In Maine, the escape to nature is more than just a getaway—it’s a lifestyle

It is a bold choice to make your state’s motto “Vacationland.” In Maine, the phrase is spotted on license plates, welcome signs, and t-shirts. It is an open-arms invitation for visitors, but also a mantra for the year-round Mainers who live a more laid-back lifestyle compared to their neighbors in the Northeast (New Yorkers and vacationland? Fuhgeddaboudit.) In a small stretch of coastline from Scarborough to Freeport, there are countless examples of Maine’s commitment to building cities in harmony with nature, not against it. This interlacing of waterfalls and river sanctuaries with urban delights is one of many ways life here is designed to remind you to slow down and take a walk. It may only be your hour-long lunch break, but that’s enough for a short vacation.

Less than 20 minutes from downtown Portland, I set out to experience three distinct beaches. Two Lights State Park has the classic cascading cliffside of rocks where ocean waves crash along the unique formations. I do feel the need to write a quick PSA: despite the name, the park harbors no lighthouses within its borders–its namesake lighthouses are located just down the road. But what the park does offer are colorful tide pools and many benches hidden among its pathways to relax and take it all in. As a Floridian with the irrational and entrenched belief that the ocean should be the temperature of bathwater, I prefer to stay dry and watch the Atlantic smash against the rocks.

However, for those of you with a backbone, Scarborough Beach, with its long stretch of white sandy beach, is a popular spot for surfers and swimmers. Walking along the cool edge of the water, I am excited to see surfers of all ages and genders tackling the waves. No surf rage in sight here. Nestled in between Scarborough and Two Lights, I stop at Higgins Beach, an inviting small town with classic houses right along the shore. At this early hour, dogs are comingling, and a fly fisherman tells me this is a special spot to catch striped bass. Regardless of how you like to enjoy the ocean, every option is within a short drive. 

Back in Portland, I travel from the Old Port to Back Cove, a 3.6-mile loop around an estuary basin with a picturesque view of the city skyline. Driving the cobblestone streets, Portland feels like someone took the small port from another city and hit it with a growth ray. The charming neighborhoods here are the whole thing. I continue past brick industrial buildings and elegant Queen Anne-style homes to arrive at Presumpscot River Preserve Trail. Walking from the Presumpscot Falls Bridge, after a half-mile it feels like I am hours from the city. Large herons and other birds sit along the waterfront, and a low fog settles in the forest. I climb over a few trees that fell after a recent storm. It feels wild despite being steps from civilization.

This reaction is echoed when I explore Fore River Sanctuary later in the day. Hiking by train tracks into a thick wooded area, I find Jewel Falls, Portland’s only natural waterfall. Local families are walking with their kids and dogs. One charismatic pup with an endearing limp approaches me for a scratch. Her owner is excited to share, “We walk here every day. It’s her favorite place, though she shouldn’t drink from the falls.” I look down. She’s drinking from the falls. But who am I to deny this indulgence? After all, she’s on vacation too. 

One of the unexpected sights from the East End of Portland is Fort Gorges, a historic military fort dating back to the mid-1800s and built on a small island not far from the piers. I want a closer look, and Zack Anchors, co-founder and owner of Portland Paddle, is just the person to get me there. I hold back a joke about his fitting last name as we climb into our kayaks. Zack, like many Mainers I talk with, left the state for a while but eventually came home. With easy access to the water, he guides day trips and multi-day excursions around the surrounding archipelago. “There aren’t many places where you can explore thousands of islands, many of which are uninhabited,” he says.

Even with the tide and wind against us, it doesn’t take long to arrive at Fort Gorges. Pulling our kayaks up on the shore, I feel a mythical sense of discovery. The architecture of the fort looms overhead, and native plants sprout along the top. Though nature has worked hard to take it back, the nonprofit Friends of Fort Gorges is committed to preserving and invigorating the space with arts and culture. They’ve hosted events like live opera singers and scavenger hunts. It is a stunning location for a show, a wedding, or, you know, to reenact a gladiator showdown. There are spiral stone staircases, and I marvel at the hand-carved granite slabs that were somehow transported out across the bay. Maintaining this space for the public is a never-ending battle with the elements. Storms wear away at the wharf and large tides shift the sand. Regardless, the Friends of Fort Gorges are committed and has grand visions to continue reimagining the fort for years to come.

Eager to learn more about the strength of the tides, I head to Wolfe’s Neck Woods State Park, a dynamic peninsula just southeast of Freeport. I approach park manager Andrew Hutchinson, or “Ranger Andy,” who has worked for the park service for 40 years. At low tide, a massive expanse of mud is exposed, and he takes out a few tools to harvest a clam. Visitors at Wolfe's Neck can legally clam here without a license. In a few hours, the park will be unrecognizable. Islands become islands again, and water fills in the gaps between large slabs of rock. We amble across a bridge, and Andy stops me, pointing through a small break in the trees. An osprey nest is perfectly positioned atop a withered tree. As if on cue, an osprey chick pops its head above the edge of the nest. “They’ve nested here as long as we have recorded history,” Andy observes. I rave about how everywhere I’ve been is next door to neighborhoods and restaurants, but here the nature is pristine. It’s like traveling through portals into the natural world. 

Mainers also take care of their land, acting as careful stewards of the bountiful nature that surrounds them. Experiencing this commitment so thoroughly, I’ve grown a connection to these serene oases in a matter of days. My time is wrapping up, and I think, “You can’t be on vacation ALL the time.” Isn’t that the point of vacation? It’s special because it’s temporary, fleeting: Magic found in a finite suspension of reality. Driving south out of Portland, I spot two neighbors talking over a white picket fence, laughing in the soon-to-be summer twilight. These folks have found a way to make a state of mind usually found only on vacation a part of their everyday lives. The speed limit increases from 30 to 45 to 60. My foot is hesitant to press the gas pedal down farther, life in the fast lane is coming back too quickly. It’s always hard when a vacation ends, but it’s even harder when you’re leaving Vacationland.