their price on water temperatures, ocean currents,

Art, the early years

Dickerson’s novel speculates on origins of art

The Santanda people divide the year between two caves, Greenhearths in the greenseason and Snowhearths in winter. They are hunters and gatherers, living mostly on deer and fish. We follow their lives, with Okyo providing asides—short italicized passages—that reflect on the day-to-day goings-on, be it the power of the art he makes or tension with Kocho, his rival.

Telling Stone

Maine Authors Publishing

REVIEW BY CARL LITTLE

WHO WERE THE first artists and why did they make art? Those are the central questions that prompted Scott Dickerson to write Telling Stone. Set in paleolithic times, the novel tells the story of 20-year-old Okyo, a “man apart” in his band of people, the Santanda, and how he searches for meaning through carving and painting—and seeks love—a hearthmate—from cave to cave.

Okyo uses his art to pay tribute to the creatures that sustain his band. A carver at the beginning, he learns how to paint from Pitto who joined the Santanda from another tribe. Their mediums include red ocher and charcoal. They paint “seeking power.”

Dickerson creates a poetic vocabulary for his fictional clan. His compound nouns include words for various animals—tallanterlered (red deer), silversides (salmon)—as well as various plants, tools, ceremonies, and body parts. There is a glossary at the end, but turning to it will take some of the fun out of figuring out the meaning of a particular word. What’s a lifedrumcave? Fireseed? Orangebelliedflash? Tuskedgrunt? Succulents? Snowpissrock? Talkswithtail?

and the atmosphere moving overhead. Traditional mariners in canoes learned the ways of such places, traversing vast stretches of the Pacific long before modern navigation.

“When I’m sailing other coasts,” Rappaport writes from an isolated harbor in the western Pacific, “the chart edges tend for me to fill with the familiar, even when I’m far from home… here is the opposite: We are surrounded at close hand by amoebas and in the distance are locations even more mysterious… clouds boil into the sky around us, atmospheric volcanoes that I suspect are driven by massive evaporation and instability over the warm puddles of lagoon water, underlit by a fantasy palette of green and blue, they hover above the shallows and then drift offshore, bringing us hourlong lashings of rain, sudden calms followed by lurching gusts that render sailing almost impossible, the timing between torrents too short to set sail productively,” he writes.

“‘This is like trying to pitch a tent at the end of an airport runway,’ I tell the mate.”

He takes in sail, starts the ship’s engine, and imagines an early French navigator “floating helpless in his wooden ship, hung with creaking spars and frayed hemp canvas. He asked for it, the islanders might say, standing by their canoes hauled safely up on the beach.”

From melting Greenland ice to the flooded subways of New York following a stronger-than-usual hurricane,

Rappaport explores the unfolding catastrophe of climate change.

“Do sailors now see the effects of climate change at sea?” he wonders. “Are the storms worse? For working mariners the one-storm-at-a-time imperative of seafaring can make longer patterns more difficult to visualize,” he writes. “But here we are, I think, in mid-September, with two months left of hurricane season and already out of names. This once-in-alifetime occurrence has happened twice since I bought the car I am driving. It will happen again in 2021.

“On the radio I hear that America’s dry western forests are ablaze from Los Angeles to Seattle. The jet stream carries their microscopic particles to us here in New England, a high plume of dust that’s drawn a pink-gray scrim across the early morning sky.”

Then the early sun bursts into the center of his windshield, “seemingly near enough to visit—there is a star out there, I remember—a thermonuclear forge. It is 93 million miles away but, like an overfilled woodstove, suddenly too close for comfort.”

For a sea captain who knows everything and understands the meaning of the barometric glass, the message is disturbingly clear—clear enough, he hopes, to change course before it’s too late.

Telling Stone is no Clan of the Cave Bear or One Million B.C. Where that book and that movie heightened the drama of early ancestors to the nth degree, Dickerson takes a quieter route, the narrative nearly violence-free. That said, there’s a close encounter with a bear—an alleater— several hunting scenes, and a couple of fairly steamy sexual encounters.

Some elements of the story seem out of place, too modern in concept. Would women of that ancient time discuss masturbation? Maybe. Would a cave artist muse, “If you have to talk about your painting, what you have painted does not tell its story”? Perhaps. On the other hand, the story of how “sharpness came to be” or Okyo’s wondering at how fish eat their young and how this relates to his consuming his childhood are memorable.

The novel is timely: recent research on cave drawings has uncovered new theories about how the early artists worked. One article is titled “For Over 20,000 Years, Neanderthals Spat Paint On This Stalagmite” while another declares “Cave Paintings Show Neanderthals Were Artists.”

Werner Herzog’s film Cave of Forgotten Dreams has spurred additional interest as has commentary from the likes of critic Jerry Saltz who urges pilgrimages to see cave art.

Dickerson earned a master of philosophy in human ecology degree from College of the Atlantic in 1995 before becoming director of the Coastal Mountains Land Trust. You sense his COA ties through his sensitivity to the ecology of this long-ago world (and the tribal gatherings recall his alma mater’s All College Meetings).

In Telling Stone’s afterword Dickerson notes how none of us can know “how these people lived, loved, revered, feared, celebrated, honored, or in any other way engaged with other people, animals, or the entities of their imagination.” As he stated during a book talk in COA’s Davis Center for Human Ecology in January, Telling Stone is speculative fiction. As such, it engages you in wondering about the motives of the first artist—to record, to venerate, to find joy? These questions keep you reading.

David D. Platt is former editor of The Working Waterfront.

Carl Little lives on Mount Desert Island.

PORTS continued from page 1

Construction of a long-planned 107,000-squarefoot, $55 million cold storage facility was set to begin in late winter. The project, which will include photovoltaics offsetting 20% of its energy use, is expected to be fully operational February 2024.

Burns said the port now uses 150 plug-in refrigerator containers, but that number will grow to 450. Radiation scanning equipment to screen incoming containers also will be added to the facility.

The port is aiming to handle 3,000 20-foot-equivalent—or TEU—containers annually, up from the current 900 TEU capacity, with the infrastructure expected to be in place by the end of the decade.

“Eimskip is considering larger vessels,” he reported. “They’re trying to find ways to bring additional volume into the port,” either with more ships or bigger ships.

Adding larger cranes, yard trucks, dredging the berth from 32 feet at mean low tide to 35 feet, and creating more pier surface are all goals.

A plan by the state of Maine to locate a dozen floating wind turbines to demonstrate and study wind power potential in the Gulf of Maine is approaching implementation. The Pine Tree Offshore Wind project would be sited south of Monhegan Island, pending approvals, but proponents hope the turbines will be in the water this year.

The turbines, Burns noted, would be the largest structures in Maine.

“We’d be building skyscrapers, essentially,” he said. The state is considering Searsport as a port location, weighing using the existing Mack Point facility on the mainland, or Sears Island about 500 yards away, or a combination of both. Eastport’s Estes Head facility is also in the running.

Deep water access, no overhead restrictions, a cargo staging area, heavy loading capacity (up to 6,000 pounds per square foot), and 1,500 feet of dedicated wharf frontage are needed to store, assemble, and launch the floating turbines, Burns said. The turbines would be towed to the chosen site.

“We want to do all of that at one of our ports,” he said. “It’s exciting stuff.”

Though Searsport is a likely location for the work, Eastport is still under consideration, he added. Groups based in Searsport and Islesboro have argued that Sears Island is not appropriate for the activity. The stateowned island has been divided, with 650 acres put in conservation, and the remaining 300 acres reserved by

COMMUNITY COLLEGE

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the Department of Transportation for possible port uses.

“We’re collecting data from all sites,” Burns said, and working with stakeholders.

The state has invested nearly $100 million in the port since 2009, Burns said.

The existing port at Searsport needs dredging, he added, though the railroad link to that port is more viable with recent ownership changes. Maine now has two class 1 lines, CSX and Canadian Pacific, he said, with CSX purchasing Pan Am Railways and Canadian Pacific acquiring Central Maine & Quebec Railway in the last year. Eastport remains a challenge.

“We’re trying to fund new opportunities for Eastport,” Burns said, and it now has a mobile harbor crane, joining Portland and Searsport in having that equipment.

The port authority has its own goals, Burns said, which include developing a comprehensive plan for the ports that looks ten to 20 years ahead, completing several grant-funded projects, hiring additional staff, and developing a more visible presence in the state.

Free College Scholarship program are 49% men and 50% women, Daigler said.

The scholarship program supports students who received or will receive a high school diploma or its equivalency from an in-state or out-of-state school in 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023 by covering the cost of tuition and mandatory fees (but not room and board). The average cost of tuition and mandatory fees at Maine’s community colleges is $3,700 a year. Students must reside in Maine to be eligible for the scholarship.

The expectation is that many of the students who get the training through the scholarship program will likely return to their communities to live and work. While that remains to be seen, it’s vitally important that the pathway for such an outcome exists, said Kristy Hastings, student services coordinator at Mid-Coast School of Technology in Rockland.

“Without the trades programs and the programs that the community colleges offer,” she said, “our community doesn’t survive.”

A spokesperson for the state’s Department of Economic and Community Development said in an email:

“Free community college is an opportunity to tackle multiple challenges in Maine’s economy at one time. It is clear that we need a workforce that can meet the needs of in-demand jobs. This will not only help to start to address our state’s workforce challenge but will also give those students the opportunity to have a meaningful career so they can stay in Maine long term. It creates paths and opportunity for students who say tuition is a barrier to furthering their education.

“While we recognize that this investment alone won’t solve the state’s workforce challenges, we believe it is a good step forward for both the students enrolled, the communities they will live in, and the organizations they will either start or work for.”

The Free College Scholarship program is a “huge” opportunity for students and Maine communities, said Heather Davis, a guidance counselor at Bucksport High School.

“It probably opens more avenues for students to have this opportunity that might not be able to afford it otherwise.”

It also creates additional options for students, like her son who attends Mount Desert Island High School, who are worried about the future of traditional mainstays of Maine’s economy.

“My son is a fifth-generation lobsterman,” she said. “His heart and passion are in the family history of the generations of lobstermen, but right now he’s thinking, ‘I need to go to school for business or have a backup plan in case this is a crossroads for the industry.’”

The community college system offers more than 300 programs to present students with a broad array of options, the system’s president said. There are more traditional classroom-heavy courses, but there are quite a number of experiential pathways, too, which are popular with students.

Seventy-seven percent of the students in the Free College Scholarship program are enrolled in career and technical education programs, he said. Those include trades, such as welding, heating, and electrical, and healthcare, the field with the highest enrollment.

“The vast majority of our students are actually using this to get trade-based skills,” Daigler said. “In order to get a job with a career opportunity, you have to have a skillset.”

Applications for the current funding of the Free College Scholarship program are still being accepted. To learn more about the program, go to www.mccs. me.edu/freecollege/.

An aerial view of Mack Point in Searsport.

PHOTO: COURTESY MAINE DOT

Maine Department of Transportation officials watch an Irving ship near the Mack Point terminal in Searsport in 2013. FILE PHOTO: TOM GROENING

Fear of aquaculture not reasonable

Large or small, industry would be well regulated

BY ORLANDO E. DELOGU

AN ARTICLE IN the February/March issue of The Working Waterfront outlined the fact that an increasing number of coastal towns in Maine fear, and are interposing regulatory measures that bar or limit, new and/or expanded aquaculture activities in their respective towns (“Towns fear, fight aquaculture expansion”).

Similar (and somewhat stronger) views were expressed in a recent Portland Press Herald article that on one hand supported traditional, small-scale, locally owned aquaculture activities, but on the other was wary (seemingly to the point of exclusion) of larger-scale corporate aquaculture undertakings that may or may not be rooted in Maine.

