New habits

While on the Allagash we were conscientious about keeping our possessions from getting wet, our clothing and sleeping gear packed into large dry bags which, when closed properly, would remain watertight should we overturn the canoe. We also had smaller day packs made of the same material with the same closing system in which to carry things we might need while paddling -- binoculars; camera; an extra warm layer; sunglasses (not really a necessity on this particular trip!), hats, brimmed or warm depending on conditions; gloves.

In my day pack I also carried our set of Allagash Wilderness Waterway maps, my journal and pens, and a copy of "The Allagash" by Lew Dietz, the Dietz in its own zip lock bag and the journal, maps and pens in a second zip lock. Both of those bags went in a nylon, waterproof bag with a roll top which traveled in the larger day bag. Sounds a little like overkill, I admit, but I didn't want to risk losing any of those items.

Yesterday afternoon, to my astonishment, as Tal and I rolled along I-81 through West Virginia and I finished writing in the journal, methodically I put each item back into its proper bag, zipped them both closed, put the bags back into the nylon bag and rolled and clipped the top.

"What am I thinking?" I wondered to myself, when I realized what I had done. Truth is, I wasn't thinking at all. Just doing, following that -- on the water -- necessary routine. A deluge inside the car is highly unlikely, but one never knows ... At least I won't have to go rooting for a pen the next time I need one.

A slow-moving train

We are in the car on I-81 already after a restful (but too short) night at a Holiday Inn Express in the vicinity of Harrisburg PA. Despite sleep -- in a bed larger than the footprint of the tent we used on the Allagash!, a morning shower and the use of a hair dryer for the first time in two weeks, it feels as though we never left the car. We travelled 540 miles yesterday and are looking at about 650 today.

The skies are overcast; the temperature is about 55 degrees. Perfect weather. The Pennsylvania countryside is as I remember it from our years in the Philadelphia area -- softly rolling with neat farms and sensational barns. I wonder if there might be a coffee table book on barns ... Anyway, the only thing marring the view is the privelence of double-decker billboards lining the interstate.

BUT, I'll not focus on that when I have a better view to savor in memory. The light is so soft and even this morning that details seem to leap forward toward one's eyes. When we crossed the Susquehanna River shortly after we got under way, Harrisburg on both sides of the river to my right, a long train, its boxcars colorful, commanded my attention. It was moving slowly eastward and was long enough that it completely crossed the river, the engines just passing out of my line of sight on one shore and cars appearing one-by-one from between buildings on the other.

Stopping to watch would have been such a treat. As it is, though, that train and Susquehanna will remain fused. And, I'll smile wistfully every time I think about it.

Lingering goodbyes

Today has been a long day and we are tired. Since about 10:30 this morning, with a rest stop, another for fuel and a quick lunch of a pizza slice and a 1.5 hour snarl on I-78 behind a hideous accident requiring a HazMat team, numerous fire trucks, two wreckers for the remains of a tractor and its trailer, we have been on the road. About 10.5 hours and 600+ miles. Some people might say that getting there is half the fun. I'm not too sure. Both travel by air and by car is pretty tiring. For most part, though, we have done well, making only two slight wrong turns and getting to and through New York City with surprising ease.

I don't think we have ever willingly had such a late start in the face of an unusually long day. All it took was an invitation from Alana and Colin to Tal ...

We were up at about 6:00, just after dawn. The showers and hot water were sublime. (We arrived back at Chewonki last night late enough that we had to choose between showers and supper, and food won.) Breakfast was served in the dining room, where we gathered as a group for the last time.

Chewonki, as I think I have written before, has a semester program for high school juniors, about 40 students, who have a morning meeting immediately following breakfast in a large lounge on one side of the dining room. During the meeting a report of current, overnight events is presented by a student, reminders of field trip details are announced, and the like. I was sitting there pretty much in awe of the whole process and especially of that assembly of extraordinary young people and the adults guiding them. Colin took the opportunity to introduce our Elderhostel/Road Scholar group before the meeting ended, explaining what we had done over the course of nine days. To be honest, I felt some reciprocal awe ...

