Getting There From Here
Once in a while, some random stranger stops me as I’m crossing Main Street and offers an encouraging word, including the observation that it’s neat how I “am explaining all about how things work on that island.”
I am most assuredly not explaining all about everything on this island. I don’t even know most of what’s going on out here. One thing I can rattle on about in detail, without concern about getting any friend subpoenaed, is logistics (which subject accounts for most of an island resident’s ulcers).
Need to move something? First, see if you can get a ferry reservation for a vehicle. That is by no means guaranteed.
How Things Work on the Island: Most people these days mark their calendars three months from the day they want a reservation and call the ferry terminal at 6:30 a.m. Set an alarm. This is what the propane dealer does, and what anybody who needs lumber or firewood, or wants to move an excavator or a horse must do, no joke.
Of course, that far removed from the departure date there’s no assurance of an available complement of professional mariners to make up the requisite crew of four, not to mention reasonable weather conditions. For the ferry, weather means wave heights, and sometimes wind. Hurricanes are a hard no.
This year, we were fortunate enough to have two of our 36 annual (yes, 36 annual) state vehicle ferries either side of the long July 4th weekend, which was a lucky break for all the families who wanted to assemble offshore for the festivities. Our good fortune in this regard was because the tides worked out.
How Things Work on the Island: the wharf is nearly high and dry at low tide. All boats--and especially the state vehicle ferry--must plan to arrive when there’s water enough. You can’t just dock here any ol’ time you want.
The passenger fare on the state ferry is far less than any other commercial transit. If you’re planning to bring all the grandkids out to celebrate the Glorious Fourth at the family camp, you’re going to be scared by the price, and you’re going to be happy there’s a state ferry.
“Oh, I’m sure them boys (meaning the fishermen) will give you a ride across whenever you need one,” offers every expert who does not live here. Remember: lobstermen do not announce in advance to the public their plans to cross the bay any more than you notify your whole neighborhood every time you make a run to Hannaford’s. It’s very much the same.
How Things Work on the Island: airfare is $125.00 per person each way. Water taxi is $75.00 each way if it is already scheduled, which is not daily. Neither boat nor plane will go if weather threatens, although the two have different weather concerns. The airplane pilots don’t care about wave heights, but they care about fog. The passenger fare on the state ferry is $25.00 round trip and you don’t need an advance reservation to walk aboard, like you do for a vehicle (well, except that there could be a passenger limit if there’s also a propane truck. Nothing is ever simple.)
The ferry vessel Everett Libby on July 1st was absolutely packed with passengers. We don’t get “just passing through” tourism, but there are some rental camps. This crowd was mostly friends and relatives of island homeowners, both year-round and part-time, and every one of them had a dog, six children, and seventeen cases of beer. A couple of higher-ups in the Maine Department of Transportation were also aboard. I am glad they got to see our wharf at its maximum craziness. Much of the year, the Matinicus ferry carries only a few regulars, islanders in pickup trucks hauling roof shingles and pot warp. This trip looked like nothing short of summer vacation.
How Things Work on the Island: there is no store. Forget what you remember from long ago, there is no store. Bring everything.
Anyway, the big load of relatives had a great time over the weekend, the sun shone, the unofficial fireworks were gorgeous as usual, the town parade was silly as usual, there was plenty of beer even without a store, and most everybody I know ate steak. No doubt a few ate lobster. On the 5th of July, the ferry vessel Everett Libby came back to collect the fifty-some-odd exhausted visitors--mostly children—and one very large dump truck which had delivered firewood for three families, and two U-Hauls both loaded to the rafters with scrap iron and recyclables. Thankfully the seas were calm, with that boatload of children and three trucks.
How Things Work: the ferry captain can refuse trucks if seas are rough. Welcome to island life.