In my view, we need to get over these fears. Expanded aquaculture activities, including farming, harvesting, and processing of seaweed, salmon (and other finfish), clams and related shellfish are an extension of, and the logical future of Maine’s historic fishing, clamming, and lobstering activities.

Global warming, the warming of Maine’s nearshore waters, coupled with overfishing by small, historically unregulated boat owners, are irrefutable factors in the decline of traditional fishing activities.

clammers and wormers over-harvested; and firstgeneration aquaculture activities (with no security to operate in a fixed offshore water area) struggled to survive.

In the early 1970s the regulatory powers of Maine’s Department of Marine Resources were strengthened. This was seen as essential to stop overfishing by small independent boat owners, to stop overharvesting by small independent harvesters of clams and worms, and to breathe life and order into small first-generation aquaculture activities. DMR could now grant secure leases to defined water and seabed areas.

Third, bigger is not inherently bad—L.L. Bean and BIW are examples staring us in the face. Larger aquaculture entities can realize economies of scale. They are more likely to not only grow and harvest a product, but also to engage in the more lucrative “value add” of processing and shipping a growing range of marine products into national and global markets. This translates into more jobs in Maine.

Aquaculture builds on a historic base of marine-related activities…

Groundfishing will never be what it once was, and traditional lobstering is under increasing pressure to limit the location, gear used, and annual take of this marine resource. Annual take is also threatened by the inexorable movement of spawning lobsters to colder northern and eastern waters. The geographic center for lobstering on the East Coast is (or soon will be) Hancock and Washington counties in Maine and eastern Canada.

Expanded aquaculture activities in Maine (some by large corporations) can/will replace jobs being lost by declining employment in traditional fishing/ lobstering activities. By utilizing offshore waters and land-based facilities to grow (in controlled settings) and process a variety of marine organisms, aquaculture will produce new employment opportunities. Further impetus for aquaculture growth is the growing global need/demand for marine (proteinladen) food products, and for an expanding array of non-food products (fertilizers, cosmetics) that derive from harvested seaweed. Some seaweed extracts are today being used as thickening agents in pharmaceutical and biotechnological applications.

Our fears must be tempered by several realities.

First, global warming is not going away. Marine scientists and oceanographers tell us this warming will continue for years and decades to come. This will further reduce Maine’s traditional fishing and lobstering activities.

Second, romanticizing the virtues of small-scale, locally owned fishing and aquaculture activities serves no one’s interest—left to their own devices, local small-scale fishermen over-fished; independent

Moreover, we should bear in mind that DMR’s statewide powers to regulate extend to corporate entities of every size. This agency is in a far better position than individual towns to monitor, regulate, and license the larger-scale aquaculture activities that seek a place along Maine’s coast.

It has the technical staff, the jurisdictional reach, the legal power, and an enforcement apparatus in the Marine Patrol to regulate as fully as necessary individual or corporate entities that seek to utilize Maine’s shoreland, intertidal land, and submerged land for fishing, harvesting, or aquaculture activities.

Fourth, we need to realize that we have a lot of shoreland. We control a lot of ocean.

There is ample room to protect small-scale marine organism growers and harvesters and at the same time make room for larger-scale operations with the capital resources needed to build today’s modern aquaculture facilities in a responsible manner and then to market their products nationally and globally.

In short, we need to get over our fears and our tendencies toward parochialism. Aquaculture builds on a historic base of marine-related activities and is good economics looking to the future. In Iowa, they know corn; in West Virginia, they know coal; in Texas, they know cattle. In Maine, we know the sea and marine organisms.

We can control and will benefit from a healthy and growing range of aquaculture activities. We can do this.

Orlando Delogu is a 57-year resident of Portland who taught law at the University of Southern Maine for 40 years. His law expertise includes environmental and land use, and he has served on Maine’s Board of Environmental Protection, the Portland City Council, and the Portland Planning Board.

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The radical idea of public parks

How we define and understand them is important

BY TOM GROENING

I WAS WALKING recently along Belfast’s Harbor Walk, a paved trail that follows the shore along a large lawn area where a shuttered poultry plant once stood, past a boat dealer and marina, across Main Street and, amazingly, through the Front Street Shipyard, offering views of yachts, ocean-going fishing vessels, and whale watch boats.

And those views are so intimate and close that I often touch my hand to a propellor or tap a hull with my knuckle. The plastic wrap around the 440-metric ton lift rustles in the wind, and I have to guide the dog away from the edge, because given half the chance, she’d consider a leap into the water.

The final stretch, as I walk it from the southwest to the northeast, takes me across the former Route 1 bridge. Or, a walker or biker can continue northwesterly for a couple of miles along the Rail Trail, as it’s known, following a former railroad bed.

It’s a silly question, but I pondered it nonetheless—is this a park? The term “greenbelt” is often used to describe this sort of public infrastructure. You’ve heard of the repurposing of elevated train systems in New York, for

example, turning them into walkways with benches and planters.

A friend in Belfast who has served as mayor and city councilor launched what I thought was a radically subversive endeavor decades ago, creating a small volunteer group called GreenStreets! While more conservative city government officials probably thought it was an innocuous effort, like the garden club hanging flower baskets from light poles, in reality, trees that will grow tall and live for 40 years were being established along the main thoroughfares.

In once sense, it wasn’t radical—elms once lined many Maine downtown streets, it’s just that disease killed them. Yes, the city is on the hook for maintenance, but trees make a downtown cooler in summer and more inviting to visitors.

An aside—another volunteer group once cleared a little-used parking lot of trash, abandoned shopping carts, and branches, and a then-city councilor chastised them, saying it meant the city would now have to care for the lot.

We had a friend who came to Maine to attend college and her boyfriend at the time refused to take her to Acadia, saying it wasn’t real Maine wilderness, and instead preferred the wilds

reflections

of—ironically enough—paper company land up north. Acadia does have a genteel quality, with its carriage trails, arched bridges, paved roads, and heavily walked trails. But wander off those trails and the rocks, streams, and trees are real.

When the Land for Maine’s Future fund was first established, purchases tended to lean toward tens of thousands of inaccessible acres in the north, and yes, stopping clearcutting and spraying insecticides on that land is a win. But soon, LMF’s conservation focused on places people could actually visit.

In the early 2000s, I reported on Camden’s efforts to spruce up the park adjacent to the town’s library and the amphitheater that was its back yard.

I learned that both were a gift in 1931 by Mary Louise Curtis Bok, from a wealthy magazine publishing family, and that the amphitheater was designed by Fletcher Steele and is considered the first public Modernist landscape. The adjacent Harbor Park was designed by the renowned Olmsted firm under the direction of Frederick Law Olmsted Jr.

In any season, those landscapes, though relatively small, are visited by locals and tourists. So parks can approach being art, right? Visit and see if you agree.

Holding history: Archiving Islesboro past

Island’s stories come to life in cataloging work

Reflections is written by Island Fellows, recent college grads who do community service work on Maine islands and in coastal communities through the Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront.

BY OLIVIA LENFESTEY

MOSTLY, MY DAYS on Islesboro are filled with the kind of intangible busyness distinctive to life on an island. In addition to working on a sea level rise adaptation project, my work on Islesboro is to restore the exhibits at the Grindle Point Lighthouse and Sailor’s Memorial Museum and create an online catalog of the artifact collections.

Throughout the fall and into the winter, I have been working at the historical society where the museum’s artifacts are being stored while the interior of the lighthouse is repainted. The historical society building is in the old town hall, a tall cape style built in 1894 and echoey with the sounds of the past. The artifacts take up most of the space, framed black and white photographs line the walls while 18th century baby

cradles and rusted lighthouse lanterns lay on tables in the center.

The archiving process is slow and strange. Each object must be handled carefully as I photograph, measure, identify, number, and enter that data into the cataloging software. This is a process of familiarization, allowing time to sift through the objects, large and small, to hear the story that our collection is telling.

Among the museum artifacts, I find many odd things—antique barometers, wreaths made of human hair, shell lattice designs crafted by sailors off at sea, and far too many boat models to keep track of. Each artifact is different and peculiar, curious and inviting.

I find myself contemplating how all these things have come to end up here, on Islesboro, three miles offshore in the middle of Penobscot Bay.

I have come to understand this process as a hands-on method to learn the idiosyncratic history of the island. Before beginning my fellowship, I could not distinguish between different types of navigation lights on a schooner, nor the purpose of a Taffrail log. Now, I

have held them in my hands and felt their unique history. Everything I find is coated in dust, but with each tedious entry, the many layers of the island’s past begin to unravel.

Recently, I have been receiving help from other community members to complete the catalog. People who work at the Historical Society, or who otherwise know Islesboro’s history because it is also their family’s history, have generously offered me help. Through these collaborations, the artifacts we identify move through time and come alive.

I hold up a sepia photograph of a man with a large mustache, kind eyes, and stern expression, held in a rusting metal ovular frame. Recognition sweeps across the faces of the women I am working with. “Oh, I think that’s Amasa Hatch. He built the house across from where I live now.” No one is unknown on an island.

Linda, the former librarian, takes photos of the portrait and the measurements of the frame, calling them out to me so that I can enter the information into the computer. Meanwhile, Carrie, an islander who has been visiting Islesboro since she was a child and an employee

I recently received a press release about the Outdoors for All Act, co-sponsored by Sen. Susan Collins, which would “expand outdoor recreational opportunities in urban and low-income communities” and “allow for equitable access to the benefits of local parks, from job creation, to shade and tree cover, to clean air…”

The Europeans who built our towns brought with them another progressive idea—establishing a village green. In some towns, the green was a place farmers could graze their livestock. Talk about collectivism.

In Belfast, the green is actually a public square on which the First Church was built along with the city’s public high school. The city’s founders knew these public institutions were critical to growing a successful community. How we understand the variety of public spaces is important, but more important is to invest in and protect them.

Tom Groening is editor of The Working Waterfront. He may be reached at tgroening@islandinstitute.org.

at the Historical Society, looks up the identified man in the latest edition of Islesboro Island History, covering the years of 1893-1993. She finds that Capt. Hatch had nine children, one of whom was named Wealthy.

My work in the museum has taught me to see history and places as continuing stories. At the end of my day, as I drive home down the island’s only main road, I stop at the small grocery store. Before I check out, I chat with a man in between the aisles and ask him what his name is. Last name Hatch. I smile, grab my last items off the shelf and think that perhaps he has his great, great, great, great grandfather’s eyes.

Olivia Lenfestey works with the Grindle Point Lighthouse Museum and Islesboro’s Sea Level Rise Committee. She grew up in Santa Fe, N.M. and graduated from Pitzer College in Claremont, California, where she studied English, creative writing, and environmental analysis.

BY THE SEA SIDE—

This image from the Library of Congress shows a view of Old Orchard Beach. The sign, seen here from the opposite side of its intended audience, reads “Sea Side Park.” Do readers have any information about the buildings shown here? Is the turreted structure still standing? Email editor Tom Groening at tgroening@islandinstitute.org.

BY LARISSA HOLLAND

LIKE MOST OF Generation Z, many of my early life milestones were bookmarked by incredible sociopolitical events. I graduated high school in 2016, the same year as a shocking U.S. presidential election and the second deadliest mass shooting in the country.

When I graduated from college in 2020, the first in my family to do so, it was via Zoom, sitting in the family room of a friend’s childhood home while the coronavirus pandemic was in its earliest phase, wreaking havoc across the world.

As dramatic as it sounds, this is the world we are all navigating, albeit with different proximities to the crisis. Youth, in particular, hold a unique amount of the world’s weight as they work to find their place in the fight for an equitable, healthy, resilient future, all while often being too young to vote.

This endeavor is made increasingly complicated for rural youth, as the bridge between our lawmakers and the concerns of rural communities has not been masterfully constructed.

