Day 20 (!) – Connecticut River, NH, to West Milan, NH

F-2016-9-9

Start: Samuel Benton Campsite on Connecticut River, NH

End: Cordwell Campsite on the Upper Ammo

On the Way:  Connecticut River, Upper Ammonoosuc River, Stark

Miles: 25.8.  Milepost: 357.9

Map: 7

Every weekend, I forget about what weekends entail.  In this case, it entailed people staying at campsites for fun.  Novel concept.  This bunch has been nice enough, but their party included no fewer than four dogs, all of whom are fond of barking.  Fortunately the dogs went to sleep pretty readily (they have their own 2-man tent).  They brought loads of food and generously offered to share, so I had one of their all-beef hotdogs (those bizarre pink-dyed ones that New Hampshire folk seem to be so fond of), a protein bar, and some pretzels.  One of them is explaining how he tries to espouse minimalism by eating MREs and leaving his ground pad at home when he goes hammock camping in his sleeping bag…and he wonders why his backside gets cold.  Around their camp are no fewer than three coolers.  Campers can be a funny bunch.

That said,”camp culture” is definitely a palpable feeling up here in NH.  Every other building I pass seems to be a little camp shack covered in antlers.  I peer at them as I go by and mentally collect ideas for a little hermit house of my own for the future.  What do they do when they visit?  Hunt?  Ski?  Just hike around?  Spend time fixing up the shack?  We’re about 45 minutes from the White Mountains, so treating these as vacation homes with hiking nearby makes sense.  I dig it, whatever’s the true angle of this culture.

I’m really being quite unfairly biased against NH whenever I sneer at something in my mind, on account of how awful these rivers are at the moment.  Mr. Minimalist said that this is the lowest he’s ever seen the Ammo, period.  It’s pretty bad: I had to portage from Groveton to above Stark, about 5 miles along an undulating 2-lane highway, to get out of the continuous rock garden.  And after that, once I did put in, it was all S-curves and windy piddle streams before this campsite.  There’s not much that’s more demoralizing than taking your last 2 miles of the day at a pitiful, bank-crashing crawl.

The gorgeous little town of Stark, NH, with its landmark covered bridge.  Just a couple of miles down the road was the site of a WWII camp for German POWs.  Via Carol Smith.

Things Learned:

+ Pre-bed DEET application is a real, real important detail.

+ The dam on the Androscoggin releases on Wednesdays!  This should be fun.

+ Lots of Trump supporters out this way, which makes me a little afraid.

Trail Magic:

+ 2 Bald Eagles sighted today!

+ While toting Dieter along the road, a van with two older men pulled over.  Clutched in the hand of the passenger-side gent was the familiar NFCT map!  They were planning a paddle for the weekend and wanted a diagnosis.  I told them to look upstream.

Day 19 – Nulhegan Basin, VT, to Connecticut River, NH

R-2016-9-8

Start: Stealth Camp below Upper Gorge on Nulhegan River

End: Samuel Benton Campsite on Connecticut River, NH
On the Way: Nulhegan River, Bloomfield/North Stratford, Connecticut River

Miles: ~19.  Milepost: 332!

Weather: Clear during day, light rain in PM.

Map: 6, 7

Map 7: North Stratford, NH/Bloomfield, VT to Errol, ME

Trail Overview

Slowly but surely getting back into my high-mileage days!  Today seemed like “the Trail in miniature,” starting with 2.5 miles or so of lining, them some very careful paddling through a rock garden, then about 6 miles of portaging, a mini-town day in North Stratford, NH, with a scrumptious egg sandwich at the General Store and Deli, then a good long coast down a wide, swift river, getting just a taste of down-stream paddling.  One tantalizing taste…

The North Stratford Library is inside this tiny, historic train station.  Real cute and cozy.  Via http://www.stratfordnhlibraries.com/

Now I’m camped at an official NFCT campsite, fedded and bedded with a cedar scrapwood fire going to keep away the bugs.  It’s a little copse of giant oak trees with a picnic table and fire ring, with a view of the river and a private beach, and it’s divine.  The beavers have started splashing and a little toad is hopping around my spread-out maps.  Friends of the campsite’s owner have stopped by to say hello, and they offered the awning of their nearby RV if the rain picks up.  There’s even a deluxe privy here, and a register.  (Teton beat me here by about four hours!  Must have passed me in town…).  Life is good.