That was when Tal amazed me by not being in a hurry to set out for home immediately after breakfast. He took up Colin and Alana's invitation for a walk to The Point. It's a glorious location with about a 300-degree water view. While I cannot explain how deeply satisfying this experience has been, maybe our late start explains it better than words could.

After our return to main campus and when we could linger no longer at the picnic table under the apple tree where we had met for met each other over lunch together on September 5th, it was time to go, a moment that felt like ripping off a bandage. Despite the flare on the lens, I think this photograph pretty much says it all.


I am grateful for eleven days of association with these folks. Now comes the luscious process of mining the treasures of the experience in earnest.

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.

Irish melody

As I sit writing in our tent at the end of this lovely, rainy day, I can hear the crackle of the campfire as it dies down and the sweet strains of Irish-sounding melodies.* Colin is sitting at the water's edge below our camp playing his fiddle, a soothing end to another day on the Allagash River.

We paddled a rather short distance today from Allagash Falls to a campsite at East Twin Brook, located at a bend in the river -- perhaps eight miles. Three factors made today's course particularly memorable:

More rain: Yes, we've had another overcast day. Even Alana and Colin have been surprised by the constant rain. Generally, September in Maine is clear, though cool at night.

The waterway itself: After Allagash Falls the river narrows a bit, winding luxuriously, with silver maples lining long sections of the bank. I can only imagine what it will look like in two weeks, since -- clearly -- fall is here. The river's course is not all tranquility, though. There are rips and slight rapids to negiotiate. Today's section of the Allagash is referred to as "bony." Paddlers have to pick their way through the challenging sections.

The afternoon in camp: Today's paddle ended in a steady rain. By the time we unloaded the boats, Alana and Colin had the tarps over the table and fireplace erected, had built a fire and put lunch out, though, the rain had stopped and stayed stopped until now -- just moments ago (about 20 minutes after Colin finished playing the day to an end). For nearly three hours the camp was still, with quiet conversation, napping, catching up journals, sitting by the fire the primary activity. It was a lovely last encamped afternoon.

It's time to put the writing materials away and turn off the flashlight. I can still hear soft fiddle music even though the instrument's safely back in its dry case and Colin has gone to bed. Enough for the day. That distant music and the strengthening rain will bring on satisfying sleep, I hope.

Two of the three pieces Colin played have names I can remember. One is "Going Up the Allagash," written by Colin himself and the other "Ashokan Farewell" by Jay Ungar. It was written in 1982 and used as the theme for the PBS miniseries "The Civil War." Very delicate and sweet. The link will provide both information on its origins and a very nice rendition to listen to.

To the falls

Today's paddle featured heavy skies and rain, innovative old machinery and a former farm, dreamy stretches and "boney" water, another icy plunge and another birthday cake. It couldn't have been a better day. I confess to deep weariness, though, and no desire to write anything tonight from our campsite halfway through the Allagash Falls portage.

But, there are photos ...

Along our route today we took a break at the Cunliffe Depot campsite to see the remains of two Lombard Loghaulers, steam-powered tractors invented by Alvin O Lombard in the early years of the 20th century.

One of the interesting things about the loghaulers is that they, with their caterpillar tread, are the precurser to the farm tractor and the modern-day military tank.

A week ago we stopped at the Telos checkpoint to register our presence in the North Maine Woods. We enjoyed our lunch today at Michaud Farm, where we identified ourselves to the ranger on duty, signing out as it were. This photograph was taken from behind the Michaud Farm Sign, which has an old saw blade decorating the top.

Allagash Falls is a beautiful, 40-foot waterfall requiring a 150-yard portage. It is difficult to photograph without employing more daredevil tactics than I was willing to risk. This shot is from the bottom looking back. The photo's extreme foreground is the bathing pool -- and the coldest swimming water yet.

The cake

The cake, chocolate with chocolate icing, with which we observed Colin's upcoming birthday, was a stellar success. We crawled into our tents once again well-fed as daylight faded.