Outdoor Adventure Abounds in Northern Maine


By Donna Sewall Davidge T


he fi rst time I enjoyed the tranquility of northern Maine was in the summer of 1954, in the womb. My mother, unex- pected to her at the age of forty-four, was to bear a child in


January. That child was me. That summer, my pregnant mother did what she always did, as soon as school got out she would trek herself and her children, which at this stage was my brother, seven years older, and my sister, twelve years older, off to Aroos- took County. In the tiny town of Island Falls, just over the border of Penobscot County, there were two pristine majestic lakes. One was the spring fed lake where the town well-to-doers spent their summer by and in the clear cold waters. The other, Mattawamkeag Lake, was river fed and thus had yellow tannins in the otherwise clean water, making the tea color that fascinated us when we bathed or swam in the soft waves of the lake that lapped at the shore of our cabin. The cabin was built by relatives after World War 2 because my father promised my mother a cabin on the lake, which my father explained by saying, “you say the darndest things on a 1941 honeymoon.” The cabin would become the place my mother escaped to for two and half months every summer, leaving my father behind in Connecticut to earn a living for his family. He would take his two weeks vacation to join his family, the only choice was northern Maine.


Our secluded cabin, accessible only by small fi shing boat, located on the far end of the seven mile long lake. As an adult, I ventured to faraway lands, living in my early 20’s in California, then venturing to Europe for three years in my late 20’s. At age 30, I landed back in the metropolis jungle of Manhattan, pursu- ing various things there. When the summer heat of New York City oppressingly attacked the senses, emanating from the sidewalks and buildings like a hot furnace, I would yearn for the week or ten days I could afford to take with my parents at the cabin. The same allure of calm and nature swept over my body, mind and spirit.


20 Essential Living Maine ~ July/August 2017 In 1997, I began escaping to northern Maine for more time,


having purchased the home of my great grandfather William Sewall, nature guide to Theodore Roosevelt, which resulted in an unlikely friendship between two men from different worlds. Wil- liam’s parents had settled the town in 1845 with one other family, the Craig’s, so it was here that I would make an attempt to follow his legacy of hospitality and healing in the woods of northern Maine. Having taught kundalini yoga for twelve years in the city, I opened a yoga retreat, having no idea what I was doing or what was in store. One thing I had to do was fi nd out more about the area so that I could offer it to the guests whom I hoped would fi nd us. In 1999 Sewall House had its’ fi rst website. People came.


Local people, curious about what I was doing, attended


classes. They became resources for Baxter State Park and other amazingly, beautiful nature possibilities that I simply had not known in my childhood since my mother was so content at her cabin and in the woods by Mattawamkeag Lake. Since 1997, I have learned about some of the additional possibilities for expe- riencing the astonishing natural beauty of northern Maine. Here are just a few of the gems you might fi nd if you took the time to drive up 95, which I’m sure are just a sampling. Often people from southern Maine say they had no idea there was anything north of Bangor; that is just the point! Lonely Planet chose this area, a few years back, as one of their top ten choices to visit for wilder- ness and nature outings in the United States. Baxter State Park is best known for Mount Katahdin, the spellboundingly beautiful mountain that soars into the sky as you drive up 95 and stop at the scenic overlook twenty minutes south of the Sewall House exit. The beauty of the great one, as the Native Americans called it, al- ways touches a deep place in my heart. I have climbed Katahdin 3 and a half times, the fi rst time in 1999 when I did the narrow and well traveled precarious Knife’s Edge. My knees at age 62 prefer


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36