Body-wise, my night in the sand did orthopedic wonders for my back.  I have a hypothesis that the continual hammock nights is what’s agitating it: we’ll test that tonight.  I could always alternate between hammocking and tarping on the ground if that’s the case.  Such is the beauty of tarp camping.  Just as soon as the back seemed placated, I started getting one of my grumpy-making headaches.  I had some caffeinated tea, which helped a little bit, but these headaches are Not Good ™.

Other than that, I haven’t had a solid BM in a week (need more veggies, rargh), my camp shoes I wore on my Zero Day gave me a blister ONLY on my left heel, my right wrist (AKA, my power arm) tingles sometimes and is usually swollen when I wake up, and my right pinky toenail has gone black.  Hopefully it’ll fall off, so I’ll be down to one deformed foot anomaly.  Oh, and the deli lady in town told me my hair looked like Peter Pan’s.  But that’s enough TMI body complaints.  For at least one journal.  These things matter a lot more when you have little else to focus on.

I made a quick wish-list this evening.  The only items I could think to add were more fruits and veggies.  I’m pleased to say that I have everything else I need.  It feels like a lot of gear on any given portage, but I’ve used each and every item at least once, barring the maps to come and the scarier of the bandages in the First Aid kit.  It’s a gratifying feeling, very freeing, and it’s not too much of a jump from a kit like this one to an all-purpose adventuring kit.  Such as for the AT!  Or PCT!  Dangerous thoughts, indeed.

Things Learned: 

+  I’ve been having trouble getting the Jetboil to light recently: there’s a little button to click click click once the gas valve is open, and it’s rarely making enough spark to get the stove lit.  Bad design.  I bumped the tiny, delicate little ignitor wire more squarely over one of the gas holes on the burner, which seems to have marginally improved the probability of lighting it…  But it makes me sad to think of all the fuel I’ve wasted before figuring that out.  Boo, Jetboil.

[NOTE: I ended up giving up on the ignitor button and simply lighting the stove with my emergency lighter later on.  It works fine, but between that and campfire lighting I did use up the lighter by the end of the trip.]

+ Gotta keep your eye on the strongest current!  Ended up on sandbars more often than I’d like to admit today, simply because the path of the deepest channel (AKA, where the water’s moving fastest on the surface) switched to the other side of the river.

Trail Magic: 

+ This campsite.  Thanks, NFCT!

+ Sign of Teton.  Good that he gets some time in the lead.  :P

Day 18 – Brighton State Park, VT, to Nulhegan Basin, VT

W-2016-9-7

Start: Brighton State Park, VT

End: Stealth Camp on sandbar just below Upper Gorge carry.

On the Way: Spectacle Pond, Nulhegan Pond, Nulhegan River

Miles: 12.  12 measly miles.  (Milepost 311)

Weather: Clear with some clouds.

Map: 6

My boat and hammock resting place for the past two days.  Note how I secure all my fancy paddling gear (AKA, the most expensive things I have with me) to a tree with a cable and padlock.

Campsite right on Spectacle Pond--perfect for shoving off in the morning!

Ung.  What a tiresome, achey, scratchy day, and only 12 miles to show for it.  The Book [AKA, the Through-Paddler’s Companion, an indispensable guidebook] warned that this would be a low section of the Trail that would be almost impossible to paddle in low water.  The Book does not lie.  The super-fun part is, even if I brute-force this next section and take a portage past these ultra-scratchy sections, I’ll have one section of glorious wide and downstream section coming up (the Connecticut, through New Hampshire), then I’m back to up-current paddling in the low and rapid Ammo and Androscoggin Rivers.  Basically, screw New Hampshire; can I skip straight to Maine, already?  If all goes well, I should be there by the weekend.  I’m so ready to escape Vermont.

