Westfield River with Chip & Dave
Where: Westfield River
When: 10/16-17/2004
With: Chip & Dave
I was looking for an early fall hike (something with trails and backpacks) and initially suggested the weekend of September 11-12 to Chip. That seemed fine, but Jane reminded me that we had a friend's birthday party to attend on the 11th, so we rescheduled to October 2-3. I was thinking it would be just Chip & me and we'd go north to the Whites, but we sent out invitations to the other BUMS anyway. Seth responded quickly that he'd be interested so the destination shifted south and west, to the Alander Mountain area. We'd tried to hike there last spring, but foul weather cancelled that trip. Dave also signed on for the adventure and we were all set, until my brother Bill contacted me the week before the hike to confirm he'd be visiting that weekend. Crap! I'd forgotten about Bill's visit. I told the other BUMS to go without me, but instead a new date of October 16-17 was proposed. I checked the calendars and that weekend looked fine, but once again I overlooked a Scout camping trip and a play Jane was attending Sunday afternoon.
Determined not to bail AGAIN, I worked out arrangements with Jane & Andy and was set to go. However, it got to be Thursday prior to the trip and there hadn't been any communication from any of the other guys. I was beginning to think the trip was off, but Chip called as I was walking in the door Thursday night. He hadn't heard from Seth, Dave had been sick, and he (Chip) had some significant back pain due to disc problems. So of course the trip was definitely on! Chip's back issues were manageable as long as we limited the hike to something short and relatively level, and Dave had said he was working toward recovery just so he could go. Seth said he was busy but might consider going if the trip was close by. We agreed to think about destinations, confirm with the others, and talk again Friday.
On Friday, we decided to head to the Westfield River. There were a number of possible campsites - Mr. Beaver's Paradise and Growling Grizzly Gulch - that fit the bill for a short, mostly level walk. I sent emails to Seth to invite him to meet us in Northampton and Chip & I made calls to try to contact Dave, none successful. Chip did talk with Lia though and passed along the info. By Friday night the plan was for Chip to arrive at my place at 8AM and we'd go. If the others decided to join us...fine. I sent Andy off for his camping trip, listened to a pouring rainstorm all night, and went to sleep.
Saturday morning dawned and the weather looked good. A check of emails found one from Seth sending his regrets and a note from Chip saying he was delaying his arrival to 10. Fine by me. I called him and he asked me to call Dave. Apparently Dave was a definite, but would be meeting us at the camping area and needed directions. I got in touch with Dave and suggested a number of places he could meet us, but found he expected to be so late that he planned to meet us at the actual campsite. Hm. Tough to do, since we'd didn't know where we'd be camping. We planned to cross the river and go upstream, but if the overnight rains had swollen the river enough to make it uncrossable, we might wind up going downstream. Dave & I agreed to use our FRS radios to make contact once we both got into the general area.
Chip arrived at 10 and we headed west at 10:30. At 11:30, when we were on Route 91 north headed for Northampton, Dave called to say he was on 495 and on his way, though stuck in some traffic. That put him about an hour behind us...not bad. We made our way around Northampton, then stopped in Williamsburg to look for a rain fly or tarp or something for Chip to use over his not-rain-protected hammock. We parked in front of a hardware store, but Chip spotted a sign on a building down the street with paddles on it. We figured it might be sporting goods, but it turned out to be a very neat sort of antique store specializing in old canoes and such. We wandered in and spent some time checking out the old wooden boats and gear, all without seeing anyone there running the place. After a bit Chip did find someone to talk to, but no tarp so we returned to the hardware store. A nice woman helped us select a clear plastic paint dropcloth, but we found a camouflage tarp at the checkout counter that suited our needs perfectly. Chip added that to his collection of gear and we were off to the river.
