Collinsville VII - Back 2 Jack
Where: Collinsville, CT
When: 7/24-25/2004
With: The Stupids
I'm not sure who initiated the preparations this year, but the usual flurry of emails and phone calls secured a mutually agreeable date for another edition of the Farmington River Trip. A few brief suggestions of other destinations and activities were quickly dismissed in favor of a return visit to Collinsville to see if Jack was still waiting for us. Jack, for those who haven't read last year's write-up, was a huge bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. The amount consumed on that trip (2/3 of the bottle) had had a significant influence and as we packed to leave the campsite we debated what to do with the remainder. In the end we decided to hide the bottle at the campsite and leave Jack in Fate's hands. It was now time to head Back to Jack.
A month or so prior to the trip we got news that altered the focus of our gathering. Chip announced he was dealing with some serious personal issues related, in many ways, to his relationship with Jack and Jack's friends. The trip was still on, but much would be changed. Chip nailed it when he said this trip would be completely different...and exactly the same.
In the week prior to the trip, concerns arose about the weather & water conditions for the upcoming weekend. We'd always lucked out with perfect weather, but this year the forecasts consistently predicted rain and cool temperatures. As for the water, the real-time water gauge in Riverton showed the river flow to be half its normal level, possibly making for some very scratchy travel. Undeterred, we arranged to gather in Collinsville at 10:30 on Saturday. Seth would be coming up from NYC and Chip was scheduled to arrive in Hopkinton at 8:00. Dave was a question mark...maybe going directly to Collinsville or maybe coming to Hopkinton to try to load all four boats (his two and my two) in/on his van.
Saturday arrived with pouring rain and thunderclaps. A check of the weather radar showed it was ending soon though, and it appeared we'd have clouds at worst for our trip. Dave called just as Chip was pulling in to my driveway. He'd decided to drive straight to Collinsville with his two boats. With Chip's help I mounted a couple of kayak racks on my car, loaded up the boats and our gear and we were on our way around 9:00. The rain did stop and by the time we landed in C'ville at 10:30 it looked like we might even see some sunlight. Dave had arrived just a few minutes earlier. No sign of Seth though. We killed some time while Chip got a sandwich from the deli (I'd brought one from home), then Chip & I went to a local supermarket to buy food for the trip. Tortellini, alfredo sauce, bagels & cream cheese, some munchies and a couple of cantaloupes made up the menu. Chip also remembered to buy a disposable camera and then we returned to town, but Seth had still not appeared. With Jane's assistance, we got his cell phone number from the address book in Chip's car (back in my garage) and called him but only got his voicemail. A few minutes later though his silver VW Beetle swung into town and the Stupids were assembled. It was about noon.
We made a fairly quick exit from Collinsville and drove upriver to the usual put-in below Hogback dam. By now we were seeing patches of blue sky. Our luck was changing, though the water level was still a concern. It hadn't looked too bad on the drive up, but the shoreline at the put-in was quite obviously lower than previous years. Still, there was plenty of water to float the boats. We chatted as we crammed our gear into our boats and marvelled at the fisherman who arrived, caught a 14 inch trout within minutes and then departed. After a quick lunch on the rock, we pushed off into the current and were on our way. It was about 1:00PM.
I'd lent my Keowee to Chip this year and I was trying out my new Dagger Blackwater 10.5. I was a bit disappointed that its dry storage compartment didn't accept quite as much gear as I'd anticipated, but I did get everything in and didn't have to have a drybag between my feet for once. I was looking forward to seeing how it would do in the river. Its shape made it faster than the Keowee and it tracked better, but I expected it wouldn't be quite as maneuverable as the short, flat-bottomed playboat. A few strokes on the water confirmed that expectation and I knew I'd be spending some time learning how to make this new boat go where I wanted. I did well enough though to muddle along and joined up with the others as we started our journey downstream.
The run from Hogback to Riverton had been the scene of most of our difficulties last year, but this edition of the journey was fairly uneventful. We all spent some time reacquiring our paddling skills and in a short time we were having no problems negotiating the waterway. The waterflow, though definitely lower, was still quite runnable and we managed to avoid a higher than usual number of fly fishermen casting in the stream. It was a good opportunity to clear out the cobwebs from our skills and before we knew it we were in Riverton without any significant incidents. I did take a few cursory looks at the water in hopes of spotting Chip's bugle, but never saw it.
