The site stands out in my mind as being almost iconic.

I grew up in Van Buren, a small town near the Canadian border. We often traveled south to Caribou and Presque Isle to shop at Ames, Service Merchandise and the Aroostook Centre Mall — the mall was a bigger deal then — and maybe grab a bite at Burger King. Who remembers the Burger King Kids Club?

When I was a little kid I got car sick pretty easily. I still do, actually. Back then there was little to do but stare out the window or sleep in the backseat of the car — most other activities would make me queasy. The drive down Route 1 to Caribou seemed long (but worth the ride if I got a toy at Ames), Presque Isle was even worse, and a trip to Bangor was almost unbearable. Beyond that seemed like the ends of the Earth to me.

The power plant smokestacks visible from the car window were one of a few key landmarks that I could use to gauge how much longer I had to be in the car.

I moved to Caribou in 2002 to take a job at ATX Forms. Since then, the long-defunct power plant has been a part of my daily experience. My life has changed in innumerable ways since I was a kid, but the smokestacks on that power plant have remained. Even though I’ve seen it thousands of times, my eyes seem just as drawn to it today as years ago.

In recent years, as a subject for photography, I’ve gravitated toward the old power plant on Lower Lyndon Street quite frequently as it’s one of the more interesting sights in Caribou. Exploring the site and buildings from the ground and the air yields some picturesque scenes that speak to what seems like a lost dream of a more prosperous time in Caribou’s past.

The plant that exists today, completed in 1955, was actually an extension of the original timber and stone dam and saw mill built in 1889. The dam would later drive a hydroelectric generator to electrify the town. In it’s day the Aroostook Republican newspaper hailed it as a marvel of engineering and the pride of the town.

I found a newspaper photo taken of the diesel plant being constructed in 1955 that almost mirrors a shot I took with my drone in 2024, 69 years later.

Of course, all things must pass — change is inevitable and all that. Last Father’s Day (2025) I treated myself with an excursion to get some black and white photos of the power plant. I wanted to document as much as I could from the adjacent ATV trail (without trespassing) before the buildings are demolished and the site cleared out for the Riverfront redevelopment project.

Here is a collection of photos I took that day.