Rollie’s Café is a sports bar about a block from the harbor in Belfast, Maine, a small former fishing town (now home to a large Bank of America operations center) that is one of a number of such towns dotting the coast of Penobscot Bay. Sports bars are not usually great trolling grounds for a guy hoping to land some local craft beers—so-called shoals of lighter national brews like Miller Lite and Budweiser—but a friend had tipped me off to Rollie’s exceptionally good cheeseburgers and fresh-cut fries, so I stopped in while on summer vacation.

For the most part, Rollie’s is just what you’d expect: lots of TVs and Red Sox banners. But the draft beer was a pleasant shock; along with the light everybeers, the bar had a mess of Maine varieties: Sebago Frye’s Leap India Pale Ale, Export Ale, Summer Ale, India Pale Ale, Old Thumper Extra Special Ale from Shipyard Brewing, and Sea Dog’s deliciously blueberried Blue Paw Wheat Ale. Best of all, bartender Mike Runci, a bluff, stocky Belfast native, had an informed opinion when I asked him which I.P.A. I should try. “I like the Sebago better, myself,” he said, and poured me a glass that exuded a cloud of piney hop scent.

With the brisk Sebago quickly drunk and an order of fresh-cuts half-eaten (but fully enjoyed), I thanked Mike for the good steer and asked him if this was the town’s beer bar. “No,” he said, “there are three or four other places that have a better selection than we do.”

That’s how it goes all across Maine. “In most of the state, you’d be hard-pressed to find a bar that doesn’t have craft beer,” says David Geary, the outspoken founder and owner of D.L. Geary Brewing, in Portland. “There are still some pockets holding out, but generally, if a place has draft, you’ll find craft.”

That’s true in more and more markets these days. Bar owners have recognized that there is a small but loyal market for craft beer, and that makes it easier to find something crafty. Most times that means Sam Adams, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, or one of the other nationally distributed crafts.

But not in Maine. Mainers have their own beers, thank you, and don’t need any “from away.” You might find a Sam Adams seasonal, but more likely you’ll come across Shipyard’s Export or Geary’s Pale Ale. This shouldn’t come as a surprise; I’ve never seen Pennsylvania stores or Illinois stores in my travels, but it seems like there’s a Maine store, with Made in Maine items, every three miles in the Pine Tree State. There’s even the Maine State Prison Store, in Thomaston, featuring crafts made by prisoners . . . in Maine.

Geary, who runs the state’s oldest microbrewery (20 years brewing last December), estimated that craft represents 10 to 12 percent of beer sold in Maine, about three times the national average. Local producers are beating national figures as well. While U.S. sales of craft beer grew 17.8 percent in 2006, Geary reported 23 percent growth in volume production that same year. The state’s biggest brewer, Shipyard, also located in Portland, racked up 69,700 barrels (almost a million cases) for a 24 percent increase. Sebago Brewing, in Goreham—the maker of my I.P.A.—increased production by about 20 percent, and Allagash Brewing, situated less than 200 yards away from D.L. Geary, saw 33 percent growth.

Like the other brewers, Allagash sees a lot its expansion happening within Maine. “Boston, Washington, Chicago, Philly—they’re all doing great,” says owner and brewer Rob Tod. “But Maine is exploding.”

Tod adds, “We would have seen even more growth last year, but we were running up against capacity at the old brewery.” Allagash, named for the wild river in northern Maine, moved into a new, much larger brewery next door to its original quarters in March of 2007.

Mike Dickson has been working the taps for 19 years at the Great Lost Bear, a Portland bar where Maine beers take up three-quarters of the 52 dispensers. Says Dickson, “The outstanding feature of Maine microbreweries is the Ringwood process of brewing,” a traditional English system based on the Ringwood yeast strain and a basic, non-automated brewhouse.

Shipyard founder Alan Pugsley, a consultant for English brewer Peter Austin, brought over both the yeast and the process about 20 years ago. Austin envisioned small breweries, using this hardy, distinctive yeast and simple brewing equipment, spreading across the world. Pugsley introduced the system to a number of East Coast breweries, including Geary and Portland brewpub Gritty McDuff’s, before opening Shipyard with partner Fred Forsley, the owner of another Austin-system brewpub in Kennebunkport, Federal Jack’s.

Shipyard, Geary, and Gritty’s continue to dominate sales in the state (Gritty’s bottled beers are produced under contract at Shipyard’s plant) with traditionally brewed British-style ales like the dark, dry Geary’s porter, Gritty’s cool, low-alcohol bitter, and Shipyard’s malty, spicy I.P.A. (I had one at Rollie’s after the Sebago.)

“Ringwood sets Maine beer apart regionally,” says Sebago’s head brewer, Tom Abercrombie. “There’s the Ringwood camp, and then there’s the rest of us. Most of our beers­—the Brown, especially—fall into a British style with an American yeast. They’re looser interpretations of the style.” Other small Maine brewers, including Atlantic, Bar Harbor, Sheepscot Valley, and Andrew’s Brewing, also hew to that British tradition.

Maine does have room for variety: Mid-size Allagash is an innovative brewery that started with Allagash White, a beautiful, traditional Belgian witbier—cloudy, spicy, and refreshing—and moved on to big, barrel-aged beers, beers brewed with grapes, and varieties infused with the dry funk of a house-developed brettanomyces yeast strain.

If only someone in the state would start brewing some good lagers, Maine would be a holistic beer-drinker’s paradise. But when you’re sampling the panoply of Maine beers at the Great Lost Bear, or taking in the Portland waterfront over a pint of bitter at Gritty McDuff’s, or talking I.P.A.’s with Mike at Rollie’s Café, it’s easy to see why locals are pretty happy with Made in Maine.