Pull outs, drop offs, arrivals

We made great time this morning. Up earlier than normal and working toward a 7:30 departure from our East Twin Brook campsite, we were intent on getting to our pull out point just past Allagash Village, where the Allagash joins the St John River. Although we were almost 30 minutes late leaving camp, we more than made up for it on the river, arriving at the pull out before 10:30, a full hour earlier than expected. Alana had us threading the needle rather neatly -- finding the best running water and dodging rocks, most of us hanging up only once or twice and then not significantly.

Here are Dave, Kathleen and Eric with an array of our stuff while waiting the van and trailor's arrival from the local outfitter who moved it from Churchill Dam to Allagash Village.

And, here (in a photograph by Colin) is the entire group, flanked by our guides, Colin and Alana, at the end of our 75-mile paddle and the beginning of a 300-mile ride back to Wiscasset.

With a stop for fuel and a trailor-side picnic lunch in Fort Kent, van trouble requiring a stop at Midway and a stop once again in Bangor to drop off two of our new friends meeting their ride to Bar Harbor, we arrived at Chewonki at 6:30.

Into the water

No, we did not end up in the water with an overturned canoe. But, yes, I have wet feet all day every day, the "Chewonki way" of loading and getting in an out of a canoe requiring wading in ankle-to-knee deep water. And, yes, the rain continued through the day. In addition to all that wetness, it also seems as though fall has come to the Maine North Woods -- couple of weeks before the equinox. This has been out coolest day yet; I wore my wool knit sleeping hat all day.

Paddling ten miles in the dreary chill, however, was not without its beauty. In fact, the entire distance was in the river (no lakes or ponds to traverse), a narrow, meandering ribbon with stretches of serene flat water breaking up the more challenging shallow water with its rips, rocks and rapids. Tal commented more than once through the day that "this" is what he came here for.

Our lunch stop was at the new and controversial Henderson Brook Bridge on the Blanchet-Maibec Road. Seems it replaced a 39-year-old temporary bridge and many objected to a permanent structure. It's beautiful in its simplicity and I must say, since leaving I-95 on Sunday, I have been surprised by every bridge (not very many, I hasten to add) we've crossed over or paddled under. They may have a steel superstructure, especially the newer ones, but the rails and decks are of wood -- very large wood -- held together with huge bolts.

As we neared the inlet to Round Pond, the river braided and slowed. At that point we were treated to the sight of large, elegant elms on either side of the river (the first of which is shown here), having survived Dutch Elm disease because of their isolated location.

It is mid-to-late afternoon as I write this and our camp on Round Pond is set up, again the rain abating during that process. Several of us have been in the water. Including me! And, how was it? Cold? Bracing, breathtaking, brutal. But, refreshing. I am grateful for having brought both the bathing suit and the felt-like microfiber camp towel. Though we cannot actually bathe, I did with biodegradable camp soap manage to wash my slicked-to-the-head dirty hair. The rinse had to be done on the shore in a water-filled bucket, the rinse water then poured out several feet up inland so it would filter through shrubs, grass and rocks before returning to the Allagash.

And, now, at the moment we're all gathered around the table -- warm drink in hand and warm fire nearby. Supper (of mac'n cheese) is underway with the chocolate cake having been put on the fire first. Colin and Tal definitely have the best seat in the house.

A long haul

Today we paddled from our Chisholm Brook campsite through Umsaskis Lake, Long Lake and Harvey Pond. It was a very hard day for Tal and me. We seem to be better at rips and rapids than we are long stretches of lake and headwinds in intermittent rain. Consistently, we were at the end of the line. On a positive note, however, we didn't lose ground as we did on our first day out and, when all was said and done, we made the distance. A T-shirt that Chickie and Pat Harristhal sold in their shop at Canadian Border Outfitters outside Ely MN, which had "Shut Up and Paddle" on the front, was my mantra for the day.

Of course, it wasn't all gloom. We saw our first moose up close on the approach to the American Realty Road bridge crossing the thoroughfare between Umsaskis and Long Lakes. She was watchful as our flotilla approached, but continued eating until about the third canoe passed under the bridge, only then slowing moving back into the tall bushes. We were pretty far behind and my camera's focal length power is limited, so I didn't get a very good, close, well-composed shot.

