It Makes No Never Mind

by James Nalley

When it comes to serious long-distance hiking, no conversation is complete without the mention of the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail (AT). As for Western Maine, there is the Mahoosuc Range, which straddles the border between New Hampshire and Maine, and includes the fourth-highest peak in the state: the 4,170-foot Old Speck Mountain. However, within this section, there is the notorious Mahoosuc Notch.

According to Gale Straub of the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC), “There are no mindless miles in the Mahoosuc Range…Hikers say each section of the AT has its own personality. Well, this section is contradictory: stubborn but forgiving, ambitious yet unassuming. Its dual nature adds to its mystery.

As for the name “Mahoosuc” itself, its origin has been debated in the circles. For example, the name probably comes from the Abenaki word meaning “home of hungry animals” or it might come from the Natick word for “pinnacle.” To hikers who have made it through Mahoosuc Notch, they tend to choose the latter.

In this regard, there are boulders on this mile-long section that force hikers to climb over and under, with occasional 10-foot drops. There are also locations in which packs must be removed to squeeze beneath a boulder. Many hikers refer to this section as the “killer mile” or the “toughest mile.” To make it even more challenging, pockets of ice can be found under the boulders, even in the heat of July and August.

Surprisingly, as stated by Straub, members of the Randolph Mountain Club first cleared and marked the Mahoosuc Notch Trail in 1916, “encouraging the AMC to further extend the path” in 1918. “Although the AMC’s trail crew was understaffed due to World War I, two journeymen and a novice plugged away.” Moreover, she stated that “In a region as populated as New England, it is difficult to imagine a landscape as uncultivated as the Mahoosuc Range still is today. On foot, I find it even more difficult to imagine how the crew first decided where to site the trail back in 1918.”

When the fun of Mahoosuc Notch is over, there is the Mahoosuc Arm, which is probably the steepest climb on the entire AT. Specifically, it is approximately 1,500 feet of climbing over one mile, which is similar to a set of stairs. However, the only difference is that these stairs consist of steep slippery rocks and tree roots. In this case, I am reminded of the quote by Galileo Galilei: “Nature is relentless and unchangeable, and it is indifferent as to whether its hidden reasons and actions are understandable to man or not.”

On this note, I will close with the following hiking-inspired jest: Tom and Paul decided that it was finally time to go on their planned multi-day hike in the forest. When they got to the trailhead, they came upon an advisory poster that stated: “Hikers who visit this forest should be aware that both black bears and grizzly bears can be found here. We suggest the following precautions. First, please wear small bells on your boots to alert wildlife of your presence so they stay away. Second, please have pepper spray with you at all times in case you should actually come in contact with a bear. Third, you can identify if there are bears in the area based on the feces you see on the ground. In black bear poop, you can see traces of plants and berries, whereas grizzly bear poop contains small bells and smells of pepper spray.”

Stagecoaches knitted Sebago region towns together

by Jeffrey Bradley

More than most, the Pine Tree State has an abundance of navigable waterways. In the unlikely event that a Mainer found time on his hands and a yen for visiting the next settlement over — but with no river handy —must needs use the old Indian paths or logging roads that slashed through the woods. It took a growing population, an expanding commerce, and a rapidly improving road system to bring about change.

Over time these footpaths became a track for single axle ox carts with big wooden wheels, a trail for horses or, widened and graded, a lane wagons could travel. After the Revolutionary War stagecoaches began replacing the post riders that carried the mail along these primitive byways.

Original springless vehicles lurching over these rough thoroughfares bounced goods and people about with reckless abandon; still, a stage that took three days getting from Portland to Portsmouth, New Hampshire in 1787 by 1825 took just 36 hours. Maine’s fickle weather often meant employing a lighter “mud wagon” with only a canvas top for protection. Its lower center of gravity enabled negotiating more treacherous terrain when carrying less cargo.

