Out Of Our Past

Taming the Big Hills

Mon, 04/22/2019 - 11:45am

Lobster Cove is a classically desirable location: a narrow shallow inlet draining a large swampy marsh area. How large? A topographical map shows the area drained extending to the Kenniston Hill area at Boothbay Center. Boothbay's wells were embedded in this huge sponge, as well as some gravel pits, at least Larrabee’s, Beath's, and Elbridge Giles’. The swampy waterway has traditionally been called the Meadow Brook.

The Meadow Brook controlled part of Boothbay, at least whether it was under or above water. It was attractive, not only because a marsh has fresh water and potential water power, but because a marsh also provides a great environment for provisions. Drained, you have instant fields with no towering trees to clear; left natural, waterfowl and animals frequent the area and berries and cattails are in abundance, not to mention hay. Like a pig, it could all be used, and early settlers homed in on it. Later the wetland became less of an advantage and more of an obstacle as residents no longer extracted a living from the immediate land.

The Old Road

The road to East Boothbay, Route 96, has to cross the Meadow Brook. It formerly did so by descending the western hill partway, then veering north 1,500 feet past the spring operated in the 1900’s by Dexter Hodgdon and later Rome Carbone, and on to Oak Lawn Cemetery. It then turned east over an old stone culvert and followed a rise a few hundred feet to come out on the Back Narrows Road not far from the intersection with the Beath Road—and then on to East Boothbay by Bradley Road.

In the 1920’s and 1930’s the mechanical advantages that had come along were pushing towns to straighten and improve roads in a big way. The little Oak Lawn detour didn’t seem a hardship to me but road-building zeal came to the big hills about 1925 or 1926. The goal was to straighten the road and eliminate the Oak Lawn detour, go right down through the Meadow Brook, and lower the eastern higher hill.

Halfway up the eastern higher hill across from the south end of Back Narrows Road is Giles Road. Gilly Giles and his son Bickford lived down Giles Road in the early- and mid-1900’s. I remember Red Giles telling me how Gilly Giles prevailed on the engineers when they came through with the state road in the 1920’s. The state wanted to put in one culvert under the road between the big hills to drain the area, and it was done that way. But Gilly made sure a stipulation was inserted that another culvert could be added any time the owner thought it necessary to protect his pasture.

1920’s and 1960’s Work

Lester Barter, born 1906, told me that Elbridge Giles, grandfather of the present Elbridge, built the new road with his crew and his steam drill. Lester also remembered that Melville Bradley hauled water—a pail in each hand—all day every day to keep the steam up for the steam drill. The water came from a hole dug in the Meadow Brook. Mechanical advantages only went so far to ease the workday. Wheelbarrows, pails, and shovels were still the way to go, though trucks were making inroads. Backhoe-bucketloaders didn’t get here until after World War II when Lincoln Giles bought the first one.

Even though Elbridge blasted the top of the eastern hill, its treacherous height was still fearful for decades. Even the early 1960’s winters, heading toward the Harbor, we'd pause at the top of the big hills to gauge if we could make it down to the bottom and back up the other side. We’d study how much snow was blown across down below or if there were too many vehicles stuck on or off the road to risk joining them scattered at the bottom. Just as there was a horse team stationed on the Edgecomb hill in the 1920’s to haul cars out of snow banks, high school boys, like Philip Gregory with his Scout, stationed themselves at times at the big hills in the 1960’s to do likewise. Lengths of chain and tire chains were still standard gear in the trunk. I have a length of nostalgic chain in my trunk today.

In the later 1960’s when the big hills were worked on again, Gilly's son, Bickford Giles, then owned and knew the family land. He insisted on two culverts, and he got his way, though he had to go to Augusta to remind them of their promise. He'd seen what could happen if that water was impeded. When the 1960’s work was done, the hills were then utterly tamed, the top of the eastern hill lopped way off and a tiered bridge of dirt installed over the Meadow Brook at the bottom.

It’s hard to call back the fear and determination the big hills used to engender for those pausing, gripping the wheel, heading down, willing their cars to run the gauntlet of snow and cars at the bottom, and getting up the other side. It was nice to have a rear engine VW bug for snow, though horsepower of only 90 made any hill a challenge. Many a speeding ticket was forgiven once the police understood the limitations—80 mph at the bottom of a hill became a crawl at the top.