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| Bath time |
By
Craig Bailey
This is the last of the three-part series of Reporter
Bailey’s Allagash adventure.
On
Sunday, June 2, 2019, the Windham Eagle Reporter and Registered Maine Guide,
Craig Bailey, his sons Ian, Aaron, Ethan and Evan, and longtime friend, Patrick
Bogan, left Raymond on the 6-hour drive north, to begin the ultimate
Maine-based adventure on the Allagash Wilderness Waterway (AWW).
The destination was Pelletier’s Campground in St. Francis, near
the Canadian border, to meet its proprietor, Norm L’Italien. In addition to
serving as an outstanding host, L’Italien provides the shuttle service to
transport adventurers to the various starting points (put-ins) along the AWW.
L’Italien’s down-to-earth, jovial personality and Canadian-French accent,
epitomizes the northern Mainer.
After transferring gear and provisions to L’Italien’s passenger
van on Monday, the group was shuttled 85 miles over rough, dirt logging roads
to the put-in at the north end of Umsaskis Lake. L’Italien made the 3-hour
journey enjoyable with tales of adventurers escorted and the related mishaps
he’s dealt with. All the while, the group was hoping their journey would not
become fodder for one of his stories.
Along the way a bear was spotted foraging in the woods.
L’Italien shared advice on dealing with bears encountered along the waterway,
explaining they seem to respond better to commands in French versus English.
Since the group didn’t speak much French, L’Italien offered the universal
command one can shout to move bears along: “GIT!”
Once the van was unloaded and L’Italien drove away, a surreal
mood ensued, as the group acknowledged they were now completely on their own,
off the grid, left only with gear, provisions and their adventurous spirit
fully immersed in nature.
The sun was shining, and a few flies were buzzing about, enough
to warrant the first application of sunblock and insect repellent.
After loading the canoes and enjoying a wholesome lunch on the
shore of Umsaskis Lake, the group launched their canoes and began paddling
towards the Long Lake Dam campsite, approximately 8 miles away.
The map indicated nothing but smooth water ahead. Campsites were
clearly marked along the river, serving as primary landmarks to track progress
against the map. After a few hours of paddling the sound of rushing water could
be heard, at which time the group realized they had arrived at the targeted
campsite: Long Lake Dam.
At this point, the dam is a remnant of what it was during the
logging industry’s primitive past, requiring the group to portage (unload
canoes and carry gear) around the obstacle.
Once camp was setup and firewood gathered, Evan commenced to
fishing. He had a good-sized trout on the line, but upon lifting it out of the
water it fell back into the river. After this excitement, others began fishing.
Ian caught two small trout, but no keepers.
Dinner consisted of teriyaki steak tips, potatoes and onions
cooked over an open fire. After much conversation, reflecting on how long the
group had been planning for the trip, it was time for bed.
Until experienced, one cannot imagine the rest achieved after a
long day of paddling, with the peaceful sound of rushing water heard throughout
the night. Ah, the way life should be.
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| Musky for dinner. |
Mornings on the waterway began at daybreak, with the continued
sound of rushing water, birds chirping, bright sunlight reflecting off the
tents and fresh, crisp air. As one glances at the outstanding views of nature
an overwhelming peace is experienced, realizing there likely isn’t another
person around for miles, many, many miles. This, along with the complete
absence of mobile phone notifications vying for attention.
After tending to nature’s call, the first duty was to get water
from the river, boiling for coffee, on the coleman stove. In parallel, a fire
was stoked for warmth and to keep flies away.
The crew knew to get up at first light, the sound of the
whistling kettle or else receive a less peaceful greeting, in the form of a
jostle from the guide, ensuring the entire group was involved in maintaining
forward progress on the journey.
Once coffee was ready, a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and
pancakes was prepared and promptly consumed by the crew.
Final duties before departing were then performed, including
washing dishes, breaking down camp, dousing the fire, loading the canoes and
ensuring the group “left no trace.” The approach the guide learned from his
father, as a young lad, was to walk the campsite and pick up anything larger
than a cigarette butt.
