7462-R3_CIC_March2021_Calendar_Web

Marty’s Memories - The Tides

If we didn’t live on an island I wonder if we would ever think about the tides. I do know that since I have lived on the island year round, inching up to twenty years now, I have thought of little else! I have watched with both wonder and horror as that great muscle of water pulled and eased its force around the small piece of land that holds my nest in place. At first it was amazing, seeing my view of the water expand as first birches then oaks exposed their roots and then let go, taking precious soil and wild blueberries plants with them. The panorama looking out to the bay now includes so many islands I used to only see when out in the water: Bustin’s, French’s, Lower Goose, the Goslings, LittleWhaleboat, Big Whaleboat, Mark Island, Eagle. The sun’s light paints these land masses in different ways at different times of day, sometimes so dramatically that it makes you gasp. Then, when a wind storm brews and rain gathers and falls in immense quantities, the tide joins in, especially when the moon is full and it is exceptionally high, and adds her might to reshaping the landscape. When I was young and here for the summer, the tides were my timepiece. I yearned for high tide when the rocks would be covered and I could easily slip into its cooling water. There was a long band

of luxurious sand along the top of our beach then and people of all ages would gather and visit and play. There was lots of screaming coming from Hamilton beach in those days, kids squealing at the thrill of it all, adults at the huge shock of the cold water. I really should not put the blame of the erosion on the never- ending, never-changing-its course tides. They just continue to do what they are programmed to do. I really don’t believe the tides are taking my land from me, anyway. I think it is that other tide, the one underground. The one that Chebeague was named for, ‘land of many springs’. That water is always present, always moving toward the lower parts of the island, the banks at its shores. Its might is almost as strong as the tides, so they do their work together, always on the move. Now it is difficult to walk on my end of the beach. During and after these punishing storms I always hope ‘our’ sand will be back. That rarely happens and if it does, it’s gone in the next storm. Each time, walking alongside the banks on the shore, I notice more tree roots exposed and whole juniper bushes torn away, tossed aside like old brooms. The middens expose more thin white clam shell pieces and of course I look, but never find any arrowheads.

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MARCH 2021 CHEBEAGUE ISLAND COUNCIL CALENDAR