W-2016-9-14
Start: ME
Forestry Museum outside Rangeley
End:
Campsite on site of Old Flagstaff Village, on Flagstaff Lake
On the
Way: South Branch Dead River (Not), Flagstaff/Eustis/Stratton,
Flagstaff Lake
Miles:
29.5! Milestone: 458
Map: 9
Weather: Really bizarre: cloudy with sunshowers, then
cloudy with lots of dramatic sun rays and the Bigelow mountains covered in fog,
then dark and ominous until nightfall.
Probably rain overnight—fingers crossed!
[EDIT: This portage actually shakes out to ~18.4 mi.,
according to Google Maps. So no jaunt,
but 6 mi shorter than what the guidebook says.]
Damn! One day I beat
myself up because I can’t get out of bed on time, then the next day I do things
that are, quite frankly, rather super-heroic.
It’s a roller coaster for Rosser’s ego on this Trail.
I knew today would be about walking up Route 16 to bypass
the woebegottenly low South Dead River.
I read that it was ~22.5 miles by road.
My only real reference for how much I can walk in a day is from hiking
in the Whites, which involves significantly more elevation delta than this
road. There, 22.5 miles will be do-able,
but only if you can spend the evening wallowing in a state of exhaustion. Part of me doesn’t entirely trust that figure
for the distance I had to walk—another part wants the first part to shut up and
accept that when I tell myself “walk until you know no more,” I can accomplish
incredible things.
 |
| The Longest Portage of the Trail. If the other one is the "Grand Portage," this one is "Le Portage du Suckage." |
Anyway, suffice it to say that I was expecting to be
stealthing along the road tonight—instead, I started my hike at about 0700,
rolled into town at about 1300, restocked in this very Trail-friendly town (the
AT also crosses here before heading into the Bigelow Range), and had a
gas-station-gourmet lunch. It featured a
sandwich, home-made chips, and a cheesecake/cookie monstrosity that must have
been ¼ a tray and immeasurable calories for $2.75. I was considering investing in a few. A retirement fund comprising entirely brownies
is a good plan, right? After that
decadence, I walked back to my boat, meeting an AT hiker along the way who
offered me a beer with his zero-day buddies.
The idea was tempting, as was commandeering their shower, but I wanted
to press on for a couple miles on Flaggstaff Lake through the eerie, stormy
twilight.
Flagstaff itself is a cool town. It’s actually an amalgamation of the former
townships of Stratton/Eustis/Flagstaff Lake, and is listed accordingly on the
sign that greets you at the top of Rt.16.
The original Flagstaff got its name when Benedict Arnold passed through with
troops and left a flag posted, which was later found by settlers. Then in the ‘50s, the Dead River was dammed
and the three little valley villages were flooded to create the lake and
facilitate log driving. (Then,
ironically, the lumber industry dried up about a decade later.) The current town is kind of an average of the
previous three towns’ locations (town-bar, if you will).
I’m actually camping near where the site of the ACTUAL
Flagstaff Village used to be, specifically the schoolhouse. It’s spooky, but I’m pretty sure most of this
ambiance comes from the weird cloudy pallor of the evening, plus hearing the
lake splashing, plus the wind, plus being alone. Well, alone except for the three little field
mice playing chicken with my food bag. I
shared some of my dinner with them, and now they’re rather emboldened. As long as they stay off my face while I
sleep, we can be buddies.
Things
Learned:
+ After this latest instance of hungry food-shopping, I
have enough grub to last me at least until Allagash. No more buying food. Please.
My bag will barely shut.
Trail
Magic:
+ 2 cars stopped to offer me water during my trek on Rt
16. They didn’t press me to accept a
ride, though, which was a nice change.
It means they’ve encountered enough stubborn through-paddlers on the
route to respect the need to be self-propelled.
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