Day 27 – Spencer Stream, ME, to Spencer Lake, ME

F-2016-9-16

Start: Start of Spencer Stream, Unofficial campsite

End: Stealth camp on shore of Spencer Lake, about ¼ mi from put-in.  In other words, the end of Spencer Stream, may it rest in hell.

On the Way:  Spencer Stream, Spencer Lake

Miles: IDK, about 8.  Grrr.  Milepost: ~486.

Map: 9, 10

Weather: All clear

Map 10: Spencer Stream to Moosehead Lake, ME

Trail Overview

Alas and Alack!  Woe and Tragedy!  I seem to have lost The Book.  As if I needed to have any more reason to hate Spencer Stream, which was 6 miles of boulder fields and downed trees that, by the end, I was bull-moosing my way through, dragging Dieter across the rocks instead of navigating them with any sort of strategy.  I usually keep The Book strapped under my front deck elastic, wrapped in 2 sealed Ziplocs, ready to be consulted at a moment’s notice.  And I did consult it: I remember pulling it out for a look today at about 1130.  After that, I don’t recall using it, and only noticing it was missing during my evening gear shake-out.  In the morning, I’ll paddle back the ¼ mile to the horrendous dam I pulled over last and see if I left it there.  If not, I’ll consider it lost to the grabby dead tree-fingers of Spencer Stream, because there’s no way in hell I’m back-tracking there.  Maybe someone will find its pulpy remains during the Spring Thaw.

Goodnight, Sweet Prince.

What will we do without the book?  Make do with the impotent-by-comparison official guide, I guess, and see if I can buy or scan a copy in Jackman, or look up all the Trail updates at once.  But I so liked my copy.  I was keeping notes and updates to send along to Katina…  It was so useful, and the official guidebooks and maps are so obtuse by comparison.

I hate losing important things, both on and off the Trail.  Every now and then, I just get stuck in a rut of mindlessly misplacing important tools for maintaining a responsible life, and there’s nothing that makes me feel more incompetent.  First the paddling gloves, then one of the cotter pins from my wheels (fortunately I have two spares), and now of all thing my Beloved Book of Beta.  I tried doing my beta reading with the official book tonight.  I didn’t even know if it was describing the Trail or a side trip!  It’s so unfriendly for through-paddlers.  At least they point out the map updates: I guess that’s the only critical part of wisdom needed beyond the route.

Summary of the day: I look a late morning to go check out the Hut.  It was as expected.  I bought a $1 muffin and looked up some lyrics I’d been forgetting in their folksong book.  I spent most of the day trudging up 6 miles of a rocky stream, which very possibly might have cost me my guidebook.  I hauled my boat up and over a 8’ rocky ledge with minimal damage.  I made some sumptuous mac-n-cheese with carrots and finished a bag of candy corn to make myself feel better.

The Grand Falls Hut, part of the Maine Huts and Trails system.  It was pretty lush.  Via MaineTravelMaven.com

Pretty damn lush. Via NewEnglandRambler.wordpress.com .

I miss my Book.

Things Learned: 

+ Never again, Spencer Stream.

+ Trying out sleeping with my neoprene socks on.  Feet pretty sweaty already.

Trail Magic: 

+ Folksong book at the Great Falls Hut.  I revised some lyrics, as well as adding some fresh ones, in my internal jukebox.

+ Loons and Beavers carrying on here in Spencer Lake as I drop off to sleep…

My view from my hammock.  Besides one house across the lake, I couldn't see a soul, which is the idea for stealth camping.

The hammock setup.  Had to search quite a bit for some birches that didn't bend in a worrisome manner under the weight of the hammock.

[NOTE- I found out later in Jackman that right across the Lake from where I stealthed was a WWII POW camp for German troops captured in North Africa (AKA, Rommel’s men).  I’m glad I learned that in retrospect—otherwise between the full moon and the wind and my overactive imagination I would have never gotten to sleep.]

Day 26 – Flagstaff Lake, ME, to Spencer Stream, ME

R-2016-9-15 

Start: Campsite on Flagstaff Lake

End: Put-in at the start of Spencer Stream.  There’s a picnic table and fire ring and “no camping” signs everywhere.  I think I’m fine on account of it being the Thursday after Labor Day and being in the middle of snowmobiling trails, but I pitched my tarp in the woods and covered Dieter in brush, just to be safe.

Map: 9

On the Way:  Flagstaff Lake, Long Falls Dam, Dead River, Grand Falls, Spencer Stream

Miles: 20.5.  Milepost: 478.5.  At least 5/8 done!