Below Riverton the river flowed better as the Still River added its waters to the Farmington. We settled into an easy paddling rhythm, enjoying both the flat stretches and the occasional sections of small rapids. Other than the fishermen, there were few other folks sharing the river with us. Perhaps the forecast had scared them off, though the day had turned out to be beautiful, mild and sunny with a few clouds doting the sky. For the most part it was smooth going, though we had one bit of trouble when Seth got stuck on a rock in one section and capsized. No great damage was done, but he lost his beloved hat. None of us had seen it float by us downstream, and an exploration up to the point where Seth had gone over didn't find it either. The river had taken another prize from us.
The rest of the day's run was mostly uneventful, except for the time a fish jumped out of the water next to me (perhaps spooked by my paddle) and went high enough for Chip to see it above my head. I only heard the splash. We stopped at a set of rocks for a break, a spot usually occupied by other folks but open for us this year. It gave us a chance to stretch our legs, warm up in the sun, play a little Frisbee, and - in Dave's case - go for a swim. We hung out there for a while, kept an eye out for Seth's hat, then continued on. We began to play tag with a group of folks in four canoes at this point. They'd pass us, then we'd go by them and so on. They were a young, boisterous crew. Mostly guys, with two women along as well. They had a sloppy paddling style and seemed to be trying awfully hard to go fast. I guessed they might have been renters from Main Stream Canoe, though I didn't see any logos on their boats, and were trying to get off the river before the end of the day.
It WAS starting to get a bit late and we were beginning to look forward to the end of our day as well. I watched for the usual landmarks to try to get some idea of where we were. One was the site of our original camping spot. I knew it was about a 1/2 hour upstream from our final destination and it served as a good gauge of our location. I thought I'd missed it but finally it came into view, though much further along than I'd thought. Still, I knew we were getting close. The canoers were mixed in with us by now and I paddled on ahead, somewhat worried that they might be heading for "our" pool. I rounded a bend and the concrete canyon of New Hartford came into sight - the ultimate landmark preceding our campsite. A bridge crossed the river after that and I got stuck on the rocks there. I had to get out to drag my boat to open water but I got going again quickly and a few minutes later I spotted the side channel to the pool. I turned to look back, thinking I'd make sure others from my team saw where I was going, but no one was in sight. I figured they'd find it and went in, over the initial ripples, around the final curve and into the calm stillness of the pool. My boat went into the usual berth and I disembarked to await the others.
It took a bit longer than I expected, but I heard some noise and Chip came into view, followed soon after by Seth. They were somewhat surprised to find that Dave hadn't arrived. He'd capsized upstream and they'd passed him, but then they thought he'd gotten ahead of them again. We waited a good while without seeing him and we began to think he'd missed the turn. I half expected to hear him paddling upstream from below our campsite. Just when Chip was about to set off on foot to look upriver, Dave came paddling in. He'd actually been caught under a branch and was fortunate to have gotten free without more trouble. It had taken him quite a while to get his boat & paddle out and then clear the boat of water, but now he was here and the Stupids were in camp at last. It was about 6:00PM.
I had purposefully NOT looked for Jack when I arrived and I insisted that we all wait until everyone was present. Dave requested the honor of checking for it (since he had hidden it away last year) and I anticipated another of his famous deceptions. Dave searched a bit, then made an exclamation and proclaimed success! I think we were all pretty surprised to see the bottle emerge unbroken and still containing a fair amount of its original contents. It was dirty and the label was in tatters, but Jack had survived. Dave rinsed the bottle off, unscrewed the cap, and passed it to Seth and then to me. We each took a good swig to celebrate Jack's survival and our arrival. We also toasted Chip, who celebrated his own victories that day.
There was another round of drinks for Dave, Seth & me and then we began setting up camp. Dave set up his hammock by the pool, while Chip & I headed downstream a bit to the grassy glade where I usually stay. Back at the pool, I helped Seth get his hammock assembled. When he tried it out though, the zipper gave way. While he & Chip worked to fix it, I got dinner going. By 7:30 the tortellini was ready to eat. We discovered then that our Alfredo sauce had disappeared, probably a casualty of Dave's capsizing. We made do with a dollop of cream cheese as an impromptu sauce and had a nice dinner on the rock by the pool.
