"Take pictures" My brother suggested, "and tell me what the place is like." During the long ride up it dawned on me that this was no ordinary request. He had seen the real estate photos of the house. He was not asking for more room shots but was trying to get a sense of what it was truly like. How it was different. At almost 300 miles North of Boston, he knew that Moosehead Lake was no typical New England destination.

"If I teleported you lakeside on a sunny Tuesday", I'd say, "you might at first find little difference from other New England Lakes. Cottages dot the shore, boats putter by, and waves lap gently on the rocky beach."

Hang out for a bit, however, and the subtle differences begin to emerge.

Perhaps most legendary are the animals. They're big. They don't seem to be hiding from anyone. And they're not lined up for your breadcrumbs. Constant reminders that the town center is a morsel of developed land swallowed whole by a million acres of surrounding forest.

You'll see shocking shifts in the weather as downpours drench the opposite side of the lake while you lounge in the sun. Subtler clues suggest a rugged winter is only a handfull of weeks in either direction.

Somewhat unexplicable to me is the locals' penchant for sticking a hand-painted sign on, well, everything. Perhaps they're filling the job of advertisers unwilling to place billboards where there's really no one around to read them.

Then there's what the signs say...

In a land that loosely connects a fragile tourist economy, justified forest clearcutting, and pervasive poverty you can expect a healthy dose of bizarre juxtaposition around every corner. 

You're as likely to have an airplane pull alongside your canoe as another boat. And the gentle murmur of surrounding wildlife is broken only by the roar of 18-wheeled logging trucks barreling down your dirt road.

But in the end, it was clear to me this was a magnificent place, filled with the yearning of life. The summer is an ever-so-brief time for the rivers to roar, the trees to launch their leaves, and flowers to spring unplanted wherever the sun shines.

It is glorious, and I for one hope it maintains its rugged beauty alongside its quirky character.

All photos by Samantha Butler, taken during the third week of August, 2006.