Chase Outdoors

Racing northeast of Lincoln, Maine, into wind driven snow on a dark, stormy October 22nd night, we were a caravan of three vehicles destined for a late October canoe trip.  I was driving the lead vehicle with Trip Organizer, Doug, as my passenger and navigator, while Kenny “The Eggman” and Rock St. Helen followed in separate vehicles.  Conditions were imperfect.  Given my poor night vision, I struggled to see in the dark and blinding snow while Doug navigated using his infamous “landmark” technique.  “Turn left,” he yelled as I jerked my gear-filled Outback into what turned out to be a poor excuse for a skidder trail.  Careening down an overgrown, pockmarked path, we dead ended in what we euphemistically described as Mud Pit Heaven.  Alas, no put-in.  Wearied, we camped in the mud after a long postponed Happy Hour huddled under a tarp strung over two vehicles partially protecting us from gusting wind and snow.  Thus began our Baskahegan Canoe Trip.  Actually, it began a couple of hours earlier when Helen miraculously found us mindlessly circling a field in the dark just west of Lincoln.  Why Baskahegan you ask?  Because its there, and because Doug said so.  Day one of our trip found us wandering logging roads in search of a good put-in on Baskahegan Stream.  Finding the water level low – read that a mere trickle, we decided to launch on Baskahegan Lake west of the thriving metropolis of Brookton.  The shuttle was not uneventful.  Stopping for breakfast in a homey Topsfield eatery, we were cheerfully greeted by our waiter-cook, who politely inquired, “Whadya want?”  Leaving Doug, boats and gear in windy, near freezing conditions at the put-in, we three embarked for the take-out.   Needing gas and java, we stopped at a quaint little Danforth business I called, “Danforth Quick Stop.”  The Quick Stop, a “Full Service” business, employed a unique customer service strategy which maximized patron shopping time.  About 45 minutes was spent pumping and paying for gas.  An inspection is usually an overnight stay.  Observing that Murphy’s Law seemed to be in charge of our trip, we decided to leave vehicles in both South Bancroft and Wytopitlock (that’s Whit-tow-pit-luk, Kenny) to give us a couple of take-out options.  After waving to our new found friends at the Quick Stop on our return trip, we found Doug cooling his extremities at the launch, but still alive.  Paddling two tandem canoes, we persisted into a strong headwind and whitecaps during our three mile lake crossing.  After running a washed out dam at the outlet, we navigated flatwater and shallow rapids for about 7 miles before finding a good location to camp on a point of land.  Canoeing a heavier craft, Kenny and Doug frequently dragged on submerged rocks and were forced out of their boat on a couple of occasions.  While Helen and I smugly cruised more easily downriver, our idyllic afternoon paddle was frequently interrupted by our companions’ route finding disagreements.  Covering everything and everybody with tarps, we settled in for a very stormy night consisting of sleet, snow, wind and rain.  We arose to some accumulation of ice pellets (as predicted by the Helen Forecast) and a steady rain that continued essentially unabated for the next 24 hours.  Several rapids, ledge drops and beaver dams were on our agenda during the first three miles of the new day.  Running one steep ledge drop, Helen and I collided head-on with a large rock at the bottom.  Hence, the moniker, “Rock St. Helen” was born.  A tailwind propelled us north through Crooked Stream Flowage to Danforth.  Behind schedule, time didn’t permit a social call on the jolly crew at Quick Stop.  After several additional miles and an extended, almost desperate search, we found a suitable site to camp on a small island.  Very heavy rain made setting up camp a major obstacle.  While the disoriented, near hypothermic Trip Stenographer (that would be me) stumbled aimlessly about the island, the rest of the group labored successfully to establish camp just before darkness arrived.  Shelter and a warm fire brought comfort to our evening meal.  A suggestion for next year – skip the late night politics and religion discussion mixed with alcohol.  Between 3 and 4 inches of rain had accumulated in our pots and pans when we arose to sunny, breezy weather on Day 3.  More good news, rising waters had formed a perfect surfing wave adjacent to our campsite.  After extensive surfing, we persevered into a light headwind while enjoying strong currents and fluid rapids to a set of ledge drops that we lined near South Bancroft.  Since Kenny was still unable to pronounce Wytopitlock, we decided Bancroft was to be our take-out.  Some perspectives from the Trip Stenographer’s viewpoint:  Helen is the first amongst this fearsome foursome to have a river feature named after her.  I’m jealous.  Kenny will have to retake Canoe Camping 101 as Doug awarded him an Incomplete.  You really can have a great time while coping with miserable conditions.  We’re living proof.  Thought for the trip, “Solemn wits are fearful of a man who jests on serious subjects” – Francis Bacon. 

Visit our website, www.ronchaseoutdoors.com for information on more interesting outdoor adventures and obtain a copy of our book, Mountains for Mortals – New England, for details on the best mountain hikes in New England. 

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