The rest of the evening was the usual hanging out and winding down time. Five hours of sun and paddling combined with full bellies made for a fair amount of lethargy and we were reduced to sitting on the rock and talking. Entertainment was provided by a number of bats who enjoyed zooming by our heads and feasting on the mosquitos we were attracting. We also watched as fish struck at bugs on the water's surface. I'd found a spinner lure and some line in a tree earlier and tied it to a stick, and Chip & I took turns trying to convince a fish to strike at it but we had no luck.
When: 7/24-25/2004
With: The Stupids
I'm not sure who initiated the preparations this year, but the usual flurry of emails and phone calls secured a mutually agreeable date for another edition of the Farmington River Trip. A few brief suggestions of other destinations and activities were quickly dismissed in favor of a return visit to Collinsville to see if Jack was still waiting for us. Jack, for those who haven't read last year's write-up, was a huge bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. The amount consumed on that trip (2/3 of the bottle) had had a significant influence and as we packed to leave the campsite we debated what to do with the remainder. In the end we decided to hide the bottle at the campsite and leave Jack in Fate's hands. It was now time to head Back to Jack.
A month or so prior to the trip we got news that altered the focus of our gathering. Chip announced he was dealing with some serious personal issues related, in many ways, to his relationship with Jack and Jack's friends. The trip was still on, but much would be changed. Chip nailed it when he said this trip would be completely different...and exactly the same.
In the week prior to the trip, concerns arose about the weather & water conditions for the upcoming weekend. We'd always lucked out with perfect weather, but this year the forecasts consistently predicted rain and cool temperatures. As for the water, the real-time water gauge in Riverton showed the river flow to be half its normal level, possibly making for some very scratchy travel. Undeterred, we arranged to gather in Collinsville at 10:30 on Saturday. Seth would be coming up from NYC and Chip was scheduled to arrive in Hopkinton at 8:00. Dave was a question mark...maybe going directly to Collinsville or maybe coming to Hopkinton to try to load all four boats (his two and my two) in/on his van.
Saturday arrived with pouring rain and thunderclaps. A check of the weather radar showed it was ending soon though, and it appeared we'd have clouds at worst for our trip. Dave called just as Chip was pulling in to my driveway. He'd decided to drive straight to Collinsville with his two boats. With Chip's help I mounted a couple of kayak racks on my car, loaded up the boats and our gear and we were on our way around 9:00. The rain did stop and by the time we landed in C'ville at 10:30 it looked like we might even see some sunlight. Dave had arrived just a few minutes earlier. No sign of Seth though. We killed some time while Chip got a sandwich from the deli (I'd brought one from home), then Chip & I went to a local supermarket to buy food for the trip. Tortellini, alfredo sauce, bagels & cream cheese, some munchies and a couple of cantaloupes made up the menu. Chip also remembered to buy a disposable camera and then we returned to town, but Seth had still not appeared. With Jane's assistance, we got his cell phone number from the address book in Chip's car (back in my garage) and called him but only got his voicemail. A few minutes later though his silver VW Beetle swung into town and the Stupids were assembled. It was about noon.
We made a fairly quick exit from Collinsville and drove upriver to the usual put-in below Hogback dam. By now we were seeing patches of blue sky. Our luck was changing, though the water level was still a concern. It hadn't looked too bad on the drive up, but the shoreline at the put-in was quite obviously lower than previous years. Still, there was plenty of water to float the boats. We chatted as we crammed our gear into our boats and marvelled at the fisherman who arrived, caught a 14 inch trout within minutes and then departed. After a quick lunch on the rock, we pushed off into the current and were on our way. It was about 1:00PM.
I'd lent my Keowee to Chip this year and I was trying out my new Dagger Blackwater 10.5. I was a bit disappointed that its dry storage compartment didn't accept quite as much gear as I'd anticipated, but I did get everything in and didn't have to have a drybag between my feet for once. I was looking forward to seeing how it would do in the river. Its shape made it faster than the Keowee and it tracked better, but I expected it wouldn't be quite as maneuverable as the short, flat-bottomed playboat. A few strokes on the water confirmed that expectation and I knew I'd be spending some time learning how to make this new boat go where I wanted. I did well enough though to muddle along and joined up with the others as we started our journey downstream.