We have camped at the ruins of the Long Lake Dam, a very picturesque spot. The ruins of the dam might seem runnable both from the water and from the campsite bluff, but the literature I've seen suggests strongly trying it to be a bad idea, there being submerged spikes which could seriously damage a canoe. A short portage is required, so the canoes were brought out of the water and to the campsite for the night.

This afternoon has provided Tal the second opportunity he has had to use his flyrod, the first having been at Churchill Dam Tuesday afternoon. While none of the fishermen in the group (Colin, Eric, Tal) have caught anything they could keep, watching them in action is a pleasure.

Chase Rapids

I am writing after our run down the Chase Rapids and we're all in one piece! I cannot say that anxiety was not part of the experience. The rapids are four miles long with a drop of about nine feet per mile. I'd be telling a mighty lie were I to discount how worried I was. It could have been Niagara Falls as far as I was concerned! Truth is, since all our big gear -- our dry packs; tents; the wannagans, the cooler and the pickle barrels containing our food -- was transported around the rapids by the ranger so we could run with empty canoes, I comforted myself by acknowledging that were I absolutely unable to force myself to participate I could ride around with him and the gear. Miraculously, that thought did help.

I rained some in the night and we awoke to a steady rain. Alana amazed me with breakfast. Had I been in her position, facing rain and a challenging section of water with several novice paddlers, likely I would have served cold cereal and bagels, something quick and simple. A reflection of my anxiety, I judge. She and Colin, on the other hand, produced bacon and blueberry pancakes with Vermont maple syrup over a fire!

On days when there are paddlers waiting to run the rapids water is released through the dam from 8:00AM to noon. After the gear had been loaded into the truck and while we waited to see if the rain would abate and for the water in the Allagash to rise, we walked across the dam to visit the museum. Late blooming lupine in pink and blue on the east side of the dam was a surprise to us all, and a particular pleasure to me as it was Hester's favorite flower and something she loved most especially about Maine.

The rain kept falling, though, and the water wasn't going to get any higher. We had to set out.

This photograph is one taken by Colin in sweep position just as we left the dam. The first rapid is around the curve in the river to the left. I am grateful to Colin for having documented the group's passage, as all of us kept our cameras stowed in our waterproof day bags and pretty much had all we could handle in the rushing water presenting itself to us.

Within a couple of hours we'd done it with only one mishap. A canoe went over on the second rapid and as serious as it could have been the paddlers did what they'd been instructed to do during yesterday's practice and Alana and Colin's extensive training at Chewonki became evident immediately. Tal and I were the fourth canoe in the line, so we eddied out and waited until everyone was back in the proper boat and the water was clear. We had our turn without having anyone to follow to show the way and we did fine. It wasn't all easy after that, but I settled down, realizing that all we had to do, all we could do, was follow when we were able to see a canoe in front of us, try to read the water no matter what and take the river as it came.

We stopped at the site of the former Bissonnette Bridge where our gear had been deposited to reload the canoes and for a relaxing lunch break. Alana's tuna salad was exceptionally magnificent! Even the outhouse was deserving of its own photo. I suspect it was pure relief that enlivened my reactions to the ordinary to such a heightened degree.

In this downstream view our reloaded canoes await the next leg of our journey.

Practice

I began writing this while sitting at a table in our campsite at Churchill Dam, but didn't get very far. The sound of the Allagash water running through the dam was loud, but not overly so, and very steady. From where I was sitting I could see the dam and the museum on the east side of the river. The museum (once a storehouse)and another large, now-abandoned, building behind me (a boarding house in the day)are the only buildings remaining from a logging complex on this site known as Churchill Depot, a rather large and thriving community in the 1920s and 1930s.

In addition to the sound of the Allagash, a soft, slow rain made a wonderful noise on the tarp covering the table and fireplace. It was a sound completely different from what I would have been hearing had I been in the tent writing. It had been a busy day to that point with paddling in the morning, setting up camp after lunch and practice on the river before free time.

So, the practice. Colin and Alana presented an overview of how to read fast water, what to do in the case of a tipped canoe (and what they would be doing) and then had us put the canoes in the fast water on the downstream side of the dam. There we practiced ferrying (crossing moving water without losing ground), prys and draws (to turn the canoe quickly), eddying in and out of the current. Most important? Don't follow to closely, if in trouble blow the whistle attached to one's PFD, have fun. Yeah, right. The thought crossed my mind that we won't know how well we learned those techniques during our practice session until we're put to the test in the Chase Rapids tomorrow.

