BELFAST - Off a stretch of rural road in Belfast, state Senate candidate Jonathan Fulford disappeared behind a double-wide trailer. Ten minutes later he returned to an SUV driven by a Democratic Party volunteer. The man he’d been talking to had claimed not to trust any government.

“I gotta put him as undecided,” Fulford said. “But I had a very good conversation with him.”

His driver, a twenty-something Knox County Democrat named Jacob, asked if he should head off longer conversations, in the interest of time. Fulford declined. He wanted to hear people out.

In November, Fulford (D-Monroe), a political newcomer, is hoping to unseat Sen. Michael Thibodeau (R-Winterport) in the race for the District 11 seat (formerly District 23) representing Waldo County. Thibodeau is the Senate minority leader and has served four terms in the Maine Legislature. In a county that has slightly more Republicans than Democrats, and roughly a third of registered voters not enrolled in either party, Fulford, the Democratic challenger, has his work cut out for him.

As of mid-August, he had made stops in 25 of Waldo County’s 26 municipalities, working from a list provided by the Democratic Party. The derivation of this list was a secret, but the result was a kind of a speed-dating scenario with people across the full spectrum of political philosophies.

Fulford said he likes it that way, and doesn’t shy away from making his own views known.

“Even if they’re upset with my particular thinking, we have a groundwork to continue that discussion,” he said. “It’s not just, ‘Let me have your vote; I’m done with you.’”

Often he does ask for a person’s vote, but not always, and he seemed aware that this might chafe with the Democratic party. At one point, he said in passing, “just having contact with these people is more important than getting their vote.” After he said it, looked over at this driver.

“That’s probably not what you wanted to hear,” he said.

Jacob took a middle position. “People will probably be receptive,” he said.

The SUV was parked in a driveway surrounded by several houses. In a yard nearby a shirtless man was kicking at a pile of grass clippings, apparently trying to move it up a hill. A minute later a woman drove into the yard on a tractor and circled the pile while the man shouted directions above the sound of the engine. 

There’s a dance to “doing doors,” as the campaign strategy of going to voters’ homes is known. The driver’s job is make it as efficient as possible, keeping track of addresses, sussing out which door of a house the resident likely uses, turning the car around after the candidate gets out. Jacob had driven a few candidates and said each did things a little differently.

This was his first time driving Fulford and they went over some ground rules before they set out, but occasionally a question came up, like how the candidate approached “no trespassing” signs.

Fulford said he would go down a driveway posted for no hunting, but he didn’t take chances beyond that. “No trespassing? Almost never. No soliciting? Never,” he said, adding that he actually had a few times, but it didn’t go well.

As they drove down the road, a child dressed in full motocross gear sat astride a motorcycle at the bottom of a dirt driveway and watched them pass. At the town line, they turned around and headed back into Belfast.

“Sometimes a sign says ‘Welcome’,” Fulford said.

Fulford moved to Waldo County at 18 with aspirations to be a farmer but said he quickly realized he wasn’t cut out for it. He switched to carpentry and building, a trade he continues today through his company Artisan Builders.

His decision to run for office was triggered by the kind of lucid moment that might set another person to storming the barricades or wandering down the path of ascetic enlightenment. While playing with two of his grandchildren last fall, he noticed the youngest was grinning from ear to ear.

“He had a look of complete trust,” he said. “In me. In the world. The world was perfect.” 

Fulford realized his own mind was ruminating on the world’s problems: climate change, ocean acidification, an economic system that favored the very wealthy at the expense of everyone else. 

“That was the moment I realized I had to do more than just be a carpenter and a grandfather,” he said. “I made a decision just then. I was going to do something.” 

He didn’t know what, but a suggestion from one of his employees that he run for public office stuck in his mind.

Standing in a shady driveway off a rural highway in Belfast, recounted for a woman the numerous excuses he came up with not to run — he felt embarrassed about putting his name and face on signs; he was discouraged about the political system in general — and how he had to admit that none of them held water.

She followed along in friendly conversation. As Fulford was getting ready to leave, he asked a question he often puts to voters: Is there anything you want me to do when I get to Augusta?

The woman said she was pro-life and anti gay-marriage. Fulford listened as she listed more priorities that were essentially the opposite of his own. 

When she was done, he told her that they probably wouldn’t agree on a lot of those things. There were strong differences of opinion in his own family, he said. He didn’t ask for her vote.

Back in the SUV, he said he wanted to let her know that he didn’t agree, but do so in a way that kept the dialog open.

“Maybe you can’t agree on nine out of 10 things,” he said. “But can we move that one ball forward?”

Ethan Andrews can be reached at news@penbaypilot.com