On the Allagash

I just returned yesterday from a week canoeing down the Allagash with 7 scouts and 3 other adults. (I know originally it was going to be 8 scouts, but more on that to come.) It was perhaps one of the most beautiful and grounding weeks I have had in a while. The Allagash is not for everyone… neither is Northern Maine. It is remote, detached, quiet, unassuming, simple, and transformative amongst many others descriptors. As I lay in my own comfortable bed this morning with a lone light shining in the hallway, I pined for the darkness of a tent and a week of no artificial light. As I sat outside yesterday talking with my wife in the evening, I struggled to block out the artificial noise of the cars roaring by on the road nearby. Even as I was waking up this morning, despite the thick, insulated walls of our house, I could hear the thrum of human activity coming to life outside, trucks carrying their products to stores, people racing to work early, and only in between could I catch the call of the birds.

In Maine, its the opposite. All week long, I lay in my tent, completely surrounded by darkness when I went to bed, the only light coming from a dying fire and on the occasional clear night, the moon and millions of stars shining bright above. Even the red squirrels and chipmunks that assaulted us with their barrage of chirps and shrieks slept soundly amidst the evergreens and alders. Early in the morning, when on the lakes that pop up along the Allagash, the lonely loon would sound its solemn call, howling in the night and early morning. What struck me the most was the peacefulness of it all, the serenity and lack of complexity. Everything had a purpose, everything fit into place, and silence and solitude enveloped everything. Yes, we saw some other people canoeing, but the noise was subsumed by the river. Yes, I had teenage scouts with me, but the river even tired them out and bid them goodnight. Its a different world, one that all should experience at some point, removal from society, reliance on their own knowledge and skills, and a return to the simplicity of a bygone era.

I knew every day that even if I wanted to, it was useless to pull out my phone and check my email inbox because there is no service that far removed. The only thing the phone was good for was taking pictures, like the ones in this post today. I knew that I couldn’t text or call anyone, that I only had the ten other people with me to talk to, to converse with, to hear their stories, and form a deeper bond with. There were some struggles, a few small conflicts, but those were often drowned out by laughter and honest conversation, everyone coming out of their shell by the end of the week. What I was most impressed with was seeing young teenagers grow and perform in the wilderness, find strengths they didn’t know they had, and form bonds they didn’t know were possible. I also got to see adults step back and let these teenagers perform, to assist only when absolutely necessary, and watch true transformation. I will always remember the Allagash and I will return one day to ply its waters with a paddle in a canoe. For now, I will struggle to fit back into the chaos and grind of modern society, to adjust back to the barrage of noise coming from every angle, to search for silence that is truly so rare outside of remote wilderness. But, knowing what I’ve done makes it easier to return, and one day I will.

Tomorrow I return back to Maine, to Acadia this time with my family, creating more memories for us. As for the scouts and our adventures, I will definitely be sharing those, but not for another week till I can dedicate the time to delving in to our adventures, and what adventures they were.