Shifting Sands
Due to some terrible federal engineering, Wells Beach is washing away. How can the "Friendliest Town in Maine" protect its most precious asset?
Virginia Wright photography by Dean Abramson
A few weeks ago, Karen Forbes Darling and Joe Forbes served their last fried clam dinner of the season, pressure-washed their eighty-year-old restaurant on Wells Beach, and shuttered it for the winter. In the tradition of their parents and grandparents, the siblings had worked their tails off all summer, putting in fourteen-hour days, seven days a week. Now, for the next six months, they'll be immersed in family life. Joe will spend time with his kids; maybe he'll take them skiing. Karen will take the household reins from her husband, whose excavation business ramps up as tourist season winds down.
Not that the vacationers are gone. "The town stays busy," Karen says. "There is always traffic on Route 1." But fall's tourists, who will continue arriving into December, are a different breed than the sunburned Boston-area families who fill Wells' campgrounds and motels and are happy eating off paper plates at Forbes Seafood Restaurant. Autumn brings retirees who browse the antiques shops on Route 1, leaf-peep at Laudholm Farm, and prefer their meals served on china. They may motor along Ocean Avenue for glimpses of frothy blue between the tightly packed cottages, but they're unlikely to curl their toes in the soft white sand. "Try coming down here in November or December," Joe says. "The wind is blowing about thirty miles per hour and it's cold."
Not that the vacationers are gone. "The town stays busy," Karen says. "There is always traffic on Route 1." But fall's tourists, who will continue arriving into December, are a different breed than the sunburned Boston-area families who fill Wells' campgrounds and motels and are happy eating off paper plates at Forbes Seafood Restaurant. Autumn brings retirees who browse the antiques shops on Route 1, leaf-peep at Laudholm Farm, and prefer their meals served on china. They may motor along Ocean Avenue for glimpses of frothy blue between the tightly packed cottages, but they're unlikely to curl their toes in the soft white sand. "Try coming down here in November or December," Joe says. "The wind is blowing about thirty miles per hour and it's cold."
Views expressed in blogs are the opinions of the authors and do not necessarily reflect either Down East's editorial stance or the views of Down East Enterprise. We ask that comments be civil; anyone who refuses to self edit runs the risk of being banned from commenting on Down East.com content.
Reader Comments: