November in Maine
Welcome back to Rocky Harbor, Maine—a beloved coastal town I’ve written about before, where each season brings its own rhythm and charm.
Rocky Harbor is a tourist town with a natural ebb and flow that marks the passage of time. Every May, the first wave of visitors arrives for the Fisherman’s Festival. Tourists stroll along the bay, weaving through the sidewalks to reach the center of town, where a lively parade signals the start of the festivities.
THE PARADE
The crowds pack tightly along Main Street. Babies sip from bottles in their mothers’ arms; toddlers ride high on their fathers’ shoulders; young children buckle into strollers; school kids pedal their bikes; and teenagers zigzag by on skateboards. Even the dogs get caught up in the excitement, barking and spinning in circles.
Fishermen work the crowd, tossing Swedish Fish like confetti. People cheer not only for the candy but for the men’s festival attire: fleece-lined quilted plaid jackets, jeans held up by suspenders, and black rubber boots pulled up to their calves. Knitted wool fisherman beanies top off the look.
As the antics get wilder, the fishermen guide the roaring crowd toward the pier—because now, the real games begin.
THE LOBSTER TRAP RACE
Contestants sprint across a floating bridge of lobster traps tied together in the harbor, doing everything they can to keep from tumbling into the icy brine.
THE CODFISH RELAY
Next comes the relay race, where teams dash through the center of town carrying slippery, four-foot-long codfish. Drop your cod, and your team is out. The spectacle never disappoints.
THE TUG OF WAR
From the pier, the excitement shifts to the elementary school playground. There, teams dig their heels into the mud for a rousing round of Tug of War. By the end, many of the men look like they’ve rolled through a pig pen—but not even that stops them from marching proudly into the school cafeteria for the next big event.
THE LOBSTER EATING CONTEST
At long wooden tables, contestants compete to see who can devour the most lobsters in fifteen minutes. Shells crack like thunder as butter and lobster juice splatter across shirts, beards, and tablecloths. The noise is deafening, the energy contagious, and the enthusiasm unwavering.
The winner walks away with a cache of fresh Maine lobsters—though everyone leaves with a story.
CROWNING OF THE SHRIMP PRINCESS
The final event of the night is the crowning of the Shrimp Princess. Young women from the community showcase their talent, poise, and personality while the audience “oohs” and “ahhs.” As always, the crowd wishes every contestant could walk away with roses and a crown.
FISH TAILS
When the festival winds down, everyone heads to the local bar for a cherished tradition: Fish Tails, an evening of storytelling.
The host raises his glass.
“Good evening, fishermen of the sea! Keeping with tradition, we’ll end this year’s festival with Fish Tails—a time to share stories that make us laugh, cry, and shake our heads. So grab your beers and whiskeys, and let’s get started!”
A booming voice calls out from the bar.
“Ay-uh, I reckon it’s time. This tale’s about our friend Clive—sitting right there.”
He points, and the crowd turns.
“I remember the year Clive entered the lobster-eating contest. He walked into the cafeteria with a wicker picnic basket, didn’t say a word, and sat right down like he owned the place. While the rest of us were hootin’ and hollerin’, inhalin’ lobsters to win the prize, Clive here opened his basket and pulled out a white linen tablecloth. Then came the bone china, the crystal goblet, the candelabra—candelabra!—and sterling silverware.”
The crowd roars with laughter.
“Clive, you weren’t trying to win—you just wanted a free lobster dinner served the proper way. While we were gorging ourselves, you daintily dabbed your lips with a linen napkin. You didn’t win the contest, but you sure had the finest meal of the night. And that’s why we love you—an independent thinker, lover of life, and a damn good fisherman.”
Clive raises his glass and bows his head modestly as the room erupts again.
The stories continue well into the night. At midnight, the festival finally draws to a close—with everyone already looking forward to next year’s revelry.