If the Grinch wanted to stop Christmas from coming this year to the people of Matinicus, he would probably rub his little gnarly hands together and cook up a plan to shut down Maine Atlantic Aviation. Because without the airline’s three Cessna 206s’ daily service between this remote island’s little gravel airstrip and Owls Head, there would be no cheery greeting cards. There would be no shiny catalog gift items. And there would be no roast beast.
Furthermore, little Emily Murray would never make it to Portland to see the “Magic of Christmas.”
On Matinicus, come wintertime, the state ferry only pulls into the harbor once a month, for about an hour, depending on the tide, from November through April. So the two dozen people who live here in the dead of winter really depend on the airplanes of Maine Atlantic to fly in everything, from the U.S. mail to groceries from Shaw’s Supermarket – not to mention anything shipped via UPS or Fed Ex. And they have long since added the cost – $45 per person, for a shared flight, each way – into their monthly budgets.
“Even when it’s not Christmas, this island is very dependent on that service – the flying service is the lifeline to the island,” says Vance Bunker, an island lobsterman.
“Many people on the island have no other way of getting to the mainland but to use the airline,” he further explains. “Or maybe you’re fishing that day and you can’t afford to lose that day for your wife to take the boat two hours each way to go into town shopping. And sometimes the wives don’t like to travel by boat in bad weather.”
Islanders have been depending on the planes of Maine Atlantic Aviation for a long time, although the name of this service has changed frequently over the past few years. Now based at Knox County Regional Airport at Owls head, the island commuter service flew as Penobscot Air, then as Telford Air and now as Maine Atlantic Aviation – this last name just appeared on the Owls Head hangar in September. The Telford Group changed the name after dramatically cutting its flying operation in the past year.
“A year ago, when we still had our UPS operation throughout Maine, we had a Gulf Stream in Portland, two Hawker 700 jets in Waterville and a total of 15 nine-passenger Caravans between Owls Head, Bangor, Waterville, Lewiston and Presque Isle,” reminisces Brud Folger, a pilot for Maine Atlantic.
When The Telford Group divested itself of its UPS operation between all points in Maine and Manchester, New Hampshire and sold this part of its business to Air Now, based in Bennington, Vermont, the scaled-back island service was renamed Maine Atlantic Aviation, ostensibly to create a better Internet awareness. “If you’re in the freight business, then you know the Telford name, but for the island business, the name Maine Atlantic triggers search engines better,” asserts Kevin Waters, manager.
The decision to fly fewer planes to the island was a matter of simple economics. “After 9-11, we saw a huge increase in our insurance rates,” notes Bob Ziegelaar, president of the company, who goes on explain that keeping the planes flying to the islands remains a “delicate balance – nobody’s getting rich on that business.”
At least half of Maine Atlantic’s revenues, according to Ziegelaar, are not derived from island business at all, but from the servicing of many of the other planes that land in Owls Head. “Our small-aircraft servicing operation at Owls Head does everything from providing fuel and checking fluids, to de-icing, to light maintenance, like replacing light bulbs, tires and radios,” says Waters, who adds that preferred customers enjoy a reduced rate on a fresh, packed lobster.
The remaining three Cessnas flying the Matinicus route can only carry 1,000 pounds of freight to Matinicus. “This winter we will really miss those bigger Caravans,” notes islander Sari Bunker. “They used to bring in doors, plywood, whatever. And last year we used a Caravan to bring my husband’s exercise bicycle back and forth, while he was recovering from knee replacement – I don’t know what people will do this year without it.”
The pared-down Maine Atlantic has not cut back any mail service to the island – yet. “Every day, from Monday through Friday, a pilot brings in the mail around 9 a.m. and then he comes back around 1 to pick up,” explains Wanda Philbrook, the island’s postmaster.
The contract to fly in the mail clearly keeps the Maine Atlantic planes flying to Matinicus. The air service charges only $8 a box to bring in grocery orders from Shaw’s in Rockport three times a week – a service now considered essential to islanders. “If it weren’t for the flying service,” notes Clayton Philbrook, a lobsterman in Matinicus, “food would pretty much be frozen or come from a box.”
Meanwhile, rumors that the post office may close send people on Matinicus into a bit of a tailspin. Never mind, says Telford’s Ziegelaar: “If the post office closed, some inventive minds would come together to find some way to get the mail to Matinicus,” he believes.
As of mid-November, the building that houses the current post office on Matinicus was up for sale. “It’s a waiting game and a hard situation,” says Wanda Philbrook, who as a determined postmaster assets that if she “had to put up a little two-by-four shed, this post office would continue to operate.”
Any change in the ownership of the 1,700-square-foot airstrip might pose another threat to the status quo of airport operation; the current strip is private and located on the property of Victoria Boothby Ross, an actress who divides her time between New York City and Matinicus. “When I bought my place in 1971, I was going to give the air strip to the island, but my lawyer said that if I did this anyone might land there,” she explains.
Furthermore, Ross remains committed to keeping the airstrip in private hands, no matter what the cost. “By keeping the airstrip private, I keep the development on the island down,” she says staunchly.
The airstrip, however, is of absolutely no use unless it is well maintained, which is also costly. “One of the things a lot of people don’t realize is that we have to lease that strip and we have to maintain that strip and remember, we still have to insure that strip, which has seen a huge increase since 9-11,” sighs Ziegelaar.
Futhermore, during the winter months of snow and ice, followed by mud, the maintenance costs for the airstrip soar. Matinicus resident Paul Murray is contracted out to plow the runway; he uses the town’s road grader to fill in the mud holes that invariably crop up in the spring. “It’s always very expensive to maintain runways that are ‘non-improved,’ ” observes Waters, referring to the category of “any airstrip that is made of dirt, grass or gravel – anything but asphalt or cement.”
During mud season, maintenance becomes particularly onerous. “During the mud season, the pilots can only land from 6:30 to 9:30, because after the sun begins to warm up the strip it gets mushy,” notes Ross.
“That’s when it takes a lot of personnel with shovels, pick axes and rakes to unclog the culverts,” describes Waters. And of course, every winter, Matinicus sees its share of days when the planes can’t land at all.
“Some days we make the choice that it’s just not safe to go there,” says Waters.
Hopefully, this will not happen this Christmas Eve.