We told you so: FairPoint’s phone-line takeover is as bad as regulators feared.

Published in the Portland Phoenix

We knew it would be bad. Heck, beyond all the ink in all the other newspapers, we at the Portland Phoenix printed 4500 words over the course of six months explaining what was wrong with the Verizon-FairPoint merger, in which a North Carolina-based little-phone-company-that-could spent $2.3 billion of mostly borrowed money to take over the northern New England operations of one of the world’s largest telecommunications companies (see “A Bad Idea Triumphs,” by Jeff Inglis, February 29).

But it is with a distinct feeling of dismay (though perhaps just a touch of schadenfreude) that we report that the change-over has been more disastrous than even we thought: FairPoint is performing terribly now, and all signs point to the situation getting far worse, and probably never getting better.

Let’s move past the MISSING ONLINE BILLING SYSTEM that has customers in Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont upset at having to buy stamps to mail in their payments for phone service. That’s still not resolved, but it’s relatively minor — and the company says it’ll be fixed by late fall. Liberty Consulting Group, the Pennsylvania-based company monitoring FairPoint’s transition for regulators in all three states, says it shouldn’t be a big problem. (You’ll see shortly that neither FairPoint nor Liberty is establishing a very good track record for this sort of promise, but there are much bigger fish to fry than complaints about adding 42 cents to everyone’s phone bill.)

We can less easily dismiss the fact that more workers have left the company than FairPoint predicted, leaving the new outfit SHORT OF EXPERIENCED WORKERS at a time when customers need reassurance — which usually comes in the form of speedy, competent service. That goes for both in-person physical repair work and over-the-phone support.

FairPoint had said that, upon closing the deal, it would hire an additional 675 employees in northern New England. But as of March 31, according to a report from Liberty, the company had 10 percent fewer employees than Verizon had had 10 months earlier, meaning it needs to hire replacements for roughly 270 people before economic-development number-crunchers can even begin to count any “new” workers. FairPoint corporate communications manager Jill Healey Wurm says the company needs to hire a total of roughly 900 people, but wouldn’t give a reason for the increased number. The company had hired 260 people as of the end of April, the most recent numbers Liberty or FairPoint have disclosed.

Liberty, though, says not all 900 positions need to be filled, and has claimed that only “key” positions do — while simultaneously recognizing that defining the word “key” is ... well, key, and refusing to define it.

But honestly, those issues too are small potatoes compared to three other problems lurking just under the radar, hidden in plain sight, in Liberty’s reports — all of which are available on the Web sites of the Maine and New Hampshire Public Utilities Commissions (the NHPUC one is much easier to find and use, atwww.puc.state.nh.us/Telecom/FairPoint.htm).

Moving at a snail’s pace
The first major problem is the speed of FairPoint’s takeover from Verizon, which is ALREADY FOUR MONTHS BEHIND SCHEDULE, a delay that means customers will not see the lower phone rates promised by FairPoint until December at the earliest, rather than August, as regulators had hoped. (In December, FairPoint customers in Maine will get a credit retroactive to August, totaling around $20 per phone line.) The original transition plan gave FairPoint four months after the date the deal actually closed to prepare to take over all phone-system operations from Verizon (an event called the “cutover”).

But months before closing, FairPoint was saying it would need more time to get ready, in January estimating it would need five months post-closing. Liberty’s January 14 report, its second monthly summary of FairPoint’s preparedness, called that deadline “very aggressive” and expressed “doubts that FairPoint can meet” it. In its February 11 report, Liberty was even more worried, calling the five-month schedule “extremely aggressive.”

By Liberty’s March 7 report, the closing was slated for March 31, and FairPoint was saying it needed six months post-close, delaying the cutover to “late September” at the earliest. While Liberty called the delay “helpful,” the consulting firm wrote that it was “too soon to assess the likelihood that FairPoint will be able (to) meet a September cutover date.”

Its April 10 report also saw Liberty saying it was “too early to judge” FairPoint’s ability to take over in September, but by May 9, Liberty was calling it “unlikely” that FairPoint would be ready in time.

And a month later, on June 6, Liberty’s report just plain said it: FairPoint’s four-months-plus-two-extra target of a September cutover was “unrealistic” because testing was nowhere near complete, neither of new software created by FairPoint to handle the former Verizon systems, nor of connections with other telephone companies. Liberty then recommended the cutover be delayed another two months, and happen sometime in November, saying it did “not anticipate any substantial roadblocks to FairPoint’s meeting that date.”

