
Communications Coordinator Meghan Vigeant records her observations from the first Seasonal Monitoring event of 2024 (Wednesday, May 29).
My First Day Aboard the Casco Baykeeper Boat
It is my first day out with the science team on the boat, and – oh, what a glorious day. The light is golden bright, and we are a little too warm waiting at the marina in South Portland. I am already pumping my t-shirt, trying to air-dry my sweat. Soon, we’ll be underway, the breeze will cool us down, and I’ll need to layer up.
The Crew
There are five of us on board: Staff Scientist and boat captain Mike Doan; Casco Baykeeper Ivy Frignoca; Science and Advocacy Associate Heather Kenyon; Rachel Fischer, our intern; and me, Meghan Vigeant, the newest staff member and designated shutterbug and journalist for the day – still learning, still taking it all in.

A Feast for the Senses
Ivy and Heather untether us from the slip and Captain Mike puts our vessel into gear. We set out for a long day dedicated to gathering scientific data. But there is so much else to gather. Casco Bay is a feast for the senses. Ospreys and cormorants watch us from their rocks. Terns flit overhead. Eiders and mergansers, in their blacks and whites, bob on the water. There is a hushed breeze that makes gently rolling ripple reflections on otherwise calm water, multiplying each cloud in the cerulean sky by a thousand water mirrors.

We see how humans have added their structures and varied styles to the Bay: a historic wedding-cake house built on sheer ledge; the famous cribstone bridge connecting Orr’s and Bailey’s Islands; a pair of smokestacks presiding over the green landscape like industrial giants; South Portland’s massive white cylindrical oil tanks, which we’d heard had been hit hard by last winter’s storms. As we come in closer, we see hunks of sod and grass missing from the banks below the tanks, making me wonder how such vulnerable land, and the Bay beside it, will fare when more storms slam our coast.
There is so much to see, I might go dizzy in circles just looking everywhere. Two small porpoises are porpoising across a channel, their small dark fins arcing above the water over and over again. We are busy admiring some sunbathing seals, when a daring and curious gray seal pokes its head up and gazes at us with puppy-dog eyes.
Our Work
We alternate between stretches of fast boat travel and stopping at each of our ten seasonal monitoring sites for data-gathering. When stopped, the engine may be idle but each member on board is deep in concentration on their assigned task.
Mike and the Data Sonde
Captain Mike steps away from the wheel to become Staff Scientist Mike, lowering our organization’s most precious and expensive tool into the depths below: the data sonde, which gathers a valuable set of measurements so vast and technical I dare not list them all, but you can learn more here. What we collect helps us answer questions like: Is the Bay warming? Is there excess nitrogen? Is it getting too acidic for shells to form?
Rachel and the Secchi Disk
Rachel unspools the Secchi disk and lowers it until it disappears from view. Slowly, she raises it, her eyes searching for the distinct black and white quarters amidst the darkness below. The deeper she can spot it, the clearer the water is. How much light reaches the aquatic plants below? Can eelgrass survive here? Can fish and clams and mussels thrive?
Heather and the Bucket
Kerplunk and splash. Kerplunk and splash. Heather is filling a five-gallon bucket with salty ocean water and then dumping it overboard, over and over again to ensure the bucket is well rinsed and does not contain any water from the previous monitoring site. From a tiny hole in the side of the bucket, she pours a stream of water into a small bottle. This water too gets tossed and rinsed three times until the vial is ready for its official water sample. Heather labels it and stores it in a cooler. Later, these water samples will be analyzed to determine their levels of total nitrogen—a term I am still grappling with, but I understand these numbers provide clues about the health of the water. Just the right amount of nitrogen feeds algae and phytoplankton, the base of the marine food chain. But too much nitrogen could be an indicator that pollution, usually from human sources (wastewater, lawn fertilizers, stormwater, air pollution), is overfeeding the algae, causing it to grow too much and hurting the marine environments for clams, eelgrass, and more.
Ivy’s Observations
Ivy holds her trusty clipboard. From the navigational chart plotter, she notes our coordinates. Looking up, she sees the cloud coverage has increased to 75%. She tunes into the wind and categorizes it based on the Beaufort scale. We began the day with calm water reflections, only a light air, but it has picked up slightly since. Little wavelets are cresting. Her hair flutters in front of her face. She angles her clipboard into the wind, checks our compass, and the verdict is clear: this is a gentle breeze from the south east. She records many other details as well. All this weather intel tells our science team about the conditions that might influence the data we collect.
Meghan, the Storyteller
Then, there is my work. I hold up my cell phone to capture our scientists in their element. I try to stay out of the way, but also get close enough to frame their hands at work, the unique tools, the expressions of concentration, the beauty of each scene. It is a delicate balance. I even climb up, standing on the gunwales, holding onto a pole while I attempt to get an interesting angle. It may appear that I am merely taking pictures with my iPhone, but I am gathering this day in with every one of my senses. Smelling the freshness, the brine, the diesel. Hearing the splashing wake, the roar of the engine, the music of distant gulls. Feeling the vibrations, the flecks of salt water on my skin, the flurried whip of my hair in the wind as we charge across the water. Seeing the light shift on the water, the wildlife, the rolling aqua-green waves. Tasting the salt and satisfaction of my work and this life.
I still have much to learn. My background is in the arts; I’m a writer, a documentarian. The science we do is complex, filling my mind with new words, terms, and ideas. I am absorbing it in big gulps, measuring it out in descriptions, in morsels of stories, hoping that something here will translate to the little screens where folks sometimes read my words.
A Bridge to Casco Bay
Out here, aboard the R/V Joseph E. Payne, I look out at the spots of blue now puncturing a dark gray sky. As we navigate under the Casco Bay Bridge, I hear the vibrating hum of cars passing over, sounding strangely like whales singing. I like to think our work is like a strong and sturdy bridge, connecting people to water, water to people.
Meghan Vigeant joined Friends of Casco Bay as Communications Coordinator in February of 2024.
More Stories


Coffee with the Casco Baykeeper: PFAS

PFAS Sampling Results in Casco Bay