At 12:30 we arrived at the Indian Hollow parking area. The stream running down to the river was flowing pretty strong, not a good sign for a river crossing later. As we packed up, a couple arrived in a pick-up with a frisky hound dog and asked if we knew the area. Their Delorme map book had indicated the road continued through, crossing the river and heading out the other side of the valley. At one time it had done that, but no more. We explained the area and they walked down to the campground while we packed up. We left a note on the dash of Chip's car for Dave before shouldering our packs and starting off. We figured we'd check out the river conditions and then return for Dave's expected arrival around 1:30.
We met the couple with the dog just before we got to the campground and they said the river was uncrossable, though they thought I might be able to do with my chest waders. We walked to the ford and found they were right. The river was flowing fast and muddy - turbulent brown water offering no view of the rocky bottom. The side stream didn't look much better. Chip suggested I test the water with my waders, so I climbed into them, got a stick for balance and started across. By very carefully placing my feet by feel I was able to get about halfway across before deciding to turn back. The water had risen to mid-thigh on me at that point. I probably could have made it across, but it would be a slow, risky process. Hard to imagine Chip & Dave doing it in shorts and water shoes, plus there would be a 2nd crossing required upstream to get to the campsite.
Returning to shore, I tried crossing the smaller stream and was able to get across that, giving us the option of heading downstream to Growling Grizzly Gulch. Chip really wanted to get to Mr. Beaver's Paradise though, so we walked up stream and checked out the upper crossing by the other end of the camping area. That turned out to also be uncrossable.
All this time we'd been hearing gunshots in the area. They seemed to all come from across the river, but we did see a man with a gun and two dogs head off into the woods on the upstream side of the campground while we were checking out the river crossings. A check of Massachusetts hunting seasons after the hike found it was open season for woodcock. Good news for us (though we didn't know it), since we didn't look much like small gamebirds.
At this point our options were to go downstream or to attempt a bushwack upstream along the river's east bank. The bushwack would get us to Mr. Beaver's Paradise, but I'd tried that years earlier when Chip & I had been here with our sons (and the water had also been high) and had been unable to find a viable route through the woods.
Regardless of which route option we chose, we agreed that we really wanted Dave with us versus trying to have him find us on his own. It was now nearing 2:30 though and he was more than an hour past his expected arrival time. What could have happened to him? We decided to give him until 3PM. I went up to the car and updated the note with the river conditions, and said we'd wait a bit then be bushwacking upstream. In our conversations, Dave had said he'd be prepared to camp on his own, with his own cooking & food supplies, so it wasn't as if we HAD to wait for him. Still, we wanted him along. Back at the campground, Chip & I found a log crossing of the smaller stream, explored some old industrial ruins, and finally figured it was time to go. We'd put our backpacks on and were starting to walk away when the radio crackled to life. It was Dave!
Dave joined us a few minutes later. We made our greetings then headed for the river, determined to take a shot at a bushwack upstream. It was only a mile, and we just needed to keep the river close by on our left. It seemed possible. We found a rough trail from the last campsite next to the river and it did a nice job leading us into the forest at first. It changed into an old overgrown road though and then dropped into a damp side channel of the river. Up ahead was a tangled mass of brush, with no clear pathway through. This is where I stopped last time, but we decided to push on a bit. We headed out to the river itself, and found the water level was such that we could walk along the river's edge.
We did this for a while, then turned back into the woods and found the continuation of the old road. We were now walking on a semi-defined path through beautiful, isolated open woods along the river. Very nice. We found a number of excellent spots suitable for camping and tried to convince Chip to stop and camp, but he continued to advocate for Mr. Beaver's Paradise so we pushed on. After a short break by the river at another nice spot, we came upon markings on the trees indicating the boundary between the State forest and the Corps of Engineers area. A small gorge immediately afterward reminded me of Growling Grizzly Gulch. After that, we got into a brushy area without any clear route to follow, then I spotted a trail. It was the path to our campsite. I'd followed it in the reverse direction years ago and recognized it. We'd come upon it just where it turned to head up the ridge.
