Date: 2011-09-05
From: Bald Mt. Brook Lean-to

To: Day 116
Miles today: 13.0

Woke up with high spirits this morning, even before I got high. Even though my clothes, socks, and boots are still soaking wet and it's still drizzling outside. None of it mattered because we were headed to Monson, ME today! Or so we thought... The day was going just fine for a while. We kept a good pace. The rain backed off. It was an easy climb up Moxie Bald Mountain. Smooth sailing.    But all of that changed when we got to the west branch of the Piscataquis River. We ran into a small group of rather freaked-out people who were camped on the south side of the river. They said that they had all tried to ford it earlier today and had almost gotten swept away. All of them decided to camp there and wait for the water level to go down. Onager and I are stubborn and decide to try it out for ourselves. And boy were the campers right. You see, last week's hurricane dumped so much water on the forest that all of the lakes, rivers, and streams were pretty much at their maximum carrying capacity already. And now that it's rained all night last night everything is dangerously flooded. And the guidebook literally has this to say about this particular ford "River normally knee-deep. During heavy rain periods, fording can be dangerous." When we get to the river the thing is so flooded that the normal shore is about 3 ft underwater and 10 ft away from the current waterline. It's become 3 parallel rivers with a number of tiny islands in the middle. We estimate that it's a good 20-30 ft to get to the other side. Oh, and the water is chest-deep and the current is definitely strong enough to drag you under for good. When I would stick my trekking pole down into the water it would vibrate so fast that it sounded like a helicopter blade spinning in air. Knowing what I know now, I wish I had just stayed there and camped with the others. But both of us were determined to get to Monson. Adrenalin was pumping hard through our veins. Not to mention the fact that Onager is a 6'4" tall Army Ranger with plenty of survival training. We figured we'd accept nature's challenge. Mind you, this is by far the most dangerous obstacle I've faced on-trail so far.    So Onager goes first. He bushwhacks about 5 or 10 yards up-river searching for the shallowest route. He inches his way out into the river but when he gets just passed the 1/2 way point the current sweeps his feet out from under him. He frantically swims over to the other side and is just able to grab onto a clump of roots on the bank of an island, stopping himself from being swept into a big confluence of the 3 rivers. There is no way that I'm going to be able to swim to the shore like he did. With my big pack on, if I go under, I just won't be able to keep my head above the water. So instead I toss all 4 of our trekking poles over to Onager who has now pulled himself safely up onto the little island. Then I take my pack off, tie one end of my bear-line around my waist, and fasten the other end to my pack. This way, I can still swim properly if need-be and I won't lose my pack to the river if it gets away from me. I hang onto my pack with my right hand and slowly start inching my way into the river sideways. The current is so strong that my 45 lb pack is literally skipping on top of the water. When I get to the deepest part of the river my feet don't go out from under me but, instead, my pack catches a strong wave and gets sucked completely underwater. I refuse to let go of it so I begin to get sucked under as well. And before I know it I have no traction, I'm neck-deep in water, and I'm getting swept backwards quickly; my head is about to go under. Onager, without missing a beat, leaps onto the shore of the island and extends his trekking pole out towards me. I'm just able to grab onto his pole but there is so much suction from the water that it breaks on us. By that time I was able to regain some semblance of footing and buy us enough time for Onager to retrieve another pole. This time he is able to drag me out of the river and onto the shore. There's your survival training at work for you, Onager. That was definitely the closest I've come to drowning in many many years. And we still have another section of river to cross before we get to the shore. A powerful cocktail of adrenalin and shock got us over to the other side without much further distress. As soon as we got there we paused for a safety meeting and, wouldn't you know it, it starts shit storming on us. Wind and lightning this time. We trudged through 3 miserable miles until we reached the Horseshoe Canyon Lean-to. Three miles from here we actually have to ford the Piscataquis again, east branch this time. Needless to say, we decided to stay here for the night. One near-death experience is enough for one day.       Interestingly enough, there is a SoBo section-hiker here from Panama City. He even went to my high school, and he is just as miserable as I am right now. We all ate, burned, and now we're sitting in silence watching the lightning. Tomorrow is another day I guess...