90+ Degree Temps, 1st Fellow Thru Paddler

June 18, 2024

mile 210.3-222.8 (Davis Park)

Probably the earliest we've got going in a long time due to the impending heat we knew was coming today. At 5:30 a.m. one of the homeless guys began yelling loudly at someone walking by and I could have seared him through the trees with my laser beam eyeballs. Thankfully he stopped and I dozed back off but the heat of the tent woke me up again around 8. I'm convinced there's nothing worse than waking up to a baking hot tent, mouth dry and sticky with a slight headache, already sweating.

I crawled out of the tent and into the shade of a big tree and drank a big bottle of water. Our plan today is to get to Richford where Jan (Henry's mom) will pick us up tomorrow for the summer solstice party. This plan is the only thing keeping me going today. We did not walk the rail trail after yesterdays terrible experience.

We were able to paddle a few miles before reaching our first rapid. Any mile that passes by that I can put my paddle blade into the water without it scraping feels like a godsend.

We started out having fun as we always do, swimming every chance we could to beat the 93 degree heat. We fucked around, floating on our backs and tackling each other into the water. We laughed uncontrollably as Henry wrapped his legs around the bow of the canoe and wondered if I held onto his feet while he paddled with his hands if we'd make it anywhere faster than this snails pace we've been keeping.

Having to portage around rapids and the shallow riffles started to wear on us again after a few hours though. Our choices were to paddle as hard as we could, paddle scraping against the rocks on the bottom, unable to get a full stroke in- or climbing out of the canoe mid rapid and pulling it over slippery rocks, falling every few steps. It got to the point where we'd gotten out of the canoe 5 times in 5 minutes with no end in sight. We were making no progress whatsoever and I felt like I might lose it.

I suggested we walked the final 1.6 miles into town on a nearby road and we weighed the options. It was oppressively hot out and leaving the river meant no swimming, possibly exposed road and possibly uphill portage. But staying in the river meant the final 3 river miles left might actually take us 3 or more hours and we'd get there after dark more than likely. We decided to gamble and shoved the canoe up a steep bank covered in ferns taller than I was and came out on a shaded dirt road.

We tossed everything but our packs into the canoe, not caring about organization and began our walk. Of course the shade didn't last long and we ended up on a hot, exposed blacktop the last 1.3 miles going up and down hills.

I plodded along, my backpack feeling so heavy, my mind feeling like I was walking in a fog.

My brain thought back to another time I hauled this heavy ass Catalyst along, except it was through waist deep snow on my SOBO AT and I had no feeling in my extremities. I repeated over and over to myself that this was not the hardest thing I've every done. The other half of my mind argued back that if I ever decide to have children, when I'm in unmedicated labor birthing a human from my literal body that I'll be able to look back on this and think "at least I'm not walking down North Branch Rd into Richford". We passed by some cows that sprinted through the fields to the fence to watch us, which made me smile.

We finally made it to Davis Park and the campsite there and met our first thru paddler, Cordell! I collapsed into the grass without bothering to take off my pack, sunburnt and exhausted. I chugged some water and Cordell was nice enough to give us one of his gallons to drink as well, we must've looked rough. Once I was able to, I pushed myself up to stand and went down to the river, dunking myself in the cool clearness of it. I sat on the bottom and let the water rush around me, feeling my body temperature lower degree by degree.

Henry and I then walked down to the grocery store in town to get some things for dinner before they closed because once again every restaurant in town was closed. Henry told me he would cook me anything I wanted so I chose mashed potatoes, steak, and zucchini, all cooked on a backpacking stove :-)

We devoured it and a small cheesecake while commiserating with Cordell over the conditions of the last few days. The mosquitoes came out and we tossed gear into the canoe already damp with condensation, not caring about anything because we are getting rescued tomorrow.

As I set up our tent, two of the poles snapped right in half. We rigged them up with a tent stake and some gorilla tape for the night but now it looks like a new tent is on our list of home chores.

Henry and I tried our hardest not to touch each other in the tent, it was so hot and sticky. Even not touching I could feel the heat radiating off of his sunburnt body and slathered him in a layer of aloe before he fell asleep. I am so glad we're getting a break.