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Yankee Magazine Travel Guide Summer 2003 Article written by Wayne Curtis
The Maine Elements
At Bradford Camps life is reduced to these: lake, canoe, sky, and sunset.
It's early on a July evening at Bradford Camps, deep in the Maine woods, and I'm canoeing along the lake at the less-than-aerobic pace of about once a minute, perfectly content to let the boat slowly slice through the still and seamless lake.
The elements have been reduced to these: lake, canoe, sky, and sunset. And what a sunset! Architecturally elaborate clouds fill the sky, with steely-blue streamers of distant rain over here, and an apricot-hued bank of billowing cumulous over there. My stress level, it should be noted, is not high at this moment. The most demanding decision I face is whether to watch the sky itself, or its reflection on the lake.
Things remain equally elemental upon my return to shore. My log cabin is one of eight that faces the lake, each furnished timelessly with maple and pine furniture. When I need ice, I wander over to a vintage Coca-Cola cooler loaded with blocks of sparkling ice harvested from the lake last winter. After dark I fire up gaslights with wooden matches. On the cabin porches, tidy stacks of split maple logs await the woodstove. In the morning I make a fine discovery: A single log upended makes a fine perch for a cup of coffee.
Part of the process of exploring the Maine woods is to adopt a suitable pace. Those who race down logging roads with their car windows rolled up, marveling that you can actually do 70 miles per hour on a dirt road, are doing themselves no favor. You need to find the rhythms of the woods. You need to accept that the Maine woods yields its best secrets slowly and somewhat begrudgingly.
"We try to make it clear that this is not Disneyland," says Igor Sikorsky. He and his wife, Karen, traded high-stress jobs in southern New England several years ago for a backwoods life when they bought Bradford Camps, the only establishment on three-and-a-half-mile-long Munsungan Lake, which lies north of Baxter State Park.
Bradford Camps is an ideal base for exploring the lakes and woods. Days are spent paddling down the empty lake, or striding up trails on Munsungan Ridge and Norway Bluff. For more sedentary pursuits, there's an inviting lawn, with bocce, badminton, and croquet. These activities - admittedly not the traditional logging-camp pastimes - will do little to upset the proper pace of a North Woods holiday.
Guests at Bradford Camps often hire registered Maine Guides, who serve as woodland mandarins to unlock the secrets of the forest. Guides were traditionally hired to take anglers to the best fishing spots, a function many still serve. (A few guests during my stay wore elaborate fishing vests that appeared to require a separate operating manual.) But guides today are just as apt to be called upon to lead a photo safari in search of moose, teach a novice how to run rapids in a canoe, or just show off some of the last best places in the North Woods. It's worth the splurge.
The guest cabins are made of logs the diameter of telephone poles, and most date from the 1920's and '30's. The main lodge is a 1950's structure, a curious mix of rustic styling (a moose-antler chandelier) and mid-century modern lines. There are loons without motif, an elk head without campy irony. (No one feels compelled to put sunglasses or a Red Sox baseball cap on this elk.)
Bradford Camps in northern Maine offers proof that everything good doesn't have to end up all cute and theme-parky. The dining hall is almost startling in its simplicity - unpainted knotty-pine walls, bare wood tables, gingham curtains, and shiny red-vinyl chairs. Evening meals are equally unfussy and filling, with entrees along the lines of turkey, rib-eye steak, BBQ chicken, and ham and beans. "We don't get very French on anything," Igor says.
Breakfast is served at 7:00 sharp, which might seem a bit ambitious for those on vacation. A cold breakfast is available for late risers, but the thought of bacon and eggs and toast and coffee usually wins out.
Besides, the panorama of the sun rising up over the densely wooded hills is a sight not to be missed, especially when seen from a slow-moving canoe. - Wayne Curtis
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