Weather:  A bit cloudy in the AM, all clear now!

Hard to imagine that I’ll be at my last Post-Drop, in Jackman, ME, in less than 2 days.  I’ll be able to dump some of the stuff that’s no longer useful, like my dead camera, and get some really cozy clothes.  Also, don’t know how to where but I’ve managed to lose my nice ½ finger paddling gloves.  Guess there’s no time like now for getting some quality paddling calluses.  I also have some full neoprene gloves in my box that would do, if a little overkill.

Today’s paddle was one of the first where I didn’t see another living soul.  Maybe the first?  I haven’t been keeping track, and it frankly didn’t even occur to me until I stopped to think about it.  Let’s hope it stays that way, rather than ruining the tranquility with a chewing-out and a forced move from a hut warden.  I think the reason they’re so uppity about the camping is that about a mile away, there’s a snazzy hut run by the Main Huts and Trails system.  It sounds great on paper: It’s a cabin with bunkrooms and showers and dinner and breakfast included, plus booze and desserts for sale.  It’s like a modern-day answer to the Sport Camps of old.  In practice, I’ve been told it’s $95/night.  Yowza.  I could stay in a hotel all weekend for that.  I guess it’s the location, and an example of scarcity economics in action.  But I’m curious: I might stroll down there in the morning and see if I can snag some breakfast leftovers or coffee and see the place.  I’ll have to lie and say I stayed along the Spencer Stream, though, and not this nest of notoriety and stern signage that I’m currently occupying.

I’m sooo rich in food right now.  No more buying: It’ll be an exercise in using what I have.  Plus it’s sooo heavy.  Gotta learn to lighten up for future backpacking.

Things Learned: 

+ Don’t stuff yourself at lunchtime.  No matter how tasty those sesame sticks are, it leads to some indigestive paddling.

+ Grand Falls.  They were Grand.

Grand Falls.  They were Grand.  They're not the tallest falls on the Trail: Allagash Falls are 40 feet tall, which these are 30.  But they're still pretty spectacular.

Trail Magic: 

+ Lovely patch of whitewater coming on to the Dead River!  It was a nice chute, followed up by six miles of wide and glassy quickwater.  Really nice.

+ LAST BIT of upstream paddle tomorrow!  Well, last significant bit.  Hoo-rah. 

Day 25 – Rangely, ME, to Flagstaff Lake, ME

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).

Foundation of a barn flooded to form Flagstaff Lake.  Not at all creepy.  Via MaineTravelMaven.com

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.

Day 24 - Mooselookmeguntic Lake, ME, to Rangely, ME

T-2016-9-13

Start: Students Island on Mooslookmeguntic

End: Maine Forestry Museum Lean-to (“The Halfway Hilton,” it’s named, which was cute enough to convince me to end my day early and stay.)

On the Way:  Mooselookmeguntic Lake, Students Island, Oquossoc, Rangeley Lake, Rangeley, Haley Pond, Gull Stream

Miles: 23.  Not bad.  Milepost: 428.5!

Map: 8, 9

Weather:  Clear, little windy.

Map 9: Rangely to Spencer Stream, ME

Trail Overview

A lovely day full of giant lakes, which are easily my favorite medium of this trip.  And, I hate to day it, the last day of them for quite some time…  Ahead lies the South Dead River, which, completely faithful to its name, is dead for nearly every paddler from early June onwards.  “Ancient waterway” my ass.  Well, to be fair, the ancients probably didn’t see as many extreme weather years as we post-Industrial Revolution folk have brought upon ourselves.  Still, I chatted with a guy who works with hydro plants at the Oquossoc grocery store, and he said this was the worst year for rain in 6 or 7 years.  My timing.  It’s fabulous.

So next is lots if portaging along Route 16.  24.5 miles of it, according to The Book.  Gonna tackle it first things in the AM, which I should be more vigilant about taking advantage of.  I get too comfy in my hammock, and then I’m not up until 0800.  Days are getting shorter.  Have to use all of them.

The Rangely Lakes Region Logging Museum.  Wasn't nobody around when I rolled in for the evening, and left in the early morning, but the giant sheds were full of antique logging equipments, chainsaws, and other fun toys.  I didn't get to see this kind of excitement...

