The summer before I started here at Northern Woodlands, my daughter asked to visit Norwich for her 16th birthday. On that day we hiked Giles Mountain and climbed the fire tower to look over a vast panorama of Vermont woodlands stretching north and west, and the Connecticut River Valley and White Mountains to the east. It is an astonishing view for a short hike through the woods. While perching on this historic structure – one of many built in the early 1900s – I couldn’t help but think about how the view has changed over time. When the Giles Mountain fire tower was built, 80 percent of the viewshed had been cleared; now, about the same proportion is covered again with trees.
A photo of the view from Giles Mountain appears on page 58, accompanying Allaire Diamond’s elegant compilation of perspectives on a contemporary land ethic. I appreciate how this feature expresses our region’s rich cultural diversity and complicated history, and residents’ deep love for the land. This collection of thought and experience reflects the breadth of conversations about land use and stewardship that are occurring throughout our region. I am curious about where those conversations will lead us.
Another moment in history, and another view from a fire tower: in the summer of 1945, two women were drawn to work in a fire tower on Monadnock Mountain in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont as fire lookouts during World War II (see the story on page 54). At the time, women were taking on jobs traditionally held by men who were then fighting overseas. What a change between then and my daughter’s generation; today, gender seems far less likely to determine opportunities to explore forestry and other natural resource-related professions.
On a recent trip to Maine, I passed through the river valley that is at the heart of our article on the Chadbourne Tree Farm conservation project on page 44, a second feature in a series focused on the connections between forests and water. Driving along a back road in Bethel, close to the Androscoggin River, I could see for myself why this conservation effort – involving local, regional, and national organizations – is a big deal. As I drove, I passed burbling brooks flowing into the Androscoggin, conservation area trailheads with interpretive signage, timber woodlots, and homes reflecting a range of lifestyles. In the distance across the river, hillsides thick with pine stretch for miles to the west to meet up with the White Mountain National Forest. I passed a pair of rock climbers at a cliff and a mountain biker a bit farther down the road. I parked at a boat landing to take some photos and imagined the summer recreationists soon to arrive. Out-of-towners and residents alike will be unloading kayaks and canoes, fishing gear, coolers carrying lunch and beverages, and photography equipment – all the things that support our experience of rivers in places that still carry a feeling of wildness. All of these activities strengthen a growing recreation economy.
Stories from the Wild River, a tributary of the Androscoggin that I cross en route to Bethel, are central to “A Family Legacy” on page 20. Caroleen “Mac” McKenzie-Dudley had her grandparents’ story of making a home in the White Mountain National Forest literally handed back to her in a box of photos and notes. She compiled her grandmother’s memoir at a time when she was also reacquainting herself with their home landscape. As a volunteer, she took up where her grandfather left off, maintaining trails that he created nearly a hundred years ago in what is now the Wild River Wilderness.
About an hour northeast from there you would enter the Kennebec River watershed, and Temple, Maine, home of “Up Country” columnist Robert Kimber. When I was beginning my professional career, I found inspiration in Bob’s book Living Wild and Domestic: The Education of a Hunter-Gatherer, and I interviewed Bob for a local publication. Little did I know then that almost two decades later I would come to know him as Northern Woodlands’ longtime columnist. I’m excited that Bob is putting together a new collection of essays, but sorry that this means he’ll be stepping away from his column after a 15-year run. Dear to our staff and our readers, his stories of home – a deft mix of the practical, wondrous, and often-humorous experiences on the land he loves – will be missed, and I’m honored to have shared time with him at the magazine.