Collinsville VIII - The Grand Finale
Where: Farmington River, ColIinsville
When: June 10-11, 2017
With: The Stupids
When: June 10-11, 2017
With: The Stupids
"A call to arms, or rather kayaks, “Back to Bugle” because Jack is no longer with us.
When: June 9-11
Where: Collinsville U.S.A. (Next to the Dam)
Why: We all need this so don’t argue, “just do it”
Who: The Mutual Stupids (of course)
Please RSVP (or we will simply show up and kinap you)."
And so it began. After 13 years, we were heading back to Collinsville and the Farmington River. It was 22 years after we first visited, 21 years after our first camping trip on the river, and 20 years after we first camped at The Pool. We exchanged emails over the next few months, and at 8AM on Saturday, Chip arrived in my driveway. He’d offered to take care of the cooking duties this trip, so I left my cookpots, stove, kitchen tools, etc. behind. Actually, packing for this trip had been interesting. I hadn’t been camping in a long time, and I cut back to the basics - sleeping bag, hammock, sleeping pad, camp clothes, spoon & cup, knife, headlamp. The espresso maker and gas lantern would be saved for another day. Fewer creature comforts perhaps, but it made for a smaller kit to be packed into the boat.
There’d been some last-minute arrangements for a boat for Xeth. He usually just walked across his front lawn to the Delaware River to kayak, and didn’t have the racks, straps, etc. needed to transport his kayak on his car for a four hour ride to Connecticut. David offered to bring a 2nd boat, so Xeth headed to Collinsville Friday and stayed with a friend in town.
Our ride to Collinsville was uneventful, and we arrived at 10AM. We called Xeth, and he joined us at the LaSalle Market, with Dave in tow. We got sandwiches for lunch, then headed upriver to the Hogback dam. We weren’t really sure of how to get there, but we remembered a few key landmarks - New Hartford, Riverton, Hogback Road - and found our way to the put-in spot. We went through the process of packing up the boats and eating our lunches, then at noon, we pushed off into the river.
There was some trepidation about our rusty kayak skills, especially considering the choppy water at the beginning, but we quickly realized we were able to handle the conditions and we began to enjoy the ride. We bounced our way downstream, passing the occasional fisherman until passing through Riverton, where the river calmed down. We took a short break there, then resumed our journey.
The rest of the afternoon was a mix of drifting with the current, light paddling, stretches of flat water and the occasional ripples, and an ever-changing game of tag with other paddlers. There was a guy in kayak and two in an inflatable boat, who’d also run the upper section of the river, 2 guys in a boat and a guy/girl in another boat, a couple in kayaks, and 2 couples in canoes. There was also a guy in a whitewater canoe, using a single paddle and practicing turns in the current. And there was a fairly constant series of encounters with fly fishermen. We tried to run behind them, or on the far sides of their casts. From time to time we’d see one pulling in a good size fish.
Other than a break on some rocks at one point, it was a pretty constant float downstream. Thanks to some re-reads of previous trip reports, I was able to recall some landmarks along the way, especially a long concrete wall in New Hartford and a road bridge that followed, signaling the approach to the side channel leading to “our” pool. I led the way in and soon we were sitting on the rock at our intended campsite. It was 4PM.
The site was just as we recalled. I explored up to our sleeping area, then rejoined the others at the rock. Dave took a plunge into the pool, but otherwise everyone just hung out. There was a check for the bottle of Jack Daniels we’d left 13 years ago, but Jack was nowhere to be found. Taken or washed away...who knows? I took another walk along the path above the site, following it to the edge of a large, active produce field.
Now, we’d had some concerns about this camping spot. On a previous trip, a landowner had come by and informed us that we were on private property, but allowed us to stay since we didn’t look like the usual kids with beer and fires they usually encountered. 13 years of life had made us a bit more hesitant about trespassing, but we figured we’d just see what happened. The evidence of activity nearby (the field) raised the level of worry a bit, but not enough to change plans.
The others moved into hammocks and other forms of relaxation, but I was restless and went exploring. Previous trip reports had mentioned possible campsites further downstream, where our side channel rejoined the main river and a side stream from Lake McDonough entered, and I wanted to see if I could walk to that junction. I went back to the field and walked along its edge, marveling at the amount of work that had gone into planting and maintaining the crops. I saw corn, beans, and some other stuff I didn’t recognize, all early in its growth.
Eventually I reached the far end of the field, where I saw an overgrown path heading in the right direction. I was able to follow it, stopping to pick off ticks from time to time, until it ended where the rivers joined. On one side, I saw a spot with a fire ring and a sign on a tree which I couldn’t read. A short distance behind it was a road and buildings. On the other shore was a sign on a tree: No Fires. No Camping. Probably a nice camping spot there, but well known to the authorities and again, right near a road.
I returned to the field, completed my circumnavigation of its border, then made my way back to the pool where I reported my findings. There was still some concern about our current spot, and there was a group discussion about looking downstream for something. Eventually though, we all agreed to stay put. A moment later, we heard a voice. “You’re trespassing. You can’t camp here.” We all looked at each other and almost started to try to argue our case, but the landowner’s tone had made it clear that discussion or negotiation were not an option this time.
