W-2016-9-21
Start:
Northeast Carry (Milepost 566, according to Raymonds!)
End:
North Woods campsite at start of Umbazooksus Stream
On the
Way: Northeast Carry, W. Branch Penobscot River, Chesuncook,
Chesuncook Lake, Umbazooksus Stream
Miles: IDK,
~25. Milepost: ~591!
Weather: All clear!
Map: 11
A lovely, highly social day!
My arm started getting pretty ornery, but quick rests and
splashing it with cold water seemed to do the trick.
Went and said hi at Raymonds, like I planned to last night,
and it was well worth the mile-long jaunt there and back and the half an hour
of chatting. It’s a cute little
camping/general store run by an old couple—well, she was dashing around baking
bread, mowing the yard, tending the garden, and helping an elderly neighbor
move a tractor while he rang me up in the store then kept me busy with a jaw
session. Partnerships come in all
shapes, sizes, and labor divisions, I suppose.
He was a fascinating guy to talk to over my buttered muffin and coffee
and pickled egg. He remembered when
someone still worked as a gear toter on the Northeast Carry—back when it was
popular enough to make a living off such a venture—and he said he did some
hauling himself. I asked about the
famous tram system that once carried canoes along (hence why the road is so
perfectly straight), but it was apparently gone for 100 years before he showed
up. He got good-naturedly insulted when
I asked, though. His backyard and
snowmobile cabin area doubles as the only life-flight helicopter landing pad on
that side of Moosehead Lake. It would
take three hours one way to drive to the nearest hospital in Bangor, he said,
but by helicopter you could make it in two.
The West Branch of the Penobscot was flat-out gorgeous and
a blast to paddle. By far, it’s been one
of my favorite parts of river yet. It
has a famous, unique strain of landlocked salmon, and it was spawning
season. This was clearly indicated by
the fact that all the lovely free campsites along its length were filled up
with old fisherman. They mainly had
canoes with a plywood platform rigged at the stern for mounting an outboard
motor, as well as an anchor, so they could paddle out mid-current (which was
swift and—thank goodness—in the same direction I was going), drop anchor, fly
fish, then scoot back upriver to fry up their catch for dinner. It’s the kind of place I should take Dad
sometime, especially since you can easily drop in at Moose River. I had to warn the fishermen when I was
paddling up behind so that I didn’t get a hook backcast into my eye.
Then there was Chensuncook Village and Lake. The Village was underwhelming. The stupid flowery official guidebook, damn
its pages, got me all amped for it by saying that the store sold homemade fudge
and root beer, and that 12 residents lived there full time, and that there was
no way to reach the village by road.
Some of those things—the most disappointing parts—were true. I parked Dieter at the ominious-sounding
graveyard point, then followed the twisty logging roads into what I presumed
was the center of town. There was a
church—empty, but with some nice ripe apples on its trees. The only building that looked occupied was
the Inn, which was impressive not only for its views of the lake and of
Katahdin looming on the horizon, but for a strange assortment of vintage Army trucks
strewn among the outbuildings.
 |
| Katahdin from Chensuncook Village |
Spurred into action for want of fudge (how frequently this phrase pops up in my life...), I knocked on the Inn door, and the innkeeper, clearly in off-season mood, answered the door and chatted. Turns out that he’s the one who maintains the snowmobile track next to the Mud Pond Carry (which is coming up tomorrow). He said I should use it if the alders have grown in too thick. Good to know—that might come in handy real soon…
I pulled into camp on Umbazooksus Stream (now resembling a
branch of the lake, since it was widened out for logging). There was just enough light to set up camp,
which is just how I like it. I saw one
RV staking its claim for the start of Moose Hunting season in a few days, but
no one was around. Then, just at dusk, 4
very off-road-ready jeeps pulled in with trailers. Oh, no, I thought: irksome townies for sure,
but they turned out to be a set of friends with bitchin’ safari tents that
popped out of their rooftop cargo areas and trailers. They built a mean fire and were happy to feed
me beer and salad and expertly-prepared steak.
One of them was from Boston, and works with quantum LED displays. It was enough to send me into a veritable
meat-and-meeting-people coma…
 |
| Sunset over Umbazooksus Stream, with my safari-worthy friends. As you can tell, it's not much of a stream: it's been long since widened for the log drives of old. |
Things
Learned:
+ The cold weather gear has officially made my dry bag too
big to fit in the hatch along with my cart and wheels. Cart can ride on top, no problem.
Trail Magic:
+ Saw a bull moose on the banks of the river. He made an antler display at me, so I was
doing some quick trigonometry to see if I could outpace his swimming if I stuck
to the opposite bank. Before I got too
close, though, he chickened out, ran away, and then a bald eagle swooped
down. ‘Murica. Only in Maine.
 |
| Nothing says "freedom" like... Sculpture and photo via Ben Firth. |
+ Beer! Meat! New friends, out having a week of
adventure! I am well fortified for the
slog tomorrow.
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