On June 17, FairPoint acquiesced to Liberty’s judgment. But before November, there are many important milestones for FairPoint to hit, including making sure it can import Verizon’s customer and wiring data into its computers without problems, finishing developing its software, hiring staff, and then training them to use the software that’s not yet developed.

Maine officials, and FairPoint, remain convinced the cutover will happen. “Liberty believes FairPoint is up to the task,” but just needs more time, says Fred Bever, spokesman for the Maine Public Utilities Commission. FairPoint’s Wurm takes a less-reassuring tone: “The cutover is going to happen in a very reasonable and hopefully seamless way.”

Emergency calls
There is one more project FairPoint needs to complete — or actually start — before it’s ready for cutover: Maine’s emergency calling system, E-911. It’s a core issue, and one we talked about though nobody else did: FairPoint is the company handling emergency calls from Mainers (and New Hampshirites and Vermonters) in dire, life-threatening situations. Which is why it gives us no pleasure to report that FairPoint is UNPREPARED TO HANDLE 911 CALLS.

To date, broken telephone systems have temporarily blocked 911 callers from reaching three dispatch centers in Maine, and have caused problems in New Hampshire as well.

First struck was the Cumberland County center in Windham, which serves nearly 70,000 people in 17 communities, and lost its ability to accept 911 calls five times on April 17 and 18. The phone company is supposed to maintain backup systems to recognize such failures and immediately re-route 911 calls to other offices, such as the state’s main dispatch center in Gray. But on one of those five occasions, the re-routing took more than 30 minutes.

When the dispatch center lost its connection again on May 16, the switchover took more than an hour, which cost the company $25,000 of the $6.4 million the state pays every year for handling 911 calls.

And another failure May 17 took 15 minutes to re-route calls. That’s not how long it took FairPoint to fix the broken system — that’s how long it took them to arrange for any 911 calls coming in to be answered by a human being who could help them, rather than hearing a busy signal or endless ringing.

The fix was actually relatively simple — there is now a physical transfer switch (much like a light switch) in the county dispatch center, and when the system goes down again, rather than relying on the questionable automatic system, a dispatcher will just reach over, flip the switch, and 911 calls will go to the state police in Gray.

On May 27, though, that office lost its connection for 10 minutes, and on May 28, a second malfunction caused a technician to shut down the system for seven hours. Another dispatch center was able to pick up the slack, but still, two people who called 911 were disconnected mid-call. That led state officials to demand physical transfer switches in six more dispatch offices.

And then between June 13 and 15, the Penobscot County dispatch center in Bangor, serving roughly 150,000 Mainers, lost service twice, once for six hours and the second time for more than 30 hours. In both cases, calls were routed to another dispatch center, but the first one was not detected by any automated system or even any dispatch staff — a citizen called 911, got a busy signal, and called her local police department’s non-emergency number to seek help.

On June 28, dispatchers at a 911 call center in Concord, New Hampshire, had trouble reaching police and fire departments in southern New Hampshire because of telephone problems lasting roughly 90 minutes, according to Foster’s Daily Democrat.

FairPoint says it has found and fixed the problems, but they’re not drawing anyone’s attention to the fact that soon we’ll be far worse off. Company officials and regulators agree that the systems that have been breaking down, while FairPoint’s responsibility, are actually the old systems created by Verizon. The problems likely “would have happened under Verizon,” says Wayne Jortner, senior counsel at Maine’s Office of the Public Advocate, which represents the public in utilities-regulation cases and has been a major player in the FairPoint dealings.

But soon, those old computer systems will be replaced with new ones created by FairPoint. Except Liberty’s reports say FairPoint’s SOFTWARE FOR HANDLING 911 CALLS IN MAINE IS NOT EVEN READY FOR TESTING! Liberty’s May 9 report says “a working version ... is not planned to exist until August.”

We can take some comfort in the fact that FairPoint officials and Maine regulators say they won't allow the cutover to happen until the state's 911 system is fully operational. But even if testing starts on schedule next month, any major problems could cause yet another delay. And while Verizon’s gear is old and breaking, FairPoint has nothing — nothing — to replace it.

Parting with cash
FairPoint will need to pay millions of dollars for all these new systems and testing and staff and training. Many of those costs were predicted before the deal was approved, though they included a few surprising financial assumptions by FairPoint (see “No Raises for Seven Years,” November 16, 2007; and “No Raises — It Gets Better,” November 20, 2007, both by Jeff Inglis).

