Fishermen Wellness: The Working Waterfront as a Third Place

When we talk about the working waterfront, we often focus on its economic value like the boats, the gear, the catch, the supply chains. We also talk about the tides and traps, the wharves, skiffs, and fuel.

But for Maine’s fishing communities, the waterfront is so much more than just a job site. It’s a gathering place and a place of belonging where local fishermen and harvesters joke, interact, build relationships, and vent frustrations. A place where generations come together not just to work, but to talk, learn, share, and connect.

In short, the working waterfront is a third place.

Coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg, the term third place describes the social environments that exist between home (the first place) and work (the second place). They’re places where people can gather informally, build community, and experience a sense of shared life. Think of coffee shops, barbershops, churches, gyms, or corner stores. In fishing communities, though, those places are often the wharf or trap shop.

It’s where you run into your cousin’s kid who just got his license and a skiff. It’s where you talk about the price of fuel, who’s hauling where, how the last storm tore up your gear, and what the lobsters are doing. It’s where stories are swapped, advice is offered, and sometimes arguments get settled. And on the best days, it’s where a cup of coffee or a shared joke makes the tough work and stressful industry a little lighter.

That third place quality is part of what makes the working waterfront so valuable, even beyond the economics of fishing. It’s a place of identity, belonging, and culture.

And that’s exactly why it’s worth fighting for.

When storms destroy infrastructure, when development pressures squeeze out access, or when regulations ignore the realities of how communities function, we’re not just losing wharf space—we’re losing connection. We’re losing one of the few places where people can still gather across generations, across gear types, across experience levels and family lines.

In January 2024, when historic storms battered Maine’s coastline, the damage wasn’t just physical. It shook a lot of people emotionally. Because for those who live and work on the water, a destroyed float or a collapsed wharf isn’t just a lost structure, it's a loss to their community, their personal identity, and their connection to previous generations.

At the Maine Coast Fishermen’s Association, we believe strongly in protecting and preserving the working waterfront, because it matters not just to the business of fishing, but to the people and cultures behind the industry.

So if you live in a coastal town, pay attention to what’s happening on your waterfront. Who has access? What’s changing? Are longtime fishermen being pushed out by new development or regulations that don’t reflect how people actually live and work?

Support local policies that protect working waterfronts. Show up to town meetings and ask questions when decisions are being made about wharves, access points, or shoreline zoning. Talk to the fishermen and shellfish harvesters in your community, and ask how the last storm affected them, how the season is going, or what they’re seeing on the water.

And even if you don’t live in a coastal town, you can still help. Buy local seafood. Share the stories of Maine’s fishing communities, and support organizations that advocate for access, infrastructure, and mental health in the industry.

Because when we protect the working waterfront, we’re not just preserving jobs—we’re preserving a culture, a sense of place, and one of the last truly intergenerational community spaces we have left.

Together, we persevere.