With a nice path to follow, the walking got easy (though it had never been especially difficult). A few more steps brought us to an open area with a side stream, a small bridge and the remains of an old truck left in the woods. A few more steps after that brought us to the slopes leading up to the campsite and then we were there...Mr. Beaver's Paradise. It was about 4:30 - an hour's walk from the Indian Hollow camping area. We had the place to ourselves, and in fact the trails indicated it hadn't seen many visitors at all lately.
We quickly settled in, each choosing a site to string our hammocks. I set up where I'd been before, near the clearing. Chip was a bit further back in the woods and Dave hung his hammock precariously over the cliff edge on the other side of the clearing. With about an hour of daylight left, I got into my waders, grabbed my fishing gear and set off upstream. The rough water didn't offer much hope for catching anything, but I wanted to try anyway. I worked my way upstream, staying on the east bank of the river and fishing at any spot that wasn't all raging whitewater. A brief rain shower served as a good excuse to turn around and I got back to the camp around 6:00 to find Chip & Dave working on getting a fire going. While they brought a nice blaze to life, I got some water and started cooking dinner for Chip & I. Tortellini as usual. For a sauce I used some cream cheese and added sun-dried tomatoes & spices. Kind of a mock alfredo sauce that turned out nicely. Dave had brought his own stuff and made himself a nice spaghetti dinner.
We ate by the fire and watched as the sky cleared and the stars came out. Chip & Dave seemed ready to call it a day, but I gathered some more wood and gave the fire a bit more life to keep things going. Around 8:00 the sky clouded over again and the wind picked up as another squall line moved in. I threw some dirt on the remaining embers and we each headed to our hammocks. I pulled out a radio and managed to find a weak signal from a station broadcasting the Red Sox/Yankees game. For the next couple of hours I listened to the game, calling out the score as it went along, while also getting up a few times to deal with the fire. The wind kept blowing it back to life and I poured some water on the embers to quiet it down.
Around 10:00 I awoke from a brief snooze to find that the Yankees had taken a commanding lead in the game, so I turned off the radio for the night and went to sleep. I slept in two hour shifts for the rest of the night, waking at midnight, 2 and 4. Each time I had to pee...odd, since I hadn't had that much to drink all day. Maybe it was the cold. The 4:00 session was preceded by two single hoots from an owl, probably across the river. Getting up then, I discovered that the stars had reappeared. Pretty though it was, it was also fairly chilly outside so I returned to my sleeping bag, hunkered down deep inside and closed myself off.
I woke to the darkness inside my sleeping bag (I also had my knit hat pulled over my eyes) and peered out to find dawn had arrived. A check of my watch found it was 7:00. I called it a night and got up. Everyone else was still in bed but stirring. I'd heard Chip making sounds (mostly moaning) earlier and checked in on him first, then went to Dave's site. Neither indicated they'd be moving soon so I dressed for the morning, then went down to get water for drinking & breakfast at the stream feeding into the river.
It was a clear day, and cold (34 degrees), but a fog was resting in the river valley to make things pretty. Down at the stream I looked up to see a bright clearing up toward the ridge. I recalled seeing a small pond or something on aerial photos of the area and decided to see if I could find it, so I dropped my gear, took the camera and went exploring. The clearing turned out to be a small beaver pond/marsh. I made my way through the surrounding brush until I got to an opening by the shore offering a view of the area. I was hoping to spot a deer or a moose or a bear or something, but had no luck. Still, it was pretty enough for a few pictures.
I returned to the stream, got my water, then went back to the campsite and started making breakfast preparations (boiling water, mostly). Chip began to stir (it was about 8:00) and I talked with him as he slowly made his way out of his hammock. He'd not had a comfortable night and was in a good bit of pain from his back. He also mentioned having to pee often during the night. I gave him the bad news about the Sox game (19-8, Yankees), went down to the river to take some pictures, and returned. I'd already had my breakfast (bagel & espresso) and I made a cup of tea for Chip to warm him up. He was so sore he couldn't bend over to get the water himself! I got him a bagel and helped him with some oatmeal and things started to get better. We hung out for a while before rousing Dave around 9:00. We all continued with breakfast and I got another fire going to warm everyone up.