We apologized and headed to our boats, with Xeth & I on the water first. We passed out of the pool and went just a short distance downstream before I pulled over on the other side. Between our side channel and the main stream there was a large island in the river, and I’d scouted the woods over there on my walks up to the field, looking for other places to camp. This spot had looked promising. While Xeth waited in his boat, I pulled to shore and began exploring. The spot had an open grassy area for the tents, plenty of trees for the hammocks, a log to sit on and access to the river. Seemed good, so I got the others to come in and check it out. Everyone agreed it would work, but we decided to explore another area further in toward the center of the island.
A short wade across a shallow side channel brought us to a large open pine woods. Very little undergrowth, lots of space, and even further away from folks who might hassle us. And trees! Huge, gnarly pine trees with spectacular vines climbing up them. We’d found our site for the night. It was around 6PM. The gear was quickly brought across and we proceeded to set up camp. In short order, two hammocks and two tents were up (though David wound up turning his hammock into a tent).
We explored the area a bit (I found a deer skull) and then turned our attention to dinner. Chip had brought two large packets of fresh tortellini and a rather small cook set, but we worked out a way to cook in four shifts and soon everyone was fed. Garlic Alfredo sauce mix and oregano pesto served for flavor. There was a bit more activity after dinner, but everyone was pretty much beat. It was only around 8PM, and there was still light in the sky, but we all wound up making our way to our beds. We talked a bit, and Chip attempted to get some Stupid singing going, but age and exhaustion won out and soon we were all asleep.
I slept fairly well, considering I hadn’t slept in a hammock in years. It was fairly warm and humid, and I began the night with my sleeping bag as just a cover on top of me. It cooled off though and around 4AM I zipped it up and crawled inside. I woke up a few times during the night and went outside. A nearly full moon could be seen through the trees, but not much of its light made it down to our camp. From time to time I heard the others stirring or snoring, and there were also the sounds of deer making huffing noises, perhaps annoyed at our presence.
Around 5AM I began to wake for good, and I heard Chip up as well. The others joined us, and soon we were all up and having coffee. We took our time in camp, looking around a bit more, taking pictures, etc. before finally packing up to leave. By 7:30 we were back on the water.
In addition to our uneasiness about the original campsite, our other trepidation was about the rapids in Satan’s Kingdom. We’d all mentioned that we were worried about our rusty kayak skills in there, and I’d been keeping track of how well I did the previous day at maneuvering my boat. The results weren’t promising. Around the campsite in the morning, we all said that we’d run the rapids many times before, had nothing to prove, and agreed there would be no shame in a portage around the drop this year. Since our camping area was just a short distance upstream from those rapids, we’d soon be making our decisions.
Leaving the campsite, we enjoyed a quiet float down the rest of the side channel before rejoining the main river. We checked out the sign at the “campsite” I’d seen and concluded it wasn’t a good option anyway. Too close to roads and buildings. Continuing on, we passed the launch sites for Main Stream Canoe and the tubing operation, but unlike previous years, there was no one joining us at either spot. It was only 8AM...far too early for most river users.
A short time later we passed under the bridge and first rapids marking the entrance to Satan’s Kingdom. I recognized the landmarks and quickly cinched up my spray skirt and zipped up my life vest, knowing what was coming. David was ahead of me as we came to the big drop, and I saw him go up to the edge and then just drop over. I watched his progress, took a quick look, said “Fuck it!” and dropped in as well.
I haven’t mentioned it before, but the river level seemed to be higher than usual this trip. For most of our run, it meant smooth paddling and less scratchy sections than we’d encountered on previous trips. In Satan’s Kingdom however, it meant that rocks that were usually exposed (requiring turns to avoid) were submerged this time. I was able to run pretty much straight down the rapids, blasting through a few large rollers near the bottom and getting soaked, but otherwise without any real difficulties. Just like that, it was done.
I pulled into the pool below where David was waiting, and he asked, “Were those the rapids?” I quickly pulled to shore, climbed on a rock and got pictures (and a video) of Xeth and Chip’s transits. They both had the same question as David when they were done, and that had proved to be the difference. Typically, the river is full of tubers and we have to wait our turn before making the run, giving us time to think and worry. Thanks to our early arrival and everyone’s lack of memory of the area, we were in the rapids before we had a chance to think. Instinct took over and served us all well.
After a round of congratulations, we turned the boats downstream again, passed through the smaller Rooster Tail rapids with similar success, then began the quiet paddle back to Collinsville. Two hours after leaving our campsite, we were pulling up the kayaks at the ramp at Collinsville Kayak. I stayed with the boats while the others retrieved the cars from upstream, watching as folks arrived to take rented kayaks out on the lower river. For many it was their first time in a kayak, and I quietly hoped they’d enjoy it as much as I did.
The cars arrived about an hour later. We loaded them up in the Collinsville Kayak parking lot, then went over to the Collinsville Farmer’s Market for a bit before heading for home around 11:30.
Final note: We're always worried about the Satan's Kingdom rapids, but it's an unfounded concern. We've gone through them seven times now, and there have only been two occasions when someone capsized - me in 2003, and Xeth in 1999. David & I each went through them backwards one time, David went through twice during our first trip, and Chip flipped over AFTER going through the rapids (he was helping a tuber who'd flipped), but that's it. Overall we have a 92.8% success rate.
