Team Logs

Gulf of Maine Expedition Downeast Maine Journals
July 14-20, 2002

Natalie's notes from Downeast Maine
The Changing Coast of Maine -- From Casco Bay to the shores of West Quoddy Head

Dan's notes from Downeast Maine
Eastport Opportunity
Maine's Bold Coast

Sue's notes from Downeast Maine
Going Home

Natalie's notes from Downeast Maine

The Changing Coast of Maine -- From Casco Bay to the shores of West Quoddy Head

Three nautical miles to the north, across the bay, the Lubec Narrows run under the bridge connecting Maine to Campobello Island, New Brunswick. Tomorrow we paddle under the bridge where the water runs tall and bumpy during the tide's strongest flow. We will take it at slack water in the hopes of finding quiet passage to Eastport, our last US-based landfall. Over the next two months we will be travelling around the Bay of Fundy, but first, lets look back.

The Gulf of Maine Expedition started paddling on May 4th in Provincetown, at the tip of Cape Cod, in Massachusetts. By the end of May, we had paddled our way up Cape Cod Bay, along the North Shore of Massachusetts, past New Hampshire's 17 miles of coastline, and on into Maine. Last I wrote, we were still in southern Maine where the beaches are long, the islands few, and the shore land mostly private. It was not till we rounded Cape Elizabeth, on the southern tip of Casco Bay, that I felt like we had arrived in the Maine I know: a craggy, rocky coast littered with islands. (Casco Bay was once called Calendar Bay because there was said to be one island for each day of the year.)

The islands and peninsulas in Casco Bay run northeast to southwest with a series of ledges slicing through tide and current. The landmasses are covered in mixed forest typical of a transition zone: southern deciduous woods intermixed with the conifers of the north. We camped at Jewell Island, a public island managed by the Maine Island Trail Association, which receives what many believe is an unmanageably large amount of recreational use. It is the Trail's most heavily used island and although we are among the season's first visitors, it felt more like a park than a remote island due to the clearly trodden trails and multiple camping areas.

As we hiked the trails and climbed the observation towers that trace back to World War I, the history of Maine's Coast came to light. Maine's islands are not the remote wilderness so many people believe them to be. They are steeped in a history that reaches back before the influx of Europeans, when Native Americans colonized the coastal areas. Over the last 400 years a successive flow of people has left their mark on the islands. Evidence of granite quarrying, farming, logging, fishing, defense, and tourism have collectively altered the islands. As electricity and modern amenities drove people to the mainland, the islands went fallow for a number of decades, and that is what gives the Maine coast the remote feeling so many paddlers like us seek. In fact, there has been such a rise in recreational use of many Maine islands in the past decade that land managers are struggling to unravel how to protect the coastal resource while maintaining public access to such a beautiful and unique region.

For the next few weeks, we meandered our way up the coast of Maine, along strings of islands like pearls on a necklace. Boothbay Harbor marked the transition to the spruce-fir forests that dominate the rest of the Maine coast. We soon stroked into Muscongus Bay, then Penobscot Bay where nesting islands, granite ledges, and rocky shores provide endless paddling routes from which to chose.

It is hard to imagine that the islands were once more densely populated. Gone are the days of shorelines dressed in fish drying racks and piers sturdy enough for the granite quarry traffic. But islands that lay fallow for decades are now in a new round of development. The sheep fences and tumbling stone walls amid fields and conifer forests are being replaced by huge summer mansions, vacation homes for the wealthy. According to some locals we have met, it is often folks from away who build these mansions, and more often than not, they close off the islands to traditional use by locals and visitors alike.

The pattern seems to be moving east, too. Heading into the Stonington region and on towards Bar Harbor, large, fancy homes dot islands and shores, often cutting swaths of land in the process. Even Down East, beyond the tourist hubbub of Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park, new summer homes sprout atop both dramatic cliffs and gentle coves alike.

In Jonesport, traditionally considered the heart of the Down East working waterfront, we learned that the young generation cannot afford to live on waterfront property, the land most convenient to fishing, and often land that was long in their families, because property values and the associated taxes have grown beyond what their income can support. Local families are forced to subdivide and sell their land, move inland, and commute to work on the water. The effect on the shorefront is the seemingly random location of mansions perched high on cliffs as far east as the Bold Coast near Canada. One local fisherman thinks the subdivision of Down East Maine has reached its apex because there is so much protected land along this shore. Yesterday, as I paddled under spectacular cliffs, large houses towered above, just as grand. I am not so sure more development will not come.

As we get ready to cross into Canada in two days, I look back over the US portion of this journey. If there is one thing I have learned so far, it is that coastal development is a very real issue that could change the character of the Gulf of Maine. Maine is dramatically less developed along its shoreline than Massachusetts and New Hampshire, and for this we Mainers should be glad. But coastal development and the string of issues associated with it stand out as the most immediate factor affecting the shoreline. And this trend is moving east.

