Chapter 10

Groveton to Frizzell Campsite

Do you like walking hunched over like an old crone? Enjoy writhing pirouettes while grasping for purchase? Do your ankles need stoned a few dozen times? Well then do I have the river for you!

Today was a challenge, which we knew going into but didn’t diminish the struggle. We started off trudging up shallow water to the first of 3 dams. The portage was not clearly marked and we went the long way if not so steep and gravelly. After which we paddled under the covered bridge (see photo from previous post), and made our way to Mill Dam for another portage. The paddling here between Mill and Red Dams was relatively deep. Finally we bushwhacked through thick verge around Red Dam and set off through what in the book is described as braided islands.

Tom and I weren’t entirely sure what that meant. As it turns out is means small “islands”, stones piled higher than the water where some vegetation has taken root. And here began our challenge. It took as a while to realize when we could not paddle against the current successfully and when to just jump out. We tried using poles, and as it turns out this has its own learning curve that we did not have time to master. Alas trudging it was.

Slipping and painful jolts of bone bruising kicks to a rock were common place but we made our way with relative joviality, entertaining ourselves with burgeoning inside jokes. We eventually made it to Emerson Bridge, where we found a sandy spot to eat lunch. Here our energy levels began to wan.

We had gone a little more than five miles, and according to a figure we had it was 7.2 miles to Frizzell Campsite. We thought we had a little under two miles to go before our campsite. And assuming 1 mph we were set to get here at 3 pm! I fortunately we misread where the distance was measured from.

After the bridge we waded through stony water a ways farther to the confluence with Nash Stream. Beyond here there was good paddling and deep water. The section was away from roads and was blessedly quiet. Cedars and blue spruce, and black birches lined the way, the silence broken by agitated fisher birds and one catbird.

This was the loveliest section so far for us. But soon the water was low again here sandy here rocky, and we passed through what might be farmers fields. The banks and the bed here filled with old tractors and cars. Our gumption was less than it had been made worse with growing frustration as we didn’t find Frizzell Campsite. Soon we were back to frequently jumping out to wade the boat ahead.

We had fought our way up some rips and as we became to paddle into forward momentum, I turned back and happened to see the Frizzell sign hidden by thick overgrowth. And here we were two miles farther than we thought we needed to go!

We discussed going to Stark as it was only 4 and one more mile would be that much better tomorrow. But no answer at the B&B and this being the last option until Cordwell Campsite 7 miles, we decided not risking be turned away.

Tomorrow we’re going to get up earlier as insurance. We have 12.4 miles to go. I believe they will be easier than today but there is a mile long boulder field going through Stark, a nice challenge to start the day! Wish us luck!