I’ve come to realize picking up your life and moving it to a brand new place is different than the micro-moves I’ve done these last 4 years in college, in and out of dorms, back from Colorado, etc. I didn’t think they would be different, but I am exhausted sometimes and I don’t know why! I’m going into my 3rd week here. My housemates claim how difficult it must be still to be getting used to things, but I like to think of myself as someone who can just pick up and go anywhere. However, this is not the first thing that has slowed me in my tracks. I might have to start accepting the fact that I am not as young as I used to be…

Leaving Maine sucked! Tears were shed as I pulled out of the house I was living in this summer, the house that saw 88% of my support raised in 2 months (still working on that last bit y’all-would love some more recommendations!) and all the emotions that come with support raising. Emma saw me off, and with a little Toyota Corolla hatchback packed to the very top, I closed another chapter in my life. It was all so new and exciting, getting down here to Amherst, that I didn’t have that much time to be sad. I’m still working on a spotify playlist dedicated to Maine and all my memories there, so if you know any songs, send them my way. I couldn’t believe how many people I was leaving behind, and wonder how many of them will be there if/when I return. If I’m going to be a park ranger one day, it’s going to be in Maine. But WHO KNOWS where God will take me after these 2 years here. I’ll be keeping you updated.

How could I make a post about all the things I love about Maine?! It’s captured a bit of my heart, and the post would go on forever! I can’t even pick some favorites, because every single bit of it changed who I am as a person. So I don’t think I’ll try. All I know is the answer to the question “where are you from?” gets harder and harder as I get older. I  wonder if there are things about Massachusetts that I will never fully get used to, or those things will pass with time.

What I do know is that I wrote a poem that I think describes what I’m feeling better than droning on and on. I want to give some background first though. This wonderful poem was written way back in March, just as the corona news came in that a) I wouldn’t get to have a graduation with all my friends and peers b) We were all getting kicked out of the dorms c) I still didn’t know where I was getting placed on staff for the next two years. A host of other things were making me feel some kind of way, but let’s focus on that last one for a second.

Up until this point, I don’t think I had written anything in months. There was so much uncertainty from the higher ups of where I was going to be for the next 2 years. It came down to staying at USM or moving here to Massachusetts. For as much as I love Maine, my soul was sad and angry at the thought of staying on staff at USM (which is a whole different story we don’t have time for here). A poem had been swirling in my head for a little bit, and I said to myself, “If I am moving to MA, it will be a happy one, but if I’m staying here, it will be a sad one with no hopeful ending”. A couple days later I got the call that I was moving, and from there the poem came. But the title just was stuck in my head, because at that time in March (and I could still argue now), Maine was dead. It was not the Maine I knew. It certainly was not the send off I wanted, but these wonderful memories were pulling at my words, making quite the play of future and past. And if I could be so bold, I think it’s the best poem I’ve ever written. So, with a heavy but proud heart of being far away from home, I present…

“Ode to a Dying Maine”

The 23rd state needs no eulogy from me-
some others would think of
as only a ‘passer-thru’

And I guess it could be said that
my roots are not very strong,
but to be fair, I haven’t had a permanent address in years.
I have no Abenaki blood to brag of, no Arcadian family to claim.
Maine soil isn’t good for growing many things other than potatoes.

But now, the future looms
ahead like a dark lighthouse on the shore.
Calm, the waters surface a mirror, and fog rolls in like the heavy
days of August come again.

When it snows in Maine, it blizzards. When the wind blows, it howls and screams.
If the rain falls, it hails and washes away everything. When those rocky islands and rich pine forests birth an explosion of abundance, I
laugh and yell
in wild wonder
How the most harshest winters give life to
the most beautiful things.

Maine soil grows the most vibrant blueberries you could ever only hope to find.

Even though now,
you are nothing but a shell like the many abandoned garrison
forts along your coast,
I remember you for what you were-

China Lake, the expanse of nothing but autumn woods
on the farmland hills. Such an insignificant town,
but to me it tastes of microwaved apple cider and I hear the echoes
of laughter around a fire, the sweet sounds of
pure friendship, carry on forever.

