Adventure In The Northern Maine Woods: Snowmobile Edition
There’s an old sign that hangs in my grandfather Peter’s cabin in Chesuncook Village that reads:
"Leave the beaten track occasionally and dive into the woods. You are certain to find something you have never seen before."
Every time I leave that slice of heaven in the deep forests of Maine, that rings true for me.
My family owns a piece of land in Chesuncook Village (founded in 1864), which was once a lively lake town in the early 20th century. Complete with a church, hotel, hunting lodge, cemetery, and grocery store, this town thrived when the logging industry of that part of the state was in its heyday.
A look from our camp at Mt. Katahdin (center), the northernmost peak on the Appalachian Trail. It's a view that never gets old.
Thousands of tons of lumber would float down Chesuncook Lake on its way to be shipped to the Southern part of the state. The exhausted workers would find lodging in the village, and the villagers would get some much-needed income.
However, when the logging industry died off in the early 1920s, Chesuncook became a ghost town, a place for outdoorsy souls looking for a place to retreat to. In 1929, my great, great, great uncle Jerry went up to this town on a hunting trip, and all these years later, my family is making memories on our little campground (which we bought 20 years ago).
Here’s what we did this time around.
Day 1 - Arriving
As you venture far into the wilderness north of Moosehead Lake, you quickly realize you are in a land that is barely tamed by mankind and holds a beauty that is unfailingly striking but impossible to fully know.
It’s hard to say how you should plan a wintertime adventure in the Northern Maine Woods, because there really isn’t a wrong way to do it.
All you can do is plan what you want to do, pick where you want to do it, and dive right in. That’s what we did.
Our camp lies 14 miles off the Golden Road (Keith Urban actually named an album after this stretch of dirt path). The first half of the group - my brother, dad, my dad’s great friend, grandfather, and myself - got up to our "staging area," where we put on winter gear and got the machines out of the trailers. Even though he is 78 years old, my grandfather, Peter, did not miss a step.
My dad and grandfather (left), and me and my grandfather (right). The old bull still had some juice in his tank for these adventures.
For the ride in, my 18-year-old brother, Andrew, and I had to double up on the sled. Let’s just say there’s a reason two guys that are 6’4" or taller and that weigh 220+ pounds are normally on two different sleds.
My brother drove us. I love him, but I was thankful to not have to share a sled with him after the ride.
Thankfully, my brother and I were able to go on different sleds to get round two of all the luggage. When we came back, we had a steaming hot mess of American Chop Suey ready for us. My mom pre-made all the meals. Shoutout to Amy for keeping us well-fed.
SOT
Left: Our cabin for the weekend. Right: dinner the first night.
Just a bunch of dudes hanging out and having a great meal. Left to right: me, Andrew, Peter, Dad, Darren
(Pro tip: a Fresca goes good with almost anything. It fizzes in your mouth, has a subtle grapefruit flavor and is a happy medium between a tasty but unhealthy soda and a joyless seltzer water).
We went to bed happy, tired, and warm.
Day - 2 Final Prep
Day 2 actually did not hold a lot of adventure. We were all tired from the previous day, and we had to wait for group two of everyone to come. Even though we were deep in the North, it was about 50 degrees, so we were able to lounge in the sun with nothing but a base-layer long-sleeve on our upper body.
I had a great conversation with my brother, Andrew, today - good guy stuff. When round two of the gang showed up, we towed a sled full of luggage in.
The rest of the gang arrives. Left: Uncle Ricky, my dad's brother. Front passenger: Dave. Driver: Kurt. Not Pictured (behind Ricky): Dave
Correction: I rode on the back of the sled and Andrew drove the machine. My dad, John Anthony, said "If you were a real man, you’d ride on the back all the way to camp."
Challenge accepted. I can confirm I am still a real man.
Preparing to prove I'm a real man (I'm on the back).
Shepherd’s pie was on the menu for dinner. I would show you a picture but we ate it too quickly.
Day 3 - An Adventure To Remember
Saturday was the day when all the adventure took place.
Our objective was to get to Allagash Headwaters Snowmobile Club, so all nine of us got our own sleds, and we set off for an adventure.
But first, we wanted to see some trains. That’s right, trains.
Like I said above, the logging industry was booming in the 1920s, and they would use trains to carry the lumber from the wilderness to the big cities in Maine. But when everything died off, they had no more use for the trains. Instead of reusing them, the loggers just left them - and other logging equipment - in the woods.
Odd choice, but gosh did it create one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Trains in the woods! It’s every man's dream!
Oh, I also got the urge to climb them, so I did.
Far left: My 6'6" brother stands next to a train. You know they are huge when he looks small. Top Right: It took me about five seconds to get the idea to climb these steel behemoths. Bottom right: these twin steam cars are stunning reminders of the history and memory of these woods.
(If you want a deeper-dive explanation of the history of these trains, watch the video linked here).
A late lunch hit the spot, and it was time to head back. I also got the urge to climb a boiler stack, so again, I did.
Few things in life make me as happy as spontaneous climbs.
As far as the riding aspect of the weekend goes, the way back to our was my favorite part - and it's not close.
Because we had been on the trails for so long, we were all in the mood to get back fast - some more than others. My dad and his friend, Darren, each hit triple-digit speed on Chamberlain Lake, and I was able to stand close by.
The video doesn’t do it justice. I now understand why Paul Skenes strikes out so many batters with 100-mph pitches.
I couldn’t go nearly as fast, my machine maxed out at 75 mph (which still feels crazy fast, by the way). But the speed isn’t what I’ll remember the most.
Because the weather was so warm, a thin layer of water rested in various spots atop the ice. Even when I zipped through it at blazing speed, I didn’t create many ripples in the oversized puddles. To boot, the water was crystal clear.
As I blazed through, the water perfectly reflected the sky, creating the illusion that the clouds and vast expanse were both above and below me at the same time. It was one of the most surreal things I have ever experienced. I couldn't video it because of my speed, but it’s a visual that I’ll never forget.
The last memorable part of the ride came on mud pond, where there were two 6-foot stretch of running water blocking our path to the finish. I was behind Darren and Andrew, and I saw both of them accelerate and cross. I thought to myself, "Welp, I guess I better do what they did." Thankfully, our whole party made it across.
What an amazing day of riding. In total, we did 71.5 miles.
Day 4 - High Speeds And Many Partings
The final day was mostly about resting and packing up. My dad, brother, and Darren did find time to play a best of three series of corhole, where the winning team got $400 split between them. My brother and I emerged victorious - CHA CHING.
With money on the line, I dial in and get wins.
Our extract involved two more trips to the staging area with luggage, and Andrew and I again did the final stretch ourselves. We had 11 miles to cover to get from our camp to the staging area.
We got it done in 12 minutes.
Yup, Andrew and I turned into speed demons. The math works out that our average speed was just under 60, but Andrew hit a max speed of 105 mph. I only hit 85 because of my machine’s limits, but I would have hit triple digits too.
Needless to say, we felt like absolute champs when we got to brag about it to everyone else.
Speeding down the snow-covered roads with my brother was something I'll treasure forever.
Foreground: My dad. Background, left to right: Uncle Ricky, Dave, Darren, Peter, Dave, Kurt.
An eight-hour trip with five grown men in a truck ensued, which was as uncomfortable as it sounds. But that was a small price to pay for the memories and fun of the weekend.
Peter’s father, Eric, had a saying whenever he left after a visit to camp: "That’s another one they can’t take away from us." Our 2025 expedition is one I’m glad to have under my belt for the rest of my lifetime.