Island Institute Board of Trustees

Kr istin Howard, Chair

Douglas Henderson, Vice Chair

Charles Owen Verrill, Jr. Secretary

Kate Vogt, Treasurer, Finance Chair

Carol White, Programs Chair

Megan McGi nnis Dayton, Philanthropy & Communications Chair

Shey Conover, Governance Chair

Michael P. Boyd, Clerk

Sebastian Belle

David Cousens

Michael Felton

Nathan Johnson

Emily Lane

Bryan Lewis

Michael Sant

Barbara Kinney Sweet

Donna Wiegle

John Bird (honorary)

Following the 2016 presidential election, the Center for Information & Research on Civic Learning and Engagement (CIRCLE) at Tufts University conducted a study that found a majority of youth residing in rural areas live in what is called a “civic desert.”

A civic desert is an area characterized by a severe lack of access, opportunities, and resources designed to encourage civic engagement. The lack of reliable public transportation, the limited financial and public infrastructure to invest in youth-focused groups and organizations, the geographical distance between rural youth and the space where a majority of civic resources take place, and inadequate political engagement on rural issues all are contributing factors to civic deserts being prominent in rural communities.

“There is not a large population of young people in rural areas to begin with,” said Edge Venuti, a Washington County-based rural youth organizer with JustME for JustUS, a youth-led organization advancing climate justice and civic engagement in Washington, Hancock, Penobscot, Franklin, and Kennebec counties. “This makes traditional

coalition building very difficult,” she says. “Additionally, due to our distance from the state house and any major city, rural youth may not know who their local representatives or law makers are.”

The study conducted by CIRCLE indicates that youth living in a civic desert are generally less experienced in civic and political life and largely disengaged from politics. This was true of my lived experience, in which the first time I learned of Maine’s legislative accomplishments and set-backs was during my junior year of high school when I attended Dirigo Girls State at Husson University. The opportunity came at a time I could drive myself, since my family was often too busy working to provide transportation to extracurriculars.

Perhaps the only good thing to come from the COVID pandemic was the increase in remote and digital-based organizing. Despite broadband limitations across rural America, the internet and social media have allowed new opportunities for civic participation in various organizations, coalitions, and social movements that are increasingly used by young folks.

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In fact, social media has been used effectively as a tool for social justice activism in the wake of a global pandemic, the Black Lives Matter movement, and the very real fear around a changing climate.

Young folks possess many characteristics that make them powerful civic actors, not the least of which are their unique perspectives on local issues and being an inexhaustible source of energy and passion for social change.

“Listening to young people offers an important perspective from someone who will be living in this world for the next 50 years,” Venuti says. “Everything changes all the time and it’s important to listen to the younger generation because they understand the change while it is happening, and they do so very differently than the majority of our lawmakers.”

Putting the fears, questions, passions, and demands of our younger citizens at the heart of policy is when our representatives and lawmakers will have the most impact, because it is today’s youth who will define the next generation of politics.

Larissa Holland is development advisor for the nonprofit JustME for JustUS.

Editor: Tom Groening tgroening@islandinstitute.org

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Making our ‘civic deserts’ more fertile Nonprofit JustME for JustUS engaging rural youth

Fog happens—here’s how Maine is among foggiest places in the world

BY TOM GROENING

In the late 1700s, the people who established what today is Belfast at the top of Penobscot Bay first built their homes on what locals call the East Side of town. A small cemetery, with crude slate gravestones, is all the evidence that remains of that foothold, since those early European arrivals soon moved to the shore west of the Passagassawakeag River.

The story that local historians tell is that the cool fog that perennially swept up the bay on the East Side nudged those residents to seek homes on the warmer, drier side of the harbor. To this day, on otherwise fine spring days, that fog flows up across the early settlement site and Route 1.

There are three highincidence fog regions in the U.S.—the Pacific Northwest, the Southern Appalachians, and the Maine coast.

Fog is no stranger to much of the New England coast, but according to meteorologist Mike Clair of the National Weather Service in Gray, we in Maine have some bragging rights on the weather phenomenon—we’re one of three “hot spots” in the U.S., and one of three regions in the world that see daytime fog in the summer.

“Fog is saturated air,” Clair said. “When the dew point and the air temperature are the same, you often have fog.”

The Midcoast and Penobscot Bay regions are prime environments for fog, he said.

Clair was invited by the Penobscot Marine Museum to speak to a virtual gathering on “Fog Along the Maine Coast,” part of its “Fog & Ice” lecture series. Meteorologists identify three kinds of fog, based on how it forms: radiation, steam, and advection.

Sea smoke over Friendship Harbor on Feb. 4 during that day’s double-digit below zero temperatures.

PHOTO: JACK SULLIVAN

Radiation fog occurs when “heat is lost into space on clear nights, cooling at the surface until moisture condenses.” This is common in summer and fall.

Steam fog, also known as Arctic sea smoke, occurs when very cold air moves from the land to over the ocean.

“Typically, when you would see it, it would be a cold wind blowing offshore,” Clair said. The cold, dry air picks up the moisture from the surface of the water. It can also occur over lakes.

But the bulk of our fog is the advection kind. This occurs when moist air from over warmer waters south of Maine moves over the cooler Gulf of Maine and condenses. The moist air also can originate over land southwest of the state in summer.

“This is one of the more common ones we see in the summertime,” Clair said. “These are the kinds of events where you’ll have it be foggy at the coast, then clear just a few miles inland.”

There are three high-incidence fog regions in the U.S., he said—the Pacific Northwest, the Southern Appalachians, and the Maine coast. Showing a world map, Clair noted that “Most of the world does not see fog in the daytime in the summer,” but those that do include the North Pacific (near Japan and Korea), the Arctic, and the Northwest Atlantic (Maine to Greenland).

Maine’s particular experiences with fog are influenced by its topography, Clair said.

“The Midcoast, PenBay regions have higher elevations along the coastline compared to the rest of the state,” he said, with some hills and mountains rising “as much as 1,500 feet. This allows air coming off the ocean to quickly cool and condense as it rises,” turning into fog.

Dynamic ocean currents in the Gulf of Maine also juice up fog here. The Nova Scotia, Eastern Maine Coastal, and Western Maine Coastal currents mix warmer and cooler waters. In the summer, water temperatures can range from the 60s and 70s in the

middle of the Gulf of Maine, yet “In the Midcoast and Downeast, we hang onto those 40s and 50s,” again causing condensation of moist air.

Tides in Maine, ranging from 10- to 22-feet, also bring colder water to the surface, hastening that condensation.

“No matter how warm the Gulf of Maine gets in the summertime, you’re still going to get the tides changing water temperatures,” Clair said.

Showing a video of satellite imagery along New England, he explained how the Massachusetts and Nova Scotia coasts could be clear while Maine’s coast was socked in with fog, pushed up by prevailing winds and intensified by the warm, moist air meeting cool water. And yet even in an era when satellites can capture this movement, fog is often a surprise.

“Models for marine fog are not very good at forecasting,” Clair said.

While walking along the bay last week, the sky was slate gray meeting water just as gray except for bright, white caps topping the swells in an easterly wind. Scattered through the monotones, the dark green of the spruces on the off-shore islands broke the gray and white which was enough color for me until a cardinal and his mate dropped down to the snow six feet in front of me on the path.

Let me help you make your move to a Maine property where you will notice marked contrasts, whether winter, spring, summer or fall, from other places you’ve lived knowing you are making the right decision.

Fog over Corea Harbor in late September, likely the advection variety. PHOTO: TOM GROENING

Native knowledge—

The Passamaquoddy’s ties to water

PHOTO ESSAY BY LESLIE BOWMAN

Drinking water at Sipayik, the Passamaquoddy Tribe’s community near Eastport, has been sourced from Boyden Lake in Perry and Robbinston. But the shallow nature of the lake often has made the water undrinkable for the 600-plus residents of the Pleasant Point reservation, with many relying on bottled water. Federal restrictions on the tribe have prevented it from accessing funds and taking action.

Rena Newell, Passamaquoddy chief, led the way for passage while serving as state representative last year of the state law protecting drinking water resources for the tribe and nearby Eastport. The law provides the tribe with “the freedom to monitor, secure, and protect access to water.”

Salt water also plays an important role in tribal life, with Sipayik located on the bay that bears the tribe’s name.

Fresh, salt water resources are revered, protected by tribe

The dam on the St Croix River in Calais owned by NB Power is slated for removal this year to give an

additional 19

miles of upstream fish passage, according to Brian Altvater, chairman of the Schoodic River Keepers.

On display is this traditional birch bark river canoe (right) made by the late Passamaquoddy tribal member David Moses Bridges for the heritage center’s opening in 2003. Audio tells how the canoe was constructed. Waterways were always the primary route for transportation.

The new elementary school at Sipayik has a drilled well that provides drinking water in the water fountains and kitchen. The water from the Passamaquoddy Water District provides for other water uses.

Passamaquoddy Chief Rena Newell.

One of the legends illustrated in this painting by John Foley, as summarized by Soctomah, represents the battle between the spirit of winter and the spirit of summer and recounts when the people lived at the glacier’s edge. Glacial retreat and land rebound is estimated to have been about 16,000 years ago.

Chris Johnson of the tribal environmental office stands at the fishway connected to the dam at the Passamaquoddy Water District building in Perry. This year he will be monitoring the passage of alewives and making recommendations for improvements. The movement between salt and fresh water, including nutrient mixing, is among the priorities of tribe’s environmental office.

Donald Soctomah is the Passamaquoddy’s historic preservation officer and shares his knowledge through books, films, and public presentations. The stories of the tribe’s relationship to the river and sea are on display at the Wabanaki Cultural Center in Calais.

Another dam at the causeway the connects Sipayik to Eastport has been studied for possible breaching. According to Ralph Dana, the focus of attention is on restoration that would allow for tidal mixing, has been closed off since the 1930s when the Quoddy power project was begun.

William Longfellow, water quality program manager for the tribe, fills a jug at the new pumping station at Sipayik. Clean well water, which is routinely tested, is now available locally.

Our Island Communities

New ferries on the way for Maine

Islesboro, Matinicus, and Peaks projects funded

BY CRAIG IDLEBROOK

New ferries, the vital link between Maine islands and the mainland, are in the pipeline. In recent months, construction has started on ferries to serve Peaks Island in Casco Bay and Matinicus off Penobsot Bay, and funding has been earmarked for a vessel to serve Islesboro and for a second boat for Casco Bay.

Here are the details:

Machigonne II replacement, Peaks Island

When officials at Casco Bay Lines first began considering replacing Machigonne II, the ferry for Peaks Island, they thought that hybrid technology was too risky to utilize for the vessel, according to Hank Berg, general manager for Casco Bay Lines.

“When we were starting off the process of replacing this vessel, we were very conservative,” Berg said. “We’re a lifeline to the islands, and we couldn’t insert risk into it.”

However, ferry officials subsequently learned that hybrid boat engine technology was already in mainstream use in Scandinavian countries. They also saw the technology being used successfully in the U.S., including for the Maid of the Mist tour boat at Niagara Falls. Both the ferry officials and Peaks Island residents came around to the idea that a hybrid-powered approach was the way to go for the new ferry.

“It’s often challenging to get islanders to agree on something,” Berg said. “They all agreed and were in favor of it.”

The new vessel, being constructed by Senesco Marine of North Kingston, R.I., will be powered by a diesel-electric hybrid propulsion system, with the electric component having a 900 kilowatt capacity. Projected to save 800 metric tons of CO2 annually, the ferry will charge at the Portland terminal using electrical infrastructure left over from a floating drydock last used by Bath Iron Works.

The ferry was designed by Elliot Bay Design Group in Seattle, and the propulsion system was designed by ABB, a global technology company.

Berg said this boat is part of a wave of hybridpowered vessels being constructed in the U.S.

