Man Packing

The most important thing that you must learn on the trail is not to fret and fume over trifles, and even if your load is heavy and irksome, even though the shoulder straps chafe and the tump line or canoe on one's head makes your neck ache, remember that you are being initiated into the great fraternity of outdoor people. And even though a lady should be met on the trail it would not be necessary for one to take off one's hat, for even a foolish society woman would not expect a man to doff the canoe he might be carrying on his head. Under all circumstances use common sense; that is the rule of the wilderness and of real culture.

From THE BOOK OF CAMP-LORE
AND WOODCRAFT
Dan Beard - 1920

Lombard Log Haulers

The North Woods, in some respects, is like a living museum to the logging industry with artifacts sprinkled around in strange places. Some like Chamberlain Farm, have all but disappeared, reclaimed by mother nature, but other still hold vigil, rusting sentinels waiting to be visited by those curious enough to go searching. The largest are the tramway, train engines and box cars left in the woods near Eagle Lake, but equally fascinating are the machines once used for hauling logs in the winter woods. They were known as Lombard log haulers and there are two resting along the Allagash; tucked in the woods, resting where some backwoods logger parked them so many years ago.

From 1900 to 1917, Alvin’s factory in Waterville Maine produced 83 steam log haulers, but there are few in existence today, having long ago served their purpose, most were turned to scrap. The machines ran on steam and pulled log laden sleds through the woods in winter, in preparation for the spring log drives. Lombard’s innovative tracked tread system became the prototype for all tanks and other tracked vehicles that followed.

After breakfast we followed the path that led downhill to a small stream, we crossed at a log bridge and continued up the other side, turning toward the woods and after a few yards we saw something curving up out of the ground in the middle of the narrow trail. It was a skid ski, and all of a sudden, we realized just to the left and half covered in foliage was one of the Lombards. It looked like the skeletal remains of some giant beast, and I was awe struck. You just don’t see stuff like hanging around, unless I guess you’re in the Allagash. We photographed the beast and continued on until we found the second hauler. It was more intact than the first and someone had circled it with an old snow fence; probably because of the asbestos sheeting that we could see spilling from the bottom of the boiler. It was an impressive site. There were also parts of things scattered around, the weirdest one as far as I was concerned was the metal bucket hanging off the side. How long has that thing been sitting there?

It was time to get moving, so we headed back, broke camp, loaded up and headed downriver. We were on our way to the ranger station at Michaud Farm.

Eagles

We spotted many bald eagles along the trail and observed at least one in every state we paddled. Once on the endangered species list, their populations have increased greatly over the last 40-years with estimates of well over 100,000 birds living in the United States and Canada today.

The bald eagle isn’t actually bald, the name is a descriptive term for the white-feathered plumage that adorn its head, a physical attribute of mature birds usually over the age of four. Until them, bald eagles exhibit a mottled look with streaks of black and brown interspersed with lighter colors. An opportunistic feeder, they survive mostly on fish but will pick up a meal where and when they can, sometimes stealing other animals kills.

An average bald eagle weighs about 10 lbs., has a wingspan ranging from 6 to 7 feet, is capable of flying 40 miles per hour on average and can dive at a speed of 100 mph when going after prey.  Its curved beak and large talons make it a very efficient hunter, especially for small animals and fish, and it can carry up to 15 lbs. if required.

As the largest raptor in North America they prefer tall, sturdy trees for nest building, and they can build some very big nests; some have weighed in at a ton or more. They often build nests 100 feet off the ground. It’s the safest place for their young, and the higher the elevation the easier it is to spot their prey.

Food

Camp food has morphed in recent years and I’m amazed at the choices on the market today. Many years ago, my buddy Brad and I, were getting ready for a backwoods breakfast and going through our usual routine. Our small white-gas stove with its missing heat shield, was whining and hissing as we sat and waited for the water to boil. There was a good chance the stove would over-pressurize and blow, so we positioned the release valve away from us, in the event it became a flamethrower.

The stove hissed, the water boiled, coffee was made, and for the first time we had scrambled eggs for breakfast in the mountains. What once looked like yellow cotton candy in a plastic bag was transformed into a thick yellow goo, and because we were sitting on a granite cliff 3,400 feet above sea level, attempting to summit Mt. Madison, with seven emotionally disturbed adolescents in tow; these were the best eggs we’d ever had. That was 1978, and the first time we’d tried this kind of food; the kind where you pour hot water in a bag, shake it over your head, wait two minutes, and eat. It was magic, and from that point forward, we couldn’t get enough of that stuff for a couple reasons; it was easy to make, and it lightened our load, a great plus since weight was one of our biggest challenges. 

Camera Gear

Pictures help us reconnect with memories and no one knows that better than a photographer. As professional photographers heading into the field, we stuff as much photographic equipment as we can fit into our kit, without the additional weight sinking the canoe or kayak we’re using, and then we stuff a little more in for good measure. We even bring equipment we don’t expect to use. It’s only along for the ride as insurance in the event our regular gear breaks down, gets lost, or ends up at the bottom of a lake. This is also why we carry a large amount of liability and equipment insurance.