Speaking of escape, after four days of not hearing from me, people back home began to panic.  Apparently, I learned from a phone call yesterday, the US Border Patrol was called.  How’s that for a story?

My stealth site for the evening is pretty nice: after a pretty rough downhill portage on a trail that’s been chewed up by logging trucks, I was ready to take a rest and listen to the pounding of the Class IV rapids I walked around.  My site is on a little sandbar island in the Wildlife Preserve, which is technically not allowed, but I figured a sandbar is the lowest-impact camping spot one can choose practically anywhere.  I’m treating it like a beach holiday.  

Got my boat pulled up on the sand, my tarp pitched with some driftwood branches, and the soft sand underfoot has convinced me to go without camp shoes for the night.  It’s adjacent to yet another beaver pond, and one bold fellow has been out splashing and having a sunset pleasure cruise of the premises and giving me lots of side-eye.  He’s not toting sticks or doing much diving: he’s just out for an evening swim.  What a life.  As long as he doesn’t come to cuddle in the night.  I stopped kind of early this evening, but I was getting stumble-punchy while lining and it was getting dark.  It was Time To Stop.

There’s a nice quarter moon out tonight.  Perhaps it’ll be full by the time I’m near the end of the trail.

Things Learned: 

+ Over-eating snack food because you’re bored and procrastinating hauling over the next set of beaver dams and windy trickle-rivers never sits well later.  This gallon-bag of GORP makes guzzling just too easy…and inviting.

+ In Maine, I ought to send home a fresh set of postcards.  And maybe the MIT Libraries, too.

Trail Magic: 

+ I saw Teton again today!  He was rolling his boat along the Nulhegan Carry.  We rolled and caught up together a little bit; he’s a much faster portager than me, but he was kind enough to slow down and hang out.  When it came time to shove off in the Nulhegan wetlands, though, he seemed fine with me pressing ahead.  He knows about pace like that, like the expert hiker/trekker that he is.  A pace is a pace is a pace, and it’s folly to ask anyone to change it.

+ I saw two river otters, and heard a third!  They swam alongside my boat in the twisty part of the Nulhegan, until Mom snarled at me from the bank to tell me to leave them alone.

[NOTE-  This sadly marked the last day of functionality for my intrepid little camera.  My double-ziploc-bagging method was apparently no match for the last set of rapid-lining, as I discovered with dismay as I tried to capture my idyllic beach camp.  I’ll do my best to dig up representative pictures from elsewhere (with due photo credit, of course), but be warned that your blog experience will be significantly more text-based from here on in.  Sorry ‘bout that.]

The last photo my poor camera took.  Goodnight, sweet prince.  The world was too wet and cruel for one so fair.

Day 17 – Brighton State Park, VT (Zero Day #2!)

T-2016-9-6

Start: Brighton State Park, Island Pond, VT

End: Brighton State Park, VT

On the Way: Island Pond Village

Miles: 0!

Map: 6

Weather: Clear with one sun-shower.  Rain overnight would be lovely!

The Island Pond NFCT kiosk.

My Zero Day here in Island Pond was wonderfully productive, or at least it felt that way:

+ I got up at a luxurious 0930 in my hammock (strung up next to Spectacle Pond, night and taut, the way I like it),

+ did a gear shakeout,

+ walked into town along the railroad tracks singing my favorite Hadestown tunes and had lots of blackberries along the way, [Hadestown is a gem of a musical, recently restaged in New York, and full of earworm numbers…]

+ retrieved my box from the convenience store and some lunch (too late for a greasy-spoon breakfast although I was sporting a mighty craving for eggs),

+ repacked my box and sent it off along with some cards to various folks back home,

+ and even had time to whip up some Warrior Bunnies sketches and send them to the WB 

crew.

Some on-the-fly costume sketches, done on scrap paper in the comfort of the Island Pond library.