Eventually we started packing up to leave. Chip's pain medication had kicked in and he was feeling much better. We left the site a bit after 10:00 and began the walk back. It was another easy, pleasant stroll through the woods and an hour later we emerged from the forest at the Indian Hollow camping area. We walked through the sunny open meadows, then I made a quick detour down to the ford to check out the water level. A bit lower than the previous day, but now the water was running clear.
I caught up with Chip & Dave back at the car, where we offered info to an older couple looking to hike in the area. She had a British accent and said they lived up on one of the local roads, but they'd never been able to get to the trails heading south along the east side of the river. When we mentioned where we'd been, she indicated that the trails from the campsite lead to their property. We told her that the side stream was still flooded so they'd probably not get across this day either, but they took their two springer spaniels and headed down to the camping area anyway.
We finished packing up and then began the journey home. I called home from Northampton around noon and told Andy I was on my way. At 1:30 we pulled in to the driveway.
Post game analysis
Another nice hike. Low effort/impact, and we had a beautiful area all to ourselves. There were a number of nice sites along the river north of Indian Hollow worth considering for a future visit. That section of the river doesn't get much attention due to its inaccessibility. The main path most folks use is on the other side and curves far away from the river at that point. It would be an easy walk to get in there and have the river to ourselves for fishing.
I found myself wishing I could have had my kayak with me. The river level was perfect for a float trip - high enough to float but not wild enough to require significant technical skills. Some day. It's tough on that river though. The water level seems to be very dependant upon recent storms. It may be something where you just have to watch the weather and be prepared to go when conditions are right.
My new wading boots finally got used and they worked well. They also served nicely as hiking boots, though the large size (needed to accommodate the neoprene wader feet) had me humming "Be a Clown!" all weekend.
More pictures
When: 10/16-17/2004
With: Chip & Dave
I was looking for an early fall hike (something with trails and backpacks) and initially suggested the weekend of September 11-12 to Chip. That seemed fine, but Jane reminded me that we had a friend's birthday party to attend on the 11th, so we rescheduled to October 2-3. I was thinking it would be just Chip & me and we'd go north to the Whites, but we sent out invitations to the other BUMS anyway. Seth responded quickly that he'd be interested so the destination shifted south and west, to the Alander Mountain area. We'd tried to hike there last spring, but foul weather cancelled that trip. Dave also signed on for the adventure and we were all set, until my brother Bill contacted me the week before the hike to confirm he'd be visiting that weekend. Crap! I'd forgotten about Bill's visit. I told the other BUMS to go without me, but instead a new date of October 16-17 was proposed. I checked the calendars and that weekend looked fine, but once again I overlooked a Scout camping trip and a play Jane was attending Sunday afternoon.
Determined not to bail AGAIN, I worked out arrangements with Jane & Andy and was set to go. However, it got to be Thursday prior to the trip and there hadn't been any communication from any of the other guys. I was beginning to think the trip was off, but Chip called as I was walking in the door Thursday night. He hadn't heard from Seth, Dave had been sick, and he (Chip) had some significant back pain due to disc problems. So of course the trip was definitely on! Chip's back issues were manageable as long as we limited the hike to something short and relatively level, and Dave had said he was working toward recovery just so he could go. Seth said he was busy but might consider going if the trip was close by. We agreed to think about destinations, confirm with the others, and talk again Friday.
On Friday, we decided to head to the Westfield River. There were a number of possible campsites - Mr. Beaver's Paradise and Growling Grizzly Gulch - that fit the bill for a short, mostly level walk. I sent emails to Seth to invite him to meet us in Northampton and Chip & I made calls to try to contact Dave, none successful. Chip did talk with Lia though and passed along the info. By Friday night the plan was for Chip to arrive at my place at 8AM and we'd go. If the others decided to join us...fine. I sent Andy off for his camping trip, listened to a pouring rainstorm all night, and went to sleep.
