Chapter 25

East Highgate, VT to Richford

This post covers three days. And I apologize if I’m short but I’m tired and writing these up hunched in my bivy sack screws up my already sore shoulders and neck.

East Highgate to Sheldon Springs

I’ll preface this trip by saying I’m hoping to make up for not much paddling this year, and hardly any last year. But I think with this trip I’ll be on schedule to finish next year. That being said my aim for this trip was to slow down and enjoy myself, or at least give myself time to wait out bad weather or recover as need be. So I have 11 days off, we’ll see what happens.

Aunt Stella and I rode left my house around 10 AM for the 4 hour drive to VT. Destination? The side of the road route 78 in East Highgate Vermont. If you’ve been following along on my journey this is where I could not proceed farther due to high water, back in Chapter 19. Aunt Stella was skeptical of the pull out I insisted on using to access the water. Steep slippery banks, garbage all over, and fish skins didn’t make a particularly bucolic impression. On I pressed paddling up to the ledges which had thwarted me over two years ago.

I’m happy to report the water flow was much lower and the ledges much more navigable. I climbed my way up the first boulder garden and chatted with Matt who was smartly going down stream. Past the next set of rocks and under the bridge where Aunt Stella was watching. I paddled under briefly to more rapids and rocks.

As I was traversing the rocks, someone nearby was shooting a gun. I hunkered by a boulder like I was in a cowboy movie. I considered yelling “I’m down here!”, but in case that I was the quarry decided I’d give myself a sporting chance and not rob the gunmen the challenge or the hunt.

I paddled or stumbled my way up stream to Sheldon Springs Electric Project. I scrambled up the gravel next to a gatehouse to the paved access road. From there it was a steep portage among the solar panel arrays. Eventually the road went down hill through the woods and finally the gate and intersection. I talked to an employee there and he said it was better to camp on their property than the end of portage which was swampy. So I set up by the gate. I had a couple people stop to ask if I needed anything, a friendly town!

Sheldon Springs to Enosburg

The day before had rained on and off but it poured that night. And I found my bivy bag just trapped condensation and was a stifling tube. Between that and someone playing music loudly nearby it was a restless night.

In the morning, I strolled into town to go to the service at St. Anthony’s Church which despite its humble exterior had beautiful stained glass windows. After walking back to camp, I took my time with coffee and breakfast and letting my things dry in the unexpected sun. I didn’t finish the portage and get into the water until 11. Really taking it easy this trip!

The first 5 miles or so were easy enough paddling. I passed under several bridges, some for cars and some old train trestles turned bike paths. The sun and wind helped dry me off and buoyed my spirits. The river is dingy brown, and the banks are mostly overgrown with the invasive Japanese knotweed. Just beyond the knotweed you can see acres of corn.

Eventually I got to Abbey Rapids, a tedious series of ledges to test my upper body strength, balance, and patience. I seemed to find every hole to drop my left foot into and bang up my ankles. My canoe variously became my patibulum, or an old reliable, but stubborn mule. Pulling her this way by the lead rope shoving her rump that way.

The days have started to blend as I’m writing this but it was a challenging day and the late start didn’t help. I would get over a rock garden and start paddling again only to find the water too shallow, or the current too strong, or another obstacle to trudge over. The weather had turned threatening and I was desperate to make camp.

I came to more challenging rapids to go up. I passed a gigantic boulder with a hidden grotto and waterfall. I was too weary to stop and explore. Not far from here more ledges rising some 6 or so feet out of the water came into view. A couple boys were fishing here, and beyond was the Enosburg Falls Dam. It had begun to rain and the boys offered to help me carry my stuff over the boulders.

From there I wheeled myself a little ways down the road to Lawyer’s Landing, a grassy spot on the side of the road. It was raining steady now and I decided to walk to town and wait out the rain, and maybe use the Laundromat. On the drive to Vermont we passed the ice cream stand in Enosburg, but I had forgotten about it until now. I got a dark chocolate raspberry truffle ice cream before supper; it was delicious after a hard day. I asked some locals if there was any place I could eat and dry off, the Chinese place seemed to be the only one open (the Laundromat was closed too). So I got myself some General Tsao’s chicken.

The rain had stopped by the time I came back to make camp. And despite the kids hooning in their cars and a street lamp right in my eyes, slept fairly soundly.

Enosburg to Richford

I slept way past my alarm, but felt good to sleep in. I made my way to town to get a coffee and was in luck that the Laundromat was open on Labor Day! I chatted with Sally the owner about the town and other things as my wet underwear became dry and beautifully warm. Afterwards I went back to camp to flick off slugs off everything and made some granola for breakfast.

It was cloudy but was not supposed to rain, and I was happy for the reprieve from the sun. The first 5 miles were easy going, just out of sight of corn fields and highways. I could hear the lowing of cattle, and smell them too. I did see some wildlife: an eagle, ospreys, herons, egrets, a wood duck, mergansers, and lots of geese.

Soon the fun was over and I was trudging my way over ledges again. The most intimidating and largest of which were the remains of the Samsonville Dam. Broken bits of concrete aggregate with cruel iron bars were wedged in between the natural rocks. There were deep pools here and I had to get out and rock hop to find where I could go without being hip deep or more.

The current was noticeably stronger hereafter, and I would be paddling along only to find I had slowed to a standstill where the river was shallow and water moving faster. It was a day long game of deciding to paddle for all I was worth (often with barely enough depth to get the blades in fully), or relent and jump out to walk.

This was most of the day fighting my way upstream, among rusted chassis, old tires in the bank, and the yellow and patina arms of backhoes rising from the brush marking where the road was over the bank.

At one point I swamped my boat in an unremarkable part of the river for no reason other than clumsiness and tiredness. All my most dry stuff, soaked! I fought my way to shore to bail out the canoe. My lighter and two spares were all wet and useless. My guidebook nearly destroyed. It even rained on me for a brief minute! When it rains it pours as they say.

It had started to get cold and I was beginning to get anxious about finishing and getting into dry clothes. With my guidebooks pages all stuck together I wasn’t sure exactly where to get out or camp for the night. With dogged determination I went on.

Finally I could see I had made it to town, but forgot if I should go up the canal or the main branch. I tried performing surgery on my sopping wet book while intermittently paddling so I wasn’t rushed backwards. Finally I paddled to some stone steps that were hidden among sumac and tall grass. I stopped here for a likely spot.

I made it to Davis Park in Richford. It was nicely kept with a play ground and a gazebo across from an old bed and breakfast.

My first order of business was to find a gas station and get a new lighter. So I organized my gear and walked into town. I was thoroughly cold now and happy for my fleece and dry britches. As I walked to the gas station I passed a tiny 24/7 Laundromat, score! At the gas station the smell of pizza was too alluring and I ended up getting a steak sandwich rather than suffer my freeze dried meals.

I went back to camp ate my sandwich on my sleeping pad before venturing to the Laundromat. The coin exchange was out of service, but I had 2 quarters left from this morning. And as it turns out most of my wet clothes only needed 4 minutes at medium heat to be dry.

I ended the night writing most of this blog out in the park which is apparently the favorite stopping place of teens with their cars. I listened to the insufferable bass of their subwoofers and their angsty chatter hoping to be left alone to sleep soon.