Needless to say, a nap called after all that. Then it was time to begin supper. That activity is well underway in the photograph below.


This is Alice helping with the prep work for our meal of Gado-gado, an Indonesian stirfry, featuring lots of fresh vegatables and a tantalizing peanut sauce. We finished the meal and finished cleanup before dark descended -- no headlamps necessary.

Seems as though practice in camp is paying off. I do hope the same holds true for our pre-rapid practice in the water earlier in the afternoon.

Headwinds

Yesterday afternoon was a terribly difficult time. I was in no way prepared for such a formidable start, five miles of paddling into a relentless, howling headwind. By the time we approached Scofield Point, despite several all-group rest stops, Tal and I were so tired that we didn't quite make it to the campsite. When we tried to round the point, our canoe was caught broadside by the wind and we simply couldn't keep paddling straight long enough to complete the turn.

Colin was in the single canoe in sweep position; he recommended that we paddle to the bank on the back side of the point, which we did. Exhausted, we carried our personal gear up the shore to the campsite. We weren't quite alone in our failure, but we didn't make it by a considerably larger margin than a few of the others. Colin assisted folks with gear while Alana and Eric ferried canoes. What a beginning.

But, Scofield Point was certainly worth the pain, I must say. As we set up our tent and camp life was established, the wind died down and we took a short walk along the bank soaking up the stillness and the quiet.


We arrived and ate late enough that we needed headlamps again before the cleanup was finished, but what a meal -- a delicious concoction of black beans and salsa, sauteed onion and ground meat for burritos and a dessert of ginger-brownie cake baked over the campfire. Divine! Have I mentioned that Alana is a personal chef?

It rained in the night, a nice sound on the tent fly. And, as Tal and I were waking in the pre-dawn, we heard very distinct footsteps outside and moving past our tent. Moments later came a terrible snap followed by a loud crash. A moose had come through the campsite, getting tangled in one of the lines securing the tarp over the table and fireplace. Very exciting! We should have seen moose eating in the marshy area at the back of the point after dawn, but with the unusual wind direction continuing overnight, they with their acute sense of smell stayed away.

With the overnight rain came a change in wind direction to what Alana and Colin had expected for yesterday. So, today we paddled back to Churchill Dam with -- a headwind. Somehow, we were more ready for it today than yesterday and, though hard, we kept up pretty well.

To Chewonki ... and beyond

Tal and I have looked forward to canoeing the Allagash for several months now -- for the legendary white pines, for the challenage of serious physical activity, for getting to know a new group of people -- well, for lots of reasons. And, I like to travel, pretty much for travelling's sake, truth be known. With Hester's death I added another hope after we wiped our tears and waved goodbye to Bill: that the primitive nature of the Allagash Wilderness Waterway and the Maine North Woods will provide space for quiet and memory and for grief and gratitude.

We left Saturday Cove after breakfast this morning for the one and a half hour drive to Wiscasset and to find Chewonki, sponsor and coordinator of our trip. We did the "duffle shuffle" (getting our things out of our own luggage and into dry packs), met and had lunch with our two guides -- Alana and Colin, both from Maine, and three of the five others in our Road Scholar group -- Alice from Williamsburg VA and Kathleen and Dave from near Ashland VA, loaded up and at 2:00 set out in a 12-passenger van with canoes following along behind. (Pictured here is Tal double-checking the canoe straps.)

At a Dysarts truck stop in Bangor we rendezvoused with our final two group members, a father and son -- Ron and Eric, Ron from Maine and Eric from Idaho. Although at a little after 4:00 we were officially together and on our way, it wasn't until we left I-95 at Medway/East Millinocket and headed into Maine's interior that the remoteness of what we were about to do began to sink in for me.

It was dusk before we pulled into Chewonki's Big Eddy Campground on the Golden Road (which runs from Millinocket to the Canadian border and is the most active logging road in New England) and the West Branch of the Penobscot River, just outside Baxter State Park. It was there that we learned to pitch out tents and had our first meal cooked over a fire -- both activities accomplished in the dark. Now I understand why headlamps, rather than flashlights, were so highly recommended on our equipment lists ...