ROCKLAND – Using a photograph of a twentysomething Lycra-clad man climbing the rock face of a mountain to sell a Maine vacation is just wrong, Bob Hastings believes.

Hastings, 57, the CEO of the Rockland-Thomaston Area Chamber of Commerce, has nothing against men in Lycra, or courting them to come and visit Maine. It’s just that there’s other people, with bigger wallets – and maybe bigger waistlines – and more time on their hands, for whom tourist marketing ought to be geared.

“Follow the boomers, follow the bucks,” is how Hastings puts it.

The 70-million-plus Americans born between 1946 and 1964 – so-called baby boomers – are now in their peak earning years, many recently have inherited more wealth from their parents, and with children out of the house and maximum vacation time from jobs, they can fly the coop to come visit Vacationland.

Hastings saw the Lycra-wearing man in an advertisement featuring the state’s official marketing slogan, “It must be Maine.” But it would be unfair to suggest the state is tailoring its marketing to younger people, Hastings said.

“They’ve moved off that,” he said, in part because inquiries to the state tourism office for information about bicycling, running, mountain climbing and the like make up a small minority. But Hastings thinks the state ought to carefully consider how it presents itself in the competitive tourism marketplace, or risk losing what is already a shrinking share of the traveling public’s spending.

With tourism now the state’s largest industry, a lot is at stake. By most accounts, the season that is now winding down was again flat.

Not helping matters is that Maine devotes significantly less state money to marketing itself than do neighboring Quebec City and the Canadian province of New Brunswick. One way to maximize the return on Maine’s relatively small investment, Hastings said, is to target its marketing.

So what do boomers like to do, and how should they be enticed to come to Maine?

The key, Hastings believes, is reality.

The Rockland-Thomaston Chamber’s Web site – www.therealmaine.com – depicts the midcoast as a place of friendly small villages with vital downtowns featuring nonchain restaurants and shops, galleries and museums.

The “real Maine,” Hastings argues, is a place where couples in their 50s might have breakfast in a downtown diner and hear lobstermen gripe about the fishing in the next booth.

It’s a place where a couple in their 40s on an anniversary weekend can have a nice dinner in a fine restaurant or a drink in an atmospheric pub, then retire to a quiet lakefront cottage a 20-minute drive away.

“We should try to create travelers, not tourists,” with the distinction being that travelers want to become part of a place, not just gawk from the outside.

The “real Maine” is not necessarily for couch potatoes, Hastings said. But boomers – especially those at the older end of the curve – are content touring a harbor in kayaks under the watchful eye of a guide instead of crossing Penobscot Bay, or enjoying a night’s stay on a schooner instead of renting a sailboat for a week.

About 95 percent of those coming to Maine drive here. And that presents a harsh truth that must be faced, Hastings said.

Hastings argued the mechanics of tourism have been permanently altered by the Internet.

“I really believe what we’re facing is an international trend. The Internet’s become all-important. People need to understand the reality of the marketplace,” he said.

Hastings illustrated that trend with an example from his own life.

He and his wife planned a trip to Quebec City, and even secured some Canadian cash in advance. But by checking hotel Web sites in the weeks leading up to the planned long weekend, Hastings became confident there were enough vacancies to eliminate the need to make a reservation.

Then, a few days before leaving, he checked a Web site weather forecast for Quebec, and learned the long weekend would be a wet one there. He and his wife turned their car south and went to Cape Cod instead.

Motel, hotel, campground and bed-and-breakfast owners throughout Maine have described this phenomenon in recent years. Advance reservations – booking in March for a July visit – are becoming a thing of the past.

When excessively hot and humid weather camps over southern New England, tourists drive north to Maine. But if weather Web sites show cool and rainy weather in Maine, tourists will not come.

“It’s an informed market,” Hastings said. “They want value and quality at the same time. And because they’re so well-informed, they’re making their decision to come at the last minute.”

Another wrinkle added by the Internet is the ability for travelers to comparison shop, checking prices and amenities online.

Part of a strategy to combat the decline of advance reservations, Hastings suggested, involves looking “beyond our normal markets” of the Boston and New York areas.

He proposed, perhaps as a test at first, dropping some of the state’s advertising in Boston media and replacing it with public relations efforts, such as courting magazines and newspapers to write about Maine.

Then, the funds could be redirected to advertising in cities such as Cincinnati, Cleveland, Memphis, Raleigh, N.C., Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. Each of those cities is a “one hop” airline flight from airports in Bangor, Portland and Manchester, N.H.

Forcing tourists to buy airline tickets to get to Maine – which cost less when purchased months in advance – would also force them to make advance lodging reservations in Maine, Hastings said. And rainy weather won’t qualify them for refunds.

Consultants have said Maine’s tourism “capital” – its coast, lakes, woods, mountains, scenery and opportunities for peace, relaxation and active pursuits – is unparalleled. But Hastings wants to see a sharper focus.

“We need to honor the potential of the tourism industry,” he said, or risk crippling one leg of the state’s economy.