The group then began their second day on the waterway, with
sights on the next campsite, Cunliffe Depot, approximately 25 miles away. The
map indicated this leg of the trip would be more exciting, with several spans
of class II rapids.
The map didn’t fail the group. A mishap occurred as the guide’s
canoe became thoroughly hung up on a rock, which was just below the surface. At
this point, all one thinks about is “we don’t want to capsize as our gear will
be strewn all about the waterway!”
To dislodge the canoe the guide jumped into the frigid water,
reducing weight in the stern (back) of the canoe, hanging on all the while.
After precariously drifting downstream in the deep, rushing water, the guide
was able to coax the canoe to shore. The entire crew was laughing at the
spectacle. As full disclosure, this was a near repeat of an experience had on
the very same rock, six years earlier.
Later, a moose was observed feeding in the waterway. Pausing to
take pictures, some in the group were able to get close, prompting the guide to
remind them that moose will charge! After a few minutes the moose became
disinterested and trotted gracefully off into the wilderness.
Other wildlife, serving as constant companions during the day’s
journey, included pairs of mergansers. These are waterfowl in the duck family,
distinguished from their brethren by the mohawks they sport and their behavior:
constantly diving (like loons) searching for fish.
After several hours of travel, the targeted campsite was
spotted, from several hundred yards away. To the groups slight dismay, it was
occupied. Upon glimpsing at the map the weary group agreed on another site,
which was fortunately, just across the river.
The chosen site proved to be more than adequate, although the
flies were a bit fierce. Out came the headnets, minus the guide, who refused to
wear one for the duration, representing native Mainers, who wouldn’t be caught
dead wearing such a thing.
After another great night of camping the group prepared for the
shortest leg of the trip, to the climax, Allagash Falls, only 6 miles away.
This served as a well-deserved respite after the prior day’s lengthy journey.
On approaching Allagash Falls one experiences a bit of anxiety,
resulting from the thunderous sound of the forty-foot falls and the fact that
you don’t want to miss the take-out for fear of certain death.
While the day’s journey by canoe was the shortest of all, the
portage was the longest: about a third of a mile.
Upon setting up the campsite it was bathtime. This consisted of
each member of the group jumping into the raging river, just below Allagash
Falls, with life vest on. Each had their own style of entering the rushing
water, the guide doing his ritualistic back flip, others front-flipping or
diving.
After cleaning up, the group napped on large slate rocks along
the river, warmed by the mid-day’s sun.
Shortly thereafter, fishing commenced. Evan landed a 24-inch
musky, which was had for dinner, with beans and hot dogs.
The final leg of the journey was to Allagash Village, about 13
miles away. Several spans of rapids along with many picturesque views made for
another rewarding day.
On approaching Allagash Village it became important to not
overshoot the take-out point, or the group would end up on the St. John River,
not part of the plan.
Finally, White Birch Landing, a privately-owned access-point
near the end of the Allagash River, was in view. Once landed, a short walk to
the owner’s home was necessary, to pay a small landing fee and use their phone
to call for transport services.
Within 30 minutes L’Italien showed up to load the gear and
adventurers, dog-tired yet completely fulfilled at the completion of their
journey, into his van for the short ride back to Pelletier’s Campground.
The evening’s dinner of pizza was enjoyed at the Forget Me Not
Diner, a quaint establishment whose primary cook and server was a sweet little
old lady. As the only diner in town, locals, most of whom admittedly never
paddled the Allagash, frequently stopped by the table to ask about the waterway
experience, being the primary reason strangers frequent the area.
After a good night’s sleep, the group acknowledged that the last
leg, of an absolutely outstanding adventure, was at hand: the drive home. The
group may have stopped at the Woodsman’s Museum, in Patton, but were pressed
for time as Aaron’s girlfriend had tickets to a concert in Boston that night.
Back to reality.
