Maine

Despite not knowing much about Maine, I've always wanted to go there. I read Thoreau's The Maine Woods when I was in college, and I know the state is famous for moose, lobster, and lighthouses, but that's about where it ends. So ... when I was bouncing potential summer vacation spots off of Paige back in April, I was happy when Maine found its way to the top of the pile.

Rather than give a blow-by-blow description of what we did during our 10-day visit, I'm just going to highlight a few things. To begin, I'll say that Maine is a study in contrasts: geographic (or topographic, perhaps) contrasts and people contrasts. An awful lot of the western and northern third of the state - some of which we visited and most of which we did not - is nothing but dense woods, various bodies of water, and gravel or dirt logging roads (with zero cell service). These areas are heavily forested, at times suffocatingly so. As Thoreau notes, "What is most striking in the Maine wilderness is the continuousness of the forest, with fewer open intervals or glades than you imagined. Except for the few burnt-lands, the narrow intervals on the rivers, the bare tops of the high mountains, and the lakes and streams, the forest is uninterrupted." In that regard, what was true of the region northwest of Bangor in 1846 remains largely true in 2022. 

Meanwhile, the coastal areas are pretty much what you might expect. Except they aren't. There's virtually no sand, the beaches are rocky and rugged, and a good bit of the afore-mentioned dense vegetation makes its way all the way to the cliffs that top the shoreline. There are also, conservatively, 12 million islands of various shapes and sizes off the coast, which would explain why Maine has 65 lighthouses. 

With respect to people contrasts, the state appears to be roughly evenly split between free-range, organic, recycled artisanal light bulb buyers and "Don't Tread On Me." I'm sure there is middle ground somewhere, but I didn't see it.

The western and northern part of the state, in addition to being as green as green can possibly be, are loaded with moose. The catch, though, is that because there is So. Much. Country, one has to pick one's spots, be diligent, and be lucky in order to catch glimpses of them. In moose-heavy country, we probably spent 15 hours driving around in likely spots (dawn and dusk, obviously) and 10 hours hiking in likely spots, and saw a total of six moose. What I can tell you is that the roads around Rangeley, Stratton, and Kokodjo are good spots, as are boggy areas beside Department of Transportation facilities (presumably due to winter salt runoff).

As much as I loved the remoteness of central and western Maine, I've gotta say that the northeast coast is my favorite area. We spent two nights in Lubec, which is the easternmost point in the United States, and I definitely can see returning to that area in the future. There are loads of recreational and sightseeing opportunities and very few people. Particularly noteworthy areas are Quoddy State Park, Hamilton Cove, Boot Head Preserve, Western Head Preserve, and the Cutler Coast Public Reserve Land in general ... but if you just check a map of the northeast coast, you'll see that all sorts of things pop up.

If, on the other hand, you want your recreation to be a bit more civilized and you'd appreciate more opportunities for good restaurants, you could target Bar Harbor. Bar Harbor is an upscale tourist town (I'm sure residents would resent that characterization, but whatever) adjacent to Acadia National Park. My main observation about Acadia is that it probably is THE national park you should visit if you're terrified of being alone. I specifically planned our trip so we would be at the park mid-week, yet it still felt like Grand Central Station. As a point of comparison, Acadia gets considerably more visitors than Glacier National Park (our favorite in the U.S. Park system) and is 5% as large. I haven't ever understood enjoying (???) nature alongside throngs of strangers, but I certainly am glad that most people are content to leave other places for the rest of us. Again, if you would rather have scenery and outdoor adventures that are every bit as good - arguably better - but a lot less hectic, just continue northeast up the coast for 75 miles or so and you'll basically have things to yourself.

One sidebar regarding Acadia ... While most of the decent hikes in the park won't afford you anything remotely resembling solitude, the Dorr Mountain Trail is a notable exception. There are many ways to reach the summit, but the route I chose is a 3.5 mile loop that climbs (and then descends) around 1200 feet. The South path, which runs around 2.3 miles to the top, is more gradual, and the North path, which includes the aptly named Ladder Trail, features the same vertical distance crammed into about 1.2 miles. Most of the North path involves granite steps carved or placed into the mountain and going dead straight up. It seriously feels like you're with Sam, Frodo, and Gollum as they're making their way into Mordor via the back stairs to Cirith Ungol. I've included a representative picture below, but because it's 2-D you can't really get a feel for it. At times it is absolutely comical. In three different spots, there are metal ladders bolted into the face of the rock where steps were a no-go (again, see below). I point all of this out to indicate that of the trails I researched that looked to have decent payoff, this is the only one that seemed like it would be tolerably unpeopled. I saw zero people on the way up, 3 people on the summit, and 8-9 people on my way down. Paige wanted me to clarify that she most emphatically did NOT make this trek, so consider yourself enlightened there.

Another sidebar regarding Acadia ... Many people who come to Bar Harbor book short cruises in the hopes of seeing things like puffins and seals. The boats that leave Bar Harbor are big. Meanwhile, if you drive an hour northeast of Bar Harbor, you can book with Acadia Puffin Cruise, which is a family operation with a single boat that holds around 15 people. Because the boat is small, it's able to get quite close to the places where puffins and seals congregate. The main island this outfit visits is Petit Manan, which is about a 30-minute ride out to sea. Our experience was terrific.

We finished off the trip with half a day in Portland. That's half a day more than I would recommend spending in Portland (unless you're into congestion and free-range, organic, recycled artisanal light bulbs), but the Portland Head Light - Maine's oldest lighthouse, established in 1791 - is only about 25 minutes from the airport.

To close things out, I'll make a few recommendations. Every accommodation and pub / restaurant we visited gets a grade of B or better, but these are the A grades.

Lodging

• Maple Hill Farm Inn, near Augusta - 100+ year-old house on 130+ acres, also serving as the poster child for why small inn owners should not build their own websites.
  
• Walden Farm, near Greenville - Upstairs at a family farm close to good moose areas.
  
• Highbrook Motel, Bar Harbor - Looks like a 1950s motor lodge and basically is, but with rave reviews, great location, family-operated, super-quiet, maybe the cleanest place we've ever stayed.
  
• West Quoddy Station, Lubec - Very cool use of an old, abandoned Coast Guard rescue station.

Food

• Water Street Tavern, Lubec
  
• Havana, Bar Harbor
  
• West Street Cafe, Bar Harbor (do NOT miss the crab cakes and stuffed haddock)
  
• Coplin Dinner House, Stratton

Oh ... and one final point that will be critical if you're planning a Maine-land driving adventure: budget a lot more time than you ordinarily would. Especially in the central and western parts of the state, getting from Point A to Point B is sort of hilarious. It's not obvious when you take a first glance at your route, but before you know it you're on narrow, semi-maintained (charitably) roads winding all over the place as you navigate toward your destination. That being said, you'll see some gorgeous country in these areas. You'll also be exposed to some stellar rural Maine living (see below, with blue toilet by mailbox but missing the fence made of rusty bicycles). Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

That's all for now. I'm trying to talk Paige into going to Savannah for a Flannery O'Connor pilgrimage in a few weeks, but she's claiming to be too busy at the moment. If I can change her mind, you might hear from me again this summer. If not, I'll see you around Christmas.

Mike