A camp surrounded by colorful foliage seen on the banks of the Salmon Falls River in Lebanon on Oct. 10. Brianna Soukup/Portland Press Herald

Commercially run wilderness fishing and hunting camps have been part of Maine tradition since the 1800s. Peaking at some 300 such camps in the early 1900s, camps today measure in the dozens as owners have passed away, camps have closed, tourists’ tastes have changed and, in some camps, have become privately owned. At the same time, many remaining camps are thriving.

This two-part series traces the history of these camps, opportunities and challenges they face, and the new landscape carrying on and extending the traditions of these wilderness outposts.

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The single-engine Cessna Straight Float Skyhawk lifts off easily from Lower Shin Pond outside Patten, banks to the northwest and levels off at 500 feet above the pine trees, opening a view onto a vast green expanse. We are flying over the 4-million-acre North Maine Woods, though comprehending that scope of land seems impossible.

“It’s eight horizons to the north and four horizons to the west,” explains Igor Sikorsky, pilot and owner of Bradford Camps, our destination. As Sikorsky navigates the 30-mile flight, Bradford’s idyllic lakeside cabins come into view amidst a landscape of mountains, valleys, streams and dozens of moose feeding in scores of ponds and lakes. Dirt-track logging roads thread beneath the greenery.

Founded in 1890, Bradford is a traditional off-grid Maine sporting camp, historically catering to anglers and hunters. Bradford is also one of the latest Maine sporting camps to be put up for sale, a trend that is redefining the number of camps, the owners of these camps and, in some cases, the traditions of Maine sporting camps.

A dream come true

Sikorsky and his wife Karen are the fifth owners of Bradford Camps, purchasing it in 1996.

“It was a dream come true,” said Sikorsky, whose grandfather founded helicopter technology pioneer Sikorsky Aircraft, now part of Lockheed Martin.

Bradford is a traditional, open-to-the-public hunting and fishing lodge and guests can arrive by Cessna or drive in. The property includes a main lodge, two remote outpost camps, an owner’s cabin, icehouse, and related structures and facilities. Eight private cabins with full baths front Munsungan Lake. Light comes from propane lanterns; electricity at the lodge from a generator. With road and air access to scores of nearby waters and game habitat, by any measure, Bradford is a fishing and hunting paradise for its guests, or “sports” as they are known. But more and more it attracts guests who just want to “get away, relax and check in with themselves, their family and the natural world.”

As the Sikorskys look to sell Bradford and start their transition to retirement, the remoteness of Bradford and other camps like it is the biggest draw for sports and other guests. But that same remoteness — access by plane or via rough logging roads, no cell service, limited TV and Wi-Fi — makes owning and running the place a special challenge.

“It’s difficult to find the next us” as buyers of Bradford, Sikorsky said. “It is a business, but it’s also a lifestyle that demands that you work hard, care about guests, handle staff, manage sporting guides, maintain the infrastructure and care deeply about wildlife, the fishery and the history. And it is difficult to get people to work at the camps.”

An uncertain future

The future of sporting camps established beginning in the late 1800s is “uncertain given the number of issues that they face,” wrote Catherine Cyr, associate curator at the Maine Maritime Museum in Bath in her master’s thesis about Maine camps. Among the issues Cyr highlights are the difficulty of hiring and keeping staff; increased daily operating costs including food, insurance and taxes; and the high cost of purchasing camps for members of the middle class who traditionally owned, worked and lived on-site.

Peaking in the early 1900s at some 300, commercially run Maine sporting camps today number a few dozen, according to local observers, as many have closed or been sold to private individuals or corporations that no longer take paying guests. Others are operating successfully, giving guests access to wilderness, wildlife, fishing and hunting opportunities available in few other places. But while demand remains high for the experiences these camps offer, the realities of owning and operating remote sporting camps has never been more challenging. The future of Maine sporting camps is being written today.

Maine hunting and fishing camps emerged in the post-Civil War era as more people had the time, money and desire for active vacations and as new railroad lines helped make travel to remote areas easier, according to Cyr, who curated a new exhibit at the Maine Maritime Museum, “Upta Camp” (through 2025), that surveys the development of Maine camps.

Maine’s first camps were influenced by the development of grand, private “camps” (read: “mansions”) in New York’s Adirondack mountains. Guidebooks and other publicity in the late 1800s brought attention to the Rangeley Lakes area of western Maine and eventually to northern regions of the state and the much more rustic camps there targeting traveling sportsmen. Not unlike logging camps in some ways, early sporting camps in Maine were originally mostly for men, with a common log cabin for dining and socializing, and simple private sleeping cabins.

Tune in next week for Part II, where we’ll look to the future of Maine camps.

Tom Walek is a lifelong trout fisherman, sometime fishing writer, professional communicator (financial PR and journalism) and a resident of Brunswick.