Those long dark winter nights that
can’t be described as anything other than memory-making, for it is in the
mundane antics of young adults that so quickly turn
into the old aches of side splitting laughter.
When the snow laid down thick on Sunday evenings when classes were cancelled,
we celebrated and shouted like school children,
for, perhaps, we were.
Those many winter months of college were
lathered in heartbreak and sweat,
painting up wonders in our spare time to escape,
to lessen the blow of what we each woke up to in the morning.

And if I could only remember again
the way the sleepy waves crash onto an island at midnight,
the warm summer breeze that sounded like ghost stories,
I would never have trouble falling asleep again.
The dog days of summer in Midcoast-
the bitter taste of mead that rolls on my tongue, sharing everything.
Zooming around in a
Lund boat
“checking the moorings” but really popping wakes and
having the time of our lives, free as kingfishers on the shore.

I remember you for what you will be-

The unaltered wilderness just ready to be explored,
the paced rowing of a canoe filled to the brim with adventure.
Muggy-clear starry nights of revealing. No civilization to speak of for a hundred miles.

Honey soaked conversations of ‘goodbye’.

Maine grew me, so that topsoil can’t be all that bad.
How much I wish I would return.
But my years of away might run quite long before it is time for me to run back.
To once again throw myself to those salty, rocky cliffs,
put down some real roots for
crying out loud, and to get used to calling a place home.

I had never written an ode before, so that was fun. And appropriate, for how dead everything felt. I’ll be back one day. And maybe by then, no one will remember me and it will be a replanting all over again. I don’t know. For now, I guess, I’ll hang on to what I got. Think of ‘home’. Try saying this and see what happens:

“I remember you for what you were. I remember you for what you will be.”

~J

We finally did it! Or more like we did it a month ago, and I’m only getting this done now! But I’ve had to wait until my photos were developed, and then I moved (another post about that coming soon). Remember those days? Yea we only did a disposable film camera each, and phones were off and away the whole week, and to someone whose job is literally glued to their technolog, it was fun.

The Premise: Two girls, Liesel and Jenna, both with full time jobs take only 7 days to canoe a 92 mile river in the middle of the North Maine Wilderness with only 2 backpackers backpacks for gear.

The Result: Crossing an item off the bucket list. And we did it in 6, not 7.

We said we would call this trip a success if all 3 of these things happened. 1) Nobody got seriously injured. 2) My car didn’t get damaged or get a flat tire. 3) If the canoe we rented did not get damaged. And would you believe it? It was a success, and we actually had some fun along the way too.

To start with, a hurricane was upon Maine that week. 2 storm systems were hitting the state. And the logging roads to get to the put-in point, seriously scary. Probably one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, because we did not have cell service and if we broke down, there was no plan B. The suspension on my (lease) car is pretty shot I’m sure, but we made it a total of 45 miles with no flats, no problems, and only slightly sore bootys. Praise. Jesus.

We canoed an average of 15 miles a day. We ended a day earlier than expected, and we were able to finish the river despite the low water level, which was something we were not expecting to do. My highlight every day was being done rowing and sitting down to a lovely dinner of ramen. Yea, I ate it every night, and it was just as delicious every night. One of the craziest things for me about this trip is how my stomach wasn’t like rumbling wit hunger, but every time I ate food I was never full, or satisfied, because we were burning so much more calories than I was eating at least. Just to give you an idea of what each day was like-we woke up around 6am, ate breakfast, disassembled camp, rowed, stopped for lunch, rowed some more, set up camp, ate dinner, played cards/read from a little pocket John I brought with me, and then went to bed around 9pm.

We logged our progress every day, so instead of me droning on, here are our notes from each day on the river. I have edited it to read more like a diary entry rather than the bullet lists we wrote, which is the skeleton of them. I hope you enjoy the late at night  configuration of 2 wilderness travelers.

7/11/20-Today we put in and started the river at Chamberlain Bridge at around 2pm. We made it through the logging roads just fine. As soon as we put it, the wind was blowing against us, but we were able to press through. Conditions got worse after Rocky Point. We stopped for the day at Donnelly Point and made camp. We saw a loon, which was our first wildlife. Setting up camp took a little longer as we did it for the first time. Very glad we brought the camp stove so we didn’t have to make a fire every night to cook.

