Lobsters and a rich heritage play a part in America’s New England coastal states.


Every now and then our skipper, who, minus parrot and with both his legs, otherwise bore a striking resemblance to Long John Silver, would lean over the side of the boat and haul up one of his lobster pots. Taking great care he would extract its occupant and hold it up for us to see. One had several thousand tiny black eggs under her tail, another was notched with a ‘v’ (indicating that she was a breeding female and had to be returned to the sparkling waters off New England’s Ogunquit Beach), and another, a male, was far too small to eat! To keep us amused between lobster pots we were told tales about the life of a lobster and the history of the bay. Did we know, he asked, that lobsters were once so plentiful they were fed to prisoners? Unfortunately the inmates got so tired of the dish of the day they staged a rebellion and a decree was issued that prisoners were not to be fed on lobsters more than twice a week. I sighed in envy at the prospect of eating lobster twice a week.


We had flown into Boston a mere 24 hours earlier and, after an overnight break, were making our way up the coast to Kennebunkport, taking in such historic towns as Beverly and Salem. The date on Beverly’s church steeple proudly proclaimed 1667, though the little town was actually founded in 1626.
Salem Church

Today Salem is a charming, peaceful place – indeed its name is an adaptation of ‘shalom’ which means ‘peace’, belying its horrific and brutal 17th-century past, when unfortunate women were condemned to death for alleged witchcraft.

It was late afternoon by the time we reached Kennebunkport. Founded in 1653, by the 19th century Kennebunkport was the prosperous centre for shipbuilding in York County After checking into our inn I opted for a trolley bus tour whilst my friend went off to explore on foot. The 45-minute narrated tour was an excellent way to familiarise myself with this delightful resort, taking me through the village, past the Franciscan monastery, out to the beaches to catch a glimpse of George Bush Senior’s summer holiday home, and by attractive Victorian houses such as an incredibly ornate home based on the carvings on Milan Cathedral.

I rejoined my friend at one of the local brew pubs, where we sampled rather too many of their excellent beers before returning to the inn for dinner – and an impromptu, if somewhat out of tune singalong round the piano with locals and other guests.

Next stop was Portland, Maine’s largest city and first capital, built on a three-mile peninsula. After visiting the city’s tourist information office we both decided that the recommended trolley bus ride made sense. We set off at a lively pace to tour this city by the sea, as our driver-guide regaled us with stories of the first English settlers; of Captain John Smith counting the offshore islands; the great and terrible fire of 1866; and the resulting rebuild of the city in fireproof red brick. The poet Longfellow lived in Portland and we were treated to a rendition of Longfellow’s poem The Blacksmith as we wound our way through the old port, over the bridge and out to the leafy suburb of South Portland and the Spring Point Lighthouse – a great place for a photo stop. It was 90 minutes well spent. Our driver had pointed out to us the Museum of Art; we were glad he had as we decided to go and found it be an excellent museum with a wide-ranging collection.


A pair of freshly cooked lobsters

Seriously in need of lunch we sat at a waterfront café watching the yellow and black ferries buzzing backwards and forwards to the islands like busy wasps. To my delight lobster was on the menu. I still find it hard to believe that the Native Americans once used them as fertiliser and prisoners rebelled at eating them.

For more information about this fascinating part of the U.S.A. visit www.discovernewengland.org