Kate Webber is an Island Institute Fellow working with the Swan’s Island Historical Society. Her projects include oral history recording, digital archiving, service-learning with 6-8th graders, and the revival of local music and contra dance. Photos and research courtesy of the Swan’s Island historical collection.
There was a time when I assumed the only thing more challenging than a winter on a Maine island would be two winters on a Maine island. Isolation, biting winds, solo board games—I would be lucky if I made it out with my sanity.
Sitting comfortably now in the February of my second year on Swan’s Island, I know that I had no reason to worry. Winter seems to bring out the community survival spirit in people out here. We all make darn sure we come up with things to keep ourselves occupied, from Saturday morning coffee hour to Monday volleyball nights. The winter crowd out here is fun.
It seems like Swan’s Islanders have always known how to get by in winter. It was a stretch for plenty of families who made their money in the warm months and had to make it last year round—not so different from fishing families today.
School kids came in early to gather wood for the stove (try talking a seventh grader into doing that now) and sometimes popped a potato in an empty coffee can to roast for lunch.
It was the time of year for skating, sledding, snowball fights and cranking homemade ice cream. When the harbor froze over, people would head out to meet or break loose the ferry—and before that, the steamboat. Walkers dragged a rowboat behind them as a safety net in case the ice cracked.
The contrast between the seasons on Swan’s Island was pretty shocking to a newcomer. It’s hard to catch a breath in the summer months, with multiple events every weekend. There are even times when two things will happen on the same night! Suddenly a ferry trip has to be booked weeks in advance to beat the crowds.
Last June when the summer folks started rolling back in I’d think, “Who are they? They don’t even wave when you drive by!” Never mind the fact that some have been coming out for 30 years. This was my island! I’d survived the winter!
Winter creates a bond between people: chatting in the mailroom about the recent cold snap, sympathizing over the blizzard that canceled afternoon boats. A different community emerges—one that’s less visible in the madcap days of summer. As the snow drifts pile up, people talk longingly about stealing trips away south while everybody nods in agreement. For me it’s just bluster. Heck, there’s no place I’d rather be.