We Dare You to Say These 11 Maine Places Correctly on Your First Try (Spoiler: You Can’t)

Maine’s Most Savage Place Names

Locals can spot an out-of-stater from fifty yards just by listening to them desperately attempt to pronounce where they’re headed. Here are 11 of the most difficult to pronounce place names in Maine. There’s almost zero chance for tourists to get them right.

Passagassawakeag River

Nothing says “I’m not from around here” faster than attempting to tackle Passagassawakeag (pass-uh-gass-uh-WAH-keg).

Tourists stumble through this monstrous river name like drunk sailors before locals mercifully inform them everyone just calls it “Passy.”

It comes from the Maliseet language and means “place for spearing sturgeon by torchlight,” which is infinitely cooler than simply saying “that river through Belfast.”

Mattawamkeag

Attempting to say Mattawamkeag is an instant sobriety test.

Out-of-staters routinely crash and burn with “Matta-wam-keg” which literally translates to “fishing beyond gravel bar.”

Once a railroad boomtown, this tiny community of 700 souls now offers more moose than people – a ratio most locals prefer. Mattawamkeag Wilderness Park delivers 1,000 acres of Instagram-worthy nature where the cell service sucks gloriously.

Wytopitlock

GPS systems audibly give up when approaching this former logging powerhouse. It’s “Wit-o-pit-lock,” not “Why-top-it-lock.”

The surrounding forests here offer hunting so good it’s almost unfair, while Wytopitlock Stream holds trout that practically jump into your frying pan.

Saco

Want to piss off a Mainah? Find one and say “Say-co” in front of them. We dare you. And bonus points if you draw it out like “seeeeyyyy-co.”

But say it like you do with “taco,” and you get instant street cred in Maine.

Chemquasabamticook Lake

Local legend says if you pronounce this one correctly three times fast chem-squah-BAM-ti-cook) , Paul Bunyan appears and buys you a lobster roll. We don’t make the rules.

It’s an Abenaki word that means “where there is a large lake and rocks,” though it could just as easily mean “we’re seeing if humans will try to pronounce anything.”

Even GPS systems throw their digital hands up and suggest “Just follow that dirt road.”

Nesowadnehunk Stream

“Neso-wad-ne-hunk” is a linguistic obstacle course that means “stream among the mountains,” which is a lot more poetic than the butchered version from tourists.

Once home to lumberjacks with forearms the size of tree trunks, the area is now part of Baxter State Park, where hikers discover muscles they didn’t know could be sore.

The fishing is legendary, but you’ve got to earn it. Rangers have been known to quiz visitors on the pronunciation before sharing prime fishing spots. Again, we don’t make these (made-up) rules.

Sagadahoc

Not “cicada-hawk.” More like, “sag-uh-da-hawk,” but you have to say it fast.

Home to the Popham Colony (1607), these folks were Maine-ing before Maine-ing was cool – predating those showoffs at Plymouth Rock by 13 years. Despite being Maine’s smallest county, it’s produced more ships than most countries.

Damariscotta

The trick here is to totally ignore the second “A” in there. Then say “Dam-ruh-scott-ah.”

Don’t feel bad – that second A is the middle child of this word, it’s used to it.

Androscoggin

Androscoggin (an-druh-SKAW-gin) sounds like a fantasy novel protagonist or a questionable medical condition.

Visitors invariably butcher it as “An-dros-cog-gin” before a local’s death stare corrects them. This mighty river powered America’s Industrial Revolution before paint could peel off buildings, it’s now clean enough for activities that don’t require hazmat suits.

The county’s 110,000 residents are spread across the twin cities of Lewiston-Auburn. They’re a proud Franco-American heritage and an even prouder tradition of instantly identifying outsiders by their pronunciation.

Bangor

We’ll let you guess this one.

Clue: That’s an “o,” not an “e.”

Cobbosseecontee Lake

Locals will let tourists drown in the “Cob-o-see-con-tee” alphabet soup before mercifully informing them that “Cobbossee” is acceptable in casual conversation.

In the 19th century, entrepreneurs harvested its ice and shipped it to places as far as the Caribbean, exporting winter because Maine had plenty to spare.