WOODS & WATERS

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

THE SMALL SIZE most industrialized sites of all. OF THIS PRESERVATION The blast furnace remains in place on the site, a hundred yards away from the lone remaining charcoal kiln. The small size of this

BELIES THE ORIGINAL preservation belies the original magnitude of the complex. Where there

MAGNITUDE OF THE is now one remaining kiln, there were once 16. An entire town was built around the operation to house the 200 workers who labored

COMPLEX. WHERE THERE IS NOW ONE 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. REMAINING KILN, THERE 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 WERE ONCE 16.

several historic hotels built throughout the region to serve city folk looking to escape summer heat and “take the waters” of Maine’s remote lakes and mountains.

Why here? The site was located along the Pleasant River, which provided water power for the bellows that blasted air into the furnace. The surrounding forest provided the fuel. Ore Mountain, less than two miles away, provided the iron. The ore deposit was shallow, covered only by about four feet of topsoil. Though the ore was of meager quality, it was accessible.

As with many ventures in Maine’s northern forests, boom and bust business cycles were a fact of life. The expansion of the nation’s agriculture and railroads boosted demand for iron, as did the making of arms for the U.S Civil War, and later the U.S. Navy.

But these spikes in demand would often be brief. The iron works changed ownership several times.

The blast furnace began service in 1844, closing in 1890. It operated for only about 25 of those 46 years, with peak production in the 1880s. It was never large enough to be commercially efficient, and getting iron to the Boston markets would always be a challenge from such a remote location. This particular iron ore deposit was overly rich in sulfur, requiring refinement before smelting. The smelting process needed higher temperatures than hardwood could provide, requiring up to 20,000 annual cords of wood to be converted to charcoal in the kilns.

Fires were a chronic problem.

Over time, several kilns burned. The blast furnace was rebuilt in 1874, improved in 1877, only to burn down in 1883. Its replacement remained in service for merely seven years, as fuel supplies from the nearby forest became exhausted. Technological improvements rendered the pig iron process obsolete. Much of America’s smelting industry moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Some of Katahdin Iron Works’ equipment was sent to Nova Scotia.

The town lingered for a while after the iron works shut down. A chemical company retained an interest in the sulfur deposits. The hotel persisted until 1913, when it suffered the fate of many historic hotels, burning to the ground. Rail operations continued until 1922, and the rails remained in place until 1933. Their removal effectively ended mail service to what was left of the village.

In the end, only the blast furnace and one kiln remained standing. Maine acquired the remnant parcel in 1965, stabilized the structures, and has operated the site as an historic preservation ever since. A few camps line one edge of Silver Lake. The regenerating forest has reclaimed dominion over the rest. Visitors today might get the feeling that the area has been forever wild and pristine. It wasn’t.

BOB DUCHESNE is a local radio personality, Maine guide, and columnist. He lives on Pushaw Lake with his wife, Sandi.