But the four months of delays in the cutover will cost FairPoint $66 MILLION IT WASN’T PLANNING TO SPEND. And every month of delay beyond November will cost another $16.5 million. That money is paid to Verizon by FairPoint as, effectively, a lease of Verizon’s staff, software, and other behind-the-scenes systems.

And FairPoint has just issued its first post-purchase dividend, unloading $23 million in cash to its shareholders, which is money it can no longer spend fixing problems, or making service better. The company says it will have enough money to do what needs doing.

But to a pessimist’s mind, FairPoint is cleverly positioning itself to cry “poor” to state regulators if it runs into unforeseen expenses at some point in the future. Without those millions — and any other millions it may hand out to shareholders down the road — the company will actually be poor, and will be telling the truth if it asks for emergency rate increases or extensions on other commitments. (Maine, for example, has “required” FairPoint to expand the proportion of phone lines that can handle high-speed Internet service from 70 percent to 90 percent over the next five years, but then said that if the company hasn’t done so in time, it can have an extra year with no penalty.)

Jortner says concerns about FairPoint’s financial model failing are “absolutely valid,” though he takes pains to say “we’re not predicting that at this point,” and to note that the regulatory approval was structured so that if FairPoint is running low on cash, “it’s the dividend that gives,” not cash to run the phone system.

Even to an optimist, FairPoint is putting itself in a position with relatively little wiggle room. The company just spent $15 million on new trucks, none of which run on biodiesel or ethanol, Wurm says, though the company told regulators its financial model didn’t include any allowance for gas prices to increase. On top of that, with transition delays, fewer workers (none of them fully trained on FairPoint’s systems), and major software elements not even ready for testing, the company’s time is running out.

More alternatives
And the pressure is really on. Nationally, millions of landline customers are canceling their service — on average, 350 customers in northern New England do so every day. (Verizon numbers indicate as many as eight percent of customers disconnect in any given year.) They’re moving to using just cell phones, or pairing cell phones with Internet-based telephone service, such as TimeWarner Cable’s Digital Phone service, which allows TimeWarner to deliver a customer what is called a “triple play” — cable television, high-speed Internet, and telephone service — over one wire and paid for on one bill.

FairPoint’s business plan depends on the company retaining more of those customers than Verizon did, and having fewer of them seek communications services — including high-speed Internet access — from other companies. That will take some doing.

A key element of customer retention will be FairPoint’s own “triple play” service. Company spokeswoman Wurm observes that because of the cutover delay, FairPoint has partnered with DirecTV to create something like a “triple play,” with DirecTV providing satellite television and FairPoint delivering telephone and Internet service. But FairPoint is using regular telephone wires, which in many cases are decades old and may need replacement to carry data as well as voice traffic. And even when equipped with top-notch technology (which costs millions), the copper telephone wires FairPoint is depending on transmit data more slowly than fiber-optic connections, which are the real future (see “Internet Disconnect,” by Jeff Inglis, August 24, 2007).

In many parts of Maine that have telephone service from FairPoint, RESIDENTS AND BUSINESSES ARE UNWILLING TO WAIT for high-speed Internet access; wireless-Internet providers have set up shop and are expanding rapidly to meet demand, in communities from Presque Isle to Bar Harbor.

Even Democratic Governor John Baldacci has seen the future. On June 10, he attended the ceremony opening a fiber-optic line offering businesses in Bangor access to an all-fiber network reaching to Augusta, Portland, Portsmouth, and Boston.

Who owns that network? Not FairPoint, still struggling with software development and testing, but Lewiston-based Oxford Networks, which has more than 600 miles of fiber strung throughout Maine already. The future is here. Maybe one day FairPoint will arrive, too.

Press Releases: Herald or harbinger?

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Those of us fascinated by the rapidly deflating balloon that is the Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram have had a lot to chew over from a lot of sources lately. (Not surprisingly, one of the worst sources of information on this topic was the PPH itself.) Here’s a roundup of what you might have missed in the flurry.

Layoffs Effective July 1, 31 fewer people work at the Press Herald (including reporters Paul Carrier, Kevin Wack, Tess Nacelewicz, Seth Harkness, Josie Huang, and Jonathan Kaplan). Some of them took "voluntary severance" packages, while others were just laid off. Six already-vacant positions were eliminated, and five more layoffs are in the works. All four of the paper's satellite news bureaus were closed — including the ones watching the Maine State House and Washington DC. Also gone? The day and night editors (Andrea Nemitz and David McNabb) and a copy editor (Gary Christian).