Hopefully the designs go over well: I’d really hate having to make and/or find full fur suits for all ten bunnies in that show.  [In the original Warrior Bunnies installment, there was only one bunny, and he was in a hilarious yet very hot-looking white fur onesie.]  I apparently now have an assistant who can do small tasks before I get home.  Good to know…

Also just did something pretty neat: I paddled an entire river, the Clyde, upstream from its mouth at Newport to its source at Island Pond.  It was down to a little trickle at the end, to where it was a little four-foot track through the cattails barely wide enough for my paddle and clogged by lots of beaver dams.  It was novel to pull the boat overtop them at the start, but it got really annoying really fast.  I have a feeling that hopping in and out is less of a nuisance when one's paddling a canoe.  Bailing out the Guinness-dark river water from the boat has got to be easier at least...  This town used to be the halfway point on the Grand Trunk Railroad of Maine between Portland and Montreal.  Portland's harbor doesn't freeze in the winter like Montreal's does, so it used to be quite a lifeline.  Between the lumberjacks and the railroad men, this town used to be quite the raucous stopover.  The old hotel from the time is still here: you come into the town by paddling under it.  They say some rooms still have the original wooden floors that are pock-marked from the climbing spikes that the lumberjacks couldn't be bothered to take off indoors.  Yet to see any of that hopping nightlife: I'm in my hammock with my paperback by the time the sun sets...

I was already travelling pretty heavy once I’d retrieved my restocked food and 5mm neoprene socks (water’s gonna be the first thing to get cold, I reasoned), but the library had a free book cart sitting by the entryway, and I couldn’t resist picking up a Garrison Keilor paperback, Wobegone Boy.  I’m a sucker for Garrison’s writing, I must say, so while I’ll be sad to finish American Gods and say goodbye to Neil, I’ll be glad to have the next one right on hand to jump into.  I have some Vonnegut waiting in my box—Breakfast of Champions, which is one of his barely-a-narrative titles—but I crave something that’s not quite so…cerebrally quirky and challenging when I’m reading before bed on this trip.  Garrison is the dry old officer at the back of the vanguard, wanting to see us all home after the battle.  Kurt is the wild-eyed berserker at the front of the charge, gore dripping from his sharp-edged satire.  In other words, he’s thrilling, but not what I need on this campaign.

Brighton State Park is pretty swanky, complete with a Nature Center, horseshoe pit,
playground, and--only in Vermont--Zen garden.

Cool idea: lending library with games and books and sports equipment!

A day of beaver dams and rapid that would, under normal water levels, probably be a blast and a half awaits tomorrow.  But with current water levels, it will probably be agonizingly scratchy.  I’ll get up early, eat my oats, pack up camp, give my shoulder a quick rinse in the 50-cent shower from heaven, and get back on the water.  Maine awaits.

Things Learned:

+ You don’t have to be the quiet type to be a librarian.  My goodness, the stamina these two Island Pond characters had to keep up their whirlwind chat was amazing.

+ I’m not doing so hot, cash-wise.  Time to buy less, cook more.  I have about $65 cash in hand, and ATMs from here on in are going to be scarce…

Trail Magic: 

+ Cheap energy bars on clearance at the gas station!  And home-made postcards at the local outfitters!  I found a good one to send to Brambleberry: a really bad but very earnest attempt at an oil painting of a moose.  His expression can only be described as “embarrassed.”

Captured After the Return Home

Day 16 – Labor Day! – Pensioner Pond, VT, to Brighton State Park, VT

M-2016-9-5

Start: Clyde River Recreation, Pensioner Pond, VT

End: Brighton State Park, VT

On the Way: Pensioner Pond, Island Pond Village, Island Pond

Miles: ~21 (Milepost: 301.5!)

Map: 6

Weather: All clear, and will be for next few days.

This turtle statue says "Goodbye" as you head out from the last open water of the day.