Saturday morning dawned and the weather looked good. A check of emails found one from Seth sending his regrets and a note from Chip saying he was delaying his arrival to 10. Fine by me. I called him and he asked me to call Dave. Apparently Dave was a definite, but would be meeting us at the camping area and needed directions. I got in touch with Dave and suggested a number of places he could meet us, but found he expected to be so late that he planned to meet us at the actual campsite. Hm. Tough to do, since we'd didn't know where we'd be camping. We planned to cross the river and go upstream, but if the overnight rains had swollen the river enough to make it uncrossable, we might wind up going downstream. Dave & I agreed to use our FRS radios to make contact once we both got into the general area.
Chip arrived at 10 and we headed west at 10:30. At 11:30, when we were on Route 91 north headed for Northampton, Dave called to say he was on 495 and on his way, though stuck in some traffic. That put him about an hour behind us...not bad. We made our way around Northampton, then stopped in Williamsburg to look for a rain fly or tarp or something for Chip to use over his not-rain-protected hammock. We parked in front of a hardware store, but Chip spotted a sign on a building down the street with paddles on it. We figured it might be sporting goods, but it turned out to be a very neat sort of antique store specializing in old canoes and such. We wandered in and spent some time checking out the old wooden boats and gear, all without seeing anyone there running the place. After a bit Chip did find someone to talk to, but no tarp so we returned to the hardware store. A nice woman helped us select a clear plastic paint dropcloth, but we found a camouflage tarp at the checkout counter that suited our needs perfectly. Chip added that to his collection of gear and we were off to the river.
At 12:30 we arrived at the Indian Hollow parking area. The stream running down to the river was flowing pretty strong, not a good sign for a river crossing later. As we packed up, a couple arrived in a pick-up with a frisky hound dog and asked if we knew the area. Their Delorme map book had indicated the road continued through, crossing the river and heading out the other side of the valley. At one time it had done that, but no more. We explained the area and they walked down to the campground while we packed up. We left a note on the dash of Chip's car for Dave before shouldering our packs and starting off. We figured we'd check out the river conditions and then return for Dave's expected arrival around 1:30.
We met the couple with the dog just before we got to the campground and they said the river was uncrossable, though they thought I might be able to do with my chest waders. We walked to the ford and found they were right. The river was flowing fast and muddy - turbulent brown water offering no view of the rocky bottom. The side stream didn't look much better. Chip suggested I test the water with my waders, so I climbed into them, got a stick for balance and started across. By very carefully placing my feet by feel I was able to get about halfway across before deciding to turn back. The water had risen to mid-thigh on me at that point. I probably could have made it across, but it would be a slow, risky process. Hard to imagine Chip & Dave doing it in shorts and water shoes, plus there would be a 2nd crossing required upstream to get to the campsite.
Returning to shore, I tried crossing the smaller stream and was able to get across that, giving us the option of heading downstream to Growling Grizzly Gulch. Chip really wanted to get to Mr. Beaver's Paradise though, so we walked up stream and checked out the upper crossing by the other end of the camping area. That turned out to also be uncrossable.
All this time we'd been hearing gunshots in the area. They seemed to all come from across the river, but we did see a man with a gun and two dogs head off into the woods on the upstream side of the campground while we were checking out the river crossings. A check of Massachusetts hunting seasons after the hike found it was open season for woodcock. Good news for us (though we didn't know it), since we didn't look much like small gamebirds.
At this point our options were to go downstream or to attempt a bushwack upstream along the river's east bank. The bushwack would get us to Mr. Beaver's Paradise, but I'd tried that years earlier when Chip & I had been here with our sons (and the water had also been high) and had been unable to find a viable route through the woods.
