Community-Supported Fishery Projcet
may help Maine fishing co-op stay afloat
Charting A New Course
By Dan Campbell, Editor
hirty-two years ago,
when Glen Libby was
beginning his career as
a fisherman, the
haddock, flounder, cod
and other groundfish he
sought could usually be caught along
the shore near his home in Port Clyde,
Maine. A typical day of fishing involved
steaming out in his trawler as the sun
was rising, dragging his nets along the
sea floor all day, then arriving back in
port to unload his catch and make the
short walk home for dinner.
That now all seems like a distant
dream, as the fishery that is his
lifeblood and which helps to fuel the
local economy has been drastically
altered by past fishing practices and —
possibly — by environmental factors.
Instead of a day of fishing close to
home, a typical voyage now takes him
25 to 50 miles out to sea for three or
four days at a time.
With the price of diesel fuel and
some other supplies soaring, and tighter
fishing regulations, this pattern of
fishing may not be sustainable much
longer. At $4.25 per gallon in June (up
from about $2 per gallon just two years
ago), much of his profit is going into
the fuel tanks of his boat and the truck
that hauls the catch to the fish auction
in Portland, three hours down the
coast.
At times, it has seemed as if the end
could be near for this way of life that
the fishermen love, and which is such a
key part of the culture and economy of
coastal Maine.
But Libby and 15 of his fellow
fishermen formed the Midcoast
Fishermen’s Cooperative nearly two
years ago to try to save their industry
and way of life. They now have a new
vision for the future, which centers on
rehabilitating the local fishery by
catching fewer fish, more selectively.
This goes hand-in-hand with a new
marketing plan to seek higher prices for
the co-op’s Port Clyde Fresh Catchbrand
fish, sold directly to restaurants
and to local consumers through a
community-supported fishery, or CSF
(the aquatic version of communitysupported
agriculture, or CSA). About
1,500 CSAs have been organized in the
United States since the movement
began in the late 1980s, but Port Clyde
is one of the first CSFs in the nation.
Restoring the fishery
“Our whole project is geared toward
somehow getting the fish back up along
the shore to the traditional spawning
grounds,” says Libby, gesturing toward
the inlet, where moored fishing and
pleasure craft bob serenely on a soft
summer day, the cry of laughing gulls
piercing the air.
“We are increasing the selectivity of
the gear we use to leave juveniles on the
bottom to grow and reproduce — just
not bring them up to the surface, where
most of them won’t survive,” explains
Libby, the co-op president. Using
lighter nets with a wider mesh will not
only be more selective in what is
snagged, but they will have less impact
on the habitat. By exerting less drag,
they also reduce fuel consumption.
“We’re basically trying to change
people’s fishing practices to have a
beneficial impact on the resource,”
Libby continues. “Marketing for a
higher price allows us to do that; then
we won’t need to fully load the boat to
keep going. That has always been the
model in the past: fill your boat up,
then sell them cheap as a commodity.”
That fishing model has not been
good for the fishery, and it has not been
good for Maine’s fishermen, says Laura
Kramar, the co-op’s marketing
coordinator and its only fulltime
employee. She is working under a
contract from the Island Institute, a
nonprofit rural assistance agency.
“If this new co-op works in Port
Clyde, the hope is that it will become a
model that can be replicated elsewhere
along the coast,” Kramar says. “This is
the only non-island group the Institute
is currently working with. But the issues
facing Port Clyde are very similar to
those we deal with on the islands, where
we’re trying to help rural communities
that depend on the sea.”
“If enough of us start doing this, it
could have a significant impact on the
resource. Then we wouldn’t need so
much government regulation,” adds
Libby. Providing
incentives for people to
take voluntary action
almost always nets
better results than do
regulations, he notes.
Co-op fishermen
are taking extra steps to
improve their product
quality. When fish are
landed on deck, they
are first packed in
plastic tubs with ice and
seawater before going into the ship’s
hold, which contains still more ice to
keep the catch chilled.
“This process has been proven to
reduce bacteria counts,” Libby says.
“Instead of putting hot fish off deck
down there, you are putting ice-cold
fish down there. It really makes a
difference when you are at sea for
several days.”
The market seems to be coming
around to the co-op’s product, Kramar
says. “It’s not hard to hook them when
your product is wild-caught fish,
harvested in an environmentally
sustainable manner, with a qualityassurance
program to back up the
sanitation end of things. That’s a
powerful selling tool.”
Kramar says she loves the job. “It
can get a little crazy at times, but
everybody keeps fighting the good
fight. I wake up every day excited to be
working with this co-op.”
Changing and saving a legacy
“We ran the boats hard in the old
days — harder than we should have,”
says co-op member Randy Cushman as
he stacks plastic fish tubs on the dock.
