This land is our land...until it's not
A Maine paradox
Back in late July, I was heading back to Boston from Midcoast Maine after visiting family there and rather than contend with the usual crush of weekend traffic along Coastal Route 1 and I-95, I decide to cut across back roads and local highways; a scenic bypass that would take me through the state capital! Augusta, Maine is an intriguing place that never seems to get the press coverage of Maine’s other cities. Portland is tough to compete with, of course, but these days, places like Lewiston, Bangor, and Bath are finding their way into more magazines and guidebooks on the strength of their food, museums, and parks. This makes the Augusta blind spot feel even stranger. So I was determined to make an afternoon of my brief stopover there.
The city was built on the banks of the mighty Kennebec River, and today it boasts a population of just over 19,000 people (which is barely 1% of the size of Providence, Rhode Island!) Like a lot of Maine’s interior towns, the architecture here dates back to the manufacturing mill era in the 19th Century. Back then, the locally-produced goods included textiles, headstones, shoes, furniture, and my favorite of all, broom handles. Now a lot of those mill buildings contain small businesses, including several of the savory variety, and my first idea was posting up at Cushnoc Brewing Company for a “Gigantic Dad Pants” India Pale Ale and a pizza. But the weather was so resplendent and golden that finding a place to enjoy the more rustly side of Augusta was tempting too. I considered walking the Kennebec River Rail Trail, chasing the waterfalls within Vaughan Woods, or wandering the garden paths at Viles Arboretum. But in the end, I was drawn to another venue, by a more narcissistic root of intrigue—a speckling of elevated woodlands behind the Maine State House which is known as “Howard Hill.”
I went there expecting a nice view of the Maine State House’s great copper dome. But I ended up getting something more; a living, shimmering reminder of Maine’s unique culture of access to beautiful spaces, and the unstable foundation that it’s built upon.