I was planning on being 2.5 miles into the portage tonight when I passed this “Hilton” lean-to that the Forestry Museum folks built.  The home-routed sign, the lovingly cleared little bluff above Gull Stream, all the cleared pine wood rotting for want of being burned, the fresh evergreen branches someone has stuffed in the lean-to chinks for air freshener—these element all conspired to get me to call it a day at 1700 and stay the night.  As soon as I had made the decision and was moving down the trail to stash my boat behind the Museum, two young Belgian men, probably younger than me, asked if they could camp out, too.  They seemed harmless, so I said sure.  They were appreciative: they told me that, for want of camping spots, they had been spending the night in their two-seater yellow Mustang rental car.  Yipes.  It’s past dark as I write this and they’re not back from their grocery run, so perhaps their plans changed.  I have a campfire going and plenty of wood standing by, figuring they’ll like the full camping experience.  If they come rustling in like varmits in the middle of the night, I’m going to be perturbed.

The cozy "Halfway Hilton," with plentiful logs and fresh pine boughs lying around (thank you, logging museum).

[They ended up being total gents, and lots of fun to talk to.  They’d been touring the Northeast for a short holiday, flying into Boston, and with plans to hike a bit in the White Mountains.  I was excited to tell them my favorite trails.  They also had taken a jog to the Harvard Coliseum, and were amused to hear that I live right across the river.]

Things Learned:

+ Groceries should be bought when the chance presents itself.  There ain’t no time for 2 shopping trips.  I passed on oats and carrots in the Oquossoc grocery, thinking they’d be cheaper at Rangely’s IGA.  IGA turned out to be a couple miles from the Trail.  Eit!

Trail Magic: 

+ Upon hearing this, the owner of Ecopelagion (the cutest and most friendly outfitter I’ve visited yet) gives me the Instant Oats right out of her own pantry!  She was entirely too night.

+ Lit a fire tonight with just a touch of the lighter.  Might have been all the dry, pitchy pine, but I like to think it’s because I’m a wizard.

+ I saw Katina Daanen’s name in the Forestry Museum register!  She’s the writer of The Book (the one I like), and apparently was visiting on a side trip from the AT.  Talk about a badass.

I fangirled hard enough to pull out the cell phone and use some of its precious juice to get a picture.

+ This is the start of the NFCT’s overlap with the AT, so saw some through-hikers in town.  For once I’m not the scraggliest character, and I know the library is comfortable with smelly denizens.  I also feel kind of ostracized by this: when I was picking up a sandwich in the gas station, the cashier offers the motley group of people nearby (me and three hikers) the old sandwiches for free.  There were four sandwiches, but the hikers swooped in and grabbed them all.  I know I’m not on as epic of a quest as those guys, and I probably don’t look quite so buff and grizzly as a result, but still: I’m roughing it, too.  Frowny moment.

A Gift from the NFCT!

I've had to put the Trail Journal transcribing on hold due to a vicious onslaught of projects in January (room setup!  A giant writing project!  A LARP convention!  Working on two shows!  The job hunt!).  But I did get two nice developments from the NFCT headquarters in the new year:

The NFCT List Recognition

There I am!

After sending in my application in November, I've been added to the list of successful through-paddlers!  There are several designations of paddler types, from sectional to self-propelled.  Some people tackle the trail bit by bit in the optimal season, or always going downriver.  Some arrange for shuttles to get them past the doldrums (such as the 26-mile slog along the South Branch of the Dead River).  Some, like me, just slog on through and do it as one long journey.

I wish I could say this was due to any sort of grit or bravado: in reality, it was kind of just simpler that way.  There were a couple sections where, after just going to my happy place and just lining or portaging the distance, I looked back in the guidebook to read that many folks opted for shuttles.  I honestly hadn't known that was an option...  In these cases, I just tended to shrug and plod along to the next bit of water, but since my phone was without service and my wallet under pressure for the whole trip, I don't think I could have arranged a shuttle for myself if I had tried.  That would have taken planning and forethought.  I preferred to be a big dumb tank and just smash through it all.

In any case, no matter the motivation behind the method, it feels good to be counted in this illustrious category.

Some goodies in the mail!

Just in time for my birthday, the NFCT headquarters sent me a very thoughtful letter, certificate of completion, and a quality vinyl decal, which is going on Deiter's hull as soon as he thaws out of his current snowbank in the backyard.  That's one of the benefits of working with such a small, friendly organization: you know you'll get a human if you call, you can guarantee you'll meet one of the handful of head honchos if you run into a team in the field, and they really do care about each Through-paddler.  As soon as I have some surplus cash with assurance of its renewal (see above "job hunt"), they will definitely have one more dues-paying member.

