On (once) stolen land
On (once) stolen land
Reparations...and access to one of Maine's finest cascades
If you’ve spent any amount of time at a backcountry lodge or trail volunteer camp in recent years, chances are you’ve heard a couple of land acknowledgments. As more of us come to understand the full spectrum of horrors that American Indian tribes were subjected to, at the hands of white colonists, it becomes harder to overlook how the “creation” of the United States was one big act of land seizure and displacement. So it’s becoming customary for more people who regularly use pieces of that stolen land to offer a few words of penance, in recognition of whom the land was taken from.
While the practice of land acknowledgments may seems like a symbolic step toward getting more people who use the outdoors to embrace true restitution—like actually giving land back to American Indians!—I’ve sometimes cringed when hearing these solemn words uttered by people who are presiding over land that remains stolen. At a certain point, land acknowledgments can sound like belated, half-hearted apologies that help expunge any sense of guilt that one might feel, upon realizing that the land on which they’re hiking, boating, biking, or camping once belonged to people who were evicted and murdered—and whose living descendants remain marginalized.
This is why, back in 2018, I was excited to learn that one of the most gorgeous and enchanting cascades in the woods of northern Maine—the Poplar Stream Falls—is tucked away in densely forested land that’s now owned by the Penobscot Nation.
One of the four tribes of Maine’s Wabanaki Alliance, the Penobscot Nation’s ancestral homeland was none other than the wooded banks, ponds, and tributaries of the 109-mile Penobscot River, which rumbles south from Maine’s northern highlands into Penobscot Bay, where the seaside towns of Rockland and Belfast were later built. Back in the Revolutionary War era, the Penobscot Nation formed an alliance with the American colonists, on the understanding that their territory would be respected after the war was over. (This was promised in a 1777 letter from George Washington!) But like most promises made to the American Indians by the American colonists, this pact with the Penobscot Nation was basically ignored as soon as the war was over.
Even the road to piecemeal restitution for Wabanaki Alliance nations has been over a century long. A significant turning point was the Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act, which Jimmy Carter signed in 1980, after a court case brought against Maine by the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy Nations led to an eye-popping ruling—that nearly 12 million acres (two thirds of the total state land!) rightfully belonged to the tribes. The Settlement Act netted the tribes over $80 million in reparations, and this helped the Penobscot Nation invest in new housing, business ventures, and land acquisition.
The land where Poplar Stream Falls rumbles away is located just a few minutes away from Sugarloaf ski resort, near the town of Carrabassett Valley. And the reason why you’re able to make the 4.9-mile hike to the gushing cascade is twofold. First, the Penobscot Nation has leased this land to the Maine Huts & Trails, whose cushy hiker huts (heated floors!) are linked by trails that can be cross-country skied in the winter and hiked the rest of the year. But the recreational access to this land also speaks to a more social and balanced view of land use, common among American Indian nations and different from extractive land development and exclusionary land conservation practices that have long been standard in the U.S.—and both of which displace people.
In a 2020 story for Beacon, Suzanne Greenlaw, a Maliseet forestry scientist spoke to the writer Emily Weyrauch about these disparate relationships with land. “A lot of the [conservation] practices in the past actually marginalized native people, and didn’t allow for their voice to be heard, and discouraged their voices,” Greenlaw said. “The native approach is very much in the center—we do harvest, but we harvest in a sustainable way that actually forms a relationship with the resource.” It might be a stretch to suggest that a similarly healthy relationship could take root from being granted access to places like Poplar Stream Falls, but given what the Penobscot Nation people have been through, just to re-acquire fragments of their ancestral homeland, it’s remarkable that Poplar Stream Falls is a place that you can go and venture to this summer. Or right now, if you’re comfortable on a pair of Rossignols.
At the base of Poplar Stream Falls, there’s a glittering pool that feels like something out of an Enya music video. And as you stand there (or on the nearby wooden bridge) admiring the plume-like shape of Poplar Stream Falls, I would suggest thinking about the story of the land and the Penobscot Nation not as something that once happened, but as an ongoing narrative. We are a long, long way from reparating American Indian tribes at scale, when it comes to land transfers. Even the victories achieved by the Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act came at the cost of tribal sovereignty, which the state might soon grant. But a recent supportive Portland Phoenix editorial written by Al Diamon offers a window into just how many white Americans still recoil at the idea of ceding any amount of wealth or power to address historic injustices. For all the land acknowledgments we hear these days, land reparations are still long overdue.
So this year, take a ramble to Poplar Stream Falls. Revel in their beauty, consider the gift of being able to revel in their beauty, and think about all of the other stretches of land that could be returned to indigenous peoples. Like the National Parks System.
Poplar Stream Falls
Hike distance: 4.9-miles loop
Elevation gain: 538 feet
CLICK HERE for a trail map
It’s been roughly two months since I debuted the Mind the Moss Mosscast and let me say from the top that I have savored turning the newsletter into audio storytelling. The switch from writing to broadcasting is like using different sets of muscles to create one narrative, and your early feedback on what would make the Mosscast better has been hugely helpful. In the process, I’ve also learned several things about producing podcast episodes. And two of them have prompted me to make a big decision here.
First, not every newsletter story translates seamlessly to podcast form, and from the beginning, I have always intended to have Mind The Moss remain a written newsletter first and foremost. (I am still a writer, first and foremost.) As much fun as I’ve been having with two different mediums for Mind The Moss stories—written and spoken word—I never want to get to the point where the editorial considerations for one of those mediums is exerting too strong of an influence over the whole publication.
And second, as those of you who’ve made podcasts will know, putting any kind of podcast together—even short 7-10 minute episodes—is a lot of work. As much as I would like to have the Mosscast be a weekly offering, the ground reality is that I don’t have the resources to do that yet. That may change one day, but I’m just not there yet.
So, after some beard tugging and contemplative walks around Boston (which is such a good city for a long, brooding walk) I’ve decided that going forward, the Mosscast will become a paid subscriber benefit, publishing every other week and arriving right in your inbox just like the prior episodes. This will ensure that each episode is made with the requisite amount of care and labor, and that the Mind The Moss newsletter retains the ability to publish stories that wouldn’t work quite as well in podcast form.
The “free” episodes that have already been published will remain accessible via the archives, but if you’d like to digest Mind The Moss in audio form going forward, each new episode can be yours for the monthly price of the cheapest canned beer at a Def Leppard concert (and of course, that subscription comes with weekly newsletters, access to the entire archive, and custom hike ideas for your next New England trip!)
In any event, I love taking this journey with you. Thank you for your generous support.