The Triple Mountain story

We are country folks, and had been looking for land in the mountains for a couple of years when Roy came across an unusual listing in the newspaper.  He inquired and found that it for was a small mountain (it's really a hill, but by Maine standards, and its official name, it's a mountain).  It was the dead of winter, and we went to see it on snowshoes.  It was a steep climb, with no paths, but when we got to the top, everything felt "right" about the land - It's hard to explain, but it had such a peaceful, welcoming energy that we knew this was the place we were meant to become caretakers for.


While we arranged financing, the listing reappeared in the newspaper... with the price lowered by $25,000!  We put it under contract, and things kept getting better from there.  When we met for the closing, the owner (a logging company) informed us that they "discovered" there were 50 acres more than they had thought, so those were now included!  If that wasn't enough to tell us we were destined to come to the mountain, we kept getting signs to assure us that this was the right path for us.  While building our log home, Roy was sitting on the top row of logs for the main floor, pounding in a long rod to stabilize the wall, when down from the mountain flew the largest goshawk (a raptor) we'd ever seen.  It landed right on top of the wall, only a few feet from Roy, and directly over where our front door would be.  I watched, completely amazed, as their eyes met and they stared at each other for a long time.  Then the hawk raised both wings, held them out a moment, then bowed toward Roy and took flight, circling overhead before returning to the mountaintop.  It's one of those moments you remember for a lifetime.  We nicknamed our home Hawk's Rest in his honor.



Three days after we moved in, we discovered moose tracks coming down from the mountain, completely circling the house (he even took a little nibble out of the front porch) and then continuing on down the driveway to the pond.  Another delightful welcome from our wild neighbors!

A congress of wild turkeys moving across the yard


Our first human visitor was a local Native American who appeared one day carrying a handmade dreamcatcher.  He said it was a gift of gratitude, because he'd heard we planned to keep the mountain wild.  Apparently, before we came along, the land had been put under contract by a sand-and-gravel company who had planned to blast the mountain and sell it for crushed rock!  The townspeople stood up for the land and declined to give the company a permit... They didn't purchase it, it went into the paper, and that's when Roy saw it.  The gentleman was grateful that we planned to care for the mountain, because, he told us, the Pequawket tribe used to pass along its base every year as they migrated to the ocean in the spring and back to the mountains in the fall.  They considered it a special place and would often camp at its foot.  We were honored by this history and his gift, which hangs above our bed to this day.


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