Note the moose.  The moose is an important feature.

More Trail Journal updates soon to come!  (I admittedly find it dull to yank appropriate pictures off the Web to accompany the posts...  So they might be much less photogenic from here on in...)

Day 23 – Rapid River, ME, to Mooselookmeguntic Lake, ME

M-2016-9-12

Start: Cedar Stump Campground

End: Campsite #13 on Student Island in Mooselookmeguntic Lake, ME

On the Way:  Rapid River, Upper and Lower Richardson Lakes, Mooselookmeguntic Lake, Students Island

Miles: 16.5.  Milestone: 405.5!  Yes!

Map: 8

Doesn’t feel like much, miles-wise, but today’s progress included a bear of a portage and some serious against-the-wind-and-waves open water crossing.  Plus a weird campsite scenario this evening.

Portages are much worse, in my opinion, when the struggles of actually lugging your boat along the trail are compounded with uncertainty.  I usually try to scout ahead to get rid of the latter sensation, but when trying to make one trip out of the damn thing, it’s tricky.  Anyway, The Book said today’s portage was 3.2 miles, but it felt like 7 because of the bumpy roads and misleading turn-offs.

Carry Road was tough, but would have been a lot tougher if not for these handy boardwarks.  Image from the NFCT webpage.

Carry Road passed a series of cute little homesteads (along with some mysterious abandoned cars and farm equipment in the woods) along the Rapid River, as well as the not-so-cryptically named "Pond in the River."  I definitely want to head back to the whitewater of the Rapid River some day--it was three miles of drops and ledges!  Image via Rangely Lakes Heritage Trust.

After that, it was sweet, clear, fresh open water!  Dieter and I were able to cruise across the Richardson Lakes like the seaworthy vessels we are, although I feel pretty beat by it.  Time to try some BF cream tonight.  Ended up stopping at Students Island, which is lovely and apparently got its name from some Yale boys who roughed it here one summer in the 1850s, when this wasn’t actually a vacation area.  Go them.  It’s now managed by a Preserve/Trust that was some guy’s legacy to future canoeists, which also manages all the other campgrounds on Mooselemeguntic Lake.  I’d feel like a prize asshole stiffing this altruistic memorial trust out of my camping fee, so I’m staying at the closest site to the office that’s out of the wind and away from a hooligan bunch of Outward Bounders (on a Monday?  In Mid-September?).  That way, I can jet across and pay first thing in the morning.

Also, fun story, I realized I was here about a year ago with a MITOC canoe trip.  I’m blazing through the times we made on that trip, but to be fair, those were canoes, and many people on the trip tended to be—I learned this delightful word on that very trip—“lily-dippers.”  It was warm enough to swim then, and we passed the time waiting for the slow boats by jumping over the gunwales and practicing climbing back in.

My hammock pitch on Students Island, looking north out over Mooselemeguntic Lake.

One of the joys of hammock camping: every night's pitch feels like building a fort.  Got some nice lake breeze and a moonlight scene across the water all night.

Tomorrow, hopefully, I’ll blaze through the little town of Oquossoc (pronounced “Oh-kwiss-sick”) and be on to Rangely for a day in town!

Things Learned:

+ After letting it dry out for a couple days and attempting a power-up, Point and Shoot camera got too wet, I fear.  Hopefully the card’s still okay.  In the meantime, the seldom-charged cell phone camera will have to do.

+ Operation Bean Soak a success!  A little under-cooked, but 24 hours of soaking and a 7 minute boil made a delicious dried tomato, zucchini, bean, couscous, and olive oil dinner.  Like, real good.  Good enough to try to make it back in the Land of Readily-Available Groceries.

+ If the Jetboil ignitor is misbehaving (which it does more often than not), it’s real easy to light it with a lighter!

+ If you land in a campsite and the wind is blowing where your hammock is gonna be parked, make every effort to MOVE!  Last night was my coldest so far—not as uncomfortable as Lawyer’s Landing, but definitely the coldest, with the wind coming off of the Rapid River.  No sun, lots of wind, and rocks everywhere, giving the ground and surroundings a very high insulation value (R-value, as engineers call it).  NOPE.

Trail Magic: 

+ Met a guy fly fishing (and mountain biking—he had a clever PVC red holder rigged up) who offered me a sandwich and said I looked a lot less haggard than the last through-paddler he met.  Hurraaaay.

+ Saw a number of cute little camps along the Carry Road here, including one that belonged to the writer of We Took to the Woods, a famous memoir about her family’s time here.

