Tag: Karl Smith

Algonquin, A Dream Come True!

Earlier this month I scratched an itch I’ve had for 21 years.

What a beautiful place it is.
Algonquin: It’s beautiful.

A friend of mine and I drove to Ontario, Canada, to Algonquin, a park almost three times the size of Rhode Island, put our gear in 15-foot canoes, and took off.

GRRRR, that’s my friend’s trail name, and I paddled down the Roanoke River two years ago, 113 miles from Weldon, N.C., to Plymouth. He’s pretty old, 72, but he’s solid.

GRRRR, crossing another beaver dam.
GRRRR, crossing another beaver dam.

At Algonquin we crossed 18 lakes, padding, or dragging, our canoes up and down creeks, through marshes, or portaging, from lake to lake. We hauled our canoes over I don’t know how many beaver dams. We got rained on, hard sometimes. In the evening we pitched our tents close to the water and cooked over a camp fire.  And for seven nights we heard the eerie call of loons and, sometimes, wolves howling in the distance.

It was a wonderful trip, everything I had hoped it would be.

Emily Fox at Algonquin
Emily Fox at Algonquin: I wanted to do what she did.

I’ve wanted to do that ever since I heard Emily Fox, one of Brother Pop’s grand daughters, tell about her Algonquin adventure in 1998, when she was a 20-year-old junior at Auburn University.  She spent a couple of weeks there with a dozen or so classmates.  Hearing her stories made me want to go but I just never had time –or made time — until earlier this month.

Algonquin is a big [1.9 million acres, 1,500 lakes] provincial park.  Remote, too. One day GRRRR and I saw more moose [3] than people [2].

Sometimes we had to get out and walk.
Sometimes we had to get out and walk.

It is beautiful and, at times, challenging.  My guess is that Algonquin [and Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in Minnesota] is for boaters what the John Muir Trail is for hikers.

We paddled almost 50 miles, not very far unless you consider that for miles, it seemed to us, we didn’t actually paddle, we dragged our canoes through shallow marshes and creeks to the next lake, not entirely unlike Humphrey Bogart in “The African Queen.”  Yea, I know, the African Queen was a lot bigger than our canoes, but you get the idea.  And, like Bogie, I got a leech on me, too.

Our canoes weighed less than 40 pounds.
Our canoes weighed less than 40 pounds.

We portaged right often, five times one day, but never more than three-fourths of a mile.  Carrying our canoes was no hill for a climber but carrying our canoes and packs at the same time was too much for us, especially the first few days, before we ate the steaks and potatoes, the chicken, the eggs and bacon. And the watermelon!

Watermelon?!

Yep.  And oranges and tangerines, too.  Those first few days, we were carrying a lot of  weight in our backpacks, close to 40 pounds each, if not more.  But we ate better than I’ve ever eaten on a trip into the wild.  GRRRR did almost all of the cooking and twice he fried Irish Griddle Bread.

OK, here are some questions you might want to ask.

Q. Were you ever afraid?

This doesn't do justice to how rough the water could be, but it's a start.
This doesn’t do justice to how rough the water was sometimes, but it’s a start.

I don’t like that word.  I prefer to say I was concerned several times when we were paddling across big lakes and the wind was blowing hard enough create white caps that rocked my canoe.  Rocking and rolling on open water didn’t brother GRRRR, or didn’t seem to, but it bothered me a lot. I finally told him I wouldn’t do it any more. If the wind was blowing hard I was going to stay closer to shore.

Q. How was the weather?

So-so, I guess.  We had two warm, sunny, blue sky days, three overcast mostly chilly days, and two rainy days. The eighth morning was promising but by then we were headed for the barn.

Thunder Box
Thunder box

Q. Where did you go to the bathroom?

Well, in the woods, once. But all the camp sites had what GRRRR called a “thunder box.”  They were located close to the camp sites so you couldn’t afford to be bashful.

Q. How did you find your way around?

GRRRR, AKA Karl Smith
GRRRR, AKA Karl Smith

GRRRR had a GPS but, truth be told, sometimes he was as lost as I was.  More than once I asked him, “Which way?” and he shrugged his shoulders in response.  In the end, however, he always got us where we needed to go.

Q. Any ugly surprises?

Yes. I’ve backpacked quite a bit, more than 3,000 miles, and I have top-of-the-line equipment.  But on this trip two key pieces of equipment failed me: my water filter, which both of us had planned to use, and my sleeping pad.  Fortunately, GRRRR had water purification chemicals with him.  My pad went flat early on the  third night, a 32-degree night. I put on all the clothes I had, five layers from the waist down and six layers from the waist up, and I was still chilly.  After that I slept on both of our backpacks, not comfortable but better than trying to sleep on cold-as-ice dirt.

