Roofing in Portland, Maine, is nor'easter roofing. Wind off Casco Bay drives rain up under the courses, lifts tabs on Munjoy Hill and the Eastern Prom, and finds every tired boot and chimney flashing. Then the night freezes what the storm soaked, and ice sits in the gutters of West End houses that were only wet at dusk. Low roofs pond. Pitched roofs on the peninsula take the rake. This is not a season of gentle rain soaking a mossy city. It is water with force behind it.
The path indoors is usually the edge, the chimney, the valley, or a porch roof tied into the main wall. A cricket that was never built holds wet snow after the blow and melts it into the attic. From the street you can often see a lifted edge, a rusted step flashing, or a leader that ends in the air. Say whether the boards are wet right after the wind or the ceiling only stains in the thaw. A sag means stay off. Salt is already working on the metal.
A second layer hides a deck the last storm may have softened. Underlayment and a fastened edge matter more here than on a sheltered inland cape, because the rain arrives sideways. Skylights, old antennas, and any mount are doors for the next blow. Access is a tight peninsula lot, often without a real driveway, on streets that are themselves full of wind. Debris comes down stairs people use. Do not walk a roof that just took the storm. The soft spot is where the water sat.
Brick rows and wood houses do not flash the same way. West End masonry, East End clapboard, and a later roof toward North Deering should not be described as one Portland roof. Mention the neighborhood. A roof deck or a finished attic changes the ice and the ventilation. Rusted nails and lifted corners are ordinary after a serious nor'easter, not a sign you are imagining the damage.
Give the neighborhood, the material, and whether water came in during the blow. Say flat or pitched, and mention ice the following night if that is what opened the leak. Stay on the ground. Call the number on this page.