Regardless of which route option we chose, we agreed that we really wanted Dave with us versus trying to have him find us on his own. It was now nearing 2:30 though and he was more than an hour past his expected arrival time. What could have happened to him? We decided to give him until 3PM. I went up to the car and updated the note with the river conditions, and said we'd wait a bit then be bushwacking upstream. In our conversations, Dave had said he'd be prepared to camp on his own, with his own cooking & food supplies, so it wasn't as if we HAD to wait for him. Still, we wanted him along. Back at the campground, Chip & I found a log crossing of the smaller stream, explored some old industrial ruins, and finally figured it was time to go. We'd put our backpacks on and were starting to walk away when the radio crackled to life. It was Dave!
Dave joined us a few minutes later. We made our greetings then headed for the river, determined to take a shot at a bushwack upstream. It was only a mile, and we just needed to keep the river close by on our left. It seemed possible. We found a rough trail from the last campsite next to the river and it did a nice job leading us into the forest at first. It changed into an old overgrown road though and then dropped into a damp side channel of the river. Up ahead was a tangled mass of brush, with no clear pathway through. This is where I stopped last time, but we decided to push on a bit. We headed out to the river itself, and found the water level was such that we could walk along the river's edge.
We did this for a while, then turned back into the woods and found the continuation of the old road. We were now walking on a semi-defined path through beautiful, isolated open woods along the river. Very nice. We found a number of excellent spots suitable for camping and tried to convince Chip to stop and camp, but he continued to advocate for Mr. Beaver's Paradise so we pushed on. After a short break by the river at another nice spot, we came upon markings on the trees indicating the boundary between the State forest and the Corps of Engineers area. A small gorge immediately afterward reminded me of Growling Grizzly Gulch. After that, we got into a brushy area without any clear route to follow, then I spotted a trail. It was the path to our campsite. I'd followed it in the reverse direction years ago and recognized it. We'd come upon it just where it turned to head up the ridge.
With a nice path to follow, the walking got easy (though it had never been especially difficult). A few more steps brought us to an open area with a side stream, a small bridge and the remains of an old truck left in the woods. A few more steps after that brought us to the slopes leading up to the campsite and then we were there...Mr. Beaver's Paradise. It was about 4:30 - an hour's walk from the Indian Hollow camping area. We had the place to ourselves, and in fact the trails indicated it hadn't seen many visitors at all lately.
We quickly settled in, each choosing a site to string our hammocks. I set up where I'd been before, near the clearing. Chip was a bit further back in the woods and Dave hung his hammock precariously over the cliff edge on the other side of the clearing. With about an hour of daylight left, I got into my waders, grabbed my fishing gear and set off upstream. The rough water didn't offer much hope for catching anything, but I wanted to try anyway. I worked my way upstream, staying on the east bank of the river and fishing at any spot that wasn't all raging whitewater. A brief rain shower served as a good excuse to turn around and I got back to the camp around 6:00 to find Chip & Dave working on getting a fire going. While they brought a nice blaze to life, I got some water and started cooking dinner for Chip & I. Tortellini as usual. For a sauce I used some cream cheese and added sun-dried tomatoes & spices. Kind of a mock alfredo sauce that turned out nicely. Dave had brought his own stuff and made himself a nice spaghetti dinner.
We ate by the fire and watched as the sky cleared and the stars came out. Chip & Dave seemed ready to call it a day, but I gathered some more wood and gave the fire a bit more life to keep things going. Around 8:00 the sky clouded over again and the wind picked up as another squall line moved in. I threw some dirt on the remaining embers and we each headed to our hammocks. I pulled out a radio and managed to find a weak signal from a station broadcasting the Red Sox/Yankees game. For the next couple of hours I listened to the game, calling out the score as it went along, while also getting up a few times to deal with the fire. The wind kept blowing it back to life and I poured some water on the embers to quiet it down.
