Changes in Lobster Land

“Thick as pudding out here,” says Richard Waldron, 77, taking his glasses off and tucking them in the folds of a red plaid shirt sitting on top of a lobster crate in the stern of his 16-foot skiff. He’s pretty disgusted. This morning he was distracted and forgot his coffee thermos. He opens up the throttle on the outboard and we pick up speed, the rockweed ledges and gray cabin on Flag Island fading into soft focus and then gone as the fog settles like a soggy towel over the Muscle Ridge Channel. A weathered granite shelf as broad as a whale comes up fast. Waldron whips the skiff around it, barely slowing, then we are back scooting through timeless, gauzey fog. This is about as simple as lobstering gets: an open fiberglass skiff with an outboard. click here to read the story 11:37