“I wish we would have done things
differently,” he confides, referring to
the damage to the fishery caused by
many years of intense, no-limit fishing.
The fishing industry here is now
strictly regulated. Permits allow only 48
days on the water each summer for
groundfishing. Most co-op members,
however, supplement their income by
fishing for scallops in the fall, then
switching to shrimp after Dec. 1.
“It’s a bigger struggle every year, and
it’s been especially bad this year due to
oil prices,” says Cushman, a fourthgeneration
Maine fisherman. His three
brothers are also fishermen. “This coop
is the only thing that is going to
keep us afloat.”
Port Clyde, Cushman notes, is the
second biggest fishing port, by volume,
in Maine. “But we’re not all that big, so
that gives you an idea of where the
industry has gone,” Cushman says.
In 1995, there were about 460 active
commercial fishing permits in the state,
he notes. Now there are only about 70.
The Port Clyde co-op is the last
remaining groundfishing fleet in the
Midcoast region of Maine.
For every day spent at sea fishing,
there is at least one day of boat
maintenance needed. In the old days,
most maintenance would be hired out.
But with profits down and restrictions
limiting days at sea, most boat owners
have to do their own maintenance,
Cushman says.
“We aren’t in it for the money,” he
continues. “If you are, you’re in the
wrong business. When I’m on the
water, I’m in my element. I love the
independence — being your own boss.
But you’ve still got to make a living.”
The economics of fishing have
driven some Maine fishermen to
relocate down the coast, to New
Bedford, Mass., where state law allows
them to harvest lobsters in their fish
nets at certain times of year. “State law
in Maine prohibits that,” says Libby.
“In tough times, if you are still selling
fish for 40 cents a pound, you need a
supplement. Lobsters provide that to
these guys, so that’s why they left.”
Co-op members, however, don’t
want to leave Maine. “We want to keep
fishing in Port Clyde,” Libby stresses.
“We want the future to be here, even
after we’re gone.”
How the CSF works
Only a small percent of the co-op’s
catch is currently being sold through
the CSF or directly to restaurants. Most
of it is still trucked to
the fish auction in
Portland. But the
direct-marketing strategy is still in its
infancy, and members are encouraged
by the progress to date.
Community members buy shares in
the Port Clyde CSF, which entitles
them to a fish delivery each week. The
co-op has been approached by potential
CSF members from other parts of the
state. But the logistics have been
prohibitive so far. For now, the goal is
to build up the local CSF market to
where it will support three or four
delivery days per week (right now there
are just two delivery days).
CSF members get whole fish, which
they have learned to fillet themselves.
“A lost art revived!” Libby says.
The Good Tern Natural Food Coop
in Rockland (about 15 miles from
Port Clyde) doesn’t deal in fresh fish,
but it is showing its support for the
fishermen’s co-op by allowing the
store’s parking lot to be used as the
pickup spot for CSF deliveries.
“We support local agriculture, and
we are trying to extend that support to
the local fishing industry,” says store
manager Tim Sullivan. “And we
naturally hope that some of the
fishermen’s co-op customers will also
come in and buy some stuff that goes
good with fish, like fresh corn on the
cob.”
Sally Perkins, of Warren, Maine, and
a friend went in together to buy a halfshare
in the CSF, and they trade weeks
picking up their delivery at the Good
Tern.
“So far we’ve had haddock, cod and
flounder,” says Perkins. “Last week I
got two haddock; I filleted one and
baked the other — it was delicious!
“The CSF is wonderful,” she
continues. “I really appreciate that this
fish wasn’t trucked all over the nation,
burning up carbon fuels, and that I’m
supporting the local fishing industry.”
The co-op encourages restaurants to
put cards on their tables touting that
they serve Port Clyde-caught fresh fish
and, thereby, support the home-town
fishing fleet. “We’re hearing more
reports of people going into restaurants
and asking for Port Clyde Fresh
Catch,” says Kramar.
Another major marketing goal is to
get better prices for their
shrimp by building the domestic
market. Virtually all the shrimp is
currently sold for export, where prices
have been very depressed.
“North Atlantic cold-water shrimp
are delicious, and they are not full of
antibiotics,” Libby says. A big
marketing hurdle is that most
Americans insist on over-cooking them,
which makes the shrimp too soft and
ruins the flavor.
“For perfect shrimp, you just cook
them for a minute or two, tasting for
the desired texture,” Libby says. “Then
immediately cool them with ice water;
otherwise, they continue to cook and
turn soft.”
Fishing is also good for Port Clyde’s
other main industry: tourism.
“The visitors want fresh seafood and
they want to see the fishing boats. And
they seem to like hearing us talk,” says
Libby, smiling at the thought that
tourists love those colorful Maine
accents.
