No one has ever tried to do what the promoters of the Kennebec River Initiative want to do, which is nothing less than the coordinated, ecologically appropriate, economically productive, recreationally enticing, culturally and historically sensitive development of the entire river corridor.

If the initiative can pull it off, it will be a monumental feat.

n First, the geographic challenge:

There are 47 towns along the river corridor. The Kennebec River rises from its source at Moosehead Lake and plunges 170 miles to the ocean. In the north, much of the land surrounding the river is owned by pulp and paper companies. Between Skow-hegan and the head-of-tide in Augusta, the river is bordered by small cities and farms. Its lower segment passes through ecologically rich Merrymeeting Bay, races along industrialized Bath's waterfront and finally spills into the turbulent, white-capped waters created when the force of its outflow meets the currents of the Gulf of Maine.

That huge slice of the state encompasses industrial forests, post- industrial cities and coastal clamflats. Coordinating action along such a large and varied stretch of real estate with so many political divisions is unprecedented in this state, and quite possibly in this country.

n Next, the marketing challenge:

The Kennebec River used to be a filthy, disgusting mess. From the Colonial era until 30 years ago, the river was primarily an industrial asset. Its flow was harnessed for power generation, its waters were used to convey logs and to absorb industrial and human waste. Pedestrians walking across the Father Curran Bridge in Augusta in the 1960s covered their faces because of the river's stench. Toilet paper hung on branches that extended over the river.

But now, more than 30 years after the Clean Water Act was passed, the Kennebec is reborn.

Stripers are caught in Waterville. Clam flats are open in Phippsburg. Riverside trails and parks have sprouted from Fairfield to Richmond. The northern reaches of the river have given rise to a thriving guiding business and whitewater rafting industry. Every week seems to bring an announcement about a new riverside venture.

All of this good fortune and good news is a disadvantage, however, when trying to create a sense of urgency about "Saving the Kennebec." Didn't we already do that?

n Finally, the economic challenge:

What happens up the Kennebec affects what happens down the Kennebec. Consider this scenario: For years, the residents of the tidal town of Phippsburg struggle to clean up their part of the river. It's not simply an environmental goal -- clean water means the town can reopen its clam flats, which can provide a digger with an annual income of $40,000.

The flats finally reopen, after much expense and effort to close down the overboard discharges and other polluters that have fouled area waters for years.

But then an upriver city -- say, north of Augusta -- has a sewage spill, sending bacteria into the Kennebec and forcing the state to close those downriver clam flats.

There goes the income for a bunch of Phippsburg families.

So, with all these challenges, is a collaborative effort aimed at securing the future of the entire river a pipe dream -- or an inspired vision?

We're banking on the latter.

Almost 40 years ago, Skowhegan attorney, fisherman and Kennebec-lover Bill Townsend -- who surely has river water coursing through his veins -- looked at the huge amount of undeveloped land along the river and proposed that the state develop a plan for the Kennebec corridor. It took until 2005 for the state to take Townsend up on his proposal, when the Department of Conservation convened a series of meetings for those interested in helping plan the future of the river.

Hundreds of people - - hikers, paddlers, anglers, economic development officials, business owners, conservationists -- contributed their ideas about how they wanted to see the Kennebec developed. Those ideas were sorted through and lists of potential projects were assembled. Maps were compiled.

And this past week, the Kennebec River Initiative unveiled its plan. Forty-three projects are outlined in the massive report, from upgrading docks in Bath to cleaning up and redeveloping Augusta's Statler Tissue Mill, protecting fish habitat in The Forks, restoring failing riverbanks next to a Madison gravel pit, expanding culverts in Vassalboro and coordinating ecotourism marketing along the entire river.

The unanswered questions: Who will undertake the projects, how they will be paid for, when they will be done, whether there will be a coordinating body with some sort of enforcement power that can actually pull off this huge, sprawling mess of a plan.

But in the midst of the words and maps and lists and meetings and hopes and wishes lies one thing we know for sure: The Kennebec is a great river. Her power and her bounty have defined this part of Maine for millenia. We almost ruined her, but she has come back.

In the past, our destiny was shaped largely by our exploitation of the Kennebec. We have an opportunity now to show that we need not abuse the river to use it -- and even profit from it. The Kennebec's greatness -- as a healthy, intact, living river -- holds promise for us.