Peaks Island

We bought tickets and took the noontime ferry three miles out to Peaks Island. Crossing Casco Bay, the rain whipped up, making the islands look drab and forlorn. Michael guided us, retracing his evening commute from the 80s and 90s, when he’d lived on the island but worked in Portland. We hadn’t expected a greeting party, but Jesse was waiting for us and we piled into the back of his truck with his tools.

Jesse lived at the densely forested heart of the island, well hidden on a road that necessitated four-wheel drive. He hosted us in his unfinished home, a project come to fruition by his own skill as a plumber, carpenter, and electrician. Beside the table saw and raw lumber was a homey woodstove that had kept him warm in the winter months. He made us rice with beans and onions and we feasted on chips while we caught up on the island news.

By the time lunch was over the rain had stopped and we walked on foot to another friend’s house across the island. Like Jesse, Rob is a tradesman, whose house was 20 years in the making and not done yet. It boasted unique stylistic details and personal touches yet puzzled out. We shared a pot of coffee in the unfinished ground floor and took a tour, examining his detailed woodwork and talking over what was to come.

A short walk from Rob’s property is the abandoned Battery Steele, a world war relic taken over by graffiti artists and nature. Half hidden beneath a thick brushy covering, it was hard to reconcile the sheer size of the battery once charged with the defense of Casco Bay. We walked beneath the concrete monolith, feeling the weight of the walls around us, some of which exceeded two feet thick.

“The graffiti artists are ruthless,” Rob said. “I’ll see something really extraordinary but by the next time I come it’s already painted over.”

In the early 1990s, Michael was looking for a space to display his emotive paintings about loss related to drug addiction. Rob and another friend suggested the use of Battery Steele, which was at the time being used as a waste dump, drug haven, and flop house. They planned to display Michael’s art among the shells of abandoned cars and furniture, but the city cleared the space before the show.

Born from Michael’s efforts, the Sacred & Profane art exhibition has occurred on and off at Battery Steele for the past 25 years. Artists come and occupy the abandoned subterranean rooms with performances and sculpture. Devoid of natural light, the artists use the oppressive experience within the battery to inform and enhance their pieces.

Rob took Hillary and I deep into the structure to explore the various rooms. Illuminated only by the thin light of my cellphone, we glimpsed spray painted messages and artifacts from teenage parties and sexual liaisons. One cavernous room was completely flooded, creating a grotto that Rob claimed to be at least four feet deep. Asbestos insulation hung down from the ceiling and our footsteps echoed all around us as we walked nervously through the lightless passageway. A sense of loneliness pervaded the capacious, graffiti-washed space. It was so crypt-like that I thought I could hear restless souls moving just out of range of my flashlight.

We planned to take the 5 PM ferry back to the mainland, which gave us just enough time to circumnavigate Peaks in the back of Rob’s pickup. Hillary and I rode in the back as Rob pointed out houses he’d helped build and offered tidbits of local lore. Peaks Island had once been the Coney Island of Maine, featuring a bowling alley, arcade, and Ferris wheel. This golden age faded in the second half of the 20th century and was replaced by blue collar residences. Only recently has the demographic shifted towards weekend homeowners.

Rob dropped us off and we said our goodbyes, only just making it onto the ferry to go back to Portland. The rain was holding off and we stood out on deck surveying the various islands surrounding Portland Harbor. We talked of the unique vibe that Peaks presented us, overtopped only by the hospitality of Jesse and Rob. Something about an island creates a unique space and opportunity for residents and visitors alike. Removed from the traditional infrastructure and society of the mainland, the residents of Peaks were able to take their time in creating and reflecting on their world.

As we disembarked on the mainland, the clouds began to break and we parted with Michael, thanking him for his company as tour guide. Then it was up the hill to find dinner, experience a little bit of Portland proper, and perhaps gain a glimpse of Peaks Island sitting quietly out in the bay.