Critiques Those who remain are again subject to the sometimes-withering criticism of the pseudonymous "T. Cushing Munjoy" at the PressingTheHerald blog (see "Pressure Is On," by Jeff Inglis, March 12). He quit posting when the papers went up for sale, figuring it made little sense to attack a retreating enemy, but returned to the fray when the sale was delayed.

Low bids According to media watcher (and Phoenix political columnist) Al Diamon, none of the Press Herald's three potential short-list buyers offered enough money to make owner Frank Blethen happy. Let's take a stab at a rock-bottom price: the major properties — land and buildings — the company owns are assessed by tax officials in their respective cities (Portland, South Portland, Augusta, and Waterville) at a total of nearly $30 million. That leaves out multi-million-dollar printing presses and "intangible assets" such as the newspapers’ names, Web site addresses, customer and advertiser databases, and what is called “goodwill” (the reputation the company has in the community).

Who's in? Possible buyers named by Crosscut Seattle (at crosscut.com, a must-read Web site for PPH watchers) were Black Press, which owns more than 150 newspapers in the US and Canada, where it's based; Gatehouse Media of New York state, owners of nearly 400 daily and weekly newspapers across the US; and Wilkes-Barre Publishing Holdings of Pennsylvania, whose flagship paper is the Wilkes-Barre Times Leader.

Union woes The Press Herald has sued its employees' union over the workers’ insistence that any buyer agree, as a condition of purchase, to take over the existing union contract, which runs through 2010. In the suit, the Blethens ask for a federal judge's ruling that no such promise is required. Court documents include a letter from one Blethen executive expressing concern about “whether a sale is possible” if the contract must be preserved.

Red ink According to the lawsuit, the Blethens need the money from selling the Press Herald quickly, “to reduce bank debt and to avoid the dire consequences of being in default.”

Weak contentPPH editors won't even use top-notch material when it's free. In mid-June, the McClatchy Newspapers’ Washington DC bureau put out an incredible multi-day series on conditions, management, and the innocent detainees at the US government's offshore prison at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba. (McClatchy owns 49.5 percent of the Seattle Times Company, and the PPH has been running McClatchy News Service copy for months.)

The series would have run days after a replica of a Gitmo cell visited Portland (see “A Night in Guantánamo,” by Jeff Inglis, June 13), and just as a US Supreme Court decision on detainees' rights made international headlines.

But the PPH missed its chance to lure readers with excellent, exclusive journalism on a topic current to Mainers, and of great relevance to Americans.

He ain't heavy — well, maybe a little bit

Published in the Portland Phoenix

In the legend of Robin Hood, when Robin meets Friar Tuck, he gets Tuck to carry him across a stream. In the middle, for reasons that vary with the source of the story, Tuck drops Robin in the water, which provokes a swordfight that ends in a stalemate, after which Robin invites Tuck to join Robin's band of Merry Men.

That story, modified by artistic idealism and hope, is one of the inspirations for Armen Moradians's "100 Carry Project," in which he plans to carry 100 people — one by one, piggy-back style — along a two-mile route through downtown Portland.

His hope is that his project will be a nonviolent way to bring strangers together, by putting themselves through a physical and mental ordeal that will lead to an increased feeling of mutual understanding — without dropping anyone in water or any sort of swordfight.

Moradians, a dancer and performer who lives near Deering Oaks Park, has carried 12 people since late November — this past Sunday, I was the 12th. We met on Friday at a coffee shop, partly to talk over what we were going to do, and partly for him to size me up and determine whether he could, in fact, carry me. (I am, so far, the heaviest person he has carried; at 185 pounds, I outweigh Moradians himself by 40 pounds.)

His first point was that being carried is anything but a passive role: I would have to hang on to him with all my strength if we were to succeed. My task was to use my energy to keep us together, while most of his energy moved us from the George Cleeves memorial on the Eastern Prom to Monument Square and back. And, as he predicted, I was nearly as exhausted as he was at the end, though we were both also elated and relieved to have finished.

It is exactly the type of symbiotic relationship Moradians had in mind when he dreamed up the project — a voluntary undertaking to suffer in the search for some sort of greater learning. (What the people he has carried have learned is described, in part, in their post-carry entries on his blog. What he learns will be collected in a project-culminating performance when he's done.)

His second point, there at the coffee shop, was that he didn't know what would happen during the carry. In addition to never having hefted my weight before, the route itself bore unforeseen, and unpredictable, physical perils — weather, sidewalks, traffic, other pedestrians, that kind of thing.

