
The festival is our farewell to summer.
We go out with a bang.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

The festival is our farewell to summer.
We go out with a bang.

We’ve driven past the site countless times without noticing the motto on the now abandoned motel and restaurant. Oh, shucks.

Here’s the stone dam behind it, its pond long drained, built for the famed iron works in Pembroke in 1832. Here it’s seen from away from the U.S. 1 highway.

They’re Calais, Eastport, Lubec, and Machias. Or the other way around, depending on how you’re driving or sailing.
Like pearls on a string, one that hugs the coastline of vast Washington County.
The image of four anchors arrayed along a map makes sense, each one with its own distinctive attraction.
Their combined population comes to barely eight thousand.
The terrain around here is much more real than Acadia, for sure, if you’re the least bit interested in the Real Maine.
In relocating from Dover, I do miss its annual Labor Day weekend Greek festival – the food, conversations, dancing with live music, and overall happy vibe. What they call kefi.
For Greek Orthodox congregations across North America, these events have become a traditional way of celebrating their culture, welcoming the surrounding community to sample it, reenforcing the bonds of their membership, and conducting some needed fundraising, sometimes for local charities as well as the church itself. The deep commitment of the volunteers and the overall organizational skill always amaze me, and it has been fun to be part of the food-serving line some years.
Earlier in the summer, neighboring Portsmouth usually has its own, similar but also with differences, and both weekends draw big crowds, jammed parking, and partisan comparisons. Dover’s has free admission, unlike Portsmouth, which has more dance addicts.
The festivals closet to Sunrise County are in Portland and Lewiston, downstate five or so hours away. Or, for variety, Halifax, Nova Scotia, which has a four-day schedule but is a six-hour drive away – or seven if you take the shortcut ferry ride across Fundy Bay.
~*~
For the Labor Day weekend, Eastport has a much more low-key observance, the Salmon and Seafood Festival.
Things get wilder the following weekend, then the pirates invade for what’s our blowout to the summer tourist season.
What are you doing special for the holiday weekend?

The American Can Company factory, now a hulk out over the water, had a daily output of more than a half-million cans for sardines. It employed 300 people. It was at the end of the line for the railroad, too.
In the adjacent canneries, sardine-packing women had hands moving so fast in cold water you saw only a blur, according to a friend who was a teen at the time and couldn’t begin to keep pace when he worked there.
I still have no desire to eat a sardine, though. Consider that the statement is coming from someone who’s learned to appreciate anchovies in his old age.
The Salmon Festival always takes place over the Labor Day weekend.

Nothing like a decaying hurricane somewhere out at sea to roil the water. This one was rough enough to cancel ferry service to neighboring Monhegan Island for days.
The biggest municipality in sprawling Washington County is the city of Calais, pronounced CAL-us, like hardened skin, rather than the French Cal-LAY, its namesake port on the English Channel.

Set north of Eastport and having a population of slightly more than 3,000, it’s the retail hub of the county and neighboring Canada and the principal international border crossing for traffic to and from the industrial port city of Saint John, New Brunswick, and other coastal points.
With that in mind, here are a few more facts.
Oh, yes, there’s even a tiny movie theater we want to check out.

Tomatoes, red pepper, goat cheese, and sunflower seeds with a homemade vinaigrette