The run from Hogback to Riverton had been the scene of most of our difficulties last year, but this edition of the journey was fairly uneventful. We all spent some time reacquiring our paddling skills and in a short time we were having no problems negotiating the waterway. The waterflow, though definitely lower, was still quite runnable and we managed to avoid a higher than usual number of fly fishermen casting in the stream. It was a good opportunity to clear out the cobwebs from our skills and before we knew it we were in Riverton without any significant incidents. I did take a few cursory looks at the water in hopes of spotting Chip's bugle, but never saw it.
Below Riverton the river flowed better as the Still River added its waters to the Farmington. We settled into an easy paddling rhythm, enjoying both the flat stretches and the occasional sections of small rapids. Other than the fishermen, there were few other folks sharing the river with us. Perhaps the forecast had scared them off, though the day had turned out to be beautiful, mild and sunny with a few clouds doting the sky. For the most part it was smooth going, though we had one bit of trouble when Seth got stuck on a rock in one section and capsized. No great damage was done, but he lost his beloved hat. None of us had seen it float by us downstream, and an exploration up to the point where Seth had gone over didn't find it either. The river had taken another prize from us.
The rest of the day's run was mostly uneventful, except for the time a fish jumped out of the water next to me (perhaps spooked by my paddle) and went high enough for Chip to see it above my head. I only heard the splash. We stopped at a set of rocks for a break, a spot usually occupied by other folks but open for us this year. It gave us a chance to stretch our legs, warm up in the sun, play a little Frisbee, and - in Dave's case - go for a swim. We hung out there for a while, kept an eye out for Seth's hat, then continued on. We began to play tag with a group of folks in four canoes at this point. They'd pass us, then we'd go by them and so on. They were a young, boisterous crew. Mostly guys, with two women along as well. They had a sloppy paddling style and seemed to be trying awfully hard to go fast. I guessed they might have been renters from Main Stream Canoe, though I didn't see any logos on their boats, and were trying to get off the river before the end of the day.
It WAS starting to get a bit late and we were beginning to look forward to the end of our day as well. I watched for the usual landmarks to try to get some idea of where we were. One was the site of our original camping spot. I knew it was about a 1/2 hour upstream from our final destination and it served as a good gauge of our location. I thought I'd missed it but finally it came into view, though much further along than I'd thought. Still, I knew we were getting close. The canoers were mixed in with us by now and I paddled on ahead, somewhat worried that they might be heading for "our" pool. I rounded a bend and the concrete canyon of New Hartford came into sight - the ultimate landmark preceding our campsite. A bridge crossed the river after that and I got stuck on the rocks there. I had to get out to drag my boat to open water but I got going again quickly and a few minutes later I spotted the side channel to the pool. I turned to look back, thinking I'd make sure others from my team saw where I was going, but no one was in sight. I figured they'd find it and went in, over the initial ripples, around the final curve and into the calm stillness of the pool. My boat went into the usual berth and I disembarked to await the others.
It took a bit longer than I expected, but I heard some noise and Chip came into view, followed soon after by Seth. They were somewhat surprised to find that Dave hadn't arrived. He'd capsized upstream and they'd passed him, but then they thought he'd gotten ahead of them again. We waited a good while without seeing him and we began to think he'd missed the turn. I half expected to hear him paddling upstream from below our campsite. Just when Chip was about to set off on foot to look upriver, Dave came paddling in. He'd actually been caught under a branch and was fortunate to have gotten free without more trouble. It had taken him quite a while to get his boat & paddle out and then clear the boat of water, but now he was here and the Stupids were in camp at last. It was about 6:00PM.
I had purposefully NOT looked for Jack when I arrived and I insisted that we all wait until everyone was present. Dave requested the honor of checking for it (since he had hidden it away last year) and I anticipated another of his famous deceptions. Dave searched a bit, then made an exclamation and proclaimed success! I think we were all pretty surprised to see the bottle emerge unbroken and still containing a fair amount of its original contents. It was dirty and the label was in tatters, but Jack had survived. Dave rinsed the bottle off, unscrewed the cap, and passed it to Seth and then to me. We each took a good swig to celebrate Jack's survival and our arrival. We also toasted Chip, who celebrated his own victories that day.
