Start Date: Pros and Challenges

Because there are no prohibitive "cons" when you're doing ridiculous trips on the cheap--only "challenges."

I have to admit I've had an itching fear in the back of my mind about my start date.  There are several reasons behind my decision to start out late in August--a time of year when most through-paddlers have long since hit the water.  Most through-paddlers take an average of a month and a half to navigate the whole trail, so this puts my trip time frame at ~August 20th (still hammering out transport details) to the very start of October.

First off, it was a matter of scheduling.  I've managed to fit a lot into my first summer since graduating: hosting my family in Boston, a jaunt to New York, costuming a show, leading a Mount Washington hike, holding down a temp job, joining a LARP-writing team, and finally getting to lots of little fix-up projects that, while I was a student, were relegated to a long, optimistic list entitled "When I Grow Up."  And vidja games.  Not gonna lie, there were some vidja games...  So this tail end of summer, when my temp job wraps up, was the ideal time to top it all off with a grand adventure, and will leave me at a good place in the fall to start Working For Real.

Second off, there are a lot of benefits on the trail to a late start date.  Bugs and heat, for one, will have calmed down, and at the end of my trip (late September), I'll just be getting into the cool of fall as I get up into the tip of Maine (heavy sleeping bag a must!).  And as the summer ends, so does the tourist season.  By no means is the NFCT a wilderness trail, and I've been maintaining no illusions that even a day will go by without seeing other people, if not paddlers.  The further away from the height of summer I get, though, the higher the change of solitude.  Which is nice.

One of the biggest challenges of this time of year is the water levels, especially for the smaller streams.  Julie and Patrick McCauley hold the record for latest start date on record, starting out on September 1, and they reported that "Without tallying it up, we probably did at least twice the total advertised portage miles."  The total "advertised miles"?  55, according to all sources.  Yipes.  Portaging doesn't scare me, at least not now; I like to think I could quality as the lithe, skilled ranger-type of any given party, but to be real, I always end up being more of a big dumb tank...  That said, this portaging prospectus adds an additional challenge to my preparations: I ought to try to be as ultra-light as possible.

My little NZ tarp, set up in an A-frame configuration
while paddling the Whanganui River

Again, the tarp in a nice, grassy backyard ($10 NZD a
night to camp there, which is more like $6 USD!)
in a lean-to configuration.  Lovely for nice nights.

Ultra-light backpacking is something I've only flirted with in the past.  I shambled around New Zealand for a couple weeks using a little Walmart tarp for shelter and LOVED it--so much weight saved, and the biggest hassle was well-meaning kiwis coming over to ask if I was going to be all right in that thing (which was, in reality, not much of a hassle).  I have the mindset and the desire for an ultra-light setup, but my wallet has a long way to catch up.  Space-age ultralight materials are no small expense, and I already have a lot of investments to juggle for this trip.  So I'll adhere to a basic ultra-light philosophy, rather than springing for all the fancy toys:

• Shelter - First choice: Hammock, tarp, and sleeping pad.  Second choice: tarp, groundcloth, sleeping pad, and paddles as poles.  While I like hammock sleeping, it does require some extra webbing and 'biners, which can be weighty, and you need a tarp anyway for rain.  Try to double-up purposes for robes whenever possible (towline = ridgeline for tarp, etc).
• Clothes - Bare minimum.  I don't mind getting smelly and giving things a wash now and then.
• Portaging System - Build a yoke for the Kayak, bring a single strap-on wheel for the level portages (a significant portion of all the carries, so it doesn't make sense not to).  When I have to use the yoke, I'll transfer all my gear in the hatches to a lightweight nylon backpack (which I'm planning to sew) so I can get it in one trip.  Hence my desire for ultralight... 
• Long-distance water hauling - For agricultural portions of Vermont and for the long expanses in Maine, you definitely need to carry water.  I'll pick up some 2L bottles as I go.
• Stove - I don't plan on carrying a cook stove for the first half of the journey.  There are enough towns along the way for me to get my hot food fix on the go, and I can settle for my Nescafe cold in the morning (actually sounds pretty good).  For safety's sake I probably want some means of heating water towards the end in Maine, so I'll figure out a convenient mail drop location. 

More about the gear list later!

Commencing the Dangerous Business...

"[Bilbo] used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and and every path was its tributary. 'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say. 'You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.'"  --J.R.R. Tolkien

I'm in between school and jobs, feeling restless, and in need of a sizable adventure.  Time to tackle that trip that's been tickling my fancy ever since I first stumbled across it in the midst of a punting session during my senior spring: the Northern Forest Canoe Trail.

I'll be using this blog as a brain-dump for the information I find, the gear I explore, and the kit I assemble.  And hopefully later, some progress updates from the trail.  I'll try to be marginally interesting and semi-coherent, on the off-chance that someone besides me makes use of these ramblings.

What's the Northern Forest Canoe Trail (NFCT)?  It's a network of rivers, ponds, lakes, streams, and bogs that have been laid out by a dutiful corps of volunteers, who explain it more eloquently than I can:

"The NFCT extends for 740 miles across contiguous rivers, streams, and lakes, following Native American travel routes from Old Forge, New York, through Vermont, Québec, and New Hampshire, to Fort Kent, Maine. In addition to being a paddling route, the Trail celebrates the history of the Northern Forest. Paddlers will be able to explore both the natural beauty of the rivers and lakes as well as the communities through which the trail passes." 

In other words, one of the lengthiest water trails in New England, and a great journey to begin my foray into long-term paddling trips.  My bibles for the last month have been the Official Guidebook and The Through-Paddler's Companion.

Now for some numbers from page 1 of the Companion.  The Trail passes through:

• 22 Rivers and streams
• 58 Lakes and Ponds
• 63 carries or portages, totalling about 53 miles
• 3 National Wildlife Refuges
• 45 Communities
• Both upstream and downstream (and flatwater) bodies
• 1 international border crossing (near Masonville, Quebec)
• About 1700 feet of elevation change
• Lots of great places to hang a hammock
• Lots of rapids where Rosser can pretend to be a Real Paddler
• Lots of carries for Rosser to regret every ounce of her gear and learn ultralight camping the hard way (AKA, the only way)
• Lots of long, dull segments for Rosser to examine her life choices and be glad she's here.

Okay, those last four are mine, but all in all, this is quite the adventure.  It's certainly the longest I've ever planned for myself, and now's the time to do it before my soul gets sold to a 9 to 5 behind a desk somewhere.

Next up: finalizing my packing list and sourcing my important gear!