Around 10:00 I awoke from a brief snooze to find that the Yankees had taken a commanding lead in the game, so I turned off the radio for the night and went to sleep. I slept in two hour shifts for the rest of the night, waking at midnight, 2 and 4. Each time I had to pee...odd, since I hadn't had that much to drink all day. Maybe it was the cold. The 4:00 session was preceded by two single hoots from an owl, probably across the river. Getting up then, I discovered that the stars had reappeared. Pretty though it was, it was also fairly chilly outside so I returned to my sleeping bag, hunkered down deep inside and closed myself off.
I woke to the darkness inside my sleeping bag (I also had my knit hat pulled over my eyes) and peered out to find dawn had arrived. A check of my watch found it was 7:00. I called it a night and got up. Everyone else was still in bed but stirring. I'd heard Chip making sounds (mostly moaning) earlier and checked in on him first, then went to Dave's site. Neither indicated they'd be moving soon so I dressed for the morning, then went down to get water for drinking & breakfast at the stream feeding into the river.
It was a clear day, and cold (34 degrees), but a fog was resting in the river valley to make things pretty. Down at the stream I looked up to see a bright clearing up toward the ridge. I recalled seeing a small pond or something on aerial photos of the area and decided to see if I could find it, so I dropped my gear, took the camera and went exploring. The clearing turned out to be a small beaver pond/marsh. I made my way through the surrounding brush until I got to an opening by the shore offering a view of the area. I was hoping to spot a deer or a moose or a bear or something, but had no luck. Still, it was pretty enough for a few pictures.
I returned to the stream, got my water, then went back to the campsite and started making breakfast preparations (boiling water, mostly). Chip began to stir (it was about 8:00) and I talked with him as he slowly made his way out of his hammock. He'd not had a comfortable night and was in a good bit of pain from his back. He also mentioned having to pee often during the night. I gave him the bad news about the Sox game (19-8, Yankees), went down to the river to take some pictures, and returned. I'd already had my breakfast (bagel & espresso) and I made a cup of tea for Chip to warm him up. He was so sore he couldn't bend over to get the water himself! I got him a bagel and helped him with some oatmeal and things started to get better. We hung out for a while before rousing Dave around 9:00. We all continued with breakfast and I got another fire going to warm everyone up.
Eventually we started packing up to leave. Chip's pain medication had kicked in and he was feeling much better. We left the site a bit after 10:00 and began the walk back. It was another easy, pleasant stroll through the woods and an hour later we emerged from the forest at the Indian Hollow camping area. We walked through the sunny open meadows, then I made a quick detour down to the ford to check out the water level. A bit lower than the previous day, but now the water was running clear.
I caught up with Chip & Dave back at the car, where we offered info to an older couple looking to hike in the area. She had a British accent and said they lived up on one of the local roads, but they'd never been able to get to the trails heading south along the east side of the river. When we mentioned where we'd been, she indicated that the trails from the campsite lead to their property. We told her that the side stream was still flooded so they'd probably not get across this day either, but they took their two springer spaniels and headed down to the camping area anyway.
We finished packing up and then began the journey home. I called home from Northampton around noon and told Andy I was on my way. At 1:30 we pulled in to the driveway.
Post game analysis
Another nice hike. Low effort/impact, and we had a beautiful area all to ourselves. There were a number of nice sites along the river north of Indian Hollow worth considering for a future visit. That section of the river doesn't get much attention due to its inaccessibility. The main path most folks use is on the other side and curves far away from the river at that point. It would be an easy walk to get in there and have the river to ourselves for fishing.
I found myself wishing I could have had my kayak with me. The river level was perfect for a float trip - high enough to float but not wild enough to require significant technical skills. Some day. It's tough on that river though. The water level seems to be very dependant upon recent storms. It may be something where you just have to watch the weather and be prepared to go when conditions are right.
My new wading boots finally got used and they worked well. They also served nicely as hiking boots, though the large size (needed to accommodate the neoprene wader feet) had me humming "Be a Clown!" all weekend.
More pictures
