Day 33 – Umbazooksus Stream, ME, to Chamberlain Lake, ME

R-2016-9-22

Start: North Woods campsite, which, it turns out, IS an official NFCT spot.

End: Lock Dam Campsite on Chamberlain Lake (part of the Allagash Waterway!)

On the Way:  Umbazooksus Stream, Umbazooksus Lake, Mud Pond Carry, Mud Pond, Mud Stream, Chamberlain Lake, Lock Dam

Miles: 12.  Bah.  Another measly day, but with good reason.

Weather:  Clear and sunny, then cloudy with a bit of rain.  Chilly in evening.  More rain, please!  Every drop we get now is a scratch that won’t be on my boat after later rivers.

Map: 12

Map 12 (I took the branch on the right)

Trail Overview

Ungh, today.  I’m so glad it’s over.  I never want to come across a body of water with “Mud” as part of its name again.

Mud Pond Carry was just as muddy and difficult as all the books and maps portended.  The woods themselves were lovely, with lots of moss and shafts of light and signs of moose.  What the books didn’t mention, however, was how much you’ll ignore the gorgeous scenery because of the long, monotonous periods where you’ll be stuck inside a boat, watching your feet to stay on the trail and praying your prow didn’t get caught in the branches overhead.  The distance is 1.8 miles, right on the cusp of a distance I can accurately gauge off the cuff while walking it, and this being private land, there were no markers, no milestones, no way to know how close you were to the end except how thick the alders were getting.  The water wasn’t that bad, everything being low and dry, but there were still some spots of considerable loam and moose poo.  I was made more grumpy than usual not because of the mud, or getting banged up by fallen trees, but by the facts that:

1. I was going solo, which means doing the damn portage actually three times (once with the gear, scouting for low branches and the best path through the mud, second time backtracking, then third time blind with an empty boat on my head).
2.  My shoulder had really started to complain.

It probably took me four hours, at least: it was sunny and lovely to start out with, but then rather gray at the end.  I ate my last Clif Bar, a chocolatey minty mess, to make myself feel better.

BUT THEN, as I’m sure any decent guidebooks would have told me, I had to cross Mud Pond, a nasty little weed-choked puddle with not so much of a shallow bottom as a miasma of hard-to-paddle pudding, just under the boat.  Then, you exit to Mud Brook,  “I’ve been carrying all day!” says I.  “I haven’t come across a stream yet that I could line up if I wanted to.”  Today, I found that stream.  It was a rocky, buggy trickle—pretty in its own way, so that I didn’t want to ruin it by dredging it with my giant hunk of ABS plastic.  Fortunately, true to what my innkeeper pal said, there was a snowmobiling trail off to the side that I could scramble onto, although not nearly as wheelable as the book said.  So it was back to hoisting it overhead and carrying, and an extra-grumpy Rosser.  With no Clif bars, to boot.

No surprises, then, that that little track spit out onto a nasty, dank mudflat.  It is the place where, along the Trail so far, I would most expect Orcs to live.  As I paddled through the congealed gravy bottom and the eff out of there, I passed the Mud Brook campsite.  For a flash I considered stopping there, then I laughed.  Never again, Mud X.  Never again…

That said, Chamberlain Lake is lovely, but that might have just been from the side-by-side comparison.  I had a choppy, stormy crossing of Eagle Lake as the rain that had been threatening all through the Mud Stream Carry finally hit.  Once I reached Lock Dam, I decided to stay.  The campsite’s pretty swank, and after doing some research tonight, it looks like I can do a 0.1 mi portage in the morning from here, rather than humping it to the end of this windy lake to do a mudstrewn 0.75 mi carry.  This is the famous Tramway Carry, which I’m jazzed to see, but I can always come at it from the other side and spook around tomorrow, no boat in tow.  But I am DONE with boggy, non-wheelable portages for now.  The idea of a muddy carry right now is, to quote A Bit of Fry and Laurie, “limp-making, in a sexual sense.”

I really ought to get in touch with Hannah and Zach, my rides out from Ft. Kent, soon.  My last email was kind of frantic and vague, since I was scrambling to get back on the water.  They deserve a more committed, concrete answer.  I’m definitely going to be on to the Allagash no later than Saturday morning, done with Map 12 by Saturday night, and blazing through Map 13 by next week.  I’ll for sure be done and having my library vacation by the 1^st.  It’s all pretty certain—now I just have to relay that.

Things Learned: 

+ Nothing beats a Lake bath.  At the end of the day, at least at this time of year, the lakes have soaked up the sun and are good and warm, at least up to a couple feet deep.  Chamberlain was like a tub this evening, and the rocks were smooth and warm.

+ I have a “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em” approach to rations.  This might not be a good thing.

Trail Magic: 

+ I did that infamous Carry, just like Thoreau back in teh day.  Everyone along this Trail segment is enamoured with Thoreau because he passed through here that one time a hundred years ago.  I guess I'm spoiled with my Thoreau exposure, living down the street from Harvard and within biking distance to Walden.  Also, the romance is kind of lost when you're thigh-deep in a moose-tracks sundae made literal.