The ferry service received $16.3 million from the federal government and the state of Maine for the project. Casco Bay Lines also has received $3.6 million in funding to construct a hybrid-powered vessel to replace Maquoit II, a ferry serving Chebeague, Cliff, Great Diamond, Little Diamond, and Long islands.

The Margaret Chase Smith replacement, Islesboro Another hybrid ferry in the early stages of construction is the Margaret Chase Smith replacement. That vessel

currently connects Islesboro and Lincolnville Beach, part of the Maine State Ferry Service.

In February, Sen. Susan Collins and Member of Congress Chellie Pingree announced that the Maine Department of Transportation will receive a $28 million grant from the federal government for the project.

That grant money comes from the Electric or Low-Emitting Ferry Pilot Program, which was created under the Bipartisan Infrastructure Bill. This sweeping law was enacted with the goals of modernizing public transportation in the U.S., improving the nation’s electric grid, and creating resilience in the face of climate change.

Everett Libby replacement, Matinicus

At long last, Matinicus is getting a new ferry. The current ferry, Everett Libby, has been in service since 1960. The new boat will still be a relatively compact vessel, like its predecessor, with a 104-foot steel hull. Bigger may be better for many boats in the Maine

State Ferry Service, but not for Matinicus, according to longtime resident Eva Murray.

“Only a ‘short boat’ can serve Matinicus Island,” she said in a statement. “The other ferry vessels… cannot physically fit into Matinicus Harbor or access this wharf.”

The ferry has been designed by Gilbert Associates, and is being built by Steiner Shipyard in Alabama. Steiner built a ferry for Casco Bay Lines roughly 15 years ago, said Tara Steiner Marshall, the shipyard’s president. Much has changed to speed up the process of boatbuilding since then, she said. Computer modeling and design packages can make boatbuilding more efficient. However, boatbuilders now must contend with supply chain delays that weren’t common at the turn of the century.

“Normally, a boat like this would only take 14 to 16 months. However the engines are like 54 weeks out,” Steiner said.

The boat is scheduled to be in service in April 2024.

The Margaret Chase Smith on Islesboro. FILE PHOTO: TOM GROENING

A rendering of the ferry that will replace the Everett Libby on the Rockland to Matinicus run.

The Machigonne II on its way to Peaks Island. FILE PHOTO: MICHELE STAPLETON

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Boothbay’s ‘hidden treasure’ is water temperature data

Almost 120 years of readings are informing climatologists

BY ANNIE ROPEIK

MAINE’S DEPARTMENT of Marine

Resources has maintained a hidden treasure in Boothbay Harbor for nearly 120 years—a daily measurement of sea surface temperatures, which provides an uncommonly long record of a warming ocean.

Those daily records (more than 42,000 of them) were translated into annual averages to show the estimated increase in water temperatures at Boothbay Harbor between 1905 and 2021. It shows a rough increase of 4 to 5 degrees on average, from an annual average of 45.3 degrees at the turn of the 20th century to just over 50 degrees in recent years.

One important caveat on this data: DMR’s method for collecting the water temperatures in the harbor changed around 1950. Before, measurements were taken three times a day, during the day, using a thermometer in a bucket lowered into the water. In the 1950s, this was replaced with instruments installed just below the surface to take continuous measurements.

“While the early bucket measurements are useful for understanding broad temperature trends, especially given the length of the dataset, the measurements after 1950 are better for looking at trends on a finer scale and are more comparable to modern

datasets in other parts of the world,” said Jesica Waller, director of DMR’s Division of Biological Monitoring & Assessment, in an email.

This means there is a limit to how closely early and later measurements can be compared in this data set without more detailed analysis. However, what is known broadly is that ocean temperatures have risen— since the Industrial Revolution, when humans began burning fossil fuels and emitting greenhouse gases on massive new scales, and even more quickly since the 1970s.

So there’s a lot to be learned from this kind of long, detailed temperature record, especially in the Gulf of Maine, one of the fastest-warming parts of the world’s oceans.

“This dataset is one of the longest continuous ocean temperature records in the world and is a key resource to evaluate rising temperatures in coastal Gulf of Maine waters,” Waller said in an email. “DMR researchers and scientists across the world use this unique dataset to better understand the history of our ecosystem and forecast the future.”

Warming waters are a major contributor to coastal sea level rise, worsening storms, and other harms to marine ecosystems and fisheries from climate change.

Another example of an application for this data is in the shorter-term

spike in temperatures seen in the 1950s, which had myriad effects on fisheries, invasive species, and more. Researchers today can compare the effects of this episode to those of longer-term, human-caused warming.

Dave Reidmiller, who directs the Climate Center at the Gulf of Maine Research Institute, said long-term datasets like this help scientists separate “signal” from “noise” to find trends. Since natural processes can take decades to occur, he said, it takes many decades of data to accurately discern what’s natural and what’s the result of human activities.

This data can also be used to improve climate models, giving scientists more

Darling Marine’s Heather Leslie honored Recognition comes for work in ‘human-environment’ links

HEATHER LESLIE, professor of marine science and director of the Darling Marine Center at the University of Maine, has been named a 2022 American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) Fellow, one of the highest honors in the scientific community.

AAAS Fellows are a group of scientists, engineers, and innovators recognized for their achievements across disciplines, from research, teaching, and technology, to administration in academia, industry, and government, to excellence in communicating and interpreting science to the public.

Since the program’s establishment in 1874, the AAAS Council has elected such distinguished fellows as W.E.B. DuBois, Maria Mitchell, Steven Chu, Ellen Ochoa, Irwin M. Jacobs, Alan Alda, Mae Jemison, and Ayanna Howard. Other recent AAAS Fellows from UMaine include Susan Brawley, professor emerita of plant biology

and marine ecology and 2012 AAAS Fellow; Daniel Sandeweiss, professor of anthropology and 2014 AAAS Fellow; and R. Dean Astumian, professor of physics and 2016 AAAS Fellow.

“I am honored to be recognized as a AAAS Fellow. I hope my election will inspire students to pursue interdisciplinary research relevant to coastal communities,” Leslie says. “We need many researchers from many different backgrounds contributing to marine conservation, given the importance of ensuring both people and ecosystems thrive in the face of climate change and other challenges.”

Leslie has been a professor of marine science and director of the Darling Marine Center at UMaine since 2015.

An international leader in marine conservation science, Leslie studies the drivers of ecological and social processes in marine systems, and how to more effectively connect science to policy

and management. Leslie’s work has appeared in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, Ecology, Conservation Biology and Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment.

The AAAS Council wrote that Leslie was selected for her “distinguished contributions to conservation biology, particularly to coastal marine ecology, human-environment linkages, and design and evaluation of marine management strategies.”

Before arriving at UMaine, Leslie was on the faculty at Brown University

confidence in their projections about the next century of warming or sea level rise.

“Computer models that simulate the Earth system are only as good as the environmental data that goes into them,” Reidmiller said. “Long-term observational datasets provide scientists with the information needed to test how well their models can simulate historical conditions.”

This story was originally published by The Maine Monitor, a nonprofit and nonpartisan news organization. To get regular coverage from the Monitor, sign up for a free Monitor newsletter at TheMaineMonitor.org/subscribe.

as the inaugural Peggy and Henry D. Sharpe Assistant Professor. She also received an A.B. in biology from Harvard University, a Ph.D. in Zoology from Oregon State University, and conducted postdoctoral research at Princeton University. Leslie lives with her family by the Damariscotta River in Newcastle.

Leslie and the other 505 newly elected 2022 AAAS Fellows will be recognized this spring at the ceremonial Fellows Forum in Washington, D.C.

Heather Leslie in the field.

“We need many researchers from many different backgrounds contributing to marine conservation…”

An aerial view of Boothbay Harbor

A tree’s demise prompts stories

Hurricane blamed for toppled Rockland tree

THE PHOTO we ran on page 9 in the February/March issue showed a large tree with its roots torn from the ground, leaning onto wires and another tree (and possibly a house) with a Rockland police vehicle parked nearby. We asked readers from more information, and as usual, they came through with the goods.

Town meeting, painting lines, eating doughnuts, and throwing rocks

piece of purple rope to the end of the buoy line or toggle, but all attachments

By Barbara Fernald

ACTIVITY on the islands, at the end of February and into March, is like a mirror image of the action at the end of August into September. Just as the summer residents of the Cranberry Isles end their vacations right before fall, many year-round residents end their winter breaks just before the spring equinox.

It’s time to get back to work and reconnect.

Fred Stoddard writes that the tree was “on the northwest corner of Talbot Avenue and Union Street” and came down in Hurricane Edna. “I grew up in that neighborhood. The apartment building on the left received little damage. My grandmother lived in the other end, her first name was Edna. And yes, they did have gasolinepowered chainsaws.”

Rob Lindsay noted our caption speculated about the photo being from the late 1940s or early 1950s. “Could it have been a result of Hurricane Carol in 1953, or even the Great Atlantic Hurricane in 1944? There was lots of damage along the whole coast in those storms.”

workshop, but

Duncan LaBay of Spruce Head must have used a magnifying glass to get to the truth:

Our annual town meeting takes place on the second Saturday in March. For selectmen and town employees, winter has been anything but a vacation. They have been working steadily, gathering information to write the warrant for town meeting. It’s the time of year we come together as a town to decide on projects and spending and how much money is to be raised by property taxes.

Discussion of the school budget alone can take well over an hour. The islands take turns hosting the meeting and the luncheon. This year, town

“The picture contains two clues,” he writes, “leaves on the trees and a 1951-53 Dodge police truck. That immediately suggested to me that it was very likely taken following one of the late-summer hurricanes in 1954.”

I got to spend a lot of time with our grandchildren in Southern Maine. Visiting them was the main goal of most of our winter travel. We considered trying to paint our kitchen, but we kept catching odd coughing viruses and experienced more down time than we wanted, so we never got to it. Maybe I’ll paint it in May, when I can have the windows open.

inch purple mark halfway to the buoy, and a 36-inch mark near the buoy.

ing in their spare time. If Bruce were writing an essay on how he spent his winter vacation, painting would be a part of it. Another part would be the description I heard him tell his brother Mark about walking to get doughnuts, in February, with our son Robin, and our grandchildren Henry and Cora. I was away with friends in Portland, and Stephanie was away with friends in Florida. Father and son were in charge.

LaBay notes that he was “just shy of three-years-old when hurricanes Carol and Edna came through Portland, and I remember our being without electricity and my mother cooking on an old wood stove in the cellar. The neighbors lost several very large trees in the storms.”

The Rockland Historical Society, he says, tied the image to September 1954 following Hurricane Edna.

Bruce saw more than enough paint, anyway, this winter. During his “time off” he painted 600 buoys (white and

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And marine scientist Bob Steneck keyed on the species of tree: “Perhaps everyone knows this but that looks to me to be an elm. The branches from the middle to the left (lower) look to have the bend of an elm. The loss of mighty elms is one of the saddest changes that has occurred in Maine (and elsewhere). Isn’t Elm Street right around the corner from the Island Institute?

“Yeah, we got doughnuts at The Cookie Jar and then walked to the beach for a picnic and to throw rocks.”

Eating homemade donuts and throwing rocks at the beach—if that isn’t a mirror image of many childhood summers on Islesford, I don’t know what is. q

“I’ve seen old photos of the street back in the day. Your photo illustrates well how grand those old elms where. I think the disease was introduced to North America around 1920 so might that have been an already dead or dying elm.”

Thank you, readers!

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Lubec’s Safe Harbor project back on track

New funding makes protected anchorage plan viable

BY J.D. RULE

LUBEC’S SAFE HARBOR project, which has been in the works for more than five years and recently stalled for lack of funding, has taken a significant step forward with an additional $10 million expected from the federal government, bringing project funding up to $29.6 million. It is now anticipated that the project will be completed in 2026.

