St Johnsbury, VT to Whiting, ME (US 2 to I-95 to US 11 to Presque Isle; Hwy 1 from Presque Isle to Whiting)
Growing up in the Montana and now living there again, I’m used to measuring distance in hours, not miles. Intellectually I certainly can picture the Northeast on a map and note how much smaller the states are but it’s almost a surreal experience to drive through them. From the Lake Champlain border between New York and Vermont to the Connecticut River between Vermont and New Hampshire is barely 100 miles. New Hampshire is even narrower, taking around 45 minutes to travel across the northern part of the entire state. This is the beginnings of the ”Great North Woods”, a remote and rugged dense forest towering over small streams and rivers stretching from northern Vermont across New Hampshire and northern Maine into Canada. While the mountains are not high, they are numerous and rise sharply from one valley to the next. Thick forests blanket the earth in all directions. Verizon cell service is hit and miss unless I am directly in the center of one of the few towns of any size. A few small farms dot the woods, but mostly it’s just Mother Nature unfolding in all of her splendor.
US 2 is the main highway across the region and it’s not particularly busy the week after Labor Day. The White Mountains of New Hampshire loom in the distance as the road descends down into the Connecticut River Valley towards the town of Lancaster, NH.
Lancaster sits astride a gap in the White Mountains leading east to Maine. The highway briefly travels through a more “touristy” stretch of “mom and pop” businesses catering to travelers heading into the outdoors but this is clearly not an affluent nor heavily visited area of the United States.
While I never crossed a dramatic pass through the mountains it quickly became clear as I entered Maine that I was descending as the mountains became hills and the valleys begin to open up. The ever present forest still frames the road. I’m a bit surprised to see that the leaves are already beginning to turn. Fall is coming…
When you look at a map of Maine one of the most striking details is that the majority of the towns and roads are in a crescent that stretches from Caribou in the northeast down along the Atlantic coast to Portland in the south with a great empty space in the northwest. Here lies the Maine portion of the Great North Woods. There are few paved roads in this vast region, most of which is owned by timber companies and is sparsely populated. My path skirts the southern and eastern edge of the region, framed by US 2 on the south, I-95 to the southeast, and US 11 on the east. The forest is laced by numerous rivers and streams that allowed early settlers to log the interior and float the trees down to the mills. Waterfalls on the Androscoggin and Kennebec Rivers were tamed by dams to power various types of mills. Rumford is the first town of any size once in Maine but the weather impedes on my ability to “tourist”. The remnants of Hurricane Harvey have worked their way up the east coast and torrential rains and thunderstorms are soaking Maine. One happens to hit as I pass through Rumford so I keep going. The highway climbs out of the Androscoggin watershed and descends into the valley of the Kennebec River where the town of Skowhegan is our next stop.
The first European settlers in the area arrived in 1771 and homesteaded on a site on the Kennebec where the river split and tumbled around an island in a series of water falls. Four years later in 1775 Benedict Arnold camped on the island on his way to Quebec. Two small towns grew up on either side of the river and in 1861 they were united into one town with the name Skowhegan. The falls were dammed and used to power small industry. By the late 1800’s over 19 mills and factories were clustered around the falls and the town reached the peak of it’s’ prosperity around the turn of the 20th century. The factories have long closed, but the dams remain. A pedestrian bridge crosses the Kennebec River so I can stand over the middle of the river and take pictures in both directions. The first picture is of the south dam, the small church is on the island in the middle of the river.
The second dam is to the right of the church.
East of the dams the river flows freely downstream.
The lake behind the dams stretches west into the woods.
At the same spot I turn to my left and take a picture of the island dividing the river with the rear of the dams on either side. An abandoned mill remains on the island.
Around the turn of the 20th century the downtown area flourished with numerous fine buildings constructed along the north bank of the river below the dams. This is the primary intersection downtown with Highway 201 coming down from the north on the left while US 2 continues east directly in front of me.
A couple of miles out of town I score another great campsite directly on the river and hunker down for the next storm. Flash flood warnings are in effect but I’ve been assured that there’s no danger where I am. Hope so! Here are the views around my spot in the campground.
It rained for most of the day and night that I was in Skowhegan but the campground was never really in any danger of being flooded. Most of the next day was in the rain as I skirted the eastern edge of the Great North Woods and headed up US 11 towards Presque Isle, close to the Canadian border.
