I decided to head up to Downeast Maine this weekend. A solid two-hour and forty-five-minute drive from home. I took Route 1 north, which, if you’ve never driven it, is one of the better stretches of road in this state. Old buildings, the ocean flickers through the trees, and just enough strange roadside stops to keep things interesting.
Shortly after Ellsworth, I turned onto Route 182. Remote doesn’t quite cover it. I lost cell service for about eight miles, which felt like a small gift. The road cuts through thick forest and wraps around still ponds. Barely any traffic. Just the sound of tires on pavement and the occasional crow heckling from a pine.
Route 182 spits you back out in a little town called Cherryfield. That’s where Route 1 changes names and becomes part of the Bold Coast National Scenic Byway. It starts down in Milbridge and runs 147 miles all the way to Eastport. It’s a hell of a drive. Quiet. Real. The kind of road where the light hits just right, and you start to forget what time it is.
From East Machias, I cut off onto Route 191 and made my way to Cutler Coast Public Reserved Land. If you’ve never heard of it, look it up. Over 12,000 acres of wild, jagged coast. Four and a half miles of it overlook the Bay of Fundy. The air smells like pine and salt and something older than all of us.
We did the Coastal Trail. Just shy of three miles round-trip. The trail is what I’d call moderate. Roots. Rocks. Places you could twist something if you’re not watching. It ends at a high cliff spot that looks straight out over the ocean. There’s a path down to the rocks if you’re feeling brave. A lot of folks left their packs at the top and made the climb. I stayed put and snapped a few pictures through the trees. No shame in playing it safe.
The longer trails out there look like a full-day grind. The Black Point Brook Loop runs around five and a half miles. Fairy Head Loop is nearly ten. Maybe someday. Not yet. This was my first real hike on an actual trail since my hip replacement, and I was not looking to prove anything.
The person hiking with me wasn’t a seasoned hiker either, so we agreed the short trail was the right move. We took it slow. Watched our steps. Stopped often. When we reached the overlook, the ocean opened up, and everything else just sort of fell away. That view was enough. More than enough.
I’ll be back. Maybe next time I’ll stretch it a little further. Or maybe I’ll just sit longer at the same spot and let it all sink in.
Follow along if you want more stories from the trail and the flame. Stay curious. Stay kind. And if you can, get out and walk. Even if it’s just to the end of the driveway.
—Kevin
