Wally Warren's "Harmony Wall East."

Day 10: Harmony, Maine

"Did you see what I...?" We stop and turn around. Someone has constructed a wall out of auto bumpers, street signs, and part of an old boat. We walk farther into the woods and notice a cabin; on the door lintel there's a note with a name, Wally Warren, and a phone number where we can reach him in Seattle, Washington. It's worth a call, so we go back to the car (being careful to walk around the washing-machine-agitator sculptures). I call at a pay phone by the side of the road.

"Hello, is Wally there?"

"No, this is Marlene."

I tell Marlene what we saw. She giggles. "We call that wall 'The Harmony Wall, East.' That's because out here we have another wall...." A trailer truck booms by, but I can figure out the rest of the conversation. "Well, nice talking to you, Marlene, and... peace and love. Bye."

Day 11: Rangeley, Maine

In the town report for 1865 the overseer of the poor for Rangeley indicated payments totaling $199.34 to the Bubier family. Legend has it that in the mid-19th century the Bubiers originally lived in Lewiston, but were given some money and told to move out of town -- to go live on the outskirts of Rangeley to fend for themselves. After that the Bubiers were always a contradiction of terms: they were poor, but hard workers.

The Bubiers built a little shantytown that the locals called "Boobytown." Now Boobytown is just a collection of cellar holes. But, we were told, there was one Bubier left, and he lived in a trailer not far away from old Boobytown.

"Virgil Bubier," I called out, careful to stand back; Virgil was using his chain saw. I screamed, "VIRGIL."

He cut the engine. He lit a cigar. "What can I do for you fellows?" His accent was something I could place, but could not name -- a mixture of French Canada and Maine. Virgil wouldn't tell us how old he was, but he recited a lifetime of lumbering and logging. "I could maybe work two-three days without stopping back when we were butt deep in wood. But I can't any more. I just stay here with Sam and Duke, my two friends." Sam and Duke are oxen that Virgil has used to clear his land. It's not easy work.

Lately the weather has been bothering Virgil; he doesn't like the cold. "Ey, I don't like the weather, but so what? I can't change it." Virgil finishes his cigar and, maybe, signals the end of our chat. "I've got some cutting to do."

Day 12: Emery's Misery, Maine

We spoke to many loggers, but none could give us complete details about this mountain and how it got its name. The best we could do was that "... around the turn of the century, a lumber man named Emery tried to log the mountain, couldn't do it, lost a lot of money, and ever since it has been called Emery's Misery." Steve and I found a pilot to fly us in to Aziscohos Lake to see what made Emery's life so complicated.