Q. Accidents?

None, unless you want to count the time GRRRR turned his canoe over and fell out. Oh, I know. That was mean of me to mention that.

Q. Would you like to do it again?

That's me, at Algonquin
That’s me, at Algonquin

Yes, knowing what I know now, I’d have even more fun. But, no, I don’t have time. I’m 77.  There are other things I want to do, like hike some more on the A.T. with my grandsons Christian, Cole, Curtis, and Eli. Go back to the Grand Canyon —  any trail but the Nankoweap. And, maybe, hike at least part of North Carolina’s Mountains to the Sea Trail.

And I only have so much time left.

Coming Friday: The Answer To A Puzzling Question

 

 

 

 

 

 

“PIZ ZA! PIZ ZA! PIZ ZA!” Paddling the Roanoke

GRRRR and I paddled the Roanoke River last month [May 20-26] from Weldon to Plymouth, N.C., or, to put it another way, from just east of I-95 to just west of Swan Bay and the Albemarle Sound – about 113 miles.

And, right off the bat, I want answer the question I’m most often asked when I go backpacking or river running: Did you have fun?

Yes!

After I paddled the Neuse River with Mike Johnson in June last year, I didn’t say “Yes!” to that question. When I posted a story about that trip I said, “Define fun.”

And then I wrote:

“The 225-mile trip from Raleigh to Oriental, where the Neuse empties into the Pamlico Sound, was beautiful, interesting, challenging.  I learned stuff — I almost learned how to paddle a kayak.  I met some terrific people.  I made good memories.  I’m glad I went.  Everything doesn’t have to be ‘fun.'”

GRRRR, L, and Lucky, at Plymouth, N.C.
GRRRR, L, and Lucky, at Plymouth, N.C., the end of the trip.

The Roanoke trip was beautiful and interesting, too. I learned stuff. I met some terrific people. I made good memories – and I’m glad I went. I also had fun.

One big reason is that, except for one day when GRRRR and I paddled almost all day in the rain and part of that day in a blinding rain, this trip, while it had its moments, was not nearly so tough mentally or physically.

Are You Interested in Paddling the Roanoke?

What follows is not a blow by blow description of the trip, just some observations and advice for folks who might be interested in paddling all or part of the Roanoke.

When the mosquitoes swarmed us we put on head nets.
When the mosquitoes swarmed us, GRRRR, L, and I put on head nets. The goo on my chin is proof, I guess, that I tried to eat without lifting my net.

A good trip starts with a good partner and I’ve been blessed twice. Mike Johnson stood up to everything the Neuse threw at us and GRRRR was the same on the Roanoke. He and I got our share of rain, and then some; a few blisters; and, one evening, a gazillion mosquitoes, but it was mostly a hoot.

GRRRR?

Well, yea, he’s a backpacker who has hiked almost 1,800 miles of the Appalachian Trail. [His real name is Karl Smith, from Vernon, CT. He is 70 years old. I was 74 back in May.] I met him at the Telephone Pioneers Shelter in northern New York two years ago. I was hiking to Maine; GRRRR was section hiking, trying out a knee replacement. He blew out a knee when he attempted a thru-hike of the A.T. in 2013.

[My trail name is “Lucky.” Before I started my thru-hike several friends told me that I was fortunate to have the health to try and a wife who said “Yes”. I didn’t think “Fortunate” had much of a ring to it so I chose “Lucky” for a trail name.]

Here are the two best pieces of advice I have for padding the Roanoke:

  • One, go to the Roanoke River Partners website and study it carefully.  Lots of good information there.  And here is the RRP Facebook page.  You’ll probably want to rent one or more camping platforms from RRP — three of the four platforms we rented were good, no, excellent.

There are places to camp beside the river, but not all that many. The upper part of the Roanoke has high banks, making it hard to land most of the time. You’d have to stand on your kayak or canoe [Good luck!] and start climbing. And the lower part of the river is pretty wet – a lot of swampy areas.

GRRRR baking Irish Griddle Bread at
GRRRR, baking Irish Griddle Bread at The Bluffs Platform.

Roanoke River Partners has constructed camping platforms, some on the river and many others on creeks feeding into the river.  For two people the cost is $25 per night. The Roanoke River Partners website has all the information, and photos.

