Berlin’s Eastern Depot restaurant sits in the shadow of the vacant mill. It’s a dreary Thursday morning and Michael Campbell is finishing his lunch—turkey on white. It’s humid, so he props open the window behind him. Not something he likely would have done a few weeks ago. "Up to last month, the pulp-mill smell was so bad, no one would even want to come to town," he says.

Within hours after the mill closed, townspeople began to breathe a little easier. But only in terms of the odor. "People are very edgy," the burly, bearded 58-year-old says. "If I asked in here how many people were employed," he says, motioning to the small weekday crowd chatting, eating breakfast, and downing coffee, "probably half of them wouldn’t be."

Campbell works in the stock prep department at the Fraser Paper mill a couple of miles downriver in Gorham. Once a newsprint-supplier for the Boston Globe, the mill now produces specialty papers that larger operations can’t cost-effectively handle. Ironically, considering the vast forests surrounding Berlin, the mill has been using Brazilian eucalyptus pulp for several years. Eucalyptus trees reach harvest size in three years, unlike hardwoods that take decades to mature in the New Hampshire cold. But the mill is busy and that’s good news for Campbell. He is still a few years from retirement and staying employed is his number-one goal. Though the pulp and paper industries have almost completely gone to other parts of the country or overseas, like nearly everyone in town he doesn’t want to leave or work anywhere else.

Kevin Slater couldn’t imagine working anywhere else, either. But unlike Campell, the owner of Newry, Maine-based Mahoosuc Guide Service is more concerned with the region’s boom rather than its bust. The timber-frame home Slater built sits on 60 acres and looks out over the kennels that house his 34 Gwich’n sled dogs, a Yukon breed descended directly from the original Royal Canadian Mounted Police canines. They are calmer and sturdier than huskies, qualities necessary for surviving the long haul in a place like this. "More like freighters than racers," he says.

Slater has been guiding in Maine for 32 years and says he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t love it. "But the overhead with living creatures is very different than with a piece of equipment, so we have to charge more. Then we have a short winter like this one and we have to maximize it." But beyond these anticipated variables, Slater says this area just up the road from Sunday River is becoming unaffordable for someone on a guide’s income. The new homes don’t bring more customers his way. He believes the boon is just a temporary one for construction workers and mourns the loss of community around him as more and more of his neighbors are second-home owners. "There is no big vision in place concerning development," he says.

Across the border in New Hampshire, Lincoln Robertson is more hopeful. The owner of the three-year-old North Woods Rafting guide service envisions his mill city will be a mecca for the outdoor tourist. "Without the mill in Berlin, something’s going to happen up there. It’ll be the next Bethel."

Others have similar dreams for the Berlin area. Several years ago, the state of New Hampshire purchased 7,200 acres near Jericho Lake. With 40 miles of trails to be developed over five years—some scheduled to open this summer—it will be the largest ATV park in the Northeast. The area already attracts snowmobilers, but proponents believe ATVs will be an even bigger, year-round business fueling the local economy with new hotels, stores, restaurants, and cabins.

But others warn that recreation isn’t a panacea for the region’s woes. Randolph, N.H. resident John Scarinza wears many hats: adviser to the coalition, a state police officer, and chairman of the town forest commission. He believes recreation is a good second economy, but service jobs don’t pay. "We can’t have a recreation industry without a forest-production industry," he says. "They need to work hand in hand for the greater good."

As a border patrol agent, Scarinza watched truckloads of hardwood leave New Hampshire for Canada, only to come back as furniture. "We need opportunities here to start small businesses—wood pellet production, wood-to-energy plants, making ethanol from woodchips—and business owners need to be encouraged."

In 2001 the town purchased 10,000 acres to create the Randolph Town Forest, a working forest with access for hikers, hunters, and snowmobilers. The land had traded hands four times and decision-making about it was no longer happening in town. The forest has been a feather in the cap for the community, Scarinza says, and can serve as a model for the Mahoosuc region.

Other models are evolving. In New Hampshire, paper companies once practically ran the state. Now there’s no such thing as company land. "We’ve made the transition to investment-company land," says Jasen Stock, who heads the New Hampshire Timberland Owners Association. These days, Stock says landowners are looking at other uses for their properties. "I get calls from people looking for snowmobile camps," he says. "They don’t need trees, just cheap land. If timber was wildly profitable, people wouldn’t think of selling it." But he still sees a lot of private investment into timber ventures, and "this shows there’s a future there. I’m betting it will last."