Chapter 8

In which this leg ends

Union Falls Pond to Baker’s Acres

That’s right you read correctly, this was my last day on the trail for this stretch! But not to worry it isn’t the real ending. There’s still lots of summer left and as I said from the outset I meant to do this over a few years. So let me tell you about my last day.

Linda and I agreed upon a 6 o’clock wake up time for the long haul. I woke up at 5 though so I took my time making and eating my oatmeal by the concrete retaining wall of the dam. I ate 3 packages of oatmeal, hear that Quaker Oats? You stingy bastards, make a bigger packet! The morning was breezy as the new front pushed the rain clouds from the day before out and brought the warm clear day ahead.

Around 6 I went back to the campsite and started packing up. Linda said she was a light sleeper so it would wake her, and it did. Soon we were rolling rain flys, and cramming sleeping bags into stuff sacks. We discussed our plan for the day, Linda thought of walking to Redford past Clayburg to avoid the Class I rapids after Clayburg, but was hoping if she got cell service her friend Chris might be able to get her car to avoid walking the whole distance. I was determined to put in at Clayburg, both to avoid any more walking than necessary and I was excited for a little whitewater.

Eventually we set out, crossing the dam and swinging right down Casey Road. I had anticipated being on the shoulder of a highway like Permanent Rapids Carry, but Casey Road is a dirt road and is also seasonal, and is evidently little travelled. The two of us walked side by side in the middle of the road (we encountered one truck going slow). It was also well shaded by the trees, I was happy about this as I do about as well in direct sunlight as a garden slug.

Linda and I chatted about our trips from Saranac Lake (we both encountered the merganser and her chicks running from us), our jobs, and plans for the next phases of the trail. The conversation was punctuated but dogged focus to pull our boats and gear up the next hill. Deer tracks were pressed into the damp sand where orange newts struggled to cross the way. Besides the truck that passed us, a fox crossing the road was our only companion.

After passing some houses toward the end of the road, we came out to the intersection with Silver Lake Road. Now the road was paved and wider and the trees gave no shade. We stopped at the stop sign and sat in the grass. We ate, rehydrated, and applied more sunscreen. It was here I took off my water shoes (that’s right water shoes) to examine my feet. I had begun to feel a hot spot on my right foot. I got out the moleskin in and attempt to remedy the situation. Linda was still without cell service, and it was here that my phone bit the dust indefinitely (Hence, the surge tower is my last photo. I believe it had to do with inconsistent voltage from the solar charger screwing up the power settings on the phone. It has since recuperated).

With nothing for it but to keep on keeping on, we headed north on Silver Lake Road (this was not immediately obvious but you go left at the stop sign). Again we were in the break down lane on a road where cars went fast enough to blow our baseball caps off our heads. Once a dog barked and rushed towards us, and I thought we had a row on our hands, but it knew enough not to cross the road or there was an invisible fence. Linda and I exchanged relieved smiles and kept plodding on. For a path that is following a river, there was a whole lot of up hill climbing on this road. It was perhaps a mile since leaving the stop sign, that both of my feet began to burn and I was resigned to blisters I had hitherto avoided. The only relief during the carry was sipping the water hot from the sun and the brief breeze left in the wake of a truck driving by.

My feet on fire and my legs a little shakey we eventually came to the intersection with route 3 in Clayburg. A group of fisherman were just leaving for the day, and they asked us about our wheels and the trip. They pointed out water shoes weren’t good for walking, I don’t remember exactly how I responded but it was much more polite than what I wanted to tell them. I told them how I had wanted to run the section, or at least the first 4 miles or so depending, but was advised the water was too low. They said there was plenty of water, “you just need to pick your lines”.  They must have flat asses and shallow boats, stick to fishing guys.

I was desperate to get in the boat and leave shore I couldn’t stand another moment of walking. Linda waited to see how I did, in case she decided she could put her boat in there. I set out into the Class I rapids. It was thrilling change of pace from lugging the canoe around, but required my attention not to drag bottom on the rocks. By the time I had a moments pause I was too far from Linda for a thumbs up or down to be distinguished so I tried waving an X. Soon I was around a bend and out of sight of the road. Here things went from exciting to frustrating.

At first setting out the water was shallow but enough to paddle and navigate the boat. However soon it didn’t matter what I did. The paddles were scraping rocks with every stroke making it ineffectual, the center of the canoe was bowing inward as it dragged over rock after rock after rock. Trying to change direction was pointless as the stern would hit a rock as it swung out and bounce you back in the opposite direction. Once I was thoroughly stuck on the stones, and had to get out, I was slipping on the slick river bed and jamming my blisters against the rocks. Once in “deeper” water, I had to fight for balance to get in the boat before it was taken down river as the current was strong enough that lapse in vigilance would whisk the boat away. Several times cursed the fisherman, yelling out “plenty of water he says! Plenty of water he says!”