But the third point was that most of the challenge was actually mental, and that it was in the psychological sphere where he was most unsure of what would transpire. Physical discomfort was a given, but how we dealt with that — in our own heads and talking to each other — would be what made the carry possible.

There was actually a lot of temptation to give up. Motorized transportation options, in particular, called to us. At the outset, a city bus drove past; later, another bus's driver waited at the stop for us to approach, and when Moradians didn't step into the bus, she shouted out a warning about back injuries. At the halfway point, in the middle of Monument Square, two gleaming white stretch limousines waited, though not for us. We persevered through the 80-minute trip — I figured that if he was crazy enough to keep carrying me, I was crazy enough to keep hanging on. And by the end, both exhausted and in pain, I cheered from his shoulder as he fast-walked toward the Cleeves obelisk marking our journey's end.

The guy has 88 more carries to go. Who's next?

On the Web
Armen Moradians's "100 Carry Project": armencarry.blogspot.com

The 100 Carry Project: 12

Published on The 100 Carry Project website

Let's start with the numbers. Armen's five years younger than me (which is maybe five years crazier) and a good 40 pounds lighter than me. Look, I'm just 185, but it's really something to think about a guy smaller than me schlepping me around like that.

Other things: When I'm done with exercise or a bike ride or mowing the lawn or something, I'm usually bathed in sweat, which I am now, too. It's not all mine, though, and there's something about that - not anything gross, because we came by it honestly - but in terms of comingling of selves.

I had thought, when I first heard of this project, that being carried might be a sort of passive thing - that I might be as a sack of rice or a barrel of flour or an animal carcass being carried home from a market somewhere. But it's not - which I cottoned on to after reading a few of the earlier posts here. So I knew it would be an active endeavor, but even so I didn't know how active it would be for me.

I'm pretty exhausted, and still breathing hard now 30 minutes after the carry ended. The discomfort and exertion never really went away in the 80 or so minutes I clung to Armen as we labored up the hill, down the hill, through the flat, back up the hill, and back down it.

Then there were the other options, always just beside us.

As the carry started, a bus pulled up to a bus stop as we were walking by. Even then my body was tempted - my mind said I should give this effort a real try, though, so I did. Next we passed a U-Haul van being loaded up, and I realized there was space in there for us, too. I think another bus went by before we got to city hall, and then when we were in Monument Square there were two huge stretch limos in the middle of the square. One drove out past us as we began the return leg. Coming back past city hall again, a bus stopped to let some people off, and the driver waited for us to walk up even with the entrance door - maybe she thought we'd climb aboard. She called out to us something about getting a back injury, but we kept going.

By then - actually rather well before then - the world had shrunk down to my body, Armen's body, and the 10 or so feet immediately in front of us.

My job was really just to hang on as tightly as I could - basically keeping the connection between us, so Armen could put his energy into moving us forward.

A few people commented as we went past, looking upon our effort as amusement or fun or exercise - and yet we were struggling, working, in pain. I'm mostly still not sure how Armen did it - I am not sure I could carry him that distance. On the other hand, that's some of what this project is about - to suggest to me that indeed I could, if I put my mind to it, even though good sense, logic, even sanity might suggest otherwise.

One thing that helped me - and Armen said it helped him too - was that early on in the carry, I'm not really sure where exactly, I remembered a strategy I had used to keep myself moving on a high-altitude trek in Nepal several years back. With every step, no matter how small a step nor how long after the next, I would recite another syllable of the Buddhist chant carved into rocks all along the trail: Om Mani Padme Hum. I told Armen about it, and when things got really rough on the way back, I chanted aloud to him - and with him, sometimes, when he wasn't needing every ounce of oxygen for his back and legs - and that did help us keep moving, and it helped me find a rhythm to hanging onto him.


We were able to do it - we set out to do it, and we did it. Now we will see what we learned. I wonder, you 11 others who have been carried before, what do you think about the carry now - days, weeks, maybe months from when it happened? I guess I'll see in a while. For now, I'm tired, sore, and curious.

