By Will Grunewald
From our July 2024 issue

Driving over the Penobscot Narrows Bridge never fails to stir a certain hard-to-define feeling, a mixture of awe and calm and anticipation conjured up by the span’s swooping lines, the sight of its namesake river slowly unspooling seaward, and the impression, however foggy, of crossing a threshold. Coming from the south, the midcoast is all of a sudden in the rearview, and the down east region lies somewhere ahead. But exactly where down east begins has long been a source of disagreement. Some people contend it starts halfway across the bridge, upon entering Hancock County. Others exclude Mount Desert Island, on account of its seasonal crowds feeling contrary to the area’s otherwise quiet vibrations. Another point of view holds that only Washington County, the state’s easternmost, truly qualifies (the “real down east” is a familiar refrain). Ask however many Mainers to define the region, get as many differences of opinion. 

The lack of consensus owes, at least in large part, to the fact that down east started out not as the name of a place but as an Age of Sail directional term. To reach Maine from Boston, a ship headed downwind and east, or down east for short. It was a purely relative concept (and that’s what inspired this magazine’s name almost 70 years ago). The notion of down east as a separate region within Maine seems to have developed both gradually and arbitrarily. But perhaps, finally, we can consider the debate over the boundaries settled. Last year, President Joe Biden signed legislation, supported by Maine’s congressional delegation, to designate a Downeast Maine National Heritage Area, which notably comprises both Hancock and Washington counties, in their entireties. So that’s that, right?

Going forward, the National Park Service will administer the new heritage area, though a heritage area is, unlike a national park, neither a federally owned nor cohesively managed unit. Rather, the designation primarily enables nonprofits and municipalities and other organizing groups within the defined area — and there are more than 60 such areas across the country — to tap into some federal funds and technical assistance for projects related to historic preservation, environmental conservation, and economic development.

The appeal of such an arrangement is clear enough, but it also begs a new question: What’s so uniquely heritage-y about this one part of Maine? Heritage, after all, is slippery — it implies something to do with history and culture, but history and culture exist everywhere humans have ever set up shop. There is something to be said for tight-knit communities, deep-rooted families, and traditional ways of making a living from the land and the sea. But is any of that particular to down east?

Maybe heritage is one of those sum-is-greater-than-its-parts, know-it-when-you-see-it kind of things, and you just have to discover for yourself whether the past is somehow more present down east. What follows here is hardly a comprehensive guide to the region but rather a sort of primer, an introduction with an eye toward sites with something to say about that nebulous idea of heritage. So point your car downwind and east, sail on up Route 1, and see if you think the membrane between then and now is truly thinner in Hancock and Washington counties. See if you experience another one of those hard-to-define feelings.

Blue Hill Peninsula 

Soon after the Penobscot Narrows Bridge, the Blue Hill Peninsula juts south, forming the ragged eastern edge of Penobscot Bay. The rural roads that wind from town to town have a leisureliness to them, especially after driving on Route 1. In Castine, Maine Maritime Academy, itself a connection to the region’s centuries-old tradition of producing commercial seafarers, is home to the Bowdoin, a 1921 schooner and the official vessel of the state of Maine. Although the Bowdoin mostly spends its summers plying far-flung waters, it’s available for public day sails in the fall. On the other side of the peninsula is charming little Blue Hill, home to the Blue Hill Fair, a classic affair that got its start as an agricultural showcase in the 1800s — and helped inspire elements of Charlotte’s Web, by E.B. White, who lived in nearby Brooklin (Aug. 29–Sept. 2, 2024). Speaking of Brooklin, that’s where the Wooden-Boat School does its part to preserve traditional maritime ways, offering classes in boat-building and sailing — plus a gift shop if you’re just passing through. Heading all the way down to Stonington, on Deer Isle, you’ll find the most productive lobster fleet in the country hard at work. And up in Brooksville, the Good Life Center is situated on the Forest Farm homestead of Helen and Scott Nearing, who inspired legions of back-to-the-landers to settle in the area. Today, the center is open to visitors throughout the summer and hosts workshops on everything from composting to building stone walls, plus talks on everything from microplastics to presidential politics. While breezing through the Blue Hill Peninsula in a day is manageable, the easy rhythm of the place sinks in better with a night’s — or several nights’ — stay. Plus, it’s a good home base for forays farther down east.

Clockwise from left: Class at the WoodenBoat School, in Brooklin (photo by Tara Rice), and scenes from the Blue Hill Fair (photos by Jeff Klofft).

Ellsworth to Cherryfield

Leaving the Blue Hill Peninsula behind, Route 1 soon passes through downtown Ellsworth and then neighboring Hancock, where the Downeast Scenic Railroad departs on weekends and select weekdays through mid-October. The restored passenger cars run on a line that was built 140 years ago to carry well-heeled city folk to rusticate on Mount Desert Island. Nowadays, ducking south to Mount Desert Island to explore Acadia National Park, the heart of the region’s recreational history, requires traveling by car. Continuing farther east along Route 1, vestiges of the quarrying industry appear. In Franklin, a short detour leads to the Robertson’s Quarry Galamander, one of two rare stone-hauling vehicles known to have survived in Maine. In Sullivan, the Granite Art Garden, five minutes off Route 1, is part historical site, part outdoor sculpture gallery, part trail network around an old quarry, while the nearby Gordon’s Wharf, on Mount Desert Narrows has a few informational plaques that help visitors to imagine how the now-tranquil site was once a hotbed of activity, massive granite blocks being loaded onto schooners for shipping down the Eastern Seaboard. For even more granite, but in unhewn form, loop down through Acadia National Park’s Schoodic section and pull off at Schoodic Point, where huge ledges slope toward the ocean — and offer impressive views back across the water toward the main section of the park. Farther along Route 1, evidence of past industrial prosperity takes the shape of grand old homes. Cherryfield, once a shipbuilding hub, has quite a few, including the exceedingly well-kept William M. Nash House, a sprawling Second Empire mansion that’s perched on a hill above the Narraguagus River. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places, but take note: it’s a private residence, so don’t turn around in the drive as you continue making your way down east.

