Day 29 – Attean Pond, ME, to Jackman, ME

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Start: Campsite on Attean (At-TEE-an) Pond.

End: Campsite (a generous term) on Big Wood Pond, near Jackman, ME

On the Way:  Attean Pond, Moose River, Big Wood Pond, Jackman

Miles: ~(-2).  Milepost: ~520.5

Weather:  Rainy and cloudy in AM, cleared up by sunset, which was cotton-candy pastel.

Map: 10

Whelp, the best-laid plans.  My Zero-Mile day (technically a negative-mile day since I’m camping off the Trail) wasn’t nearly as productive as my time in Island Pond.  That was a hard day to beat, though, plus it was a weekday.  Sundays are tougher for getting things done.

Jackman styles itself the "Switzerland of Maine."  In that it's close to stuff, I guess.

Jackman’s wee library, literally a shed in front of the High School, is only open Wednesday and Saturday 1200-1600.  No chance of visiting it today.  But I did stumble into the Historical Society Museum, where I made insta-friends with Mike the friendly curator, an old-time Mainer with a predilection for military paraphernalia.  He was extremely excited about a recently-donated WWI trench knife, and he had great stories about catching trout with his bare hands in Attean Pond.  He also told me that I camped right across Spencer Lake from an old POW camp.  Creeeeepy.  Anyway, this museum was a gem of a find, and Mike let me use his Internet and print off some trail updates, and check email.  He also had what can only be described as a “fan binder” of previous Through-paddlers who had passed through, most prominently the Read Family that he’d spotted toting their canoe up the road earlier that summer.  He scanned my maps, and I owe him a thank-you note and link to this blog.

The fabulous Historical Society, a High School turned firehouse, then high school again, now stuffed chock full of fascinating local artifacts.

A model trapper/hunter's hut set up outside the museum.

It was cozy inside!  I'd live in one.

I called my friends at Ecolablahblah in Rangely.  My oatmeal pal picked up.  Turns out I remembered incorrectly, and they don’t actually stock The Book.  She had a 1^st edition copy that Katina had sent her for perusal.  She was eager to gift it to me, but I declined, saying it wasn’t going to be immensely useful.  Then my pay phone minutes ran out.  I must send her a follow-up email to explain how grateful I was for the offer, and that I made it through alive.  The mail logistics would also have been tricky: They’d have to get it to Rockwood in less than 2 days at my current pace, and there’s no other convenient Trail town for at least 2 maps.  Ah, well.  As I wrote in my postcard to [my pal in Cambridge and former roommate] dRachel: Fuck it, we’ll do it live!  Sir Ernest Shackleton didn’t have guidebooks!  NEEEEW GOAL!

So tomorrow will entail climbing out of this mosquito-ridden little ATV bog trail where I’m camping for the evening across Wood Pond (where the map listed a campsite, but it either lied or I got there too late to find it), paddling the ~15 minutes back into town, visiting Bishop’s Motel and perhaps the general store for new socks (mine are disintegrating—this evening I put my foot through one of them like it was made of a wet paper bag instead of wet merino wool) and breakfast.  The Motel is where I shipped by box, so I’ll repackage it and send it off at 0900 at the PO, along with my postcards. 

Altogether, today was a day of gluttony, some humdinger mosquito bites, looking at history, and a pleasant read with a pint of local ice cream down by the section of the Moose River that I’ll be blazing down tomorrow.  Last day of Zero-Miling: Now we fly on to Fort Kent!

Things Learned: 

+ Generally a good idea to stop at local historical societies.  Between this one and the one where I spent a fascinating afternoon in Thames, New Zealand, I’ve seen some really cool stuff.  For example, today I learned out the existence of a device called a “weaning muzzle”: basically a halter with spikes near the nose.  Even the most patient mother isn’t going to let you nurse with that on…

Trail Magic: 

+ Back home, Alice my Warrior Bunnies costuming assistant seems on top of things.

+ I had the hamburger equivalent of poutine today: an open-faced patty covered with gravy and eas.  It was calorically resplendent.  I regret nothing.

+ I set a rough pick-up date with Hannah and Zach: October 1.  I can do it!

Day 28 – Spencer Lake, ME to Attean Pond, ME

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Start: Spencer Lake

End: Campsite closest to outlet of Attean Pond.  Windy as hell.

On the Way:  Spencer Lake, Fish Pond, Hardscrabble Road Portage (~6mi) Moose River, Attean Pond

Miles:  ~23.5.  Milepost: ~515.  God, I miss my Book.

Weather:  Mostly sunny, some clouds when it mattered, now in a really windy cover on the pond…

Map: 10

Attean Pond, right before getting into Wood Pond near Jackman.  Via Google Maps.

No dice on the Book being left behind conveniently at the dam.  The official guidebook is such a pale substitution.  It makes me want to hurl it into the fire pit every time I try to get useful information out of it and instead encounter some inane description of paddling on flatwater, or that hateful term “riffles.”  It’s like they told their cadre of editors, “Try and come up with a different flowery, frivolous way to say ‘paddle the damn river’ every time the occasion presents itself.”  It’s so bad.  There’s no other explanation for how we get phrases like “The love-whine of the moose cow in September is a treat you won’t soon forget.”  (That is an exact quote, or at least a very close paraphrase.)  Puh-lease.  Meanwhile I’m sitting here high and dry without mileage estimates.  I’m also wondering if if my short and sweet paddle into Jackman Landing tomorrow will be a nice wide paddle, like the Moose River has been these past 7 miles, or a battle against beaver and bracken, as was the exit stream from Fish Pond with ZERO indication from map or guidebook.

Sigh.  I miss The Book.  I know I only have 3 maps and ~200 miles to go, but I would happily buy a new copy just to have Katina’s advice on hand for those. 

Thus, the gameplan.  I was planning for a zero-mile day around Jackman, anyway, and today’s Sunday, so perhaps this is opportune.  I’ll paddle into town, get there before noon, pick up my box (yay, cozy clothes, GORP, and couscous!), check the library hours, find some power and wifi and get my Internetting done, call home, pack my box up for the last time and send it home, find some postcards and write them, find a PEN [past two entries were written in crumbly #2 pencil], and maybe treat myself to an ice cream.  That way, when the PO opens tomorrow, I can send off the box right away.  Also, I can check the library and any local outfitters to see if they have a copy of The Book to scan.  Otherwise, I could call up Ecolohoohaw, that store I befriended in Rangely, and see if they could send a copy up along further on the trail for me to intercept.  To Rockwood maybe, or maybe the next town along.  Another address to research.  Yay, logistics.  Just goes to show: it’s never just about paddling…

Things Learned: 

+ My wind principle holds, but there was no non-windy site to relocate to last night.  I set up the tarp as a wind screen rather than a dew cover, and it worked like a charm.

+ Wind also made things creepier in general, because you can’t hear, and paranoia turns any little noise into a critter in the night.

Trail Magic: 

+ Two old Maine guys passed me in a pickup truck on Hardscrabble Road yesterday, on my 5 mile portage from Fish Pond to the Moose River.  They offered a lift and water.  Neither called me a “brave girl,” which I sincerely appreciated.

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

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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

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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

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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

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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...)