Select Board Chairwoman Carol Dennison made the announcement during the board’s Feb. 1 meeting, when she outlined the results of her discussions with the Maine Department of Transportation and representatives of Sen. Susan Collins. Under a new agreement, DOT will take over management of the project through the department’s Aurele Gorneau. Gorneau was project manager for the Eastport breakwater restoration, as well as many other DOT projects.

Gorneau said the project will follow the design prepared by Lubec’s Safe

Harbor Committee. According to DOT, the total project cost is pegged at $29.1 million. The additional funding, said Gorneau, is expected to be provided by the U.S. Department of Transportation’s Maritime Administration, or MARAD. The state’s role in the project will be to manage the work.

Once funding details are settled, says Gorneau, new bids will be solicited. He expects construction work to begin late this year. Information received from the DOT shows the project to include construction of new breakwater, boat launch, parking lot, and wharf located behind the Lubec Historical Society building off Route 189.

The Safe Harbor project was first presented to Lubec voters during a special town meeting in September 2017, when approval was granted for the town to purchase a parcel of land needed for the initiative. Area fishermen backed the project as it is intended to provide a refuge from damaging storms, some of which have led to loss of life. Design details were

Wotton honored by DMR

Friendship fishermen wins Andy Mays award

JAMES “JIMMY” WOTTON of Friendship received the annual “Department of Marine Resources Andy Mays Award of Excellence” at the March 2-5 Fishermen’s Forum in Rockport.

Wotton currently serves as the Chair of the Lobster Zone D Council and as a member of the Scallop Advisory Council. He has held licenses in multiple fisheries including lobster, scallop, urchin, menhaden, river herring, and halibut, and was applauded by DMR Commissioner Patrick Keliher for his valuable input into fisheries regulation and management.

In presenting the award in front of a packed room attending DMR’s Lobster

Science presentation, Keliher echoed the words engraved on the plaque.

“This award is being presented in recognition of your expertise across numerous fisheries and your willingness to engage the department in a constructive way that contributes to the prosperity of all Maine fishermen,” said Keliher.

The award is named for Southwest Harbor fisherman Andy Mays who died in 2017 but who left an important legacy of participation in the management and regulatory process.

“This award recognizes industry members who participate with the department to ensure a sustainable future for Maine’s commercial fisheries, which is what Andy did throughout his career,” said Keliher.

“Jimmy exemplifies that standard by sharing his broad base of knowledge with our advisory councils and through his collaboration with the department. That kind of strong working relationship is vital for the sustainability of our commercial fisheries,” said Keliher.

worked out by an ad-hoc committee assigned the task, which provides for a space sheltered from the strong northern winds of Johnson Bay, as well as a ramp and parking area affording space to park trailerable craft during storms.

In September 2018 the town accepted a donation of $10,000 from the Butler Conservation Fund towards the project; at that time no cost estimates had been developed. In January of 2020 the federal government approved a grant of $19.65 million, and shortly after bids were solicited. The project then stalled when the two bids received were both above the funding amount. One reduced the scope unacceptably but stayed within the budget, while the other retained the scope but was priced well beyond available funding.

The Safe Harbor plan calls for constructing a breakwater extending several hundred feet into Johnson Bay, providing a sheltered area where mariners can launch, recover, and moor vessels during inclement weather. The

project also would include a two-way road to the end of the pier, with two hoists for fishermen to get their product to market safely and quickly. Part of the plan includes providing the Maine Marine Patrol with dock space that would allow its boat to be available full-time, 12 months out of the year.

According to government statistics, commercial fishing is the most dangerous occupation in the U.S., well ahead of logging. Research performed by Trescott resident Julie Keene, the Safe Harbor committee chairwoman, indicates that four deaths could have been prevented had a breakwater such as the one envisioned been available. This does not include events that happen on boats at sea; the four were all lost while attempting to come ashore—typically in a skiff—during foul weather.

This story first appeared in The Quoddy Tides newspaper and is reprinted here with permission and gratitude.

New marine patrol officer for Jonesport-Beals

BEN WIANT of Romulus, N.Y. has joined the Maine Marine Patrol as its newest officer and will serve in the Washington County communities of Harrington, Jonesport, Beals, and Addison.

Wiant, has completed the Maine Criminal Justice Academy’s Law Enforcement Pre-Service Training Program and the Marine Patrol’s 45-day field training program.

Wiant brings experience in public safety to his position. From 2019-2020 he served as a Public Safety Ranger for the New York State Police. He conducted incident investigation, safety promotion, first aid, and traffic control.

From 2019-2021 Wiant also served as a security guard in the Carrier Dome, home to Syracuse University’s football, basketball, and lacrosse teams.

Wiant received a B.S. in forestry resource management from the State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry in 2021.

“Officer Wiant’s patrol includes some of the busiest commercial fishing communities in our state,” said Marine Patrol Maj. Rob Beal. “We’re pleased to have someone with Officer Wiant’s initiative join this patrol so we can carry on our strong Marine Patrol presence Downeast.”

Department of Marine Resources Commissioner Patrick Keliher, left, presents the annual DMR Andy Mays Award of Excellence to Friendship fisherman James “Jimmy” Wotton. The award was presented Saturday at the Fishermen’s Forum in Rockport.

New Maine Marine Patrol Officer Ben Wiant, center, with Col. Matthew Talbot, left, and Department of Marine Resources Commissioner Patrick Keliher.

A panoramic view of Johnson Bay in Lubec. FILE PHOTO: TOM GROENING

Lobster shells may protect potato crop

UMaine researchers studying pathogen protections

SCIENTISTS AT THE University of Maine are studying lobster shells as a possible aid to microbial communities to ward off soilborne potato pathogens. The novel shell-to-spud combination may connect two cornerstones of Maine’s food system and enhance the state’s circular economy.

Potatoes are Maine’s top agricultural commodity with a value of more than $215 million in 2021, according to a National Agricultural Statistics Service report. The crop’s value is in its roots, making it especially susceptible to soilborne diseases. Early potato dying syndrome, a fungal pathogen present in Maine, can decimate as much as half of a crop in severely affected fields.

Katie Ashley, a plant science Ph.D. student in the lab of Associate Professor Jianjun Hao, is assessing how different concentrations of cooked, dried, and ground lobster shells may prevent potato disease.

Ross Sousa, a fourth-year botany major from Somerset, Mass., has also worked on the project as a laboratory technician. In addition to disease resistance, the team is also tracking soil microbial communities, overall crop yield, and plant emergence, vigor, biomass, and height.

The ingredient of interest is chitin, which comprises 75% of lobster exoskeletons and provides structural support. Chitin is also present in fungal and bacterial pathogens. Some naturally occurring soil microbes specialize in breaking down this compound. Ashley hypothesizes that adding chitin-rich shells in the fall will

cultivate these beneficial microbial communities, creating a line of defense against soilborne pests.

The approach is not without precedent; chitin from other types of shellfish is already part of integrated pest management programs on farms in South Korea, Japan, and California. Based on this past work, Ashley initially also considered oyster shells. She soon realized their rock-like nature makes them difficult to grind into a usable soil amendment, and pivoted to lobster. Hers is the first study to use Maine’s state crustacean and apply the practice to potatoes.

“We’re very fortunate to have both rich agricultural production and a blue economy. It puts Maine in a very unique position,” says Ashley, who earned her master’s in plant pathology from UMaine.

The team completed a greenhouse trial with 90 plants on UMaine’s campus this fall. A field-scale trial in the 2023 growing season will compare plots with different concentrations of chitin, compost, and chemical fumigation at Aroostook Farm in Presque Isle. Ashley and Hao are hoping growers in the region may also open portions of their fields for the study.

Preliminary results indicate that the amendment also benefits aboveground plant growth by an average of 200%. Lobster shell fertilizer is not new. Ashley’s study may provide the data to support its growth into a broader market.

The study is an extension of a $10 million multistate research collaboration funded by the U.S. Department

of Agriculture (USDA) National Institute of Food and Agriculture and led by the University of Minnesota. Hao is a co-principal investigator on the project, which aims to address key soil issues on potato farms — the mounting pressure of soilborne disease despite fumigation, and declining soil productivity that supports crop health.

“Soil microorganisms are the key to improve soil quality and can be measured as an indicator of soil health. These beneficial microorganisms are highly driven by soil amendments such as crops, plant residues, animal manures, and, in this case, lobster shell meal,” says Hao.

If successful, Ashley’s approach could provide an alternative disease control practice for Maine potato growers.

Chemical inputs are the largest operating expense for the state’s growers, according to a 2008 report from the Maine Potato Board.

The concept would also provide a new market for byproducts of the lobster industry.

Curt Brown, a marine biologist at Saco-based seafood supplier and processor Ready Seafood, estimates that shells account for 25% of lobsters’ weight. Nearly half of Maine’s catch is processed rather than sold live, and those shells are largely destined for landfills. A new market for this byproduct would ebb that waste stream.

Ready Seafood and Luke’s Lobster in Portland and Coastal Chitin provided lobster shells for Ashley’s study.

Broadband funded awarded to coastal communities

Digital inclusion efforts part of delivery of programs

THE MAINE Connectivity Authority (MCA) has made 26 awards totaling more than $4 million in funding and support to community, regional, and tribal organizations.

These initiatives will support community-driven broadband solutions that ensure universal connectivity, strengthen, and grow the number of partners thinking about digital equity and inclusion, and create increased alignment and coordination between communities, regions, and the state. Both programs are funded by the Maine Jobs and Recovery Program and are part of MCA’s All-In program that will bring high-speed broadband to over 30,000 homes and businesses in rural and remote areas.

The Regional & Tribal Broadband Partners Program will help deploy and sustain the benefits of broadband infrastructure investment in all state regions. Each partner will build and lead digital inclusion efforts in each of their regions and tribes while also providing support for community and regional-scale broadband infrastructure solutions and investments.

Among the award recipients in Maine’s coastal regions are:

• Four Directions Development Corporation ($250,000)

• Greater Franklin Development Council ($215,743)

• Greater Portland Council of Governments ($250,000)

• GrowSmart Maine ($183,400)

• Island Institute ($250,000)

• Lincoln County Regional Planning Commission ($234,420)

• Northern Forest Center ($246,081)

• Northern Maine Development Corporation ($250,000)

• Southern Maine Planning and Development Commission ($249,567)

• Somerset Economic Development ($209,500)

• Sunrise County Economic Council ($203,373)

“Investing in staffing and capacity to support broadband and digital inclusion will ensure that the true impact of this generational investment in universal connectivity will be felt by all people and communities in Maine,” said Maggie Drummond-Bahl, MCA’s strategic partnership director.

The regional and tribal partners will receive funding and support from the MCA in partnership with the Maine Broadband Coalition and National Digital Equity Center. This program will offer a two-year funding commitment

with a maximum of $500,000. The awards listed above include funding for the program’s first year.

The Get Ready Community Support program will invest $1 million in accelerated community broadband planning at a regional scale through tailored technical assistance and the coordination of multiple professional service providers to support participants. Through this approach, MCA aims to make the planning process more efficient and to build a pipeline of private-public partnerships ready to leverage and accelerate future deployment of statewide broadband funding.

The fall 2022 award recipients include the following municipalities and community organizations:

• Bath Fiber Optic Alliance

• Eastern Maine Development Corporation (Lincoln, Newport, and Milford)

• Eastport Fiber Connectivity Committee

• Four Directions/Wabanaki Nations (Passamaquoddy Tribe at Pleasant Point)

• Frankfort/Stockton Springs/ Winterport Broadband Committee

• Greater Portland Council of Governments (Casco, Raymond,

Sebago, Naples and Standish)

• Greene Broadband Committee

• Schoodic Peninsula Broadband

• Town of Chelsea

• Town of Dresden

• Town of Woolwich

• Wiscasset Broadband Committee

“Maine is known nationally for its investments and progress in communitydriven broadband planning, and a milliondollar investment in our first cohort of Get Ready communities is a reflection of the state’s commitment to partner with communities,” said Kendra Jo Grindle, MCA’s Community Capacity Manager. “This program is designed to build a pipeline for infrastructure investment while providing the technical support to accelerate their planning process.”