[+ I later realized that the Through-Paddler first-hand account at the end of the official NFCT guidebook called out the Carry Road as the most frustrating portage of the trip.  I felt validated that someone else had as much trouble as I did…although my most frustrating portage by far was Mud Pond…]

Day 22 – Mollidgewock State Park, NH, to Rapid River, ME

U-2016-9-11 – 

Start: Mollidgewock St. Park, Osprey remote site.

End: Cedar Stump Campground, Campsite #5, right at the start of the Carry Road.

On the Way:  Androscoggin River, Errol, Umbagog Lake

Miles: 16.  Milestone 398.5.  Hooboy!

Map:  7, 8

Weather:  Thunderstorms in AM on Androscoggin, Windy but clear—mostly—through Errol to Umbagog Lake.

Map 8: Errol to Rangely, ME

Trail Overview

OUT OF NH!  New State, new map, and GOODBYE UPSTREAM nonsense!  I’m now on map 8/13, and state 5/5, and well into the 2^nd half of the mileage!  WHOO!

Last NFCT Kiosk of NH!

Today’s been full of little struggles.  I’m fine and happy and (mostly) warm for now, but tomorrow I’ll probably be feeling the cold and the muscle ache.

Started out right before a long segment of rapid-tracking on the Androscoggin.  Was jamming along on it just fine when a morning downpour started.  After hoping for rain for a week (what am I saying, I’ve been making horrible promises to fearsome pluvial deities this whole trip…), I’d be loath to sit and pout because of a little precipitation, but when I saw thunder and lightning, I begrudgingly parked under a hemlock and consoled myself with a Clif Bar and waiting.  It lasted about half an hour, then I departed again, rain still coming down, up the rapid.  Got to wave to a fleet of Boyscouts huddled under tarps at the next group campsite up the river, and line past a couple be-wadered fishermen who were similarly sitting out the rain.

Next to the State Park proper, the river flattened out—the true “hallelujah” moment—all the way to Errol, our first town in Maine.  Picked up some groceries in Errol, including a local zucchini for $1 that was a steamy addition to my ramen soup this evening.  There’s an odd little set of rapid right below the dam next to Errol, and an even weirder campground/outfitter/guide service right along the shore.  Hand-painted signs, wooden tent platforms propped on cinderblocks, and a broken canoe with “Respect the waters” painted on the side welcoming you in.  It’s a homey place, and with sites right alongside the rapid stretch of the river, you could theoretically run your little playboat up the access road and down the rapids all day, go to sleep, wake up, and do it again.  They also have a generous policy of offering free camping to Through-paddlers, and when I got in at 1300 and told them it was too early for me to stop today, they graciously offered me a site on the other side of the lake at Cedar Stump, a handful of sites they owned.  The two proprietors were Eric and Maggie, with a very friendly dog.  I must remember to send Northern Waters/Saco Bound a thank-you.

Camping at Cedar Stump when it's NOT as windy as the gates of a Frozen-over Hell.  Looks quite nice.  Image via Northern Water's site: http://beoutside.com/

It was a long, windy battle across Lake Umbagog, even more taxing than Champlain/Bitabawgok, although a fraction of the mileage.  I was ready for that site by the end.  Lots more lakes to come—Dieter das Sea Boot is in his element.

The peatlands and river out of Errol lead straight into Umbagog Lake.  The Trail then goes out the Northeast corner, up to the mouth of the Rapid River.  Via the NH Division of Forests and Lands.

Things Learned: 

+ My deckbag (a cheap PVC thing I picked up in Long Lake, NY) is kind of toast.  I’m trying to downsize its contents.

+ Picked up some dray navy beans in Errol, and going to give bean-soaking a try in a plastic water bottle.  Fiber and protein yesplease.

+ Getting real good at upstream rapid-tracking.  Here’s hoping that stops being useful real soon.

+ Camping in the wind = COLD!  I’m wearing all the clothes I have tonight and pitched as far back in the woods as I could venture without having dreams of The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon.  The wind is still sucking my heat away…  In the future, if you come across a windy site, keep on lookin.

Trail Magic: 

+ Lots of incredulous faces as I travelled upriver past the Molliwodge camp sites…

+ Errol General Store man (where I bought a strange assortment of groceries) asked if I was camping and threw in a free pear.

+ Managed to surf on some of Lake Umbagog’s whitecaps!  It was surreal: this tiny, deep little lake had the biggest waves of the trip yet.