+ I'm into the very charming Allagash Wilderness Waterway campsites, which are each equipped with privvy, spacious picnic table, fire ring, and over-table hang bar for easy tarp pitching.  It's a very Maine setup, and I like it a lot.

An Allagash site.  Courtesy of a previous NFCT paddler, Laurie Chandler, whose excellent blog is lauriesadventures.files.wordpress.com .

+ I had a solid poop today!  Go me and my revised fiber intake!

+ Just as I was hopeless and sad at the end of the Mud Brook psych-out snowmobile track, out in the mudflats and thinking I was about to be set upon by Uruk-hai, I spotted some motion about 10 meters away.  Fortunately I had my deckbag handy and could dig out my binos: turned out to be a family of three river otters.  I found a rock to perch on and got to watch them for about half an hour, sliding between the rocks, rolling in the mud, play fighting, and having a grand time.  It was just the pick-me-up I needed, and it was good to see that someone was enjoying that cesspool.

Day 32 – Northeast Carry, ME, to Umbazooksus Stream, ME

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.

Day 31 – Little Brassua Lake, ME, to Northeast Carry, ME

T-2016-9-20

Start: Little Brassua Lake

End: “Stealth” camp next to sign for Raymond’s General Store near end of Northeast Carry.  (I say “stealth” in quotes because I’m quite in the open, and 2 pickups, including one with a decal from that selfsame store, have driven by and seen me.  Very stealthy.)

On the Way:  Little Brassua Lake, Brassua Lake, Moosehead Lake, Mt. Kineo, Northeast Carry

Miles: A whopping 29!  Plus a site hiking trip up Mt. Kineo.  Milepost: ~571

Weather:  Cloudy, but very warm.

Map: 10, 11

Map 11

Trail Overview

Tonight’s all about the critters.  First, the small.  It feels like I have tinnitus, what with the constant whine of little bastard mosquitos flying around my head and looking for a gap in my DEET force field.  They started up the moment I stepped out of the boat on the Northern shore of Moosehead Lake.  I had just a moment to think, “Damn, these bugs are the flying aces of their species” before I was swarmed upon with the insect equivalent of a squadron of Red Barons.  Despite becoming something of a mosquito assassin lately, I couldn’t keep up, and I had to douse on the DEET while I walked.  They haven’t let up.  It’s going to be one of those nights where I have to fall asleep swatting, then wake up to reapply as the DEET wears off over time.

Then there were the big critters.  I saw my first moose!  And I wish it had been in situation where I could have stopped to admire them.  While I was racing the sun to reach the end of the famous Northeast Carry (in vain, it turns out), a mating pair strolled out onto the road in front of me.  At first they were facing me, so that I nearly thought the cow was someone in dark clothes walking towards me.  But then I saw the bull and his rack, and I knew what was coming towards me.  These two were on a date, and woe betide those who cockblock a bull moose.

Then I did something that, admittedly, was a little stupid, and that I’m very, very glad did not end badly.  I banged on the side of the boat and hollered to get them to move off the road—I had to use that road, dammit!  The cow was easy enough to scare away with a little hollering and stamping, but the bull was more pernicious, and probably cheesed that I was interrupting his Twilight-Stroll-And-Chill.  There was a scary moment where he was trotting down the road towards me (with a very “Bro…WTF?” look on his face), but it turns out he was just backtracking to catch up with his lady love.  He was still frighteningly nonchalant in that moment when I thought he was coming my way.

All in all, a lovely pair to encounter, although in less than ideal circumstances.

Today’s paddle was long, featuring several of those hours where you look at a far-off landmark on the distant horizon, think “There’s no way I’ll be able to paddle there in a day!” then let your mind wander to something else, then boom, you’re there.  One of my mind-wanderings today was a freestyle rhyme/beat poem that variated on the theme of “I Want a Guy Who…”  It was fun, and cathartic, and past experiences led to the inclusion of lots of “Doesn’ts,” which can be just as useful qualifiers for the sake of a working definition.  It kept a very free-form meter, but generally stuck to the beat of “Short Skirt and a Long Jacket” by Cake.

“I want a guy who knows how to plan ad-ventures, a guy who likes it when I feel hard-core.

I want a guy who will never say I’m cute when I’m angry; a guy prone to think in DIY terms…”

You get the picture.  I came up with rhyming couplets that weren’t so slanty, as well, promise.

Things Learned: 

+ River-bath-clean lasted for less than a day, since I lost the trail on my lunchtime sidetrip up Mt. Kineo and crashed through some deadstanding hemlocks.  I’m finding little needles in all sorts of exciting places now…

Moosehead Lake looking north from the top of the Mt. Kineo firetower, at ~1300.  By the end of the day, I was on the other side of the lake!

Mt. Kineo Fire tower

Trail Magic:

+ Moose!

+ Ripe and perfect portage apples on the shore of Moosehead!

+ A spruce grouse on the way up Mt. Kineo, and a spectacular view from the fire tower at the top!

+ Raymond’s General Store!  I think in the morning I’ll pack up the boat, backtrack in my camp shoes, and say hi, just to be friendly.  Maybe they’ll even sell me a spot of breakfast.