Our world is so complicated and confusing. It can be so hard to suss out right from wrong, good deeds from bad, lies from truth. Today was a bright spot on my hunt for truth along the Atlantic seaway. This morning, I’m at the edge of the world in Dark Harbour, sent by Cooke Aquaculture’s Mathew Ingersoll to see a unique wild salmon recovery program. Fifty years ago, there were 40,000 wild Atlantic salmon in the inner Bay of Fundy….
When I left Lubec, Maine to find out about smokehouses, I thought that would be the extent of this part of my journey. Little did I know that my Atlantic Odyssey had just begun! I caught the ferry that took me off the island and into New Brunswick. All was good. I even had time to take a few pictures at the wharf as I waited for the ferry to bring me to Grand Manan. Dwayne, the fish farm manager,…
After excitedly stumbling into and photographing my elusive and mythologized smokehouses on Grand Manan, the pressure to find a safe place to sleep returned. The world was pitch black. I turned on my headlights and headed toward the cove I’d seen next to the sea. I sat in the dark for a minute. Bone tired, and ready for sleep, I wanted to roll in back and crash. Because of the dark, though, I couldn’t see the line where the seagrass…
Last night I had my very first lobster as I waited for the sun to set. At this time of year, the sun lingers in deep hues of orange and blue before it slowly descends into grey and then blackness. I sat transfixed for hours as the crimson red band of light broadened, and I reflected on all that occurred on my trip thus far. I’m sure I repeat this far too much, but I continue to be struck by…
Coming up to Maine, my goal was to find towns that shared a similar past with Mississippi, towns that once were thriving with industry, but had to reinvent themselves once that industry died. By the time I arrived in Maine, I was looking forward to spending more time in small rural towns. To my surprise, though, Maine felt like Portland’s sister state. Subarus ruled the road. Coffee shops lined downtowns, alongside Portland-esque diners. Driving further up the coast, the towns…
Now, in the northern reaches of coastal Maine, I’m about to dive deeper into the sea. Well, the industry of the sea and the archaeology of truth. I will share more soon. For the moment, I am fascinated by the stories told to keep myths alive. They do a great job of maintaining order in the world and keeping the fear of the unknown at bay. Over the next couple weeks I’ll be following a thread that keeps winding into…
Near the Canadian border. Who knew? Flexing border muscle? Some locals say they’re here to, perhaps, run out their spending quota. Others say they’re keeping drugs out of America. Others say they’re keeping immigrants out since Canada’s letting all of them in. Then there’s the folks who say that Trudeau and 45 are just pissing on each other. Oh, how I love rural candor!
I continue to be intrigued by the way bridges reflect the place and purpose of their surroundings. This bridge, the masts of ships traveling through the shallows and the shores of Maine… What do they reflect?
As I headed to Jonesport, a lobster town along the coast of Maine, I stumbled upon this sign. I’ve heard the term ‘fair trade’ for years in relation to developing countries as a way to advocate the payment of higher prices to exporters, as well as improved social and environmental standards. I wondered what it meant for places here in America and how this company might be tied into the movement. I’ve heard for years about the challenges small scale fishermen…
As I’ve traveled northward, my heart is still back in Mississippi. I’ve now seen about 30 small rural towns in various stages of attempted revitalization. I have to say, the work being done in Mississippi with so little money and so few people is truly extraordinary. I learned so much while I was there. So many people took me under their wing and taught me what it takes to bring a town back to life. I am especially thankful to…