There was another round of drinks for Dave, Seth & me and then we began setting up camp. Dave set up his hammock by the pool, while Chip & I headed downstream a bit to the grassy glade where I usually stay. Back at the pool, I helped Seth get his hammock assembled. When he tried it out though, the zipper gave way. While he & Chip worked to fix it, I got dinner going. By 7:30 the tortellini was ready to eat. We discovered then that our Alfredo sauce had disappeared, probably a casualty of Dave's capsizing. We made do with a dollop of cream cheese as an impromptu sauce and had a nice dinner on the rock by the pool.
The rest of the evening was the usual hanging out and winding down time. Five hours of sun and paddling combined with full bellies made for a fair amount of lethargy and we were reduced to sitting on the rock and talking. Entertainment was provided by a number of bats who enjoyed zooming by our heads and feasting on the mosquitos we were attracting. We also watched as fish struck at bugs on the water's surface. I'd found a spinner lure and some line in a tree earlier and tied it to a stick, and Chip & I took turns trying to convince a fish to strike at it but we had no luck.
At some point in the evening, a woman stopped by along the path and informed us we were on private property. We'd been told on previous trips that the land owners might stop by, but this was our first encounter. She allowed us to stay - we didn't have a fire going, we were significantly older than the kids with beer they usually found at the site, and it was getting late in the evening - but asked us to not come back again. We of course politely agreed.
Dave headed for his hammock around 9:00 and the rest of us followed suit a half hour later. The temperature was fairly mild, but I was glad for my sleeping bag (Chip & Seth had just brought fleece bags, and Seth's had gotten wet). Some clouds rolled in, but we didn't anticipate any rain overnight. I read for a bit, then turned off my light and went to sleep. I slept in 1-2 hour stretches at first, and got out of the hammock once, but finally crashed for good around 1:30 and didn't wake again until 5:30. By then the dampness in the river valley had made the air chilly and I burrowed into my sleeping bag for warmth. I dozed a bit more and tried unsuccessfully to find a decent radio station before getting up for good just before 7:00.
Chip was stirring a bit, but not quite ready to get up. I bid him good morning, took his picture in repose in his hammock, then went down to the rock. I fired up my stove and heated up a cup of water for tea to start my day. I drank that, did some fishing, and watched the day start at the pool. Chip joined me about a half hour later and we got water going for coffee. I took a quick plunge in the pool to clear the cobwebs while the water was heating, then had breakfast of bagels, coffee and cantaloupe with Chip. Dave was the next to rise and Seth emerged last. As usual, Seth had had an uncomfortable night. The zipper on his hammock had failed again and the wet bedroll didn't help matters either. He'd been up several times and saw a beaver gliding through the pool during one of his sojourns before catching his usual few desperate hours of sleep at dawn.
The rest of the morning was a repeat of previous years. Sitting, talking, eating, and swimming. At one point I looked up and saw two herons gliding down the waterway. We'd been seeing herons the whole trip long, but these two were coming through the trees just 20 feet or so above our heads. It was very cool. Eventually by general consensus everyone started packing up their gear. There was a final round of toasts to Jack and then he was set back in his hiding place to be found (hopefully) next year. The boats were reloaded and set back in the water, a final check of the site was made and we were off again. It was just before 11:00. Suddenly we heard a cracking sound. While getting into his boat, Dave had braced himself with his paddle and one of the blades snapped off. We tried to think of means of repair but none seemed feasible and Dave felt he'd do okay with a single paddle.
We glided out of the pool and down into the lower section of the side channel, an area we'd long considered as an alternative campsite. No nice rock to sit on, but great camping spots and a long stretch of deep, calm water for fishing, swimming and paddling. As we paddled through, Seth tangled with a submerged tree limb and capsized. While Dave & I captured his boat, my spray skirt failed (some stitching gave way), so we all took a little break to explore the area, empty Seth's boat, and fix my gear.
All set once again, we emerged from the side channel and reentered the main waterway. The river from Lake McDonough came in from the left at the same point and I made a quick side trip to check out a campsite I'd noticed just past its entrance. I found a nice camping area, a fire ring, and a sign saying "No Camping or Fires Allowed." As I got back in my boat, I looked back and spotted another possible site on the point of land just before the river's entrance. Worth a visit another day. This day I paddled to catch up with the others on our way downstream. Again, the weather forecast must have scared people off because we only encountered two patrons of the Farmington Tubing Company on the river. Usually the waterway is full of tubers.