A stagecoach, or omnibus, was an enclosed four-wheeled public conveyance drawn by horses along a fixed route on a regular schedule. Horses were changed every few hours at inns where the weary passengers could find lodging, which denoted the fact that a stagecoach made distance travel “in stages.” Especially scarce in western Maine before the 1820s, the stage remained the mainstay of overland group transport until the advent of railroads. Even then, rural folks continued to rely on them for local travel, and hotels used them to meet trains and take guests sightseeing.

Generally, stagecoach companies favored flat-topped vehicles. Many of these regional lines lasted throughout the late 19th century and into the early part of the next.

Spring systems initially consisted of wood but proved too crunchy and were replaced by steel. An elliptical spring smoothed the ride by affixing the carriage body directly to two durable leaf springs mounted over each wheel attached at the axles. Modified in 1873, a flexible wooden bar was run from front to back that greatly aided suspension. Coach design also evolved with greater turning capacity, better braking — even a feature to prevent the wheels from falling off! During the 1880s the famous Concord coach became popular, the stagecoach familiar to all those TV westerns. Not affixed to the axles but slung instead on leather straps, the body would rock and sway, in the words of Mark Twain, “like a cradle on wheels.” The arrangement also eliminated the bone-jarring jolts common to older designs. Inside, a jump seat and benches for six were located, with room on top for a passenger beside the driver. A style known as the Portland

Cutter featured a sharp angle at the bottom in back that rose in a distinctive elegant swoop.

A photo dated 1882 in Lovell shows two different types of stagecoach with one pulled by a team of six horses.

Travel between the Sebago Lakes region and the coast during the early 19th century was challenging. But by 1815 William Sawin of Waterford was already transporting people by stagecoach to Portland, then the state’s capital. In Harrison, Sumner Davis was beginning a stagecoach empire that would connect Waterford, Portland, Brownfield, and Bridgton and employ 30 drivers. The wily Davis found other ways to profit from the business: he discreetly delivered “tonics” and special items to customers who tipped handsomely! A rival once planted the “fake news” story that his passengers stood in danger of being devoured by wolves; it backfired when a gleeful Davis reported a surge in business for the opportu-

Nity Of

shooting one!

As there was always plenty of time for getting acquainted, a kind of “don’t do this” list developed that included:

*Don’t jump if a team runs away or your’re liable to be hurt

*Don’t drink “ranch whiskey” especially in freezing cold weather

*Don’t spit from the windy side of the coach

*Don’t lop over your neighbor while sleeping

*Don’t fire a pistol as it makes people nervous

*Don’t point out places where horrible murders have been committed — sound advice by anyone’s standards. Described mostly as “clumsy machines smelling badly of leather”, they often proceeded at the pace of a walk. Baggage might be piled half as high again as the coach, then secured with a flimsy rope. Wedged in like sardines on the hard seats, the frazzled passen(cont. on page 6)

(cont. from page 5) gers were left to ponder exactly how many of them could be jammed aboard. Sometimes walking to spare the horses, they otherwise sat as the creeping coach churned up the thick clouds of chalky dust that seemed to settle everywhere.

While wealthy patrons could access fashionable summer resorts in cozy comfort, for the general riding public, not so much. Within a coach’s crowded confines “dovetailing,” the intimate art of successfully intertwining the legs of people that faced each other, helped prevent “outbreaks of ire.” Women, especially, were sensitive on this point. One reportedly of “uncompromising rotundity and snappish temper,” proved an “unsatisfactory companion” when she exited the coach in a huff — first berating the driver — after all attempts at dovetailing failed.

Travel in snow-bound conditions by sleigh was possible but “not to be undertaken lightly,” according to a merchant “of high standing” in an 1834 newspaper article. First stopping at an overnight inn at which accommodations “were suspect and overpriced,” at three the next morning he was routed from bed and loaded into a “pang” (an open boxy little sleigh) and underway before breakfasting which, in his opinion, was the “greatest cruelty.” After many hours delay distributing the mail — while waiting fuming in the brutal cold —some 24 grueling hours later he finally arrived at his destination — well past midnight and “nearly frozen!”