The 28-year-old lobsterman lives part time in Rockland, but the home that
calls to him is an offshore place that seems like another world: the family
compound on Metinic Island, where Post family ownership goes back to a deal
made with Indians.
Each spring he steers his boat for the half-wooded, rugged island four miles
off Tenants Harbor, where he and other family members have modest houses
ringing a quiet cove.
Up before dawn, he will head out to haul his traps, the way his forebears did.
“I could never punch a clock,” he said. “It wouldn’t happen. I’m way too
independent.”
Of course, lobstering can be less than idyllic. “It’s good money. You make
good money in a short amount of time, but you work your tail off for it. It’s tough
work and it’s labor intensive. It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s miserable, it’s nasty, and if
you’re seasick …”
“But then you’ve got your good days. Flat calm, it’s sunny out, and 70,
absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. Leaving the dock when it’s dark in the
morning, and steaming out. You see that sun come out, knowing that everyone
else is still in bed. And then you start hauling and you look and it’s only 6:30, and
you’ve made a day’s pay already. People aren’t even brushing their teeth yet.”
“That’s when I think, this is awesome. I’ve been busting my hump for three
hours and I’ve made a day’s pay. If you can go hard, and don’t waste time — I
take one person with me — it’s an average of an 11-12 hour day. Two or three in
the afternoon is a short day. Sometimes we go dark to dark. You’re up at 3:30
and you get home at 8 o’clock, that’s a long day.”
Setting traps out on April 15 isn’t a law but it might as well be, since it’s a
Post family tradition. Ryan Post fishes from that date to
Christmas, making enough money to take the winter off. “So my theory is, a day
you miss is a day you’ll never get back. You need to go as hard as you possibly
can. I don’t think it’s greedy. Greedy is if you go and haul someone else’s traps.”
Life on Metinic isn’t always easy, but it’s seldom hectic and often mellow.
Post loves it, but finds others get bored after a day on the island. “It’s very laid
back and rustic and you take a shower occasionally.” At night, “There’s no
ambient light, so you can sit on the dock and it’s like you’re in the stars.” He said
he never tires of watching the sun set on Penobscot Bay. His grandmother,
Luella Snow Post, in her 80s, still summers on Metinic in the family’s early 1800s
homestead.
The future of lobstering is a question mark, Ryan Post believes. He believes
a major reason lobsters are so plentiful in Penobscot Bay is that predators and
competitors have been over-fished, making life a lot easier for lobsters. “I really
think it’s the lack of groundfish: codfish, halibut, monkfish, dogfish, sculpin; I
mean the only real predator now is the seal. One adult seal has to eat 40 pounds
of meat per day to survive. A lobster is an appetizer for him.”
Urchin harvesting has had an impact, too. “Before, the sea urchins
overwhelmed the traps. A shedder isn’t going to go into a trap that’s full of
urchins. Sea urchins ate the kelp that the baby lobsters hid in. Now the kelp is
back. Even the short amount of time that I’ve been fishing, I’ve seen a great
increase in the smaller lobsters… and egg-bearing females.”
Post worries that too many lobsters could actually be a problem, since the
crustaceans are cannibals. “Now, fishermen, lobstermen and legislators are
trying to come to an agreement. Yes we need rules and regulations.” Post said
fishermen are the best source of data for scientists.
Post is divorcing his wife, Shannon, who now lives in Newport, R.I. He said
he continues to admire her and her ambition to have a career in marine biology.
Post has worked as a full-time firefighter; he is now a call fireman on the
Rockland squad.
“In my family, lobstering is a generational thing. Some people are in it to get
rich quick. People that are in it for that reason are not in it for very long,” said
Post, who now makes enough money lobstering during the warmer months to
tide him over the colder season.