I’m Jake Newman. The Portland Logbook is my love letter to this city: the food worth hunting down, the history that refuses to die, the corners you only find if you’re paying attention.

The Curse of the Saco River

It’s Halloween, which feels like the perfect time to dig into a bit of Maine lore. The fog hangs low, the air smells like wet pine and old leaves, and for a week or two every year the state starts to feel like it’s watching you back.

Drive twenty minutes south of Portland and you’ll hit the Saco River. It looks peaceful, slow, even inviting. But if you grew up around here, you know better. The locals will tell you the river has a memory.

The story goes back to the 1600s. A group of English sailors, drunk and mean, decided to test a cruel idea that Native babies could swim from birth. They found a Sokoki woman on the river with her child and flipped her canoe. The baby drowned. Some say she did too. Her husband, Chief Squando, pulled their bodies from the current and cursed the water. It would take three white lives a year, he said, until the river was repaid.

And for centuries, it seemed to listen. Families along the banks used to keep count every spring. If three people had already drowned, it was safe to swim again. If not, you stayed out.

One old Biddeford tale still makes the rounds about a man named Rodney who took his grandkids fishing one summer near Skelton Dam, an old embankment along the Saco River. They say the fog rolled in thick that night, the woods went silent, and then came a cry from the riverbank, a woman’s voice, distant at first, then closer. Help me. The sound circled them in the fog, trading sides, echoing off the trees. Then came the drumming, deep and steady, and small green lights flickering along the shore. By the time they reached the boat launch, something was pounding against the hull from underneath. Some say it was the spirits Squando sent to guard the river. Others call it the curse reminding people to stay away.

Maybe it’s just a fisherman’s story told too many times. Maybe it’s something older. Either way, people here still treat the Saco with a kind of quiet respect. Every year, someone goes missing, and the old timers nod like the math checks out.

🐍 Do you believe in the Curse of the Saco River?

Are the Best Bagels in Brunswick?

I wasn’t looking for a bagel. I was poking around Cabot Mill Antiques, doing my usual loop through the old furniture and glass cases looking for Turquoise when the smell of toasted dough drifted down the hall. Curiosity won.

Dutchman’s Wood-Fired Bagels sits in the same mill, turning out bagels that taste like someone knows what they are doing. They’re chewy in the middle, crisp on the outside, and just smoky enough from the wood oven to make you think about the next bite before you finish the first.

I don’t write about places like this because they’re trendy. I write about them because they feel right and they taste incredible. There’s something about an antique mall and a bagel shop sharing a roof that makes sense.

Anyway, I’ll let this do the talking:

Check Out Dutchman’s

THIS WEEKS CONDITIONS
☀️ SUNRISE: 7:11 AM
🌅 SUNSET: 5:38 PM
☁️ AIR QUALITY: Clean and crisp
🛳 Tourist Level: Light-Moderate, 4.6K passengers. Locals reclaiming the city
🌊 SEA TEMP: 54°F (Casco Bay,
🍁 FOLIAGE WATCH: Many areas show moderate leaf drop
✨ Local Favorite of the Week: Loquat

🐾 Adoptable Buddies of the Week! 🐾

🐶 Ace – 3 yrs
Goofy, loyal, total shadow. Loves toys, walks, and snuggling after a good play. Great manners, great heart. Ready to go home today.

🐶 Vienna – 1 yr
High-energy sweetheart with a spark. Smart, playful, and full of love. Perfect for someone active who wants a partner in adventure.

🐱 Briar – 8 yrs
Independent queen with the softest fur and sharpest charm. Loves company on her terms. Looking for a calm home to call her own.

🐕 Interested? Check them out here