Rain and Kindness

Despite the forecast of rain all day, I awoke to a mostly clear sky with a few puffy clouds painted brilliant pinks imbued with some deep purples as the sun dared to scare off the rain. The colors were fleeting, gracing us with a show for only a few minutes and as the clouds on the horizon slowly crept towards us, we drank up as much of the blue sky as we could as it would not be seen for at least 24 hours. We were up early again, 4:30 for everyone, and with the early rise, we were all able to pack our gear, don our rain coats and pants, and prepare for departure just as the the forecasted rain began to fall. We schlepped our gear into the canoes, strapped in, and headed downstream to the ranger station to check in. It was a brief stop, other crews were already there, obviously with the same idea as us of getting an early start due to the rain, and we were informed of all the warning signs leading up to Allagash falls, a portage that we would not want to miss as going over the falls would be treacherous and deadly with a 40 drop amidst jumbled rocks and flotsam. We moseyed on down the river, wending our way amongst a slew of islands, hugging the right bank to ensure we didn’t miss the signs, and as were passing one of the last islands, I glanced to my left and saw a moose in a small inlet on an island, munching away at sea grass.

At that point I did exactly what I had told the scouts not to do, I was loud and abrasive shouting, “Moose, moose, back, back, back,” as we floated past, urging our canoe to back paddle as swiftly as possible to catch a glimpse and hopefully show the others the moose as well. Unfortunately, when I shouted out, the moose took that as a sign to get lost and walked himself out of the water and into the dense scrub of the island, hiding himself completely from view. At least we got to see another moose as the rain came in waves, heavy, then light, soaking at times, but at least we were all prepared. There was something beautiful about the way the rain erased all other sounds as it fell around us, the droplets bouncing off the canoe, rain coats, the river itself, mesmerizing as we drifted onwards. As we moved around the islands, the roar of the falls, faint at first, grew in volume as we moved towards our pull off and our lengthy portage. Another crew had just pulled out as we arrived and we scurried to get our gear out of the boats and our boats off to the side in case another crew came up behind us. We formed our pack line and I volunteered to take Kendra, the heavy kitchen pack, as I felt none of the scouts should carry it the hundreds of yards we would have to walk. So as a group we managed to get all our gear in one shot, everyone carrying as much as possible and I swear my arms were going to fall off by the time I was even halfway through, but I hunched over, dug in, and didn’t stop till I passed the falls and made my way down to the water again. Then it was back for the canoes. We huffed it, I grabbed one myself with a scout balancing the rear and almost instantly regretted it as the yoke was not quite wide enough to sit on my shoulders but rather pinched my neck a bit. Nothing to do but keep walking, at least the rain had diminished to a light mist temporarily, and before I knew it, I was back at the water again and lowering the canoe down. We actually made relatively quick work of the portage and once everything was down, we had a quick snack, hiked back a ways to get a look at the falls through the trees, and then hopped back in the canoes to carry on.

As we floated out, we made our way across the river to catch a glimpse of the falls from below and without a doubt, there is no way a canoe was going over them without getting smashed to bits, hence all the warning signs preceding the portage. Swirling around a bit, we snapped a few pictures and carried on, this time with myself and canoe partner in the lead, looking for a few campsites well down river, just a few more bends. I was horrible at judging how many bends we had passed before we would arrive at the campsite, a few rips and rapids to navigate as we paddled down. Our plan was to find one of a few campsite on the left side of the river, but none of those were marked and at the last minute I caught sight of one on the right side and luckily got everyone across as that was the last campsite before we hit the town of Allagash which we weren’t scheduled to reach till the next day. With the sky still spitting, we pulled our boats out, huffed our gear up, and chose 1 of the 2 cells available to us for that afternoon and night. By this point, the heavy rain had ceased and we were left with intermittent showers as we gathered firewood, brought out our collected birch bark to start our fire, and huddled around attempting to stay warm and try to dry off what we could of our clothes. As we were standing around, some of the scouts retreating to their tents to nap or play games, the other crew that we had seen a few days prior had also pulled up to the same campsite and occupied the other cell not far away from us. Once they were all set up, they had apparently started cooking some food and brought a plateful of bacon wrapped venison to share. What a kind gesture from complete strangers, we thanked them profusely and devoured the bites. Later on towards dinner, as the scouts made what amounted to potato soup surprise, an amalgam of our dinner all tossed into brothy water with leftover bits of snacks and everything else thrown in, our neighbors once again invited us over for some extra past and meat sauce. The adults declined, but the scouts jumped at the chance. The potato soup, or gravy surprise, or whatever other name the scouts called it, actually turned out pretty well and we all devoured that it, bowl after bowl being requested, the rain fostering an appetite for warm soup that was only satiated once every last drop of it was finished.

We attempted our last cake that night and it was actually our best one yet, so in the spirit of sharing, we invited the other crew over for some cake and we chatted with them for a bit as we polished off every last bit of dessert. The kindness we had been shown by that crew and the other a few days prior was welcoming and showed just how nice people can be. Sometimes in the day to day bustle, dealing with angry drivers and traffic everywhere, we forget kindness and the good nature that many people have. It takes a foray into the backwoods of Maine to get schooled in real kindness, the kind where people give without the expectation of anything in return, a genuine kindness that speaks to the goodness of their hearts. To break bread with complete strangers is a wonderful thing and I hope the scouts take it to heart and return the kindness to others in their daily lives once they return.

I wasn’t long for the waking world that evening. Once the cake was done and the scouts had cleaned all the dishes and darkness began to invade and encroach on the fire, the scouts trickled off to their tents and I as well. It was to be another early morning the next day and we all hoped the rain would abate by then, leaving us to drench some other river or waterway. We hoped we would be able to pack up in dryness, and I hoped that whichever scout set up my tent did so well and with attention to the slope of the ground so I didn’t get water in my tent.