Clockwise from left: view from the Schoodic Peninsula (photo by Dave Waddell); Downeast Scenic Railroad (photo courtesy of Downeast Scenic Railroad); William M. Nash House (photo by Tara Rice), in Cherryfield; sculpture at the Granite Art Garden, in Sullivan (photo by Dave Waddell).

Harrington to Machias

Eastbound from Cherryfield, the next two small towns you pass through are Harrington and Columbia Falls. Then, jumping off Route 1, a scenic loop can be made through the fishing village of Jonesport. Its harbor, best viewed while crossing the bridge to Beals Island, is chock-full of lobsterboats, whose now-familiar design got its modern shape from local boatbuilders. Outdoorsy travelers ought to continue along Beals to Great Wass Island, where a Nature Conservancy preserve provides several miles of trails through pristine, hushed coastal woods and bogs, reminding that conservation is a major part of down east’s past and present. All throughout this stretch of down east, too, is wild-blueberry country. Barrens of the scrubby low-bush plants line Route 1 — and turn brilliant red in the fall. In Machias, consider stopping for a slice of rightfully renowned blueberry pie at Helen’s Restaurant, especially during harvest season in late summer, for a satisfying taste of agricultural heritage. If you hunger for a history lesson as well, stop by the Burnham Tavern Museum. That’s where, in 1775, locals convened to discuss what to do about the arrival a British navy vessel and two merchant ships, looking to procure supplies that British troops needed in Boston, following the battles of Lexington and Concord. What ensued was the first naval engagement of the Revolutionary War, with Machias’s gutsy militiamen emerging the victors. 

Clockwise from left: Burnham Tavern , in Machias (photo by Tara Rice); blueberry barren in the fall (photo by Benjamin Williamson); blueberry pie at Helen’s, in Machias (photo by Tara Rice); Jonesport Harbor (photo by Benjamin Williamson).

Cutler to Lubec

Something happens the farther down east you go: the fewer must-see sights around, the greater the sense you’re getting a real feel for the area. Heading toward Lubec, leave Route 1 behind and angle toward the tiny community of Cutler. The road skirts the shore for a time, then rolls along through bucolic scenery. A little farther, if you brought your hiking boots, find an excellent — but minimum-half-day — stop at the Cutler Coast Public Reserved Land (parksandlands.com). The trail there traverses the boldest section of a long stretch of shoreline known as the Bold Coast, combining some of the grandeur of Schoodic with some of the quietude of Great Wass. Is the hike instructive on the matter of heritage? Your mileage may vary, but here’s betting you’re a little more attuned afterward to what’s so special about the region’s terrain. The same can be said of Cobscook Bay, where the down east coastline’s massive tides are acutely felt, the basin emptying and swelling twice a day, many species of birds and other wildlife flocking to the marshes and grasslands. En route to Lubec, the Cobscook Shores network of parks provides a number of options for fairly quick strolls along the shore (cobscookshores.org). Then, in Lubec, consider what the waterfront would have felt like in the late-19th and early-20th centuries, when seafood canneries and smokehouses had their heydays, with about 50 such facilities in Lubec alone. Not a single one still operates there, although the McCurdy Smokehouse remains atop its pilings as a small museum that offers a glimpse into that defunct industry (mccurdysmokehouse.org). Ten minutes outside town is the sight probably most visitors come to see, West Quoddy Head Light, standing sentinel over the easternmost point in the contiguous U.S., with its iconic red and white stripes marking the entrance to the Quoddy Narrows (westquoddy.com). It might also serve as a reminder to travelers: follow the narrows, on toward Eastport.

Clockwise from top left: Lubec Landmarks now owns the McCurdy Smokehouse (photos by Dave Waddell); view down the Cutler Coast (photo by Tara Rice); Cobscook Bay at sunset (photo by Benjamin Williamson); lobsterboat off Quoddy Head (photo by Matt Trogner).

Eastport and Beyond

In Eastport, signs of a working waterfront are everywhere in the harbor-fronting downtown, from the fishing boats at their moorings to the tugboats that can pilot large ships into the deepwater port. At one point in the early 1800s, Eastport was the second-busiest trading port in the entire country, after only New York (although it’s far from that busy these days, and all the less so since the pandemic and the war in Ukraine threw global supply chains out of whack). While strolling around town, stop by the Raye’s Mustard gift shop. The museum and factory, with the country’s only traditional stone mustard mill still in operation, has churned out mustards since 1900 but is undergoing renovations and isn’t offering tours. After Eastport, you face a choice: either make the return trip the way you came (heading “up west,” one supposes?) or explore a little ways up the Saint Croix River, toward the border town of Calais. In the latter case, stop to check out the Saint Croix Island International Historic Site, where a French expedition landed in 1604. The group of settlers moved along after enduring a brutal winter, but French colonization in North America — and Acadian influence in Maine — was underway. Finally, head west via Route 9. Known as the Airline, it’s indeed a breezy way to travel — light on traffic, thick with woods. The relaxing drive is a good time to really absorb everything you’ve seen down east.

From top left: Route 9, aka “the Airline”; Scenes from around Eastport’s working waterfront (photos by Dave Waddell).

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