  • Two, get a GPS. If you don’t have a GPS you’re rarely going to know where you are. There are just not that many landmarks on the Roanoke — bridges, power lines and such. [That’s one of the best parts of this paddle, you’re not going to see a lot of civilization.] Without a GPS you’re going to have a heck of a time locating the platforms you’ve reserved.

Let me say this one more time: TAKE A GPS WITH YOU OR YOU’LL BE SORRY. I don’t think I can say it any plainer than that.

GRRRR and I took our time going down the Roanoke, and we were rewarded for it. We saw a number of bald eagles, including one that glided down right in front of our kayaks, grabbed a fish, and flew back up into the trees.

We had planned to spend six nights and six and a half days on the river, an average just 17 miles a day. That’s a leisurely pace. Mike Johnson and I average a bit over 30 miles a day for the first six days of the Neuse trip. When you’re doing 17 miles a day you don’t have to rush to your kayak or canoe in the morning and you don’t have to swing a paddle all day. You’re done by mid-afternoon. The river level and the current will impact your speed, of course, and that may vary from day to day. On this trip the river was high and we made three to four miles an hour, depending on how energetic we were feeling.

On any backpacking or river trip it’s a good idea to learn as much about the route as possible and plan thoroughly. [GRRRR and I worked on plans for this trip, off and on, for months.] And then, when you get out there, be willing to change your plans on a dime.

This is where we planned to spend each night:

  • Night 1, Tillery Platform, mile 15.54.
  • Night 2, camp by the river, mile 39.58.
  • Night 3, The Bluffs Platform, mile 55.74.
  • Night 4, camp by the river near Ft. Branch, mile 69.31.
  • Night 5, River Landing Platform, Williamston, mile 89.84.
  • Night 6, Cypress Cathedral Platform, mile 104.28

We altered that plan twice after we got on the river.

  • The First Day, when we stopped at Tillery Platform to take a look, a convict from nearby Caledonia Correctional Institution, a state prison farm, drove by on a tractor not 30 feet from the platform. I didn’t like that. We moved on down the river a couple of miles and found a good place to camp in the woods, on the other side the river from the prison.
  • On the Fourth Day it rained, hard. I said to GRRRR, why don’t we go all the way to Williamston this afternoon, get a hot shower, dry clothes – and food. That meant a 34-mile day in the rain. GRRRR thought about that a few minutes and then I heard him chanting, with each stroke: “PIZ ZA! PIZ ZA! PIZ ZA!”

We paddled on to Williamston and ate pizza that night.

River Landing Platform
River Landing Platform

River Landing, where GRRRR and I stayed when we got to Williamston, is the best shelter I have ever seen, and I’ve seen right many, scores, on the Appalachian Trail. There was a flush toilet and hot shower (!) nearby. And there was a lock on the door so we could leave our equipment and walked to restaurants less than a mile away.

That long paddle in the rain put us a day ahead –Brother Dave was scheduled to pick us up in Plymouth at noon on Day 7 – so we took a zero* the next day and stayed at River Landing an extra day and night.

I fished a little that day although I didn’t catch anything.

Walkway leading to Cypress Cathedral Platform
Walkway leading to Cypress Cathedral Platform.

River Landing Platform was a good one, but the platform GRRRR and I liked best was Cypress Cathedral, where we stayed our last night on the Roanoke. Cypress Cathedral is in a swamp, in the middle of nowhere.

It was lovely, serene. A memory.

NOTE:

Carol Shields
Carol Shields

Carol Shields, director for Roanoke River Partners, Inc., could not have been more helpful, answering numerous questions and referring us to Brad Beggs, a veteran river paddler whose tips on where to camp and how to create a personalized map the Roanoke for my i-phone were invaluable.

Brad told me about this website, “How to Create A Custom Google Maps Itinerary And Use It Off Line,” and I did.

[OK, OK. I didn’t. But one of my grandson, Cole J. Stith, did.]

Brad also sent me beautiful pictures of the river.

Carol practically held our hand.

When we got to Williamston, soaked through and through, we couldn’t could get a hot shower at first because the door to the shower was locked and the key wouldn’t work. Carol had given me her cell number told me to call her if we ran into a problem. I considered no hot shower a major problem. I called her. It was in the early evening, after work hours, but Carol called somebody and pretty soon a town employee showed up and unlocked the door.

So is that all?

No. Like I said, we took a zero the next day and, when Carol learned of a release at the dam upstream from Weldon, she drove 30 miles or so to Williamston to warn us.

* Taking “a zero” means you don’t go anywhere, you make no miles.

Coming Monday: Gone Missing – Part 1 of 8