Dan's notes from Downeast Maine

Eastport Opportunity

I recently had the chance to take a leisurely stroll through downtown Eastport, Maine. Many people taking this walk will mostly see the vacant store fronts and failed attempts at revitalization. They might be tempted to write the area off as another community on the slope of inevitable decline. I feel like I have uncovered a hidden treasure.

Its complex of 1800s buildings, while not all in use, and some in disrepair, is remarkably well preserved and unadulterated by modern "improvements". In total, the buildings provide a consistent architectural picture that has the potential to make downtown Eastport a very special place. My biggest fear is that these buildings might be torn down to provide places for parking lots and new structures rather than being sensitively restored and put to new use.

Some key good decisions have been made. The old Bangor Savings Bank was saved by the Tides Institute. The old Fleet Bank is now the police station. The town library is being restored. The leadership of the town and private groups in such efforts is to be applauded. The patterns being set are important as examples of what can be done to maintain the cultural legacy and character of the community.

The direction of the evolution Eastport's economy is connected to its past. The built environment already in existence is a trump card in Eastport's favor. Around the town we saw many old homes being restored – an early sign of a new interest in the community as a place to live or vacation.

Development pressures are moving up the coast. Can Eastport hold and maintain its historic infrastructure for the time it will take for its next phase of growth to happen? Once the pressure is on, will the town be able to make sure that the historic setting and sense of place remain?

Eastport is an economic and cultural legacy opportunity waiting to happen. It has a beautiful coastal setting, a wonderful harbor front, an international location and an existing complex of buildings ready for new uses. One hopes that as the next wave of change takes place that it does not degrade or destroy the quality and character that are now here.

Maine's Bold Coast

There are three Maine coasts: south of the Kennebec River is the beaches coast; from there to Bar Harbor is the rocky coast; and east of the Schoodic Peninsula, up to Eastport, is the Bold Coast. The term "bold" is well deserved as the dramatic cliffs and forceful waters unfold before the kayak. Here the coastal promontories and islands rise like fortresses from the sea and fog, the wind sings, the eagles fly. From the perspective of the kayaker, this is as close to a wilderness experience as will be found on the eastern seaboard of the United States.

The Bold Coast is not without pockets of development. There is a thriving fishery dominated by lobstering and large scale aquaculture. There are older cottages and newer large homes taking advantage of the views from cliffs or the charm of quiet coves. Small villages and ports are tucked away in bays.

However, from the sea, one is most impressed by the scale and presence of natural forces. It is here that one feels the full power of the waves as they pound and bounce from the cliff faces. It is here that the beaches groan like giant rock tumblers. It is here that broken ledges appear suddenly in the fog. It is here that one sees Razorbills, Black Guillemots, and Atlantic Puffins, birds of the open seas.

One wonders what 50 more years will bring to this coast. Certainly the cliffs and seas will remain, the winds will blow, and the fog will prevail. In question is the edge. Will the cliff edge landscape be dominated by forest as it is now or by homes as in the southern portions of the Gulf of Maine? Finding a balance between the economic input of development, the desire for coastal edge living (at least during the summer), and the wild places and habitats of this region is a major task for communities and other interests in this part of Maine.

Sue's notes from Downeast Maine

Going Home

I feel like I am in Canada today. The rocky points and pine trees I am seeing take me back to canoe trips in Algonquin Park, Ontario. The large, smooth slabs of granite I am passing take me back to kayak trips in the Georgian Bay area of Lake Huron. The gunk-holing sailboats in the protected coves remind me of the Benjamin Islands in the North Channel of Lake Huron. The steep cliffs and sense of wildness we are experiencing feel like Lake Superior. In fact, we are just north of Jonesport, Maine, heading to Machias. But it feels like home.

I have read that people bond with a particular landscape. This is the first time I have actually experienced the concept. The sand beaches of Massachusetts didn't do it; the rocky coastline of Maine, which I love dearly, didn't do it. But this stretch…yes…I feel like I'm home and I'm loving it.

Jonesport feels like Digby, Nova Scotia: both have an immense scallop fleet, both have a working waterfront with a town and homes which reflect that lifestyle, both have restaurants which serve wonderful seafood. And both are facing the same future.

While camped close to Jonesport, we chatted with the campground manager who expressed his concerns about the new summer folk who are moving in. They buy shorefront property and build large summer homes. This raises taxes and local folk can no longer afford to live on the water. Young local couples have to go inland in order to afford a home. My assumption was that this phenomenon had not yet reached Jonesport. I was wrong.

This has been a constant issue in our travels. The folks south of Bar Harbor are trying to learn from the experience of Massachusetts. The folks in Northern Maine are just getting introduced to the issue. The folks in Nova Scotia are next in line. The trick here is to find that delicate balance between local interests and lifestyles and the interests of those who come from away. Layered on top of that are issues of private ownership and public access. It is indeed a delicate juggling act.

And it triggers the thought that I am, indeed, home today. Home for me is that large bioregion called the Gulf of Maine, regardless of political boundaries. And we all have to work on the issues it faces.