WOODS & WATERS
Looks can be
DECEIVING
PRISTINE FOREST CAMOUFLAGES THIS AREA’S INDUSTRIAL PAST STORY & PHOTO BY BOB DUCHESNE
FIVE MILES NORTH of downtown Brownville, Maine, there is an obscure left turn off Route 11 that would likely go unnoticed except for the signs. The gravel road connects Brownville to Greenville, but many features along the way attract attention. Gulf Hagas is one of Maine’s favorite hiking spots, for those who can find it. It’s often called “The Grand Canyon of Maine.” Two of the Appalachian Mountain Club lodges are off this road. Some truly extraordinary campsites along the Pleasant River are managed by the North Maine Woods Association, and all of this splendor lies behind their gated checkpoints. The signs on Route 11 point to these features, and one other: Katahdin Iron Works. This historical landmark sits adjacent to the North Maine Woods checkpoint, and it’s free to visit. Maine’s forest is sometimes described as a pristine wilderness, usually by those unfamiliar with its industrialized past. Most of the forest has been cut down at least once. Dams control the waters. Remnants of trains and trestles persist in the woods. Katahdin Iron Works was among the most industrialized sites of all. The blast furnace remains in place on the site, a hundred yards away from the lone remaining charcoal kiln. The small size of this preservation belies the original magnitude of the complex. Where there is now one remaining kiln, there were once 16. An entire town was built around the operation to house the 200 workers who labored there. The village had its own school and post office. Loggers roamed the woods, harvesting the wood needed to fuel the furnace. For most of its existence, the smelted pig iron was hauled to market by wagon. A railway was built much later. A boarding house was converted into a hundred-room hotel on the shores of nearby Silver Lake — one of
THE SMALL SIZE OF THIS PRESERVATION BELIES THE ORIGINAL MAGNITUDE OF THE COMPLEX. WHERE THERE IS NOW ONE REMAINING KILN, THERE WERE ONCE 16.
