Culture Clash or Delicate Balance?: A Week in the Maine Woods. Or, “A Tale of Two Boots”
This essay was written by my mother, Daniella Levine, on July 16, 2006 after a few days of hiking on the Appalachian Trail with my brother and me.
A Story in Two Parts: Part One describes our family, against the backdrop of an amazing adventure and terrain. Part Two describes a shifting culture and community against a backdrop of our family’s growing relationship with the place and the times.
Part Two
Buddy chatted on, about the lumber industry, how many rescues he had effected, how he had snuck into the trail on numerous occasions leaving mysterious notes, baffling the hikers. He bragged that he could find anyone anywhere along the 100 Mile Wilderness, one way or the other.
He had grown up in these hills (part Native American we later learned, and adopted by those of European descent), learned to drive on the lumber roads, hiking the trail. He knew every nook and cranny. He was a trail whisperer. He had joined the military, been involved in a truck crash in Tennessee (the driver fell asleep at the wheel), broken his spine, and ended up with two fused and three artificial discs. Strong pain medication left him listless and confused. He proceeded to Motrin in massive doses, which burned out his stomach. He has difficulty with foods today, but is drug free, because he “just did not like the way the drugs made me feel.” He discovered massage therapy, and now skis all winter with his stepsons and step grandchildren, his greatest joy and release. The snows are receding, thanks to global warming, but he has a favorite place that still gets pretty good snow. He can no longer hike. He moved back to Monson, his childhood home and went to work for Mr. Shaw.
The founder of Shaw’s Boarding House, a thriving Monson business, died a few years later, after building a national reputation as the “not to be missed” way station for the hiking community. Dawn, the new owner, persuaded Buddy that she could not run the business without his prowess as cook and shuttle-driver. Before she even bought the business, she had Buddy write down all the details he had learned working for “Old Man Shaw.” Buddy’s breakfasts were famous up and down the trail, and he was a key component of the business’ success.
The lumber roads are marvelously smooth, and we fly along at 45 mph. Buddy explains the different lumber extraction methods as we drive by: clear cut, select cut. His father still lumbers the old fashioned way, tree by tree, well into the winter. He rates the different companies along the route, which are more concerned about the community, which just want to leach and plunder the land to maximize profit.
I am busily massaging my foot which has gone numb. Buddy suggests a massage. Continue reading
Eliza F. Cava 