Members of the first Get Ready cohort will receive up to $10,000 in direct funding in addition to professional services contracted through MCA. Services include technical support to develop high-level network designs, financial support to develop a capital cost analysis, legal assistance, and project management and meeting facilitation support. These services will be customized for each community group to complement their prior planning efforts and existing partnerships.

Katie Ashley, a plant science Ph.D student at the University of Maine, poses with potato bins filled with lobster shells.

Out of my lane—pinch-hitting as art teacher

Creativity, preparation, and the all-important ‘pivot’

BY COURTNEY NALIBOFF

AS I SETTLE into middle age, I find I can enjoy a sense of easy competency in most of the things I do. After 18 years of teaching and directing plays, I no longer fret over every detail, but can plan more generally and pivot and problem-solve as needed.

I can load the woodstove and revive the fire from a few embers. I can make dinner from the often random-feeling assortment of ingredients available on the island. I can even parallel park on Main Street (sometimes).

My complacency was shaken recently when I was suddenly pushed very far out of my lane. The school art teacher, my friend and frequent collaborator, was suddenly faced with a long-term absence. She and I have been co-teaching an integrated arts class for the elementary school this year, along with the world language teacher. We had a recent shake-up there as well, switching from Spanish, a language I’m comfortable in, to French, which I am definitely not. We brought in an art substitute teacher, Fiona of Bait Bag fame, and

things went wonderfully for a while. I started learning French, she taught the students print-making, and while I missed my friend, I was still reasonably in my comfort zone. But when Fiona caught the school upper respiratory crud, the French teacher and I realized we would suddenly have to teach art.

I love making art, don’t get me wrong. I’m a big fan of making a mess, too. I’m just not an art teacher. Neither is the French teacher, who was co-teaching with me.

Even with our 48 combined years of teaching experience, when we passed each other in the hallway that morning, we took a moment to psych ourselves up. We knew how to teach. We could do this!

We had two lessons planned—maskmaking and print-making. We had submitted an order for mask-making materials with plenty of time for them to arrive—or so we thought.

The first wrinkle of the day found me spelunking in the depths of the art closet for backup supplies which didn’t materialize. No matter. We were pros. We could pivot.

The mask-making class went shockingly smoothly. Some students opted to wait for the missing materials, while others were happy to get started with what we had available. Like us, they could pivot.

Print-making was where my deficiencies as an art teacher really showed up. The kids had fun and made prints, sure. But a real art teacher would have thought to put smocks on the students and cover the tables, preventing the moment when my colleague and I realized with horror that the students had inked every surface—hands, faces, clothes. The entire classroom looked like it had endured an attack from a legion of octopods and squid.

We hosed them down as best we could and sent them back to their classrooms, then turned our attention to the classroom itself. As we scrubbed, the principal stopped by to see how we had fared.

“I don’t want to be an art teacher!” I wailed, up to my elbows in black suds. He laughed.

It’s a privilege of adulthood that we’re rarely asked to operate outside our lane. Even on North Haven, where

journal of an island kitchen

Tasty memories from Kirstie’s kitchen

One of Islesboro’s newer ‘dames’ entertained royally

BY SANDY OLIVER

IN ALL LIKELIHOOD, Kirstie Alley was the only hostess in Dark Harbor who had a container in her kitchen of silicone worms, spiders, centipedes, and creepy crawlers with which she or her cooks could garnish platters of food. We sprinkled them in salads, and they crawled along the edges of food trays. After all, she was a comedian and she enjoyed her guests' reactions.

After she and Parker Stevenson bought the old Islesboro Inn, she set about renovating and redecorating, and the kitchen and a butler’s pantry next to it got lots of attention. Two big gas stoves, one of them high enough that she, a tall woman, could comfortably cook at, and an island, also fairly high, were in the center of the kitchen. Sink, counter, dishwasher under windows overlooking Gilkey Harbor, and cupboards against the opposite wall, stuffed full of baking pans and dishes, sometimes proportioned for what seemed to be institutional cooking. More pots and pans dangled from a rack from the ceiling.

A beautiful old wooden refrigerator, formerly an icebox, was always stuffed full of food. The backdoor to the kitchen, was, or at least seemed to

be, the house’s main entrance because everyone came and left from it despite a grand front door.

The butler’s pantry held a marvel of dishes and glasses. Kirstie loved dishes and table linens and having company to enjoy them.

Her first event was an elegant tea party to which she invited the Grande Dames of Dark Harbor, plus a whole group of ladies closer to her in age and origin, whom she met exploring the island. On the advice of her caretaker, she recruited my best gal pal Bonnie and me to prepare food for the tea.

Hundreds of lemon curd tartlets, jelly tarts trimmed with tiny pastry grape leaves; little heart-shaped sandwiches garnished with Johnny Jump Up flowers; cucumber sandwiches with crisscrossed chive bits and a sprig of dill. There was chocolate cake and a lemon one topped with pansy blossoms.

Kirstie’s cookie cutter collection included a pineapple shaped one with which we made cookies, decorated with diagonal strips in pale orange frosting with miniscule dots of yellow in the diamond shaped spaces, and jauntily topped off with green icing fronds.

The last hour of preparation found five or more of us in the kitchen arranging and garnishing. Approximate ratio

of preparation to consumption time? Staggering. The whole experience was absolutely terrifying and too much fun.

For about four or five more seasons, I prepared Sunday brunches with lots of quiches, fried bacon, sausage, fruit salads, and, when her dad visited from Missouri, Amish-made dried chipped beef on toast, good old “Shit on a Shingle” which he liked very much.

Like most Dark Harbor hosts, Kirstie’s guest list fluctuated between Saturday afternoon and Sunday serving times, introducing an element of surprise while I labored at the tall island standing on a small stool to compensate for my height.

Kirstie adored the older summer ladies, especially honoring the great interior decorator Sister Parish by using her design principles. At the same time, Kirstie was quite democratic in her hospitality. When her house renovations were done, she threw a huge party for everyone who worked on it.

Other parties followed, often staged outdoors. I baked an awful lot of coconut cakes in those days using a recipe I found from the 1880s that she loved, multiplying the recipe to make them large enough for her gatherings. She ordered tamales from California and sent her caretaker off on extended

most of us wear many hats, we usually have some say in how we help meet the needs of our community.

I go through life reasonably certain that I won’t suddenly be required to play volleyball, drive stick, or create a beautiful graphic design, and instead I can teach, play music, swim, cook, write, and be an EMT.

Kids are often asked or required to go outside their comfort zones, though, in the name of experiencing a little bit of a lot of things to help them understand what they like and want to do more of. I totally agree with it as a practice, but my recent experience reminds me to be a little more empathetic of the nerves it might provoke.

The real art teacher came back to work recently, and I’m a little more in awe of what she does, and a lot happier back in my own lane.

Courtney Naliboff teaches, plays music, and writes on North Haven. She may be reached at Courtney.Naliboff@gmail.com.

hunts to the mainland for Hebrew American frankfurters. Chafing dishes of food formed a buffet line on her driveway. Beer and wine floated it all.

Once, David Crosby was a houseguest and Kirstie threw a party for islanders while he was here. Of course, he perched on a stool at the kitchen island, and visited with everyone flowing through while I nervously made Spanish rice for the first time in my life from a recipe in the Joy of Cooking. He was an affable guy and later that night he and Kirstie sang on her front steps to a crowd of islanders who joined in on the chorus.

My possibly-unreliable memory says they sang “Teach Your Children,” but maybe that was at another Kirstie bash. Doesn’t matter, late at night, outdoors under stars, dead-tired, and surrounded by neighbors and friends, choked up and a little weepy, I thought, what amazing memories Kirstie makes for us all.

Sandy Oliver is a food historian who gardens, cooks, and writes on Islesboro. She may be reached at SandyOliver47@ gmail.com.

cranberry report

Adventures in art

Exploring a new medium invigorates

BY BARBARA FERNALD

AS I SIT in my 8-foot by 10-foot studio on a sunny afternoon in the fourth week of February I think about the strange winter we’ve experienced. The islands have not had more than three inches of snow at a time and that hasn’t lasted.

There have been days in the 40s and even some 50 degree days. The mild weather has been peppered with wind, cold, drizzle, and clouds, but it seems we’ve had fewer storms than other years. The storms we experienced have been powerful, though. The high winds and dangerous temperatures packed a wallop, causing power outages, frozen pipes, and canceled boats.

In my garden a few crocus shoots are now showing above the leaves. It feels too early. I cross my fingers that the 84 bulbs I planted last fall have been OK without a cover of snow. Now it looks like we’ll get 4 to 8 inches in late February as I write. This winter has been a real weather salad. All bits and pieces.

Collage seems to be my theme this winter, whether it’s jigsaw puzzles, the

A distinct voice

To the editor:

Phil Crossman and his skin color and the adjectives used to describe it in his Observer column apparently rubbed at least one person in the wrong way (“Unacceptable,” letters to the editor, December/January issue).

My spouse and I lived two wonderful years in Maine and have studied the state’s geography, people, humor, history, and everything we could for the past many, many years. We remain from away but at least we understand what that means.

Maine humor is distinct and Phil Crossman is a distinct voice of that humor which unfortunately is gradually disappearing. Many great examples avail themselves in my memory, Marshall Dodge and Tim Sample being two, but the best were in the little general stores and post offices around the state and in barns and bars and fish docks.

Maine humor assumes the listener will think, and doesn’t need an apology or explanation. It sometimes takes a minute to sink in, particularly for those of us from away.

Please keep Phil Crossman’s ruminations coming despite his wry, rough, but well-meaning approach. We have had the great fortune of visiting Vinalhaven and spending time seeing that small corner of Maine from his eyes. I would venture there is no mean bone to be found in Phil. He

weather, or the art form I’ve chosen to explore more deeply. I’ve spent a good part of the quiet season in my tiny studio, surrounded by scraps of colored paper, having a wonderful time putting them together to make a whole.

When my desire to make jewelry waned during the COVID years, I found other ways to keep connected to my studio. Last year I joined a “drawinga-day” group on-line for February and it helped so much, I did it again.

This year I’ve made more collages than drawings. Lines are lines whether drawn with a pencil or created by the edges of paper. The group doesn’t seem to mind and many of my collages include some drawing as I experiment with metallic pens and acrylic paint markers.

I first learned about tissue paper collage in 6th grade and I’ve collected scraps of paper for years. The tin of Swiss watercolor crayons I’m using dates back to my time in college 48 years ago. As I work, I appreciate the connection to my 12-year-old self, my college self, and the fact that I rarely throw out art supplies. I think I’ve just

been waiting for this line up of stars to get me going.

Last June, I had the privilege of spending a few creative sessions with my friend Miklos as he marked his last days on Islesford, still making art when he felt up to it. I worked with tissue as we talked about life and death while he reworked some pieces for an upcoming show. In August he passed away quietly, surrounded by close family.

In the fall, his widow, Clare, invited me to look through one of the drawers in his studio. It contained torn prints and experiments with paint. Pieces of pieces he had set aside for collage.

I took home a diverse collection of scraps along with some of the heaviest watercolor paper I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t wait to just pick a piece and see where it led me. Every time I thought I was going to work on some jewelry, I’d be drawn to the work area with the cool paper and pens. It makes me really happy.

I’m trying hard to follow a one-dayat-a-time attitude and trusting that it’s leading me in a positive direction. Design ideas pop up when I’m working

letters to the editor

suffers fools poorly though, and that is OK.

