With kind permission, an Excerpt from her book,
“Glimmerings – Reflections from an Outfitter’s Life,”
Chapter 5, by Sue Clark
Our poor, unsuspecting customers…
they merely signed up for a trip to the North Maine Woods for a week-long canoe trip down the Allagash River one Fall.
Our new secretary, meanwhile, had mistakenly overbooked the trip by one. This did not come to our attention until two weeks before the expedition! We had learned that the cardinal rule of a struggling young business is not to turn a paying customer away.
But we should have known not to mess with the rules of authority.
Dutifully Cork, a registered Maine Guide, called the Dept. of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife in Augusta to explain our problem. Having run trips on the ‘Gash for years and having contributed much over time in camping fees, he asked for leniency. They told Cork that oversized groups would invoke a fine. OK, we would gladly pay the money and see that it never happens again. Squaring with the Waterway, we did not want to disappoint a customer at this late date, and it would only be the second trip that was a group of 13 folks, the first expedition would be legal size at 12. ‘Just please have the professional courtesy to not confront our group enroute about the issue’ was all we asked. Cork assured me all would go well.,,,
Immersed in the land of moose, mist and muskeg, our first Allagash Expedition of the year got underway! Crisp autumn air with blue skies and puffy white clouds, in a region that is often solarly disconnected from the world, makes for happy campers. Into Soper Creek Camp and good fun here to see mama moose and baby feeding alongside blue herons and loons. This marsh of joe pyeweed, wild mint, and alder shrubs smells so good and is home to awesome Mosquito Hawks: living, darting, buzzing dragonflies in all sizes and colors by the thousands…and black flies and mosquitos too.
Number #1 survival item necessary in Maine: bug repellent!
Removed from the hubbub of daily living, we get to know each other. One odd guy is Spencer. Yesterday we asked him to sit in the middle of the canoe, but he emphatically refused; he’d rather paddle solo. Okay, great. He took second boat position downriver by himself; he missed the creek turn and then capsized! Now he is humbler, and we do love to listen to him singing his Scottish sea chanties as we paddle.
Fours glorious days and we have seen no other paddlers, but we are closing on Chase Rapids, a technically more demanding run that we have been practicing for. Here, the Waterway offers a shuttle service to carry all gear around the rapids by truck, so paddling your empty boat through Class 3 whitewater is good sport instead of possible calamity. Everyone came through safely, if not pretty or dry. Thrilling fun for all!
It was here I saw our first ranger… I explained to him our upcoming “situation” and asked what might happen on next week’s trip. He reported that we would be fined $100 each night, be arrested if found deliberately camping together and summoned to Court at trip’s end! “What a mess,” I screamed in private to Corky. So the requested Special Permit we are NOT going to get… and it’s now my job to worry!” When all I wanted to think about was how beautiful I will look in my wedding dress in two weeks. Married to my knight in shining armor, a best buddy, a great trip leader, maybe.
When you know you’re going to receive punishment, you just wish it could happen now; dreadful anticipation sucks. But after a very good first expedition, the day finally dawned for our magic group of 13 to assemble.
On the rainy third evening, feeling remote and snug around a roaring campfire with bellies full and muscles resting, we hear the distant drone of a power canoe coming upriver. My worst nightmare is about to happen.
In the cold, drizzling dark, 3 unhappy rangers in uniform with guns land below camp. Bursting onto our site, they march up to the picnic table, start taking people’s names (like taking bounty) and ask how much each had paid for this trip. Counting heads, they insist we pay $500 cash on the spot or Corky will be arrested and carted off to jail tonight (I got instant diarrhea). Such embarrassment, as our confused customers rally around and dig into their wallets to help us come up with the bucks… they instinctively do not want to lose their fearless leader. A court date is set for over our honeymoon. When the officers finally storm off, our group becomes hysterical with nervous laughter, hugging and kissing and a renegade attitude quickly unites us…. come what may!
Carrying on, every day we now see rangers watching us and our group only becomes more brazen. At night around the fire - priceless entertainment and laughter with Corky and the rangers being the butt of all jokes. The clowning and comic quips come to a crescendo our last night on the river as the crew forces Cork and me to a mock wedding ceremony. Joined together at Cunliff Depot, they make flower headbands for us both and a truly gorgeous wildflower bouquet for me. There is Jeff, the best man, with yellow twist-tie rings; they sing “America the Beautiful” as I march to the rock alter where the infamous Laird acts as Parson Maguire… complete with birch bark collar and a homily full of wisecracks. An amazing event full of love and playfulness; even the honeymoon tent is decorated for the new Man and Wife. Then comes the full chorus rendition (sung to the Vietnam anti-war song by Country Joe and the Fish):
Corky Clark got us in a jam
Way down yonder at Churchill Dam
Drop your tent, pick up your oar
Evade the ranger is our lore
They come by night and come by day
We paddle hard to stay away
Even so, the jig is up
So lets drink hearty of the final cup
And it’s one, two, three,
What are we paddlin’ for?
Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn
Next stop is Churchill Dam
And it’s five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates
Ain’t no time to paddle by
Whoopee! we’re all gonna die ---
LAUGHING
