On the first morning at the Sandbank Campsite in the Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument, two other military veterans and myself were greeted by a great bull moose who effortlessly pushed aside a small stand of young hemlocks and stood in the road assessing the new visitors. The animal soon trotted off toward the bog and made his daily rounds around the perimeter -- leaving hoof marks larger than my outstretched hand. It was our first of many breathtaking moments in nature over the next few days.
For two days, our Sierra Club Military Outdoors group trekked the southern portion of Maine's Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument -- hiking trails and observing the natural space to better understand why the area proved so important to preserve. We looked out over the valley between Barnard Mountain and Mount Katahdin. There, I imagined the footpath that a young Teddy Roosevelt walked in moccasins after losing his boot crossing the Wassataquoik near Orin Falls. The place offered a glimpse into conservation history and so much natural richness.
On each of our hikes through the wild, the notable diversity in the natural system left me in wonder -- curious to know the number of species that existed in this area. Every morning of the short trip, I rose with the song of birds and walked toward the park’s entrance -- viewing the amazing evergreen canopy and breathing in the cold air.
Having served with men from Maine, I had often heard about the beauty that existed in these woods. It wasn’t until this trip that I was truly able to appreciate this practically untouched place like they did.
Living in the foothills of a wilderness area in Vermont, I’m lucky enough to see wildlife somewhat regularly. And within these specific woods and the boundaries of the national monument, I was reminded that spaces like this needed preservation. But I worry about the fate of these places. Without protection, this space -- which holds a rich history in indigenous culture and has provided so much inspiration for past presidents and poets -- will be lost.
At one point on the trip, we were fortunate enough to spend time with local archeologists who pointed out small details in the landscape that probably go unnoticed. The old depressions, for instance, were once used as pathways for old loggers and guides. They’d been grown over and were hidden behind piles of leaves and fallen branches now. There was a story for every space. For those moments, we felt like a part of history -- like the pioneers and first nations that survived beside the rivers. We passed some park visitors -- many of them visiting to travel the 16-mile loop by vehicle. Every one of them seemed to carry a sense of purpose, whether it was simply enjoying the outdoors or finding deeper connections to the cultural history of the space.
When I returned from several weeks in these woods, it felt like I had experienced generations. We had entered the woods as veterans, willing to know the importance of this space, and departed with a greater sense of clarity in our minds. We were better able to appreciate each moment for what it was and became inspired by the remarkable landscape. We felt grateful and even more conscious of the efforts to preserve wildlands for generations to come.