Mainers, born and bred, are a rare and rarified breed and the rest of us from away have absolutely little means to judge them, nor should we anyway.

Living on an island is different. Living in rural Maine is different. Phil Crossman is very different! We absolutely love his columns, please keep them coming without censorship or concern for our feelings.

Bob and Cammie Israel Mobile, Ala.

Perception eclipses reality

To the editor: “Report: Lobster remains a responsibly harvested species,” “Officials, industry respond to lobster red listing,” and “Will innovation save lobstering?”

Thank you for the above articles in The Working Waterfront about the alleged effect Maine lobster fishing has on the North Atlantic right whale. The reports are well-reasoned accounts of Maine’s lobster industry.

I fear that despite the present legal, technical, and scientific debate by governmental agencies, environmental activists, marine scientists, and industry experts to reach legal and regulatory solutions that may or

may not reduce the risk to the North Atlantic right whale, the real threat is the perceived public belief that the Maine lobster industry is harming an endangered whale.

When the Marine Stewardship Council and Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch red-listed Maine lobster it shifted the perception of the industry from an environmentally sustainable enterprise to one that does harm. Virtue signaling can quickly alter retail and consumer buying habits.  The decision by Whole Foods, HelloFresh, and other retailers to stop selling Maine lobster reflects the belief that the industry is doing harm. The negative perception is presently affecting the lobster market. This unsupported negative perception may jeopardize future funding of the industry with economic, social, and governance (ESG) motivated financial institutions.

ESG is an ideological initiative that evolved from a corporate social responsibility initiative promoted a few years ago by the United Nations. It is now an investment tool adopted by major banks and investment groups. Using ESG credit impact scores, banks and investment firms influence/coerce private companies to address among other concerns climate change, greenhouse gas emissions, and biodiversity loss. ESG corporate funding decisions like any corporate decision can devastate local economies. For example, several

on something totally different so the collage work has helped me find my way back to jewelry work as well.

After almost three years of COVID with its fears, limitations, and (for me) the depression, I’m feeling more positive and paying more attention to the good times which will piece together the “new normal” collage of my life.

Last week, I started work on an owl collage in honor of Miklos. After a few hours Bruce and I went for a walk. At one point he stopped and quietly pointed up. A barred owl sat on a low tree branch about 15 feet away. We all stayed still and watched each other for a good five minutes. Sometimes the stars just line up.

Barbara Fernald lives and writes on Islesford (Little Cranberry Island). She may be reached at Fernald244@gmail.com.

million dollars were lost by local businesses when Coca Cola, Delta, and Major League Baseball were motivated to move the 2021 Major League Baseball All-Star Game out of Atlanta for ESG political reasons. Lloyds Bank, Britain’s largest domestic bank, has stopped funding fossil fuel projects as part of its new policy to address climate change. The Maine lobster industry has now been put in the spotlight of virtue signaling and ESG financial pressures. I am not sure if Maine’s political leaders who broadly support and promote ESG goals see the connection. Virtue signaling and ESG investment scores are strongly influenced by public opinion and in return affect corporate decisions. These ideas and interests are less influenced by the merits of the case that is now being pursued. The weight of ideology and not knowledge may eventually irreparably harm the industry.

Steven Whitney

Deer Isle

The Working Waterfront welcomes letters to the editor. Please send them to editor Tom Groening at tgroening@ islandinstitute.org with LTE in the subject line. Letters should be about 300 words and address issues that the newspaper covers. We also print longer opinion pieces, but please clear them first with the editor.

field notes

Resilience is the response

Communities are facing climate-driven challenges

BY ABBY ROCHE

I WAS ON Great Cranberry Island for a community event recently and encountered a sight that will not be easily forgotten. As I stood on the dock awaiting the mailboat back to mainland, I looked to the west and saw several gravestones on a grassy enclave that were dangerously close to a 2-3 foot drop down to the lapping water. The cemetery was falling into the ocean.

Threats like this are common on our coast as we continue to see and feel the impacts of a changing climate. In the face of these changes, communities are called to be “resilient,” or to prepare to withstand and bounce back from these difficult events. But there’s much to be understood about the “how” of this work.

As I near my two-year anniversary working at the Island Institute, I thought I’d share some of the resilience demonstrations I’ve encountered during my time.

While all our island communities may not have cemeteries falling into the ocean, erosion is a common issue

along the coast. Recently, I learned of the work Long Island in Casco Bay is doing to address an erosion problem— the slow loss of one of the community’s beloved public sand beaches. Fowler’s Beach is pocketed on the west end of the island and is made up of sand dune systems that have been dramatically worn away by more extreme and common storms in recent years.

The effort, primarily driven by the Long Island Conservation Association, will aim to take measures to build up and better support the system so it can withstand storms. This will include planting dune grass seedlings, reconfiguring beach paths, and strategically installing new fencing.

Just north in Casco Bay, Chebeague Island has started to consider how more common extreme droughts and flooding may threaten to inundate water tables. On Chebeague, the community will soon begin work on a study to evaluate climate-related impacts on the town’s groundwater supply.

Using funding from the state’s Community Resilience Partnership, the project will assess the sustainability

fathoming

of the community’s aquifer. That work includes re-establishing a longterm monitoring program to identify adverse trends in the water levels and water quality, and beginning field and laboratory tests to get a snapshot of aquifer water quality and identify problem areas.

Moving up the coast to Penobscot Bay, Vinalhaven Island has embarked on a project that aims to collect local, real-time data on both tidal and weather conditions. The project, funding in part through the Island Institute’s ShoreUp grant program, aims to build a long-term database on high tides for the island in the face of sea level rise. The community’s sea level rise committee has spearheaded this initiative to provide data to ferry captains who serve the community, along with other mariners.

This monitoring station is likely, over time, to be followed by the installation of tide and/or weather sensors at additional vulnerable locations on the island.

Long term, the committee aims to use the data collected to help it understand the impact of tides and weather

Trends emerge on lobster-reliant towns

BY NICK BATTISTA

THE VALUE OF Maine’s 2022 lobster fishery was $388 million, a decline of over $353 million compared to 2021. While this is a significant number, the total value of Maine’s lobster landings didn’t exceed $350 million until 2013. In addition, we know that the value of these landings is not distributed evenly across the coast and that some communities are more dependent on the lobster fishery than others.

Which communities are most dependent on the lobster industry, and how can we better connect changes in the fishery on the water—environmental, economic, or regulatory—to understand broader community impacts?

We see at least three places to start this conversation:

• the ports with the highest percentage of lobster landings

• the communities with the greatest number of licenses

• and, more broadly, the communities with the highest participation rate in the fishery

Lobster landings are concentrated in a handful of communities. In 2021, the most recent year port data is available, ten communities accounted for more than 50% of the state’s total lobster landings, with the top four ports, Stonington, Vinalhaven, Friendship, and Beals,

accounting for more than 25% of landings. Following were Spruce Head, Portland, Harpswell, Southwest Harbor, Milbridge, Harrington, and Steuben.

Collectively, 20% of the state’s lobster licenses are tied to five communities. In 2022, Harpswell had 254 licenses, the most of any community in Maine. Deer Isle and Vinalhaven followed with 236 licenses and 220 licenses, respectively. St. George and Friendship rounded out the top five.

More than 200 Maine communities are home to at least one licensed lobsterman. Looking at per capita density of lobster licenses, the top quarter of those towns are east of Boothbay, except for Long Island, Chebeague Island, Harpswell, Phippsburg, Georgetown, and Southport.

Digging deeper, over 10% of the population in 15 communities holds a lobster license. Nine of these are yearround unbridged island communities. The others are Beals, Stonington, Deer Isle, Friendship, Jonesport, and Cutler.  Generally speaking, as you go east and as you go down the peninsulas and out to the islands, communities have

a higher percentage of residents with lobster licenses.

In working with Mike LeVert from Stepwise Data Research, our longtime partner on the Island Institute’s Waypoints publications, to understand how this connects to broader socioeconomic data, two key trends emerge. When compared to all Maine towns, the 53 communities with the most significant participation in the lobster industry are generally smaller, slower growing, older, poorer, with lower rates of labor force participation, fewer local employment opportunities, and higher rates of self-employment.

This correlation illustrates the vulnerability to economic shocks that communities with a high reliance on lobstering face.

At the same time, when you look at Maine communities with these socioeconomic characteristics, the density of a community’s tie to lobstering has a significant positive relationship with the community’s income level. In other words, among communities with a similar structure of population, age,

on vulnerable areas to inform responsible environmental decisions.

Coastal communities are facing greater challenges due to climate change and are being called to be resilient and prepare for difficult circumstances. While the practical application of this term sometimes may be unclear, coastal communities have demonstrated innovative solutions to climate challenges.

It remains to be seen how Great Cranberry Island will tackle its resilience problems, but the examples from other communities suggest it will find its own strategies. By sharing these examples, we can inspire and encourage other communities to embrace resilience and face the challenges ahead with hope and creativity.

Abby Roche is a community development officer with the Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront, focusing on sea level rise and community leadership. She may be reached at aroche@islandinstitute.org.

and labor force characteristics, the more robust a connection to the lobster industry within such a community, the higher the community’s income level and the lower its poverty level.

This correlation illustrates the supportive role that lobstering plays in the financial health of relatively small, older communities.

We also know that identifying communities that depend on lobstering is not always straightforward. We are eager to follow work our partners are doing to dive into socio-economic indicators that can help track trends over time and inform the fisheries management process as well as climate adaptation measures. Still, by multiple measures, it is clear the data bears out what we have intuitively known to be true—lobstering plays an essential role in these communities and changes in the fishery will impact the broader communities.

Nick Battista is chief policy officer with the Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront. He may be reached at nbattista@islandinstitute.org.

Smaller, older, slower-growing towns lean on fishery

This correlation illustrates the vulnerability to economic shocks that communities with a high reliance on lobstering face.

in plain sight

Tidal power is not new to Maine

Mills relied on tides in 18th, 19th centuries

BY KELLY PAGE

PRIOR TO advances in transportation and energy production, industry and commerce across civilizations often relied on proximity to water. In the case of the lumber industry, one of Maine’s largest industries to date, the reliance was three-fold: inland timber harvests floated down-river to mills via log drives, saw mills used moving water to power their equipment, and the processed lumber products were loaded onto vessels for regional and world-wide distribution.

Mills often utilized the flowing water of rivers and streams to power machinery, but a lesser-known method harnessed the power of the tides. Most prevalent in the 18th and early 19th centuries, tide mills were located on or near dams built across coves and tidal waters of river inlets and tributaries.

Over 200 tide mill sites have been documented in Maine, with the earliest known one being built in 1634 in York. With the development of steam power and, eventually, electricity the need for powering mills via dams declined. Additionally, with the expansion of railways, roads, and motorized vehicles, mills didn’t even need to be near the water to distribute products.

The scene depicted in the accompanying photo was known as the Winnegance Tide Mills. Located where Winnegance Creek meets the Kennebec River and adjacent to the section known as Fiddler’s

Reach, a dam across the creek supported eight saw mills, each with two up-anddown saws able produce up to 3,000 feet of lumber at each tide.

The wooden bridge in the foreground of the photo connected Bath to Phippsburg, but for many folks the most convenient method of travel to the villages of Phippsburg would have been by boat.

A neighboring, present day landmark to this site is the small bridge on Route 209 that takes you into the town of Phippsburg. With trees and grass taking over the rocky outcrops and no surviving mill buildings or significant dam structures (unless you look really close at low tide), it is hard to believe that this was once an industrial site.

This image dates to around 1900, close to when the tide mill dam was abandoned after 70 years in operation. We know for certain that the photograph is no earlier than 1898, when photographer Abbie Francis Minott acquired her Rochester Camera Company Poco B Accordion Camera. Maine Maritime Museum has this camera as well as the dated correspondence of her older brother, Charles V. Minott, Jr., arranging for its acquisition.

