Well, the clouds had definitely arrived by the following morning, but we were all able to break down camp, pack up, have some breakfast and coffee, and hit the river before any precipitation started to dampen our day. The forecast was grim. Gusty winds and a lot of rainfall were expected all day and into the night. But we were physically and mentally prepared for the expected drizzerable flatwater paddle and grueling carry around Raquette Falls. Especially Billy and I, who (with apologies to T. Rex) came up with our personal catch phrase for the trip: The Children of the Revolution Cannot Be Stopped! We were ready for anything.
The rain starts as we head downriver
And it was a good thing, because the rain, which started as a barely noticeable mist just a few strokes downstream of the campsite, had graduated to a steady soaking slog by the time we reached the next tributary. Rain gear was extracted by all, except by Mike who had discovered that his had been left behind in Rhode Island. But you can’t stop the Children of the Revolution, y’all! It was still a pleasant paddle down the lovely Raquette River, as we passed in view of several mountains, past trees painted with Autumn color. Beaver had been pretty busy building a massive dam at the outlet of Moose Creek.
The Raquette Falls Carry comes into view
Past Moose Creek, almost exactly a mile after the river takes a 90 degree turn to the right, boulders start sprouting up from the riverbed and the murmur of rapids is heard. The big sign with the nasty looking piece of canoe nailed to it that advises all that they should really think about portaging around the falls came into view. It was time to walk.
Now, this one portage had started a discussion on a local paddling message board as to the merits of bringing beer. Since none of us would be able to re-supply along the way, as we were able to on the Saranac River, we would have to bring along a healthy supply, ice and all. And since it was pretty well understood that at least the first portion of the carry could not be handled by a portage cart, we knew that bringing that much beer pretty much doomed all of us to at least two-carrying and maybe three-carrying the portage. But you can’t stop the Children of the Revolution, Dog, so the beer came.
I was wrong when I thought this point was the first possible spot to start carting.
And here’s the funny thing about carries that supposedly can’t be carted, something that I call the Canoe Cart Theorem: The length of the carry that can be wheeled with a canoe cart is directly proportional to the weight of the gear that needs to be lugged over the trail. It worked like this: I carried a couple packs and a bucket for the entire length of the carry trail, making a mental note of the point in the trail past which I thought the canoe cart could handle. This point was pushed along further every time that I found an obstacle to the cart. But the further I trudged, the less likely I was to consider any obstacle as one that couldn’t be overcome, cart or not. On the way back, when I reached that point again, I started re-assessing the trail with a more critical eye, and it came as no surprise that another good chunk of trail magically became cartable! There is no doubt in my mind that if I had just one more pack to carry, the whole damn carry would have been somehow carted.
Jeff takes a break at the end of the carry
We nearly all just about two-carried the trail this way, with one load of packs, the rest of the load humped a short way up the trail, and the canoe brought up, loaded, and wheeled from there. Jeff, that animal, two carried it all without a cart! Tommy could have done the same, but the beer slowed him down. I started carting from the top of the second steep incline, and it wasn’t long before I heard the familiar sound of air escaping one of my tires. Son of a bitch! The same damn tire that let me down on the Saranac last year! WTF.
How the hell do we get through THIS?
Well, can’t stop the Children of the Revolution! I rolled the whole damn thing to the end, flat tire or not. And it worked.
Upon first reaching the end of the carry, we found a discouraging jumble of giant rocks and not much water, and it looked initially like we would have to do some rock scrambling to get to any water deep enough to float a boat. Fortunately, farther along the beach there was a narrow passage between the bank and the largest of all the rocks just deep enough to reach the main channel.
Tommy finds the route far FAR right
A mere half mile further down the river we arrived at Raquette #1 & #2, where we hoped to find two lean-to’s so that no tents had to be set up in the rain, but despite the indication on my map that such was the case, only one lean-to was present and accounted for. A short reconnaissance further down the river didn’t change that assessment. But fortunately, Tommy, Erik and Jeff were able to easily set up tarps first, followed by their tents underneath.
Erik and Jeff lay claim to some wet real-estate
In what was to become a common theme, we were in camp early, like around 1:00 or 1:30. Rain was pretty steady still, but the wind wasn’t too bad. Lunch was broken out, and we sat down to some serious drinking to get through the wet afternoon, hanging out in the lean-to. I cooked up a rare hot lunch and it hit the spot. As breaks in the rain allowed, we each went on forays for whatever wood could be scrounged. As nightfall approached, Mike managed to get a fire going, and that fire vastly improved everyone’s mood. We kept it going well into the night, and eventually the rain eased off and stopped. But by then we were mostly asleep and hoping for a dry tomorrow.
Total mileage for the day: 5.9 mile, including 1.3 mile portage.
Going ghetto on Day 2
Northern Forest Canoe Tales 