7/12/20-Morning cloudy as we started, and the afternoon got worse and then better. We overshot Lock Dam by a mile and had to backtrack against the wind and current to get there. Still being under the assumption we had to stop at every ranger station we came to, we went looking for the one at LD. Instead, we came across a historical cabin and were welcomed in by Bill and Sue Olsen and Vinnie and Karen [we forgot their last name] playing cribbage. Found out they were believers, knew about the Navigators, and had mutual friends with Liesel. We stopped at Thoreau Island (home to the campsite of HDT who also paddled the Allagash in the 1800’s) and after lunch and petting some doggos it started to rain. We took shelter under some guys tarp which was very nice of him, and once it passed we paddled straight 3 miles to Farm Island, which was much farther than it looked.

7/13/20-Mostly/partly cloudy all day. Wind was very bad after 9am. We attempted to find a fire tower on the lookout trail. Could not pick up the trail after about a mile, but did find fresh bear tracks! Moose tracks as well. After stopping at Scofield Point for lunch, we finished at Churchill Dam at 2pm for the day. Met Alyssa the ranger and checked in to do the rapids tomorrow. We “did laundry” and bathed, read 4 chapters from John in the logging museum, and drank lots of water from the spigot they have here. While bathing, fish were so curious they continued to nibble our toes and all over us. Needless to say, we bathed quickly, as that was one of the weirdest feelings ever. We built a celebratory campfire and got it started with only one match. The winner of our Trash card game will be determined tomorrow…

7/14/20-100% cloud cover all day, water temperature very warm. NE wind against us, but still hasn’t rained on us. We started out the day doing the Chase Rapids and slayed them! No upsets or serious damage to the canoe (so we think). We did Umsaskis and Long Lake today, paddling against wind and current to finish at Long Lake Dam. There was no signage on the right to take out, which is incredibly dangerous and Jenna is very upset about. Met Jeff and Jill? from Maryland at Lost Popple. They were cool. Saw a loon with fresh out of the egg babies. Still haven’t sighted a moose. Liesel claims she heard footsteps around the tent in the night…

7/15/20-No clouds, sunny, fair, 5-10mph winds. Started the day at 10:15am and took a lot of breaks. Stopped at a bridge for lunch where the bugs were so bad Jenna had to put her black garbage bag over her. Saw a lot of eagles and camped at Round Pound Outlet. Went “swimming”, and started eating the fruit snacks after running out of Oreos. Food supply low. Someone please help…

7/16/20-30% cloud cover, fair, light wind. Ate breakfast with a New England cottontail Liesel has named Cedric (I think she has a crush on Cedric Diggory from HP. He seems just her type) and gray jays which ate trail mix from our hand. We paddled to Michaud Farm (~15 miles) by 2pm. The ranger was very nice and contacted Norm our transport. We decided after weighing our options of either taking out now at Michaud Farm or finishing the river, to let Norm know that we WILL be finishing the river, and a day early at that. We had to portage the canoe a third of a mile around Allagash Falls (much dreaded but the falls were gorgeous). We met two girls from Saco in a metal canoe who brought margaritas (we agreed although a fun idea, we are too dehydrated to have been able to pull that off.) Made it to Big Brook South thanks to nice family from Manchester, NH, who stopped to help us find it. They had a REALLY attractive dude with them who lifted their canoe above his head and carried it by himself at the portage! Binged on food for our evening meal since this is our last night on the river. We are exhausted but in high spirits!

7/17/20-Finished in the Town of Allagash after having to get out and push at some points since water level was low. Found Debbie (after Jenna probably mooned a guy trying to pee at what we though was her landing) and called Norm. Got transported (3 hour van ride!) back to car at Chamberlain Bridge. Then went over logging roads again and made it through without any problems but lots of white knuckled driving. Drove to Bangor and FEASTED on Chick-fil-A in the car which made our serotonin levels spike. Made it back to Portland at 10pm and said goodbye, safe and sound.

It was a once in a lifetime trip, and I don’t regret it for a second. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about it and that I’ve done it justice. We’re thinking Montana next, since this trip has solidified our bond as adventure buddies. My mom asked me before I left why all my vacations have to be so dangerous. Not that it was terribly so, but I guess those make the best ones.

~J

P.S. If you ever want to paddle the Allagash, now you know someone whose done it and will gladly go again as a guide;)