Shifting sands: The real lesson of the Desert of Maine

Published in the Portland Phoenix

If you want to know what the future holds, take a ride up to the Desert of Maine in Freeport. It’s simultaneously an example of how badly we humans have been wrecking the Earth over the past few centuries, and a sign of hope that maybe the planet will recover after all.
The desert, a Freeport “tourist destination” which has been featured in the New York Times and on the Discovery and Travel channels, can teach a few lessons about nature, but it is not quite the “natural” geological marvel that the marketing materials might suggest.
Fortunately, the video on the Web site gives us a couple hints: back in the 1700s, desert owner Gary Currens cheerfully explains, “it was actually productive farmland for several years, and then” — this is where the hints come — “between the clear-cutting, bringing sheep in, not rotating the crops proper [sic], sand all of a sudden started appearing.”
In the middle of explaining how all this sand, deposited by glaciers, began “appearing,” Gary, in the video (and a tour guide at the place itself), admits what you have started to suspect: “the topsoil was eroding.”
Yes, the “Desert of Maine,” the 50-acre swath of sand that would otherwise be forest, was “uncovered” by irresponsibly exploitative land-management practices that resulted in the erosion of thousands of years’ accumulation of topsoil in roughly a century, leaving behind a barren landscape that is, nevertheless, slowly being reclaimed by the forest around it.
The booklets, posters, and Web site call the sand — which once covered nearly 300 acres of former-farmland, and which may in places be as much as a mile deep — a “natural phenomenon,” but what’s most “natural” about this barren expanse in the middle of the Maine woods is that it’s Nature’s warning to any of us who might seek to exploit the land and its bounty. Without care, the blowing sands show us, we’ll lose everything and have to leave.

Wrecking the land
The story goes like this: a big huge glacier moved through Maine about 20,000 years ago, crushing stones beneath itself, leaving behind a sand-like silt with finer grains that you would encounter on an average Maine beach. Between the time the glacier retreated, leaving the sand on the surface, and the late 18th century, the land got relatively little use and was colonized by mosses and lichens, small plants, bushes, and eventually trees, as Maine’s forest expanded to cover most of the state. Roughly eight inches to a foot of fertile topsoil gradually accumulated in this area of the forest.
In 1797, the Tuttle family moved to the 300-acre parcel and raised potatoes, vegetables, hay, apples, and cattle. The family cut trees from the property to create fields and to sell as building lumber and firewood. As the trees departed, so did their root structures, which had played a major role in anchoring the top soil. The Tuttles next brought in sheep to raise for their wool. The sheep grazed very close to the ground, as sheep do, and pulled much of the grass out by the roots. To make matters worse, their hooves cut into the topsoil, loosening it up.
That is when the sand “started appearing,” and when things began to go wrong for the Tuttles. As one of the tour guides told it on a recent afternoon, the family cut down some of the last big trees on the property to use the branches to cover the sandy spots, in a vain effort to halt the erosion. You’ve spotted the rub, though: while they might have slowed erosion where they put the limbs, those last few trees were anchoring other topsoil, which soon sloughed away in spring thaws and summer rains. The sand took over completely.
After the Tuttles gave up and abandoned the place, a few opportunistic entrepreneurs got interested in this much-abused land. One bought it in hopes of selling the sand to brickmakers, but the silt was too fine and the bricks wouldn’t hold together. He, in turn, sold it to a man who wanted to make it a tourist attraction back in 1925, and so it has been ever since.

Preserving the sand
The sand, geologists now know, lies under the topsoil throughout much of Maine, New Hampshire, and even most of the northeastern United States — if it was covered by a glacier during the last ice age, there’s likely sand down there somewhere. (How deep the sand is, and how much topsoil has accumulated on top of it, varies widely.)
As a tourist attraction, the value of the desert is in the exposed sand, so the property has remained largely unchanged by humans for about 80 years. In that time, nature has begun to do what it did after the glacier receded: the mosses and lichens are coming back, the remaining trees are dropping leaves and needles that decompose, seeds are blowing in from nearby plants, and the forest is retaking the sand.
One guide grew up nearby and first worked at the desert in 1961 at the age of 13; after an adult life doing other things, he returned to the desert a couple years back. He recalls the sand covering much more area back then, and marveled at the forest’s return, and that the wind had uncovered some farming equipment buried by sand after the Tuttles abandoned the property. (The sand has also drifted to cover a small shelter built near a spring in the 1930s, where visitors could sit in the shade and have a cool drink of fresh water. But that part of the tour is pretty anti-climatic, as you get to look at a large pile of sand and try to imagine a building underneath it.)
What’s more interesting — and what could one day become the real focus of their efforts — is this recovery, which simultaneously shows both how vulnerable our ecosystem is if we mistreat it, and how resilient it can be if we just leave it the hell alone.



Desert Of Maine | 95 Desert Rd, Freeport | daily 8:30 am-5:30 pm; tours on the half hour 9 am-4 pm | $8.75, ages 13-16 $6.25, ages 5-12 $5.25 | 207.865.6962 | www.desertofmaine.com