The
Allagash Wilderness Waterway is a 92-mile stretch of river that winds
it's way through the pristine forests of northern Maine. Although this
surrounding area has been subjected to a long history of logging, the
feeling you get paddling through these quiet woods are much the same
Henry David Thoreau felt when he chronicled his time here in his book,
The Maine Woods. The waterway provides a thoroughfare for
paddlers to experience this wilderness the same way the Native Americans
did over 4,000 years ago when their main mode of transport switched from
the heavy dugouts to the lighter more versatile birch bark canoes.
The 1830’s brought upon a logging boom that still exists outside of the
Wilderness’s boundaries to this day. Most of the clear cutting effects
of logging are no longer visible from the river. Secession has long
since begun replenishing the forests since the waterway was established
in 1966. Even though the logging has
ended in the immediate area, evidence of it’s history in the form of
roads, scrap metal and even machinery has been left and absorbed by the
landscape.
It was along this river
that we took 5 days to escape from our daily grind and return to life
where many responsibilities and many of the comforts of everyday life
didn’t exist. My father and I had been asked to join a group of 7 guys
planning to run a 50+ mile stretch of the river from Churchill Dam to
Allagash Village. The trip was not going to be a stressful one. As one
group member put it during our planning, “The main problem will be
finding enough room to put all of the beer.” As it turned out, my main
problem was paddling after a night with Captain Morgan. The benefit of
camping by canoe is the vast amounts of gear that you can carry. I’m
used to carrying everything on my back when out in the woods. The fact
that we would have a 17’ canoe to carry our equipment was a luxury, a
luxury which was exploited to it’s fullest extent.
I was surprised to see
the area was very similar to the way I had imagined it. The river width
ranged from maybe a hundred feet to a couple hundred yards. Depth
ranged as well in many cases as shallow as a couple of inches. In most
cases the water was clear enough to see up to 20’ down, if it ever got
that deep. One things I was not expecting was the flatness of the
terrain I was explaining more hills, Especially from a place only a
couple of hundred miles from Katahdin and the northern terminus of the
AT. From the river at least things looked pretty flat. The maps showed
no elevation change over a thousand feet anywhere near the river. Our
route took us downriver, south to north, counterintuitive to me but
that’s just the way I think. We only had two lakes to cross.
Just north and downriver
of our put-in point at Churchill Dam was Chase rapids, a series of Class
IIs that required some scouting and a higher water flow than the time of
year allowed. Fortunately, the ranger was able to release water from
the dam and raise the flow enough to let us negotiate the river. For a
$ 10 fee she even shuttled our gear below the rapids so we could run
them with lighter canoes and without the added danger of tipping all of
our gear into the drink. It took about an hour for the water level to
rise to an acceptable level. In a light rain we ran the rapids with the
most experienced canoeists bookending those with less experience. Our 4
canoes led by a kayak were off to a great start despite the weather.
The next 5 nights we
enjoyed the accommodations of the Waterway’s campsites. Each one was
equipped with picnic tables and pole for a tarp, a fire ring with grill
and outhouse. As a whole, all of them were well maintained. As with
any trip, some campsites were better than others but I challenge anyone
to find a valid reason to not stay at one again. The second day of our
trip any campsite would have looked good. Even though the rain had let
up, the wind had begun. Long Lake was by far the most difficult paddle
of the trip. Strong winds worked against us and we couldn’t cross the
lake and hide behind the woods because waves, which had formed
whitecaps, would have swamped our canoe. We paddled at half our normal
speed, even thought it felt a lot slower. Eventually the lake funneled
into a river and eventually our campsite. From then on the rest of our
paddles were downhill.
Long Lake Dam
campground was located at the north end of Long Lake and is an excellent
example of how humans impact on the area has become a part of it’s
beauty. The remnants of Long Lake Dam span the width of the river and
created our only portage of the entire trip. Fortunately it wasn’t a
true portage, but it was necessary to walk the canoes over the remains
of the dam. Since we stayed at the campsite that night it was just a
matter of unloading in one spot and loading in a different spot the next
day, about as easy as a portage gets. Construction of the Long Lake Dam
began in 1907 and after being washed out later that year was finally
completed 4 years later. The dam held the water back to a depth of 15’
and was used by the St. John Lumber Company to regulate flow
downstream. What was left looked like a set of railway ties laid side
by side across the river. The slope up to the campsite was steep and
rocky, it was obvious those rocks were put there. From the campsite
looking across the river it’s easy to imagine how the dam spanning it’s
width.
Other
artifacts scattered along the waterway gave us some insight into the
lands history. Most of these were limited to gears, scrap metal, old
carts and a lot of unidentifiable twisted, rusty ruins. One exception
to these sketchy remains are the Lombard Log Haulers at Cunlife Depot,
across the river from our last campsite. These log haulers had been
used to transport timber from deep within the woods to the main roads
until they were phased out by gas-powered trucks. Two of these machines
can be found at Cunlife Depot on river right. They sat no more than 150
in from the bank along an overgrown trail. The first we determined to
be gas-powered judging from the
spark plugs. The other we imagine was
steam powered. The obvious difference, size. The remains of the
steam-powered hauler was roughly twice that of the other due to the
large furnace needed to create the steam and power the engine. Either
one was powerful machine able to haul tons of fallen trees across muddy
roads. It’s funny how even these massive machines somehow looked at
home in the brush.
