Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1902-04-05
A FLOODS BIRTH.
The Beginning Of a Great
Maine Freshet.
Rising Waters as Seen from a lum-
Der Camp.
The Experience Of Bostonian in the
Northern Woods.

VaStated other down-riVer towns, had
its birth three weeks before among the
winI-swept hills that crown the divide
in northern Maine. They were katah-
din and White Cap lift snowy domes,
the freed water runs two ways, north
ward by the Allegash and AroOstook
into the st. John. southwark by the
Piscataquis and lesser branches into
the Penobscot. In the southwark run
ming rivers the waters go more quickly
to the sea, and hence the greater viO
lence of the freShet therein. Yet no
freshet born of the marriage of spring
wa rmth with winter snow goes forth
to it's life battle with one resistless
rush. On the contrary it grows by sue
cessive impulses, makes but a days
march, pauses at strategic points, forti-
| fies its strength, and when the reserves
are brought up and the gathered fore
| es are surely ready it bears down upon
| the foe and whelms him with q grand
| forward impulse of its resistless CO.
horts says a writer Winthrop Packard,
| in the Boston Transcript.
Even in the beginning it pursues
| well-defined tactics and its little
skirmishes among the SHOWS of the
| mountain ravincs are epitomcs of its
great ones that shock the world when
it sweeps all to death and destruction
| at the rivers mouth.
Thus the present flood was born on
| the southerly slopes of Mt. Baker.
| of Chairback, White Cap, and the hills
| that top the divide between Moosehead
| Lake and katahdin. | saw it there in
| the early days Of March and its first
| cause lies in the careless greed of man.
| Who year after year has followed the
pine and spruce up river. heWn them
| clean from swamp and hillside, and let
| the sun and the south wind in on the
SHOWS that lie ten feet deep among the
hills, . vast reservoir of waters that
once were held in check by the shade Of
| the evergreens, but that now, suddenly
set free by the sun and south wind.
| work havoc. A century ago Maine was
in fact the Pine Tree State" yet to-
day a man may travel from one end of
| the State to the other and not see il
| pine The guide who shows him where
| to shoot a deer may find him also 4
| group of pine, but the one feat is as
| difficult as the other. Thoreau. writ
| ing of the Maine woods a century ago
presaged the total destruction of the
pine, which is today an accomplished
| fact. Indeed a timber-looker familiar
| with the north woods told me he knew
| of but one township where pine might
\ be cut. and that was in a region diff
| cult of access. So too of the spruce; it
is yet plentiful in localities, but these
are farther and farther withdrawn
from the rivers, and the places they oc-
| cupied grow up in hard wood that of
fers no shade in spring and is powerless
to prevent freShets. Among the birch
and elm one may see the decaying
butts of the elder monster pines, the
lesser and more recent stumpS of the
spruce, but he must go far into the
hills to find the latter trees still stand
| ing. The lumber business has built up
the river towns, and they now suffer
| arnually from the destruction they
| themselves brought about
| Pleasant river, one of te beginnings
| of the Penobscot, receives the waters
from the southerly slope of Mt. Baker,
of Chairback and Saddleback. and it
was there that | saw the freshet born.
Such little beginning it was, too. Just
|
ion9l dash of rain that blew in on the
south wind and was spilled out of it by
the mountain tops. The snow settled a
little. but the logging road was still
firm. the brooks were silent and the
river gave no sign. The sun shining
through the Dirches thawed the hill
| side SHOWS until they were sponges in
which if you listened you could hear the
laugh of running water. Mile after
mile along hillside and in ravine the
| waters gathered thus. and yet gave no
| outward sign of their presence Each
| night the frost sealed their lips and
| they We're dumb, yet each morning S
sun babe them prattle again. The re
| cruiting was going on on every hill
side, every hollow was a camp.
1t was heavy rain lasting a night
| and day that gave the signal for the
| uprising of the waters. That morning
the lumbermen went to work in a last
desperate attempt to get the logs re-
! naming on the mountain, but at noon
| the tumbling slush drove them in. The
once hard logging road was letting the
| horses through to their necks and haul
| ing was impossible. What at morning
had been seemingly six feet of snow on
the mountain side was now six feet of
water only half held in allegiance by
the sunsoftened snow. Thus it held
for a time, and then the snow let slip
this flood and went with it, almost
with a bound. All along the way the
holows and swamps caught this in
flux and delayed it. and though a yell
low flood rose over the ice in the river
the rise was steady and gradual. even
slow. Like an army of investment the
waters We're here and everywhere, yet
the onward motion, the concentrated
advance of the vast array, had hardly
begun.
Eut the flood was already planning
more active tactics. Far up river it
selected the rapids where the ice was
thin and ripped it off them. The ice il
hurled before it and crumpled the
stronger river ice for a mile, sweep
ing the whole down upon a bend
where it unwittingly built bar
ricade with it across from one head
land to another. Here it waited in
grim silence, as if chagrined at its
blunder in building dam to hold itself
back: then began massing it's forces
behind that barricade. Hour by hour