Maine still special for Pennsylvania couple for what it isn’t

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Spend enough years here in Maine, and there will likely come a time when you’ll step back, shake your head, and wonder exactly what it was about the place that entranced you enough to make you ignore the other stuff.

Maybe you’ll get that feeling about the time a pulp truck kicks up yet another rock that zings loudly off yet another windshield … and you know you’ll have to replace that otherwise perfect windshield before even the inspection station next door will consider issuing you your coveted sticker.

Or maybe it’ll hit you about the time you’re shoveling thick, wet snow out of your dooryard (yes, we Mainers are proud of our dooryards) for the fourth time in a week.

And then, every once in awhile, you meet people like Ken Moore, and in 10 minutes he shows you exactly why you’ve decided to stay.

Leave it to a guy from away to screw up a perfectly good native rant.

“Are you a Mainer yourself?” Moore asked a few weeks ago.

When he heard the answer, he smiled.

“You’re lucky. I’m from Pennsylvania. Down near Philadelphia. And I’m happy to be away from it.”

Maine, you see, isn’t special merely because of what it is. It’s also a great place to spend time because of what it isn’t.

Moore, a 79-year-old from Jenkintown, Pa., understands that. And since 1950, he’s been heading to Maine just before the leaves begin to turn.

Nowadays, he and his wife Ruth (whom he married “in about 1947 … I think.”) don’t make concrete plans. They head to Maine … stop off in the southern part for a bit … then head north to Greenville. Maybe they’ll enjoy the state for a couple of weeks. Maybe they’ll stay longer.

One thing, though, is certain:

When hunters head into the woods for early October’s moose season, they’re likely to see Ken when they get back to civilization.

He’ll be the distinguished looking gent wearing the faded blaze orange Cabela’s fedora. He’ll be the one checking out each moose alongside the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife officials. He’ll be the one with a grin and a story for everybody.

Moore clearly enjoys his time here, and pays close attention to everything he sees … and everyone he meets.

He opens a worn date book and displays pages filled with names. Ever since he began coming to Greenville, Moore has kept track of people he’s met. Some are hunters. Others are state wildlife officials. And still others are just writers and photographers who’ve stopped to say “hello.”

Moore began heading to Maine for the partridge hunting, but found he also liked being a spectator during moose season.

For years, he applied for a permit of his own, but has since decided that his moose hunting days are behind him.

“I’ve gotten too old,” he said. “That’s a lot of work.”

Moore knows what he’s talking about: Back in 1968, he headed to Canada, bagged a moose of his own, and found out exactly how much work can be involved.

There was no convenient road system, he explained. No friendly skidder-operator near by to haul the beast back to a waiting truck.

Instead, Moore and his hunting partners had to chop the moose into pieces and lug it out of the woods.

“It took four of us two days to carry it out on our backs,” he said.

“But we were lucky. It was downhill.”

Nowadays, Moore continues to hunt, but focuses his attention on game that’s easier to carry … like birds.

When he and Ruth head to Greenville, their days are flexible.

Sometimes Ruth stays in camp and reads or watches “her stories” on TV. Sometimes, she and Ken both venture into the wilderness north of Route 15, between Jackman and Rockwood.

“When we go out in the woods, she sits in the car and does puzzles, reads the newspaper, keeps an eye on the loggers in their big trucks,” Ken Moore said.

“Then I come in at noontime and we eat there. We sit by the road and eat, and we’ll tip our hats to the loggers as they drive by,” he said. “They give us a big toot, and we hold a cup of coffee up to ’em, give ’em a salute.”

Later in the day, he’ll stop by the tagging station, check out the progress, and listen to the tales of excited moose hunters.

Later in the week – after the opening rush – state officials might even give Ken a clipboard and let him participate in the tagging process.

Then, a week … or two … or three later, Ken and Ruth will head home.

They love spending time in Maine, you see. But unlike many of the rest of us, they’re unwilling to put up with some of that other stuff.

October may be warm. It may be cool. But December’s coming. And January. And the Moores aren’t going to be around for that.

“I want you to do me a favor, though,” Ken Moore says – eventually – to every Mainer he meets.

“Have a nice winter.”

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.