There can be occasional aggravation
if tourists — or “people from away,” as
the locals sometimes refer to them —
get in the way down at the docks. But
the fishermen grin and bear it, knowing
how important the tourist trade is to
their town, Libby says. “And we make
up for it in the winter, when you can
take a nap in the road and not worry
about getting run over.”
Legislation sparked
co-op formation
The roots of the co-op go back
several years to a proposed state law:
Amendment 16 to the Groundfish Plan.
“We [co-op members] all supported the
basic concept of the amendment, which
was to come up with specific answers
for specific coastal areas,” Libby says.
“The current law errs by painting
everything with one broad brush. It
homogenizes the whole fishery, rather
than focusing on specific areas of
depletion.”
Port Clyde fishermen first formed
the Midcoast Fishermen’s Assoc. (MFA)
in 2006 to represent them as a group at
state hearings. “We formed MFA to
bring a united plan to the table,” Libby
recalls. “It turned into a real battle, and
in the end it got tabled. But it will be
coming back soon as Amendment 17,
which will again include area-specific
management plans.”
The MFA in turn soon spawned the
co-op when members saw that they
could also benefit from joint action on
the marketing front.
Coming up with a perfect system to
regulate the industry is indeed a
slippery fish. But MFA anticipates that
there will be a new licensing system
based on fishing-sector quotas that are
applicable to specific coastal areas.
“The trouble with a sector system,”
Libby says, “is that the monitoring costs
are higher; you must keep track of every
fish that comes over the dock and every
fish you throw back. That could prove
to be prohibitively expensive. I think at
the start they’ll wind up going to some
type of fleet discard average, until the
cost issue can be resolved.”
Such a system will still not be as
effective as voluntarily getting people to
alter their behavior and simply not fish
in areas with high discard rates, he
believes. This ties back to the trouble
with the current
licensing system,
based on allowed days at sea.
“Under that system, you can’t afford
to go to sea and look around for an area
that has a lower discard rate,” Libby
says. “If I steam four hours to get
somewhere, the clock is ticking, and I
can’t afford to steam another four
hours. I have to fish there. Under the
quota system, the clock is not ticking,
so you can be much more selective
about where you fish.”
Environmental theories
Clouding the waters further are
various theories about environmental
factors — such as global warming and
pollution levels — that could be
impacting the fishery.
Fishermen take these theories, and
the predictions of some biologists, with
a grain of sea salt.
“Take haddock, for example,” Libby
says. “Ten years ago, we caught one
haddock all year. A top scientist
working for the state said ‘that’s it,
there will never be any more haddock
they are commercially extinct.’ Now
there are so many haddock that there is
no limit on them.
“So they can say all kinds of things,
but the situation can turn around
quickly and for reasons the scientists
don’t fully understand. A few years ago
there weren’t many cod. Now we’re
seeing a lot more, so the cod
regulations are lightening up. In my
mind, I wonder if the regulations really
had that much of an impact.”
The biggest concern around Port
Clyde at present is the flounder fishery.
“But that could turnaround the same
way,” Libby says.
One worry members can soon shed
is the condition of the dock they tie up
at. This was the last summer using the
old dock, which has needed repairs for
years, but which Libby says the owner
would not agree to make.
The co-op boats will soon instead be
tying up at a brand new dock just 100
yards away. The construction was
funded through the state’s working
waterfront program and two private
foundations, which aim to help to
preserve sea access for the fishing
industry.
“Of around 5,300 miles of coastline
in Maine, only 20 miles are left that
provide access for fishing operations
like this,” Libby explains. “And part of
that is in private ownership, so actual
public ownership of access to the water
is less than 20 miles.”
The fishermen’s co-op will share the
new dock with the local lobsterman’s
co-op (called the Port Clyde
Fishermen’s Cooperative).
“In some places, lobstermen don’t
get along with people who drag —
there are gear conflicts and such,”
Libby says. “But we are fortunate in
that we work well with the lobstermen’s
co-op — we’re all a pretty tight group
here in Port Clyde. We’ve all grown up
together here, and are all friends and
neighbors. We all realize the
importance of both fisheries to the
town and general economy of the
state.” Some members belong to both
co-ops.
Is there a potential for the two coops
to merge?
“I think it can happen as we move
forward with the marketing plan. There
are a lot of opportunities for joint
marketing and developing the Port
Clyde Fresh Catch brand.”
Co-op members must vote to allow
any new members to join, and several
have in the past year. Members buy a
share of stock for $100, which is
refundable if they leave.
“Honesty, a sense of cooperation and
support for our commitment to
sustainability are the main things we
look for in new members,” Libby says.
Lest one think the life of a Maine
fisherman is all work and no play, Libby
was just about to depart on a camping
vacation to the mountains when
interviewed.
