A Strange Freak of Nature
And then came another unique and more or less strenuous incident in the events of the day. This was a trip to that famous wonder of nature in Gray that is known by the name of Glover’s Wig. This can only be reached by a tramp of more than a mile from the main road thru a jungle of bushes and to a tangled mass of ferns and other vegetation. The day was scorching hot and the mosquitoes were there in plenty. The sweat poured in streams but still we tore on thru the jungle stopping only now and then to whistle in order to locate our guide whose experience in woodcraft enabled him to keep well in the lead.
It was a mad race but it was thoroughly enjoyable. Again and again we found that there was a pleasure in the pathless woods where none intrude. The birds twittered above our heads and now and then a startled partridge whirred across our path or a timid hare leaped away in needless fear. It was a touch of nature in her primeval mood and the little discomforts went unnoticed in the poetry and beauty of the scene. And then came the cheerful cry from our guide: “Here we are!” and Glovers Wig towered in majesty above us!
What a freak of nature this was found to be! Imagine a solid ledge rising into the air for one hundred feet and then tipping over at the top to a distance that formed an arch or roof beneath which a regiment of men might easily be sheltered. This precipice extends to a distance of fully 400 feet, ragged and sublime in its grandeur. No camera or brush could give an idea of its majesty as the perspective would be too hard to focus.
Perhaps the most marvelous part of this ledge is the character of the rock. It is iron but not of the kind used by the blacksmith. It is of the chemical kind given by physicians to strengthen their patients and is easily worked. By clambering up the sides we could dig out pieces of the sott rock that would dissolve in the mouth leaving a pungent taste. The attrition of the elements has worn away the soft rock in the centre leaving the arched roof above and this has been frescoed by the hand of nature with a hundred brilliant shades of scarlet and green. This disintegration is rapidly going on and it is a question if the stone could not be turned to commercial purposes.
It is said that the Rickers have offered to build a road from the main turnpike to this spot at their own expense providing that their guests can have the privilege of going there and enjoying the sight. Certainly it is worth going a long way to see. It is a fragment of nature in her wildest mood. It is not a deposit of the glacial age but. extends back into the unknown depths of the old paleozoic period. This great curiosity is on the big lumber tract purchased by the late Mr. Higgins a year or two ago and presented to his son Fred Higgins, whose portrait appears in this article.
In all there are 900 acres and the tract stretches along for more than two miles, Naked the great rock lies in the sunshine, and down its precipitous sides the shadows slowly creep with the descending sun. Here we can easily fancy the old primitive race gathering to hold their solemn councils, and here the helpless captive captive perchance may have been bought for the last sad scene. Of these scenes there are many legends and one of these recount the tale of a pioneer named Glover, who was brought here by the Indians to be tortured. A gigantic savage approached the helpless man and tearing away his scalp held it aloft while derisively saying: “Ugh! See Glover’s wig!” The story reached the outside settlement and from that day the fateful spot has been known by the name of Glover’s Wig. Standing on its solitary grandeur it is like an eternal sentry holding its silent and lonely vigils over a dying past. Surely it was a call of the wild and can be appreciated only by a personal visit. Standing beneath its mighty dome we can better realize the grandeur of the great geological convulsions of the past, and better appreciate the words of Byron that in such a spot all all save the nature of man is divine.
The day had been well spent. The shadows had commenced to lengthen and the mournful cry of a whip-poor- will warned us that the return trip must be made. With feelings akin to awe we took a parting glance at the great precipice of stone and then plunged into the jungle and made our way to our team on the main road a mile away. As Mr. Stevens whipped up the little mare for the homeward journey he inquired: “Do you think you can get a Journal story out of this trip?”
“We will try,” was the reply. And we have tried!
L.C. Bateman*
Extract from the Lewiston-Sun Journal
Saturday, September 4, 1910; Page 25
“Scientific Forestry in the Town of Gray”
The article describes the Glover’s Wig location as Gray; however, it is actually just over the Gray line off Egypt Road in Raymond. The rock formation and the trail leading to it is now [2021] part of the Morgan Meadows Wildlife Management Area, owned and managed by the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife.
*Although not a native of the Twin Cities of Lewiston & Auburn, Luther C. Bateman made an indelible mark on these communities in his later years as he traveled around the state to find stories about interesting people and places. He was a prolific writer and editor of the Lewiston Journal Magazine Section in the late 1800s.
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