As I grew up learning to sail on my dad’s classic wooden boat along the Maine coast, I quickly came to recognize the various tidal rivers and harbors that we would frequent, places such as Tenant’s Harbor, Clark’s Cove, Otter Island, Muscongus Bay, Eggemoggin Reach, among a plethora of others. I had my favorites, and I loved sailing past the many lights along the rocky shore. For those who are not familiar with the term, “light” is often used instead of “lighthouse,” that sentinel that warns sailors away from the treacherous rocks and shoals that dot the Maine coast.

Some years later, I came to know the coast from the land and explored the rabbit warren of back roads gracing the lacy string of peninsulas that reach south toward the Atlantic Ocean. For those who do not know, the Maine coast runs remarkably west-east. In fact, the term “Down East” hails from the old sailors who would sail down before the wind (the wind at one’s back) in an easterly direction toward Portland and beyond — Down East. Yes, there is another Down East in North Carolina, thus named for the same reason.

Whenever I return to this rocky coastline, I smell that salt air, cross familiar rivers and estuaries, and see the familiar signs that date back more than 50 years to my youthier youth when it would take close to eight hours to travel the old Route 1 from Boston to Camden, then a sleepy little fishing village.

They say, “You can’t go home again,” and to an extent those mythical “they” are right. Camden is certainly an example — a town that has successfully turned to tourism to bolster a failing economy, and in doing so, lost the charm of the original village. There are, however, pockets where those little hamlets of my youth are virtually unchanged. Sure, there are Small*Marts, Micky-Ds, Patagucci outlets and the like on the outskirts along Routes 1 and 1A, but the villages and peninsula roads haven’t changed much in fifty years.

There is a charm to that. We live today in a world that generally does not value history. Youth rules, and classic architecture and old ways are an intrusion to many. People are weaned on computers and say, “No problem” instead of “You’re welcome.” Excuse me? Did I expect that there was going to be a problem?

As a photographer, I relish the historic and classic. It’s not that I don’t appreciate architecturally modern architecture and conveniences, because I do, but there is such character to a weathered barn, a work horse of a lobster boat, the old fish co-operative, the Grange hall, the old country store that has been there forever, and similar icons of a life on the coast.

Arnie, my husband and partner, John, our good friend and colleague, and I arrived in this part of the Maine coast Tuesday morning to do final scouting for our workshop. Cell service does not exist beyond the local town, and Internet service is found at the local bookstore/café where you can pick up a wonderful mango smoothie or breakfast sandwich on an English muffin or bagel. Life moves at a slower, steadier pace than much of the rest of the nation, and I find that very appealing.

People say, “Good morning” or “Hi.” Neighbors watch out for each other. If someone asks, “How are you?” he/she actually wants to know how you are faring.

We returned to my old shooting haunts to scout for locations for the current workshop and did some photographing ourselves. There were the wonderful rocky ledges, the charming light, the new steeple getting a new coast of primer, the dinghies and lobster boats, the neat stacked rows of lobster traps, the old fort and cemetery.

I knocked on someone’s door to ask permission for our workshop to photograph on their property, and they would graciously assent, “Just send us some pictures, if you get any.” We arrived at my favorite fish shack at 8:01, just after it closed on weekdays.

“Is there any possibility of getting something to eat? We have been looking forward to this all day.”

“Sure, we can do that,” and we make our selections quickly to make sure we don’t keep them any longer than necessary. We even finished before the last party who were in there long before we arrived.

And the photographs we are seeing are terrific. Our group is finding photographs with that sense of discovery and wonderment that I had when I first fell in love with this area and that I still have every time I return. It is wonderful to know that there are still places that are like this.

Hopefully, I’ll have a few new images in the next day or so, but I have been too busy to process any! Forgive me!

As always, if you have comments, please feel free to post them. Share places that you have known over the years that have not changed.