Heavenly rest? The Pepsi sign always raises a chuckle

The Cloud 9 Motel sign stands out along State Route 9. Initially, the name seemed to reflect some misplaced hip ’60s jargon. What we encounter is far from a plush, consummate destination. Eventually, I connected the “9” to the highway. Ha-ha.
As you can see, there’s no motel, just a sand pit, on Maine Route 9 – the Airline Highway – four miles west of Wesley.
A postcard shows the place in its prime in the ’70s. It had eight heated motel units and sold gasoline, groceries, beer to take out, and light lunches in what it touted as the heart of some of the finest hunting and fishing in Maine. Many of the sportsmen returned annually, but times change. The buildings came down in 2015.

Deep Cove boatyard  

Eastport has the only big boatyard between Halifax and Bar Harbor, and, as they boast, the cheapest one on the East Coast.
Moose Island Marine Inc. operates the sprawling yard out of a modest office.
It’s a legacy from earlier days when shipbuilders popped up everywhere along the shoreline.
I do have to learn to identify the various boat styles.

 

 

 

The road was named before there were even airplanes

Except for a highway way up north, there are only two east-west routes across sprawling Washington County, either one requiring an hour-and-a-half drive from Eastport to the county line and the rest of the nation (and that’s including a shortcut, if you can find it).

One is U.S. 1, which more or less follows the coastline – or the Bold Coast, as it’s also designated. It passes through some lovely seaport towns and includes spectacular views of Mount Desert Island and its Acadia National Park as well as the northern reaches of Penobscot Bay.

The other is more direct. State Route 9, or Airline Highway, stretches 90 miles from Bangor to the Canadian border at Calais. Much of it passes through uninhabited townships of scraggly forest and swamp or along ridges with blueberry barrens and views that stretch for miles. It carries major truck traffic to and from New Brunswick.

There aren’t many services along the way. This is the most prominent.

But Airline? For a road?

The name, it turns out, comes from the Air Line Stagecoach company, which began using the oxcart trail in 1857. At the time, “air line” was a term for the straightest line between two points – or, in another common phrase, “as the crow flies.”

Its backers hoped to encourage settlement and economic development along the route, but the land was too rocky for commercial farming and the blackflies and mosquitoes could make even summer miserable. Later, mechanization reduced employment in the logging industry, depleting what little population there was.

Today, some stretches look like this. This is eight miles without any utility lines. 

Junk in the woods

My initial visits to eastern Maine back in the early 1990s shocked me with the prevalent poverty. I thought I was in West Virginia. A harsh reality is often overlooked between the picturesque coast and the wilderness adventures in the north.

That awareness has been amplified after moving Downeast. Many rural homes are surrounded by debris, everything from boat hulls that will never sail again to earthmoving equipment that has gone to rust to a row of cars that would otherwise qualify as a junkyard.

Here’s an extreme case.

Maybe they thought they could salvage something of value?

Nasty Little Falls

That’s how the Native name Machias translates.

The bridge carries busy U.S. 1 traffic that’s oblivious to the landmark below.
The water charges down in two parallel sets of falls that reunite in the tide below.
You wouldn’t want to go over these in a canoe.

The tranquil city of Machias at the falls is the Washington County seat.

In just six hours, day in and day out

Our tides vary between 15 and 25 feet, depending on the moon cycle, and half of that change occurs in just two hours, halfway between high and low. It still amazes me.

This is what you expect to see at the ocean, right? Just stick around another six hours to see what happens to our high tide.
At Carrying Place Cove, if often looks like somebody pulled the plug on the tub and let all the water out.