Abbie used this camera to take more than 500 photographs, a body of work that is also part of museum collections. Her images captured scenes of Phippsburg and Bath, including many uniquely detailed construction shots of the Minott and Bowker yards in

observer

Phippsburg Center. Some of her images were even reproduced as postcards and sold at the Brick Store in town, another revelation found in Minott family correspondence.

More of Abbie’s work can be viewed in “Women Behind the Lens: The Photography of Emma D. Sewall, Josephine Ginn Banks, and Abbie F. Minott,” an exhibit that explores three

A marriage story, viewed from one side

Snack choices betray much of personality

BY PHIL CROSSMAN

A DELIGHTFUL compatibility has marked our marriage from day one. Not simply because she routinely anticipates my every need, including the many I did not and do not anticipate or the many others I wasn’t even cognizant of—until I become repeatedly and dimly aware that something has become easier or grown more comfortable or works better even though I’m not quite sure why or, often, even what. I simply have the sense that something is better.

Perhaps I suddenly find my shoes are more comfortable, or that I no longer have a hole in the knee of my pants, or the hardware on the rolling trash container I’ve been having trouble with now works perfectly, or the coat I like wearing but which doesn’t keep me warm during the winter is no longer hanging on the back of the door.

Instead, there is a coat I like less but which keeps me warm and comfortable. And, during the recent post-shoulder replacement surgery recovery period, all the things I’d once reached comfortably but could no longer were suddenly down where I could easily get at them.

But compatibility implies mutual contributions and I’m afraid her own contributions outweigh mine by a large margin. I try but anticipate very little.

I do comply with certain obligations but that’s because I’ve got them written down and my alarm set. I bring her coffee in bed every morning because I know I’m supposed to, not because I’ve anticipated it. But there’s a much more tangible manifestation of our compatibility.

I love nuts and she is allergic to them, so I have a delicious snack ready

at all times, right on the open counter, undisguised because there is no danger she will eat them, and when Christmas or my birthday arrives, I can count on an exotic assortment from family and friends who know and thoughtfully acknowledge the realities—roasted nuts from Zabar’s in New York City, a tin of salted favorites from a neighbor, candied nuts, sugarcoated pecans. Sometimes they arrive with dried fruit which I graciously share but I have the nuts all to myself. Truth be known, even if she liked them, she wouldn’t be much of a threat.

Years ago, she loved Necco Wafers and would squirrel a tube away in the cupboard which I’d inevitably discover to find that the top wafer had a nibble

Maine women and the rise of the amateur photography movement at the turn of the 20th century.

Kelly Page is collections and library services manager at Maine Maritime Museum in Bath. Also on exhibit is “SeaChange: Darkness and Light in the Gulf of Maine.” Plan your visit at www. mainemaritimemuseum.org

taken out of it—a nibble! The next day that single wafer would be further gone but not quite and on the third day it would have disappeared. On the fourth day another nibble, and so on.

When the tube got down to about 3-inches tall—just about what I could squeeze between my upper and lower teeth with my mouth wide open— I’d chomp down on the remaining cylinder and eat them all as a mouthful.

A while ago I bought a box of Klondike Bars and, ever conservative, ate seven over as many days. She nibbled one and it’s still not gone. It’s an agreeable arrangement.

Phil Crossman lives on Vinalhaven where he owns the Tidewater Motel. He may be reached at philcrossman.vh@gmail.com.

Abbie Francis Minott’s Rochester Camera Company Poco B Accordion Camera.

PHOTO: MAINE MARITIME MUSEUM

But compatibility implies mutual contributions and I’m afraid her own contributions outweigh mine…

A photo from about 1900 shows what was once Winnegance Tide Mills, near where a bridge today carries Route 209 over Winnegance Creek. Over 200 tide mill sites have been documented in Maine, with the earliest known one being built in 1634 in York.

PHOTO: MAINE MARITIME MUSEUM

art of the waterfront

William Irvine’s sleeping fishermen

Scottish-born, Brooklin-based painter offers respite

BY CARL LITTLE

“ALTHOUGH THE painting is called ‘The Resting Fishermen,’” painter William Irvine explains via email, “they are actually asleep.” A trio of barefoot simply-clad men, eyes closed, lean against each other, their backs against a small shed set on a dock strewn with lobster traps, buoys, oars, nets, and rope, with the bow of a boat marked “ME 127” poking up from the bottom.

Irvine’s objective in creating this image? To express, he writes, “that dreamlike sense of harmony and peace—the three fishermen, their ease with each other, their close camaraderie, in the beauty of their working world.” Mission tenderly accomplished.

Irvine has painted several images of sleeping fishermen over the years. He traces his penchant for the subject to “Sleeping Fisherman, Ploaré, Brittany,” 1930, by British artist Christopher Wood (19011930). Wood’s painting shows a fisherman on a beach stretched out asleep beside a basket of mackerel.

Irvine first saw the painting as a teenager in Troon, his childhood seaside home in Ayrshire in southwest Scotland, and has carried the benevolent image with him all his life.

Irvine’s love of harbors came from growing up in a coastal town. Although Troon didn’t have a fishing industry, he notes, it boasted a working harbor where boats were built and where his father worked as a ship’s carpenter. The painter’s connection to the water was further strengthened by long walks by the sea.

When Irvine first arrived in Washington County in the late 1960s, he “naturally gravitated” to the fishing villages, most notably, Corea and Jonesport. The landscape reminded him of his home, including the islands of his youth. One in particular, Holy Isle in the Firth of Clyde, “a dark mysterious hump, a presence,” was similar to those he found in Maine.

Asked about the setting of “The Resting Fishermen,” Irvine responds that the easy answer would be his imagination, but in truth it was inspired by early sketching excursions to Stonington. He recalls a wharf that featured a group of “large brown buildings with a tall factory chimney” that obscured a small dock with a gray shed with a white sliding door. “That place with its colorful lobster gear, the gulls,

the sound of outboards made a lasting impression on me,” he writes.

As novelist Richard Russo humorously recounted in his foreword to the monograph William Irvine: A Painter’s Journey (2014), the painter does not like the adjective “whimsical” applied to his paintings.

His painting carries us to a humble waterfront where three men dream of waves and deep fishfilled water.

While some of Irvine’s paintings have a playful quality, they are more in line with, say, Henri Rousseau’s “Sleeping Gypsy” or some of Marc Chagall’s reveries.

Irvine brings a modernist sensibility to “The Resting Fishermen” by shifting the picture plane so that the horizon, clouds, and the dock itself do not line up.

“By doing this,” he explains, “I hope to remove the

distraction of realism, which some viewers get hung up on, so one can move more easily into the expression, the mood of the work.” The tilt of the picture plane creates the illusion of height—as if the fishermen were seated on a shingled roof and might slide off.

“Perhaps the use of fishermen is an artist’s way to link the human with the sea, our spirit to the spirit of the sea,” Irvine muses. No doubt about it: his painting carries us to a humble waterfront where three men dream of waves and deep fish-filled water.

William Irvine’s tenth solo show at Courthouse Gallery Fine Art in Ellsworth will be on view July 10-Aug. 4. A documentary about the artist, produced by Whisky Wolf Media in Brunswick, will premiere at The Grand in Ellsworth on July 23.

Islandport Press will be publishing Carl and David Little’s The Art of Penobscot Bay in the fall.

William Irvine, “The Resting Fishermen,” 2020, oil on canvas, 36 x 48 inches. COURTESY: COURTHOUSE GALLERY FINE ART

Multiple approaches to addressing worker shortage

Maine Department of Labor offers employers advice, help

BY DAVID GRIMA

THE DAYS OF finding large numbers of pre-trained and experienced workers are fast fading. Businesses across Maine—and the nation—have had trouble finding the available, qualified workers they need to operate at full capacity.

In fact, there are currently about two open jobs for every unemployed job seeker in the state of Maine. Those looking for work have a lot of choices.

With unemployment being so low, at 3.8%, common questions the Maine Department of Labor have been hearing are, where did the workers go, and how can employers connect with the skilled workers they need to thrive? Some of the factors that have led to a tight labor market have been identified for over a decade, and the COVID-19 pandemic only exacerbated them.

To begin with, Maine’s declining birth rate is having a great impact, because fewer children being born leads to fewer students graduating, and fewer people entering the workforce over time.

In the last 30 years, the largest segment of Maine’s population has moved from prime working ages (25-44) toward later career or retirement ages (55-74). Most states are facing some version of this problem. During the pandemic, there was an increase of early retirements nationwide. But with Maine being the oldest state in the nation, this has had a large impact.

A characterization we sometimes hear is the “Great Resignation,” or the idea that workers not near retirement age are also bowing out of the labor force—in fact, it is really more of a “Great Reshuffling” of the workforce. During the pandemic, thousands of workers took the time to reevaluate their priorities, and decided to change jobs in favor of better pay or work conditions.

What can employers do?

Labor force participation in Maine during prime working ages of 25-54 is over 80%, and employers need to be creative in their hiring and retention practices. One way to do this is to reach out to people who have typically been left on the sidelines of our workforce, such as those with disabilities, New Mainers/ immigrants, veterans, youth, older workers, women, those who were formerly incarcerated, and those in recovery. The Maine Department of Labor can help make these connections.

Employers should also look at their job requirements and determine whether they can be relaxed in any way. For example, when there were more job seekers than available positions, employers would often require certain educational degrees or years of experience in order to weed out applicants. When in fact, instead of certain credentials, maybe the employer is really just looking for certain demonstratable skills.

They can also look at their flexibility, and how they are posting their positions—some older

workers in the community may be looking for part-time work, or they may not be seeing online advertisements and be looking for a more personalized, paper application process.

Innovative employers are working with the Maine Department of Labor and its partner agencies through programs such as Registered Apprenticeship, the Maine Hire-A-Vet Campaign, and Vocational Rehabilitation to hire, train, and retain their workforce.

Department of Labor staff are based statewide at CareerCenters, and can help employers of all sizes post their jobs and attract workers, including on the free Maine JobLink. Staff also meet with individuals who are looking for work, and are constantly making connections to employers and training.

There are no quick solutions to hiring in a tight labor market. However, the Maine Department of Labor and its partners are available to work with you to reach your goals.

To connect with your local CareerCenter, visit www.mainecareercenter.gov

David Grima is an employment and training specialist with the Maine Department of Labor. He may be reached at David.M.Grima@Maine.gov, at the Rockland Career Center at 91 Camden Street, Suite 201 in Rockland, and at 207-596-2617.

CELEBRATING 40 YEARS OF SUPPORTING ISLAND

COASTAL COMMUNITIES

Founded in 1983, Island Institute is celebrating an impressive 40-year record of accomplishments made possible by your support.

Over the past 40 years, together with you, we have:

• teamed up with the State of Maine to study uninhabited state-owned islands and created the Maine Island Trail Association, now an independent non-profit;

• intervened and preserved Maine’s lighthouses following the closure of the Moose Peak Lighthouse in Jonesport;

• advocated to preserve mail service to remote islands, reversing the US Postal Service attempts to close the post offices on three islands;

• opened a store and gallery called Archipelago, which has grown to be the showplace for artists and makers from across Maine;

• awarded well over one million dollars to businesses, individuals, nonprofits, and municipalities through the Tom Glenn Community Impact Fund;

• placed 143 fellows in 27 communities, providing critical human resources to tackle community projects; and

• so much more!

To support the next 40 years of our work in community, please consider becoming a member of the Island Institute today. Together, we are preparing for the challenges ahead in the next 40 years.

1 - Online at islandinstitute.org/join

2 - Call the Island Institute office at (207) 747-1180

3 - Mail your gift to: Island Institute, PO Box 648, Rockland, ME 04841

All gifts count toward membership