As we approached Satan's Kingdom, I began to feel more apprehensive than usual about the run through the rapids. In my new boat, I didn't think I'd be able to make the quick turns needed to get through the short drop. I made it through the smaller rapids under the entrance bridge just fine though and used that section to practice some turns, then found a spot to stop and prepare. I made sure my gear was secure, put on my lifejacket, cinched up my sprayskirt and got ready to go. Dave went through first, and then Chip. I checked in with Seth and he said he was pretty nervous too, but figured he'd give it a shot. I turned my boat downstream and paddled to the rapids. Usually I take a line to the left, but that requires a sharp right turn at the bottom that I didn't think I could do, so I went a bit more toward the center. All went well at first, but then a rock came up and I got turned sideways to the flow. I figured I was a goner, but the stern of my boat swung around and I found myself still upright but going through the rapids backwards! Okay, I thought, as long as it works. I used my paddle to stay on line and was soon out in the exit pool. The lifeguard awarded me 5 extra points for going through backwards!
Chip & Dave were pulled to the side just below the rapids. I'd assumed they'd both capsized but they'd gone through just fine. That left Seth, and Chip & I watched as he came through. He took a center line as well. There were a few hairy moments, but he fought his way through them and emerged victorious. That may be the first time we've all come through successfully. We regrouped our boats and proceeded downstream to the Roostertail Rapids. These were much smaller and presented more fun than challenge. Now past all the significant whitewater, the sprayskirts came off and we settled in for the long, lazy paddle to the end.
A few small sections of ripples gave us a little break from just paddling along, and at one point a bald eagle snatched a fish from the water in front of us, but otherwise it was uneventful easy going. The house at the waterfall corner acted as the final landmark for the journey and then we were back in the Collinsville basin. One last event marked the journey. We'd just passed a small mid-river beach near the final bridge passage and noted that this was first time there wasn't some family having a picnic there. I was dragging the fishing lure I'd found the day before with a slim hope of catching a fish when I looked up to see a roiling of the water up ahead. It had to be a pod of fish furiously feeding on something, so I headed that way to see if I could snag one of them. Just before I got there though, a couple in a canoe coming upstream said, "SCUBA divers." I pulled aside, looked down, and sure enough...there were 3 SCUBA divers making their way upstream, maybe 6 feet under our hulls. First time I've seen that.
And that was it. A few minutes later I was crossing the river and pulling the boat out at Collinsville Kayak's ramp. It was 1:45. We left Chip with the boats while Seth drove Dave & I upriver to retrieve our cars. I caught a little hometown news on the radio on the ride back into town, pulled into the lot, and loaded up the boats and gear. Chip got a young woman to take a group picture before we departed for home. Chip & I were the first to leave, getting on the road around 3:00 and arriving back in Hopkinton at 4:30.
Post-game analysis:
As Chip said, this trip was totally different and completely the same. Same weather, same location, same campsite, even the same food! What was different? Much less partying. And the result? Surprisingly little change. We still had mishaps on the water, we still fell asleep early, we still had deep, introspective conversations, we still ate junk food, we still had a great time, we were still Stupid. Perhaps this aspect of our gatherings we've long considered so fundamental is much less significant than we thought. In the beginning it may have played a much larger role, but our relationships have grown beyond that over the years and have long been able to stand on their own. We just haven't realized it. Time to take off the training wheels and trust in our ability to ride on our own?
Okay, enough for the amateur psychoanalysis! What about the trip? It was great! In an email the day before departure I told everyone the forecast was for rain, but suggested the Luck of the Stupids might just kick in. Well, it did. The weather couldn't have been any better. And the water level? Definitely lower than usual, but never really a problem. Funny though: On the drive to Collinsville I joked that they'd open the dam gates while we were on the river and we'd be surfing down on the initial wave. Well, that nearly happened. I checked the stream gauge Sunday evening and found that the flow had doubled during the day. The individual time readings indicated the flow had started increasing in Riverton around 7:00AM Sunday morning and had doubled by 9:00. Our campsite was about 4 hours downstream, and we left at 11:00, so we paddled out on Sunday with the increased flow right behind us all the way.
Everyone agreed that the paddling on Sunday went much faster and smoother than usual. Lack of a headwind? Lack of tubers? Lack of Jack? Who knows?
Seth had a great observation about the fishermen. He asked if anyone else noticed they were all the same person.