Low clouds and fog restrict the views, though rest assured that the view would just be more of the endless forest…
This is not a flat landscape, the highway climbs and falls across the hills much like a piece of old-fashioned ribbon candy.
As I get closer to Presque Isle the rise and fall becomes less pronounced and I emerge onto the famed potato fields of northern Maine. Potatoes and broccoli are the main crops in the area. This is a potato field close to harvest time.
The twin villages of Presque Isle and Caribou (about 12 miles apart) are the center of economic activity in the north. This is not “tourist” country, there are no “cute” downtown historic areas or great historic sites to draw people here. This really is not on the way to anywhere but it does attract a very specific type of tourist, one who wants to experience the unspoiled outdoors for hiking, canoeing, hunting and fishing. I didn’t see many motorhomes during my time in the area but saw a lot of cars with canoes or kayaks strapped to the top heading north. The climate is harsh, extremely cold in the winter with a lot of snow, hot and muggy in the short summers. The view from a hill east of town shows Caribou nestled in the midst of hills adorned with forests and potato fields.
My search for a particular historic site east of Presque Isle also illustrates one of the predicaments for outsiders visiting the north east, the language! A town is not a town in the northeast, instead it is a subdivision of a county. Consequently one frequently sees a sign announcing entry to a town miles away from any sign of habitation. I set off looking for the historic Friends Church which, according to my information from Google, is in the town of Fort Fairfield, about 11 miles east of Presque Isle. I set off towards Fort Fairfield, which is close to the US/Canadian border. The village hides in the trees beyond potato fields, the mountains of New Brunswick, Canada, rise in the distance.
I get to Fort Fairfield, which is a small village, and wander around looking for the church. Frustrated at not finding it (you would think that locating a church by its steeple in a small town wouldn’t be that hard!), I stop and ask for some help. Turns out that the church is in the “town” of Fort Fairfield, but not in the “village” of Fort Fairfield. I find the church about ten miles southeast of the village in the middle of potato fields in an area known as Maple Grove. This church, built in 1859, was one of the last stops on the Underground Railroad for slaves escaping to freedom in Canada. The steeple tower was not part of the additional church but was added in 1906 during a rededication.
A side benefit from wandering around the countryside was a chance sighting of an Amish blacksmith shop. They did not want to be photographed but alloed a picture of buggies parked in front of the foundry.
I leave Presque Isle heading due south towards the Atlantic Ocean about 100 miles away. The higher hills of New Brunswick, Canada loom to my left as I once again plunge into the Great North Woods.
About 50 miles south of Presque Isle is the village of Houlton, county seat and gateway to Canada via I-95 just three miles to the east.
Houlton, ME
Houlton was one of the richest towns in the nation around 1900 due to the thriving logging and potato industries. Those days are long gone and while Houlton is still the county seat of Aroostook County and a center for government and services for the easternmost edge of the United States, much like a tattered ball gown, her edges are tattered and frayed. The old city center focuses on Market Square, a plaza bordered by structures built during the early 20th century.
As with most of the small villages bordering the North Woods this is not a prosperous area but one limping along on the remnants of the historic logging and agricultural industries that once brought great wealth to the area. Most of the storefronts on Market Square and the downtown area are either empty or under-utilized. Just off Market Square the 1859 Aroostook County Courthouse dominates the skyline of Houlton.
The 1934 US Post Office and Customs House sits across from the courthouse.
The Houlton Elks Club was built in 1907 from bricks salvaged from the Hancock Barracks, a structure built in 1839 when the Aroostook War flared up between the United States and Canada over a boundary dispute.
Some of you will be pleased that I decided not to take a lot of pictures of the many Victorian homes east of the downtown area, but they are there! Several of those close to Market Square have been expanded and restored, for example the Bowers Funeral Home. (Just one!)
To be sure, the funeral home is the exception, not the rule. Again, this does not appear to be a particularly prosperous community and most of the homes are in a gentle state of disrepair…
Leaving Houlton I strike south on Hwy 1 heading for the Maine Coast. Most of the way is through sparsely populated wilderness. A surprise rise in the highway gives a view west into New Brunswick, Canada, across the Chiputneticook chain of lakes. The international boundary runs along the deepest parts of the lakes. Again, this is an isolated, stunningly beautiful country…
Diving back into the forest we continue south on Hwy 1 until taking a left in the small hamlet of Whiting to drive the ten miles on Hwy 189 to my next stop, Lubec, Maine.
Next up: Downeast and Acadia
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