Ung.  Today shouldn’t have been a long day, but it was.  My shoulder really started bothering me.  It started getting annoyed through the twisty, turny S-curves of the Clyde, which Dieter, that Cadillac of a boat, is just not made to handle.  Then it held up okay through a couple wrong turns in the Fens.  But by the time I was making my way into Island Pond, bashing through tiny cattail corridors and lugging the boat over countless beaver dams, it was not happy.

Osprey nest in the Fens

The most open (albeit very shallow) segment of the day!

There’s something psychological about having your boat and person covered in dust and cobwebs and dead bracken that just makes it feel like a bad time.  I’m not one to whinge about getting a little grungy, but watersports are mainly a clean activity, and one gets used to avoiding the dust and debris that land-based sports face every day.  An AT hiker, for example, would consider my hair and boat deck clean by the time I finally slid under the historical hotel that marks entry to Island Pond.  But I was looking and feeling quite bedraggled, like an overworked swamp witch.  I was ready for a break.

The sub-hotellean entrance to Island Pond

I made the executive decision to declare tomorrow a town zero day, and checked myself in to a State Park site for two days to enjoy a secure parking space and some coin-op showers.  But my, these Parks are pricey.  I don’t begrudge Conservancy budgets their chance to make some dough, but damn, I could find myself a solid motel room for this price.

Anyway, the hot shower means I could soak my shoulder this evening, and I had a nice hot meal and got to spread out my beta reading resplendently on the big picnic table.  Tomorrow I check in with my folks in Boston and MD, Internet a little at the library, pick up my mail drop at the convenience store (I’ve learned!), and ask hard questions about which clothes to keep and where next to send the box.  Maybe I’ll stop by the pharmacy and see if there are any shoulder solutions to be had.  Postcards, too, are my luxurious commodity to acquire at this hub of the Grand Trunk railroad.

Things Learned: 

+ Gotta take care of a body if you want it to do extraordinary things.

Trail Magic:

+ Saw a group from CRR being dropped off at the bridge 5 miles upriver from their place.  We waved hi.

+ Despite the navigational terror the Fens are wont to inspire, they're quite a lovely segment of the trail, rich with lots of wildlife and healthy water plants.

+ I met Bill and Pat who run the NFCT farmstand!  Picked up a finger-licking-good homemade maple ice cream sandwich and a pound of organic yellow string beans, which go swimmingly with my peanut butter.  We chatted about the Fens, and Bill gave me some solid directional advice.  Today’s the day of recurring connections: Saw them again while paddling past their B&B in the Fens, where they pointed me out of one of their B&B guests.  I didn’t get a good look at the pair, but they appeared to be a father with a young daughter in a white summer dress.  They excitedly told her I was paddling to Maine.  I did my best to exude some girl power through radiative forcing…and promptly took a wrong turn in front of them.

NFCT organic farm stand, run by the friendly Bill and Pat

Beans make great, moisture-laden boatsnacks

Day 15 – Clyde Pond, VT, to Pensioner Pond, VT

U-2016-9-4

Start: Clyde Pond Campsite 

End: Clyde River Recreation, side-field near Pensioner Pond

On the Way:  Clyde Pond, Clyde River, Salem Lake, Charleston Pond, Pensioner Pond

Miles: ~9 :C (Milepost: 281)

Map: 6

Weather: Clear all day.  Some rain would be nice.

Started off the day being filmed by Joe.  He’s doing some Labor Day paddling, too so when I ran into him again walking back from my deli-based dinner along the road, he dutifully reported that the upcoming section of the Nulhegan he paddled in his blue plastic playboat was waaaay scratchy.  Ah well, can’t be much worse than how I spent my morning on the Clyde.

Another Vermont hydro project

Some reaaaaal scratchy water

And frankly, “worse” is highly relative: I did lots and lots of lining up rapids that the books called Class IIs and IIIs…if they were remotely near full.  As it were, the day was warm, the river was calm, there was that leafy crispness of late summer in the air, and it just felt like playing around on the rocks around Swallow Falls back home in Maryland.  It was rather nice.  It was another leg-intensive day: arms had better watch out, or they’ll be surpassed.  All in all, I only hurt my pride when I fell on my butt, only got a few bangs and scrapes, and learned that my ankles are a lot stronger than I had remembered.

