Tag: Downeast

North of zero, as a relief

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

That’s Fahrenheit, or minus almost 18 Celsius. And that’s after the reading had gone much, much further south.

I know we’re not alone in the northern U.S. in a brutal cold wave, especially after an unusually warm spell, but what’s hit us has been brutal. The kind of snap that probably killed off my favorite beekeeper’s hives. Minus 17 and quite windy, for one thing. The temps dropped about ten degrees an hour before finally bottoming out overnight, where they lingered. After that, about noon today, reaching zero felt like a relief, especially since it appears no pipes froze. We’ll see. Two or three nights in a row might have been a different story.

Oh yes, our fuel oil tank was reading much lower than I would have liked, especially once we cranked the thermostat up just to keep up. The very walls were radiating cold, after all.

Unlike last year, neighboring towns were recording roughly the same temps rather than ten or more colder. The ocean around our island wasn’t providing any relief.

Worse yet, a man could go mad under the unending roar of the wind, especially when the condition of the roofing is in question. Men definitely did out on the prairie and likely Scandinavia, but here? You see asphalt roofing tiles all over town when you walk (not yet today) and wonder about how many have come from your house. And we’re grateful the gusts didn’t go over 25 or so, rather than the 50 we were bracing for.

The sea smoke this morning was incredible, but you’ll have to take my word for it.

No way was I going out to photograph it.

Why there’s no Eastport, Massachusetts

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

From 1653 until 1820, Maine was governed by Massachusetts.

The westernmost port down there is Westport, beside Buzzard Bay. A lovely place, by the way.

And the easternmost port was Eastport, in waters subsidiary to the Bay of Fundy. As you’ve been seeing here.

But then, come 1820, the two extremes separated when Maine finally became independent as a state.

Now I guess that easternmost point down under distinction falls on Chatham, out on Cape Cod. And Maine has no Westport.

One year, while still living in New Hampshire, I was in Eastport one weekend, and Westport, the next. I saw it as some kind of weird coincidence, not knowing there really had been a rational connection.

Have you ever thought about the name of the place where you’re dwelling?

Where the local beer’s listed as ‘Imported,’ not ‘Domestic’

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment
Welcome to the Hansom House in Dennysville, which is sometimes open on weekends. The stained glass is by the owner.

 

This is some of what’s over your head.

 

And this is some more. The shark’s not on the menu.

 

The red shoes belong to the stool, not the patron sitting on it.

 

Well, they do promote themselves as the World’s Most Absurd Bar.

And we’ve concluded the reference isn’t just to the décor.

In case you’d rather have your drink and nibbles by the fireplace.

Scalloping in the dead of winter

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment
There’s not a lot of meat in one of these, but what there is will be treasured by many seafood lovers.

This time of year, I hear the puttering motors in the chill air before the sun’s even up as the fishing boats head out to drag the depths for scallops. No matter how low the thermometer reading or how bad the weather, the vessels venture by, or attempt to, intent on catching their daily limit of ten or 15 gallons a day in a season that runs no more than 50 or 70 days but may close earlier, depending on the sustainable harvest in each of the regulated zones.

Rigged with a boom for the heavy chain net that drags the seafloor for scallops, this vessel returns to port with its harvest.

A day not out on the water of the bays around Eastport is a day’s income that’s lost for the season. The economics of fishing are precarious enough.

These intrepid fishermen shuck their catch onboard, tossing the shells overboard, which provides grounding for the breeding of more, and then return to port with their precious harvest, often well before noon.

A shell flies toward the water as these fishermen quickly shuck the precious bivalves onboard.

The licenses are coveted and even the size of crews is limited by state law.

Come summer, many of the boats, with their rigging reconfigured, and their crews will have turned their attention to lobster.

Other important harvests here are urchins and clams.

What workers impress you the most when they’re out in bad weather?

 

A half gallon of fresh scallops

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Or about 4½ pounds, purchased from a dragger docked at the Breakwater pier, where the crew of three was busy shucking the morsels from their shells. After dining on these two days straight last Christmas, we agreed we have a new holiday tradition. Unlike ones you would purchase at a market, these have no water added, and that means you can get a lovely sear when sauteing them in a bit of olive oil and butter. Do I need to add they taste heavenly?