I like the Blackwater boat, but I need to experiment with the storage - try different ways of packing gear. I did get everything in but it seemed tighter than I expected. I also need to check the bulkhead seal, since I found water in the dry compartment. As for the handling, that's just something I need to practice.
I was WRONG! Capsizing in the Satan's Kingdom rapids is the exception for us, not the rule. A check of previous accounts found that Seth flipped one year and I went over once, but usually we all run it just fine. Damn, we're good.
I was right about the water level though. It's actually the flow, not the water height that's the key. When the flow at the Riverton gauge doubled Sunday morning (far upstream of us), the water height only rose about 6 inches. It makes for less scraping, but that's it. The flow makes a big difference however. In the years when the flow was up in the 300-320 range (cubic feet per second), we made the run from the dam to the Pool in 3.5 hours. This year, with a flow rate of about 160, it took us 5 hours. Something to keep in mind for future trips, since it'll help us estimate arrival times better.
More pictures
Chip was stirring a bit, but not quite ready to get up. I bid him good morning, took his picture in repose in his hammock, then went down to the rock. I fired up my stove and heated up a cup of water for tea to start my day. I drank that, did some fishing, and watched the day start at the pool. Chip joined me about a half hour later and we got water going for coffee. I took a quick plunge in the pool to clear the cobwebs while the water was heating, then had breakfast of bagels, coffee and cantaloupe with Chip. Dave was the next to rise and Seth emerged last. As usual, Seth had had an uncomfortable night. The zipper on his hammock had failed again and the wet bedroll didn't help matters either. He'd been up several times and saw a beaver gliding through the pool during one of his sojourns before catching his usual few desperate hours of sleep at dawn.
The rest of the morning was a repeat of previous years. Sitting, talking, eating, and swimming. At one point I looked up and saw two herons gliding down the waterway. We'd been seeing herons the whole trip long, but these two were coming through the trees just 20 feet or so above our heads. It was very cool. Eventually by general consensus everyone started packing up their gear. There was a final round of toasts to Jack and then he was set back in his hiding place to be found (hopefully) next year. The boats were reloaded and set back in the water, a final check of the site was made and we were off again. It was just before 11:00. Suddenly we heard a cracking sound. While getting into his boat, Dave had braced himself with his paddle and one of the blades snapped off. We tried to think of means of repair but none seemed feasible and Dave felt he'd do okay with a single paddle.
We glided out of the pool and down into the lower section of the side channel, an area we'd long considered as an alternative campsite. No nice rock to sit on, but great camping spots and a long stretch of deep, calm water for fishing, swimming and paddling. As we paddled through, Seth tangled with a submerged tree limb and capsized. While Dave & I captured his boat, my spray skirt failed (some stitching gave way), so we all took a little break to explore the area, empty Seth's boat, and fix my gear.
All set once again, we emerged from the side channel and reentered the main waterway. The river from Lake McDonough came in from the left at the same point and I made a quick side trip to check out a campsite I'd noticed just past its entrance. I found a nice camping area, a fire ring, and a sign saying "No Camping or Fires Allowed." As I got back in my boat, I looked back and spotted another possible site on the point of land just before the river's entrance. Worth a visit another day. This day I paddled to catch up with the others on our way downstream. Again, the weather forecast must have scared people off because we only encountered two patrons of the Farmington Tubing Company on the river. Usually the waterway is full of tubers.
As we approached Satan's Kingdom, I began to feel more apprehensive than usual about the run through the rapids. In my new boat, I didn't think I'd be able to make the quick turns needed to get through the short drop. I made it through the smaller rapids under the entrance bridge just fine though and used that section to practice some turns, then found a spot to stop and prepare. I made sure my gear was secure, put on my lifejacket, cinched up my sprayskirt and got ready to go. Dave went through first, and then Chip. I checked in with Seth and he said he was pretty nervous too, but figured he'd give it a shot. I turned my boat downstream and paddled to the rapids. Usually I take a line to the left, but that requires a sharp right turn at the bottom that I didn't think I could do, so I went a bit more toward the center. All went well at first, but then a rock came up and I got turned sideways to the flow. I figured I was a goner, but the stern of my boat swung around and I found myself still upright but going through the rapids backwards! Okay, I thought, as long as it works. I used my paddle to stay on line and was soon out in the exit pool. The lifeguard awarded me 5 extra points for going through backwards!