Anyway, after the long spell of hauling, this little chain of quiet lakes was most welcome.  I’m nearly to the end of them before getting into the twisty, labyrinthine Fens, and the head of the Clyde in Island Pond (marking the only river I’ll travel from source to mouth on this Trail).

I’m spending the night at Clyde River Recreation in an odd twist of being surprised by nightfall.  Chris is the owner here at CRR, a tight little rental operation they run out of a barn across the road from their house.  I must remember to send him a “thank you” and write a nice Yelp review.  I could tell that the Labor Day crowd had him overworked and more than a little distracted when I pulled up, because he mentioned something about the campsite on Charleston Pond (which was one mean uphill carry ago).  I think he saw my dejected face and changed his mind, because he relented and now I’m camping under my tarp A-frame in some lovely lush grass and listening to Dave Matthews as his family and employees have a Labor Day cookout.  I didn’t want to impose so I hoofed it 1.5 miles down the road to Scampy’s Country Store for a sandwich and massive whoopee pie and chocolate milk.  (Scampy’s overlooks the river in an old, old building that it shared with the Post Office.)  Chris and Co. were fed and ready to chat around the fire when I got back, though, which was a nice bit of socializing.

Life ain’t bad.

CRR's genius boat-hauling rig: a bale elevator with a new belt, fixed on its side to carry boats up and down the bank.

Evening on the Clyde, a stone throw's away from Pensioner's Pond.

Things Learned:

+ My ankles, despite chronic weakness from an ancient soccer injury, are stronger than I give them credit for: they stood up admirably to a day’s abuse from current and rocks and log-hopping.

Trail Magic:

+ Ran into Joe again!  It’s nice to have recurring acquaintances.

+ Saw these neat flowers at the campsite--any thoughts on what they might be?

+ Tomorrow, the Fens!

Day 14 – Mansonville, QUE, to Clyde Pond, VT

S-2016-9-3

Start: Mansonville,Quebec! 

End: Clyde Pond Campsite, just beyond Newport  

On the Way: Mansonville, The Grand Portage, Lake Memphremagog, Newport, Clyde River, Clyde Pond

Miles: 21.5 (Milepost: 270.5)

Map: 5, 6

Weather: Foggy in AM, burned off my 1100, nice and cool for Grand Portage!

Map 6: Mansonville, Que., to Bloomfield, VT/North Stratford, NH 

Trail Overview

O frabjous, momentous day!  Had a nice long sleep in my cozy Mansonville park spot, woke up to a little rain and fog (the beavers having behaved themselves and kept the noise down, I’m pleased to report), and had a nice smooth paddle out to Ch. Peabody on the North Branch of the Missiquoi.  On the way out of town, I passed lots of trees and fields draped in dew-encrusted spider-webs, which picked up the light in the soft gray mist.  It was quiet and Halloweeny and lovely.

Wonderful morning quiet at my parkside campsite.

The start of the Grand Portage.  (The not-so-grand prologue:
an undignified scramble up that riverbank on the left of the bridge...)

Once on Ch. Peabody, ‘twas time for one of the high points of the Trail: the Grand Portage!  It entailed 6.7 miles of first steady uphill, then steady down.  I used my new waist harness mechanism and draped my camp towel between me and the boat to minimize bruising (nothing visibly discolored yet) and set to.  By 1100 the fog had burned off and it was altogether quite a nice sunny stroll past some lovely farms, barring some taxing legwork on the uphills.  Consider this my leg day.  Can’t skip leg day.

Dieter and I both have our walkin' shoes on.

My newly-devised portage harness: a strap of webbing on the prow handle, long enough to wrap around my waist and loop around the handle again.  Towel added to stop boat from bashing against my hip.  Having hands free, especially for uphill hiking, made a world of difference.