“Don’t forget your fishing rod,” he is
reminded.
“No fishing rods!” he replies. “We’ll
climb a few mountains. But, no fishing
on this trip!”
Danger, risk part of fishing trade
For those inclined to take for
granted the fish on their dinner plate
without ever thinking of the hard
work and sacrifice that put it there, a
short trip just a half mile or so south
of Port Clyde, Maine, is in order.
There, etched on a slab of
polished black granite overlooking
the sea, is a portrait of Gary
Thorbjornson. He stands at the helm
of his fishing boat, face to face with
the mighty North Atlantic. One can
sense his eager anticipation of nets
brimming with haddock as he steers
out into the open sea.
Thorbjornson never made it
home from a voyage about four years
ago. He was skippering an older boat
that started taking on water in rough
seas. He called some fellow
fishermen and the Coast Guard for
help and had gone below deck to get his survival suit. That’s
when a freak wave hit the boat, rolling it over and trapping
Thorbjornson below deck.
The other two crew members, who had been on deck,
survived by sharing one survival suit (which provides floatation
and insulation).
“Fortunately, Gary had managed to get out a May Day call,
and the Coast Guard saved his son and a friend,” says Gary
Libby, also a co-op fisherman and the brother of co-op
President Glen Libby. “Now they require you to keep your
survival gear in the wheelhouse.”
On the other side of the memorial are two lists of names
etched in the stone — 11 local fishermen lost at sea. “These
are the lobster boat guys, and these are the dragger guys,”
says retired fisherman Roger Libby (father of Gary and Glen) as
he points to the names, many of whom he knew and worked
with over the years. “There’s space left for more names, but
we hope we’ll never have to add to it.”
The most recent addition is James Weaver, another Port
Clyde fisherman who died at sea about two and half years ago.
“It was fall, the last trip of the year, and they had probably
gone out further than they should,” says Gary.
“They had a big bag of fish on board, and a wave hit them
just right,” Roger recalls. “That was it — the boat rolled over
in cold water.” Weaver never
got out.
The only other crew
member, Chris Yattaw, managed to climb into a life raft that
surfaced, but he had no survival suit. He was in the water from
about 1 p.m. until 11 p.m. Luckily, he was spotted by another
fishing boat that just happened to come across him in the dark,
otherwise he might have died as well.
“Chris is doing plumbing work now; says he’ll never go
back to sea,” Gary says. “I don’t blame him, after something
like that.”
Most fishermen have had close calls at sea.
Co-op member Randy Cushman says one of his worst
experiences came with his then 13-year-old son, Nathaniel, on
board. Nathaniel said he wanted to be a swordfisherman when
he grew up, even after seeing “The Perfect Storm,” a movie
about a New England fishing boat lost in a horrendous storm,
Cushman recalls. “But up until then, he’d only been out with
me on good days.”
About a week after seeing the movie, Nathaniel
experienced fishing on an angry sea.
“We were fighting 40- to 50-knot easterly winds, blowing
in the wrong direction. I didn’t know if we were going to make
it in.” Then the boat’s transmission broke and it was drifting
toward Old Cilley Ledge, a
dangerous tidal ledge.
“We were less than half
a mile from that ledge —
drifting sideways toward it
at 3.8 knots. I’m on the radio
making calls, telling my son to get in his
survival suit — which he had been
trained to do. But he froze up on me.”
Randy’s brother, Michael, had to help
the boy into the suit.
“When I realized the anchor wasn’t
going to grab, I tried reverse gear, and
it took. I had to go full throttle, wide
open in reverse into 15-foot seas, which were breaking over
the top of us.”
They got home, but that experience was a life-changing
event for Nathaniel.
“That tipped the scales for him,” Cushman says. The
eighth grader decided this fishing experience “was perfect
enough for him.” Today, Nathaniel is the supervisor of Harbor
Schools, a home for underprivileged youth, and is working on
his Master’s degree. He has never again gone sea fishing.
The seaman’s memorial is just a stone’s throw from the
Marshal Point Lighthouse, established in 1834. The lighthouse
is seen in the 1994 film “Forest Gump.” In the film, Gump
(played by Tom Hanks) ends a cross-country run by jogging out
to touch the lighthouse, then turns around and heads back
again.
The film has attracted a new wave of tourists, many of
whom wind up making the short stroll over to the seaman’s
monument. Hopefully, some of them leave with a better
appreciation of the side-serving of risk that comes with every
seafood dinner.
By Dan Campbell
The seaman's memorial at Port Clyde honors the memory of fishermen and lobstermen lost at sea, including Gary Thorbjornson. Visiting here is Kathleen Starrs, of Cushing, Maine. The memorial neighbors the Marshal Point Lighthouse.
USDA photos by Dan Campbell.