Chip & Dave were pulled to the side just below the rapids. I'd assumed they'd both capsized but they'd gone through just fine. That left Seth, and Chip & I watched as he came through. He took a center line as well. There were a few hairy moments, but he fought his way through them and emerged victorious. That may be the first time we've all come through successfully. We regrouped our boats and proceeded downstream to the Roostertail Rapids. These were much smaller and presented more fun than challenge. Now past all the significant whitewater, the sprayskirts came off and we settled in for the long, lazy paddle to the end.
A few small sections of ripples gave us a little break from just paddling along, and at one point a bald eagle snatched a fish from the water in front of us, but otherwise it was uneventful easy going. The house at the waterfall corner acted as the final landmark for the journey and then we were back in the Collinsville basin. One last event marked the journey. We'd just passed a small mid-river beach near the final bridge passage and noted that this was first time there wasn't some family having a picnic there. I was dragging the fishing lure I'd found the day before with a slim hope of catching a fish when I looked up to see a roiling of the water up ahead. It had to be a pod of fish furiously feeding on something, so I headed that way to see if I could snag one of them. Just before I got there though, a couple in a canoe coming upstream said, "SCUBA divers." I pulled aside, looked down, and sure enough...there were 3 SCUBA divers making their way upstream, maybe 6 feet under our hulls. First time I've seen that.
And that was it. A few minutes later I was crossing the river and pulling the boat out at Collinsville Kayak's ramp. It was 1:45. We left Chip with the boats while Seth drove Dave & I upriver to retrieve our cars. I caught a little hometown news on the radio on the ride back into town, pulled into the lot, and loaded up the boats and gear. Chip got a young woman to take a group picture before we departed for home. Chip & I were the first to leave, getting on the road around 3:00 and arriving back in Hopkinton at 4:30.
Post-game analysis:
As Chip said, this trip was totally different and completely the same. Same weather, same location, same campsite, even the same food! What was different? Much less partying. And the result? Surprisingly little change. We still had mishaps on the water, we still fell asleep early, we still had deep, introspective conversations, we still ate junk food, we still had a great time, we were still Stupid. Perhaps this aspect of our gatherings we've long considered so fundamental is much less significant than we thought. In the beginning it may have played a much larger role, but our relationships have grown beyond that over the years and have long been able to stand on their own. We just haven't realized it. Time to take off the training wheels and trust in our ability to ride on our own?
Okay, enough for the amateur psychoanalysis! What about the trip? It was great! In an email the day before departure I told everyone the forecast was for rain, but suggested the Luck of the Stupids might just kick in. Well, it did. The weather couldn't have been any better. And the water level? Definitely lower than usual, but never really a problem. Funny though: On the drive to Collinsville I joked that they'd open the dam gates while we were on the river and we'd be surfing down on the initial wave. Well, that nearly happened. I checked the stream gauge Sunday evening and found that the flow had doubled during the day. The individual time readings indicated the flow had started increasing in Riverton around 7:00AM Sunday morning and had doubled by 9:00. Our campsite was about 4 hours downstream, and we left at 11:00, so we paddled out on Sunday with the increased flow right behind us all the way.
Everyone agreed that the paddling on Sunday went much faster and smoother than usual. Lack of a headwind? Lack of tubers? Lack of Jack? Who knows?
Seth had a great observation about the fishermen. He asked if anyone else noticed they were all the same person.
I like the Blackwater boat, but I need to experiment with the storage - try different ways of packing gear. I did get everything in but it seemed tighter than I expected. I also need to check the bulkhead seal, since I found water in the dry compartment. As for the handling, that's just something I need to practice.
I was WRONG! Capsizing in the Satan's Kingdom rapids is the exception for us, not the rule. A check of previous accounts found that Seth flipped one year and I went over once, but usually we all run it just fine. Damn, we're good.
I was right about the water level though. It's actually the flow, not the water height that's the key. When the flow at the Riverton gauge doubled Sunday morning (far upstream of us), the water height only rose about 6 inches. It makes for less scraping, but that's it. The flow makes a big difference however. In the years when the flow was up in the 300-320 range (cubic feet per second), we made the run from the dam to the Pool in 3.5 hours. This year, with a flow rate of about 160, it took us 5 hours. Something to keep in mind for future trips, since it'll help us estimate arrival times better.
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