Rangeley | Maine Photographer
I’d long wanted to explore Maine. It’s like… one giant small town (the entire state’s population is 1.3 million, which is the equivalent of the population of San Diego). And, in my mind anyway, it’s the epitome of authentic modern New England.
Sure, you have historic New England cities and towns, like Boston and Concord, that work the imagination about centuries past and life at the founding of America. They are gorgeous and preserved and celebrated for their significance and beauty.
Then, there’s the state of Maine, which I see as a hybrid between the past and the present. While the traditional New England architecture and aesthetic is prevalent, it feels very ‘real’ and functional, not museum-esque. The heart of Portland, for example, is a true working port, and while urban farming and the service industry have set their stakes in the town, shipping, fishing, and manufacturing are still a significant part of the economy. And, yes, you’ll find Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s and cute trendy boutiques, but they’re found alongside fisherman hauling in traps of lobster after running their small boats along the coast all day amid freezing temperatures — hands as calloused as you could ever imagine, cheeks and noses as red as the boiled lobsters themselves.
I suppose I see Maine as an evolution of traditional New England folklore, not a brushed-up-and-re-minted presentation of New England. As such, the people are old school (and I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way). Take, for instance, our visit up to Rangeley, a small town (population 1,000). A super rural (nearest airport is 3 hours away) ‘resort’ town (due to its proximity to a collection of lakes & the Canadian border).
A small mountain retreat community?! Yeah, I live in one of those. No problem.
Except… this place was nothing like Park City. No gas fireplaces turned on with the flip of a switch. No faux fur Sorels walking women around town. No Range Rovers or Cadillac Escalades rolling people down Main Street. Nope. There was just no excess there, period. Like, this place was COLD (I mean, zero-degree temps) and there were different thermostats for each room of the house to conserve heat & money. People ‘shop’ at the church basement thrift store. There’s a town pond where locals donate ice skates and hockey gear so people can play whenever they’d like, and lawn chairs along the edge of the pond offer seats for any onlookers.
The whole scene up there was neat. We went to the grocery store one night, and there were all of two other people shopping. The checker paid no attention to us, really, but lit up when the guy behind us proceeded to put his items on the counter. “Hey Joe,” he grinned, “wife outta town?” I turned to look at the items — a six pack of beer and a 1/2 gallon of Gifford’s Ice Cream. “Ya,” says Joe. “But she’ll be back tomorrah.” [Sidenote: Maine accents KILL me — see Kathy Bates in Dolores Claiborne for reference.]
Anyway, we visited several special Maine spots — more on that later — but Rangeley was our favorite. I hope you enjoy our take on it :).
