There is a long tradition, up here, of driving a hard bargain.Ī large white abandoned house marks the spot in Whiting where U.S. In Machias, you might consider following the sign down to Fort O’Brien, where, in June 1775, a deal to trade groceries for lumber went bad and escalated into the first naval battle of the American Revolution.
You will pass things that, if you don’t feel like stopping the car every few miles, you will want to at least make note of and research later: The large corrugated metal building in Hancock with “Chainsaw Sawyer Artist Live Show” painted on its side the otherwise nondescript house in Gouldsboro with a Ferris wheel in its yard and a vintage pickup truck parked on its roof the giant geodesic dome painted like a blueberry in Columbia Falls. Two separate plaques next to it explain that this is a myth and that no one was ever executed for witchcraft in Bucksport (or Maine), but I believe the tale anyway, because I want to. Buck by a woman he was burning at the stake as a witch. His marker bears a stain in the shape of a woman’s lower leg and foot, said to be the manifestation of a curse hurled at Col. (That would be a church.)Īt the top of one is an observatory which affords glorious vistas of land and water and the town of Bucksport, where Route 1 passes right by the grave of namesake Jonathan Buck (1719-1795). And in Prospect, it’s the Penobscot Narrows Bridge, a striking cable-stayed span with two towers that, at 447 feet, stand more than twice as high as the tallest building in Maine. 1: In Rockport and Camden, it’s big old ship captains’ houses repurposed as inns in Belfast, it’s “Passagassawakeag,” the name of the river that promenades beneath you on its way out to sea. There’s a good chance you’ll have to sit in traffic in Rockland, but once you make it through its cramped downtown, the buildings melt away and the ocean jumps right out at you, having grown tired at long last of playing coy.Ī lot of things jump out at you along Midcoast’s U.S. Inside, a solitary rock bears a stone slab that simply reads: “In Memory of Those Interred in This Plot.” Its former site is now a park if you’re diligent, you can find a little green enclosure surrounded by an old wrought-iron fence and perched dramatically above the St. The prison itself is now a few miles away, but until 2002 it sat right next to the showroom on U.S. Don’t call it Shawshank, but do stop into the Maine State Prison Showroom (“the prison store” to locals), an old brick shop where one can purchase wooden furniture and toys and even intricately-detailed model schooners, all handmade by some of what one prison official once described to me as “the 900 most dangerous people in Maine.”
Route 1 completely bypasses some Midcoast towns, but goes right through Thomaston, a picture postcard village that was, incongruously, the home of the state’s maximum-security penitentiary for 178 years.
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