Relegated to being keelhauled down the river bed I decided that I was getting a ride to Baker’s Acres (campground and one of the few options for overnight in this stretch), I had no intentions trying to paddle in conditions like that any more, and walking the rest of the way sounded equally terrible. So after a few miles I got to the next carry around Separator Rapids. This was a rocky and root strewn 0.3 mile path through the woods, accommodating to tender feet and wheels. Here I came out onto Ore Bed Road, which crosses the river to route 3.

In case you forgot, my phone had stopped working back at Silver Lake Road, which meant I needed to find a phone. I was fixated on either calling my dad or Mark, initially, to figure out a ride. Retrospect St. Regis, or calling Baker’s Acres would have made more sense, but you can forgive me for not being at peak congnitive capacity in that moment.

I limped (not rhetorical) up to a couple houses until I found someone at home and asked to use her phone. I’m sure she thought I was trying to scam her, or steal stuff from her smart phone (I would in her shoes), and I tried to explain myself but if I stringed a sentence together I was lucky. Now if you’re like me you’ve had a cellphone for awhile (13 years I think) and I haven’t remembered a phone number in as long a time. The only two numbers I remember are my parents house phone (which is now a cellphone) and my grandparents number. My parents both have cellphones and the house phone is virtually always on silent, so I knew it was tall order to get them to answer. My grandmother, is as trusty a person as you can imagine and if I got her could get the wheels in motion, but damnably I was 3:30 which prime nap time for the old girl, and I knew the phone would be off the hook. Suspicions confirmed: 3 attempts to my parents with nothing, and a busy line at grandma’s house. I could have left a message but I’m sure this poor woman didn’t want a sweaty mouth breather lurking in her front yard for potentially hours waiting for a call back. So I asked her where the nearest convenience store was, and was directed to Maplefields on route 3, so I strapped on the only shoe that’s better than a water shoe for walking, flip flops, and went on my way.

Half a mile down the road I got to the convenience store. I asked for a phone, and attempted to explain my situation. I also entered my own phone number in five consecutive times instead of my parents number. It was here that Stacey, one of the employees and not she of the cookies, offered to give me a ride to Baker’s Acres. We through my stuff in the bed of her Tacoma and rocketed down the road.

It was here I met Ken and Dawn Banker, who are regular campers there and we covering for Ron Baker, the owner, while he was celebrating his birthday. They were exceedingly kind and generous. Ken gave me a beer while Dawn filled out the paperwork for my campsite. At this point I had decided that this was my last day on the trip. I had already decided Plattsburgh would be a good place to end, but given the low water and the five (maybe a sixth from new construction) portages between Baker’s Acres and Plattsburgh, I didn’t need subject myself to that.

The Banker’s let me use their phone to call the house phone and leave message (dad called back promptly and we arranged pick up the next day). I stuck around to chat as I drank my beer before bring my stuff to my site. Dawn let me use a towel for the showers as my camp towel wouldn’t have the same effect. After my shower she made me a couple ham sandwiches with some doughnuts for breakfast, and offered me coffee in the morning. Truly spoiling! What’s more is Paul, another regular camper and also employee, came over to offer me to join him and his family for burgers. Despite having just eaten the ham sandwiches I took him up on the offer. So many generous and caring people there!

About the time I was finished my burger Linda had showed up to camp as well. She had walked to Redford where she put in and had a similar ordeal as me getting out at Separator Rapids and making her way to Maplefields where her friend Chris had brought her car which she drove down to Baker’s Acres. She had also decided that the stretch to Plattsburgh wasn’t worth the effort this time around and was going to find an easy hike something easier to do.

Thanks again to the Bankers who were truly wonderful, and I maybe out stayed my welcome at coffee in the morning, say hi to Rusty! And also to Paul for the burgers and company as well.

This trip was amazing some really beautiful days and great challenges and amazing people along the way. Thanks to everyone who helped me along the way and those at the home base who supported me. This isn’t the end, I plan to do at least one small section at some point this summer or fall, and more in the coming years. This post is long enough as is but I probably will have some sort of follow up post yet to come. Thanks to those following along with the blog. I’m surprised at the reception I’ve gotten and honored to hold your attentions, please keep tabs, it won’t be as regular for a while but I will have more posts. Cheers!