The reasons for
our trip were not record breaking or history making. We didn’t discover
a lost tribe or any piece of history that hadn’t been touched or
photographed a hundred times before. Even though I knew that we were
retracing the same route that had been run by countless others, I rather
enjoyed thinking that we were all alone out there. The delusion of
solitude was fueled by the lack of other visitors. During our time on
the river we only ran into a handful of other boats and we never had to
share a campsite with anyone. It was this escape that I was looking
for. I believe that it is good for you to get away once in a while and
get back to bare necessities. This connection with nature is something
that we forget or gets pushed aside in a world where you can literally
go all day without spending anytime outside with the exception of
walking to and from your car.
As good as it was
to be nearly alone in the wilderness, I was with a great group of guys.
It is not very often that you can find 9 people and put them together
for 5 days and a not have a conflict. Several of the members of the
group have been out together before, in some cases, several times. The
group dynamic worked well and the group itself worked well. There was
not one person who didn’t pull his own weight. Within a half-hour of
arriving at camp each night tents were set up, a fire was built and a
functioning kitchen was churning hors d'oeuvres. The beer flowed like
wine, the wine flowed like water and the tequila went down too easily.
Many nights around the campfire degraded into childish humor. Who
cares, it was why we where here, to enjoy the location and each other.
Like pairing wine with food, the company and nature only made things
better.
No good camping trip
would be complete without some mystery or unexplained occurrence. Ours
occurred the 3rd night as we sat around the campfire. A
member of our group recounted a
story of four paddlers who suspected
they had been abducted by aliens. The incident as it always does,
occurred not too far from where we were and on a night much like that
evening. Not too long after the story, a light appeared in the woods.
Of course it attracted our attention and soon went out. We discussed
possibilities ranging from possible to ridiculous. It came on again.
The group looked around we shined lights on it, questioned if we really
saw it and debated it’s source; a ranger walking toward us, the moon
shining through the trees, some sort of night vision scope, all absurd.
Eventually it went out again and stayed out. For the rest of the night,
the light remained a mystery.
Part of what I
love about camping is stepping into a world that exists completely
without you. The river has been there for thousands of years and God
willing, will be there for thousands
more. It is almost as if it was
is trapped in time and we were able to just pass through it. Day four
brought us upon a pair of moose, cow and calf, doing what they do
everyday. Up until then we had only caught glimpses of moose through
the brush, or their gangly legs flailing as the trotted off into the
woods upon hearing our voices. It was late in the day and our group had
become stretched out putting about an hour between the first and last
boat. As the first canoe pulled up the stern man got out and began to
wave wildly. My first thought was that he didn’t want us to miss the
campsite. I thought this was a bit of an over reaction because you
could easily see them and the poles over the picnic table. What I
didn’t realize was that he was trying to tell us to be quiet. He had
spotted the moose from over 300 yards away. From where we were they
looked like two brown spots.
The next half-hour was a
quiet rush. I rummaged through my stuff and got out my camera and the
longest lens I had and began to shoot as many pictures as I could on as
many settings as I could hoping to get at least a couple of good shots.
Even with the zoom lens, the pictures were still mostly background with
some moose. We crept along the opposite bank only getting about another
50 yards closer before we realized the futility.
Of all the times for us
to encounter another group, now was not the time, but fate said it was.
Two canoes passed us as we stood on the bank and further down the river
passed the pair of moose. Of all things, the moose were more concerned
with us and the noise I was making climbing over fallen trees then the
other paddlers a mere 50 yards from them. Eventually their attention
shifted and they retreated into the woods.
By the time the rest of
the group caught up the moose felt it was safe to return to the water
and continue feeding. We paddled silently downriver hoping to get a
closer look at the pair. I turned the driving over to Dad and resumed
compulsive photography. The cow must have been at least 700 lbs and the
calf, roughly half that. They continued to feed with their faces buried
in the water as we approached. For the most part they ignored Dad and
I, which was fine by us. When their attention turned in our direction,
we turned downriver and left them alone. At our closest point, we got
within 50 yards of the two and were rewarded with some of the best
pictures of the trip. More importantly we were allowed a glimpse into
the everyday life of North America’s largest mammal.
By this point in the trip
it was obvious that the low water level was becoming a factor in our
ease of paddling. Not much could really dampen our spirits; so far it
had been a one for the
books but the paddling was becoming increasingly
more difficult. Most days we had to get out and drag our canoes over
the more shallow areas at least. We had decided as a group to take out
early at Michaud Farm, not ideal but we all agreed it was the best thing
to do. The last day would have been more walking than paddling and we
didn’t want to risk tipping a canoe and getting all of our gear wet.
Plus we were here to relax and have fun, not work.
Even though our trip
ended early, I don’t think any of us were cheated. We had days of rain,
wind, sun and frost. We had seen and experienced nature on a first hand
basis in a part of the country that I had never been to. For all of the
frustrations, missed flights, lost luggage, used vacation time and
spousal negotiations we had been rewarded with a trip that none of us
will forget anytime soon, even if the moose did.