I’ve lived in Maine since I was four, but in October 2024 I bought a townhouse in Bozeman, Montana. If you’re curious why, you can read more here.) This is the first post in a new series I’m calling Maine Versus Montana—a side-by-side look at two places that share a lot in common but live by very different rhythms.
The Common Ground
Both states are defined by open spaces, pine forests, cold winters, and abundant wildlife. Drop a Mainer into Montana and they’d feel familiar sights everywhere—moose, deer, trout streams, and long snowy months.
But the differences are just as striking. Maine’s identity is tied to its rocky coastline, lobstering villages, and salt-air summers. Montana is all about mountains—true to its Spanish name montaña. The state boasts over 100 named mountain ranges, more than almost anywhere else in the lower 48.
Geographically, both sit at the top of the country:
- Maine reaches up to the 47th parallel north.
- Montana goes even higher, right to the Canadian line at the 49th parallel north.
They may be 2,000 miles apart, but both share the same northern DNA—harsh winters, short summers, and a culture that thrives outdoors.
A Bumper Sticker That Says It All
Last weekend at Saddleback Mountain in Maine, I spotted a bumper sticker that read:
“The closer you get, the slower I go.”
It made me laugh because it’s so Maine. Tailgating someone in New England often has the opposite effect of what you want. Instead of speeding up, the driver digs in, slows down, and makes a point of reminding you: Relax. You’re not getting there any faster.
That mentality is everywhere here. Last summer on Monhegan Island, I noticed how people were content to sit on porches, linger at the beach, or simply watch the waves roll in. I even have a T-shirt that says Maine – Going Nowhere Fast. It fits us perfectly.
The Montana Contrast
In Montana, the vibe couldn’t be more different. The culture tilts toward adrenaline and risk: skiing steep lines, climbing peaks, blasting across open valleys. Even the roads tell the story.
If you’re cruising along at 70 mph in Montana (fast enough by Maine standards), don’t be surprised if you’re suddenly passed at 110—or 120. And here’s the kicker: it’s usually not some sports car. More often, it’s a 20-year-old pickup, headlights blazing, driver grinning.
Montanans don’t tailgate. They hang back a few hundred yards, wait for a clean opening (and make sure the coast is clear of deer, elk, or antelope), then hammer the gas. By the time they blow past, you barely saw them coming.
Two Cultures, One Spirit
That Saddleback bumper sticker sums it up: Maine slows you down, Montana speeds you up. One leans into patience, the other into motion. Yet both are cut from the same northern cloth—rugged, self-reliant, and shaped by wild landscapes.
Maybe that’s why I feel at home in both.