Our regular kit for a canoeing trip includes two Canon SLR digital bodies; 5D Mark IIs, and four or five lenses; a 70-200 mm telephoto, 50mm normal, 24-70mm telephoto, 16-35mm wide angle, and a 24mm macro lens. We also carry a mirrorless camera enclosed in an underwater housing, and two mirrorless cameras that we can pull out when we don’t need to worry about them getting wet. I also keep a waterproof camera in one of the pockets on my PDF. We both bring our phones that second as cameras, and they’re stored in waterproof cases either attached to our vests or to the deck of our boat. Our newest piece of photo gear is a drone with a Hasselblad camera, a great addition to our kit. There are places we just can’t go to get the picture we want, and the drone sometimes makes that possible. Additionally, we pack; extra batteries, memory card wallets with extra cards, a tripod, camera raincoats, and cleaning equipment. Along with the camera gear, we need to pack gear bags; a backpack to carry most of the camera gear when in the woods, and waterproof hard and soft cases for everything else. We also sometimes bring a laptop to download picture files; We aren’t comfortable until we have two copies of our files in two different locations.

Big Guy

We pushed off under a warm sun that beat off the water. I cruised along the left shore in shade looking for wildlife as Eric paddled more to the center. I tend to straggle a little behind because of the need to pull out and then re-secure the camera gear every time I photograph, making Eric who’s usually paddling ahead, the “advance man” looking and spotting things of interest; so he was the first to see the big guy. There was a moose foraging on water plants close to the stream. It was a bull sporting a crown of half-developed felt-covered antlers, chomping away on aquatic greens. I was surprised to see him considering all the canoe and kayak traffic running up and down the stream. I guess he was hiding in the bushes, waiting for boats to go past before jumping back in to eat.

Musquash

“Just before night we saw a musquash, (he did not say muskrat,) the only one we saw in this voyage, swimming downward on the opposite side of the stream. The Indian, wishing to get one to eat, hushed us, saying, "Stop, me call 'em "; and sitting flat on the bank, he began to make a curious squeaking, wiry sound with his lips, exerting himself considerably. I was greatly surprised, thought that I had at last got into the wilderness, and that he was a wild man indeed, to be talking to a musquash! I did not know which of the two was the strangest to me. He seemed suddenly to have quite forsaken humanity, and gone over to the musquash side.” –H D Thoreau

The Campfire

Campfire

I sometimes receive a text from a friend and all it says is; “I need a campfire” a phrase that means a lot more than its four words. It’s code for; get me off if only for a while, this high-speed elevator with its constant questions, problems, and noise, it’s never-ending buzz and hundred-mile-an-hour pace, its brain pulverizing, stress inducing roller coaster. Slow me down so I can think. Slow me down so I can reflect. Slow me down so I can relax. Slow me down so I can find the wisdom in my life that’s been drowned out by everything else. Help! I need to clear the mechanism. And a campfire has the power to do that!

Fire symbolizes the essence of our human existence, it is mystical and magic, it is an incubator of life and the curator of our spiritual soul. Fire is a transformational event both physically through the flame and mystically through our minds. It’s a symbol of wisdom, of purity and spiritual energy, and it holds the power to transfix us. It’s hypnotic and magic, and part of its allure is the realization, that it can take us to another place; a place of reflection, a place that has the ability to deafen the background noise and rejuvenate the soul. The most oft used phrase spoken when people are staring into a campfire is; “Do you remember when…”

The place that fire brings me to, allows me as a participant, to visit and revisit past experiences. It reignites emotions in me and transports me to places I’ve long forgotten or only remembered in objective terms. It plays with my senses and sparks long forgotten memories.  If you stare into a campfire long enough, its hypnotic power sometimes allows you to reach an alternate level of human consciousness a dream state that taps into memory, sometimes allowing us to understand our personal history by sensitizing us to long hidden thoughts and dreams. It often opens all of this up to me and bathes me in the reality of all that is, all that was, and all that will ever be.

A campfire burns in a circle without sides, without a front of a back, and is a release of physical and spiritual energy that dances in the night sky sometimes taking us along for the ride. Fire is one of the four elements of life; earth, wind, and water being the others. A fire’s transformative power can place me back in my grandfather’s yard watching carp swimming in his backyard fishpond. I’m transported back into my grandfather’s presence; I can see him, feel him, and smell him, as he tells me how to feed the fish.  I can be thirteen again and riding my bike on that hot summer day when I wiped out at the end of the street, skinning my arms, legs and face. The memory is so vivid I wince as though this long-ago event just happened. I can return to the scene of previous adventures and have sometimes accidently called a new friend, by an old friend’s name because memories have been rekindled, past experiences reignited.  My father, my long-lost friends and family, all roll back into reality and are present as a vision in that moment. I feel the magic of past campfires; flames dancing, wisps of smoke rolling skyward as the air feeds the flames. I feel as though I am not alone in my dreams, but others are close by.

Secrets are shared around a campfire because those who’ve experienced the magic understand it’s okay to verbalize things, things we might never tell anyone, any other time. The trance of the glowing flame is powerful medicine.