0.7 miles from the end of the portage, I came across Jewett General Store, a little gem of a place that was hopping on a Saturday morning with tourists and locals alike.  And the reason was fresh-baked bread, straight from Owl’s Head, that same place in Mansonville I caught open last night.  I bought a loaf of fig and pistachio bread and a liter of 3.25% milk for the sheer novelty of it, sat outside on the porch bench and munched it down with some honey for lunch.  The road, which skirts Owl’s Head Mountain, is apparently a popular biking circuit, and I got to chat with some bikers from Montreal.  

Bread and honey and front porch sittin' for lunch.

An old-fashioned ice chest at Jewett's!

I had to get a liter (!) of 3.25% milk (!!) for the novelty of it.

Jewett's: that blessed oasis.

Lake Memphremagog is apparently quite a big Montreal vacation spot.  It spans the border vertically, making it really popular during Prohibition where it was a frozen highway from rumrunning into the States.  Divers have apparently found sunken cars with trunks full of moonshine on the bottom.  

The Lac, after a long hike.

Quebec folk don't mess around with their signs.

I was just about to leave when the friendly owner, who had just asked me if that was my kayak parked alongside the minivans, came out and saw me off with the gift of a fresh chocolate croissant!  Tell you what: those moments between him asking me “Do you like chocolate?” and disappearing into that magical store of his were some of the most wondrous and delightfully hopeful moments of my life.  It was the most perfect balance of chocolate and warm, oily break.  In a word, heavenly.  Lovely bit of trail magic.

Croissant!

I boogied on down the 13 miles of Lake Memphrenagog, came into Newport in the afternoon and checked in with customs via video phone (they didn’t even use the video: they just asked for my passport number, kept me on the line a while, then said I was free to go.  It was a bit of a let-down…), paddled the little drainage canal out of Newport, bypassed some low rapids at the mouth of the Clyde River (my pal for the next couple of days), and portaged past the last dam.  I’m now staying at an NFCT site tonight on Clyde Pond.  Just as I was pulling up, a daytripper was leaving with his river playboat atop his station wagon.  He’s apparently an NFCT maintainer for Vermont out for the weekend, and he asked if he could come back in the AM to interview me and take video of me shoving off for an NFCT promotional video.  I’m not usually fit to impress many people at that time of day, but that’s cool, I guess.

The Newport Customs check-in videophone.  Anticlimatic.

Newport waterfront: welcome back to Vermont.

Hammock hang with tarp on Clyde Pond.

[EDIT: Turns out his name is Joe, and he works for the AV department of Middlebury College, where one of my best friends went for undergrad!]

I’m pretty trepidacious of the 3+ miles of rapid-tracking I’m in for tomorrow morning.  If the water levels weren’t so low, I might just say eff it and portage around them…  But since the rapids will, in theory, be on the tame side anyway, might as well give them a fighting chance.

Bon voyage, Quebec.  Hello, more Vermont upriver malarkey.

Things Learned:

+ New portage method FTW!  Saved my hips and my legs on the Grand Portage.

+ Sea kayaking in Canada’s eastern fjords was recommended by a Montreal biker at Jewett’s.  Must add that to the Adventures-to-Investigate list. 

+ When 7 miles from the border, most places will accept US cash.  And speak fluent English.

Trail Magic:

+ The Grand Portage was the lovely stroll I needed in life! 

Petroglyphs along the Portage!  Apparently.  I would have walked right by had the guidebook not pointed them out.

A whole line of purportedly petroglyphed rocks...although admittedly I only saw the one marking I would believe to be human-made.

Idyllic country lane all the way down to the waterfront.  Gorgeous country.

Owl's Head Mountain, which hosts a ski resort and looms over Memphremagog.

+ Magic surprise chocolate croissant.

+ Bowl full of blackberries picked from around the campsite for dessert!

Relaxing in no-sock weather...while I can.

+ I set an ambitious destination today…and I got there!  Hoorah!

+ Lots of trout swimming under me in the Clyde River, and saw lots of locals casting a line for them on the way out of Newport.