Summer Journal Day 14
Friday, August 14
12 PM
I’m not dead, although I still feel close to death.
My feet are feeling better, my knee isn’t so bad, my back is in knots and I can’t move my neck. The Ibuprofen isn’t making a dent in what’s going on here. If I go canoeing today it will only be for a burial at sea.
Thankfully Chris has been very involved in fishing. Joe cooked up last night’s trout for him for breakfast. He was very proud of it and enjoyed being the center of attention as he ate it this morning. We also had scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and coffee.
It only took him about a half hour and he was back with a nine inch trout. He dropped it off at the kitchen. He sat across from me as I lay in bed and told me about the fish. Chris then ate a sandwich, had some chips and a cookie and was out the door for more fishing.
One of the trout Chris caught at Second Little Lyford Pond
I can move from this bed, but only with great pain. I’m having more Ibuprofen for lunch. I don’t care that it says to take only one tablet every four to six hours. It also says to take as directed. No one has come through the door and directed me otherwise, so four every couple of hours sounds good to me.
The past two nights the sky has been awesome. The weather has been clear and before the moon rises, the stars are just incredible. Last night Chris watched a meteor shower. He woke me to see, but all I wanted was for a meteor to hit me and put me out of my misery. I did go outside so the meteor would have a better chance of getting me, but no luck. As soon as I crawled back into bed he said it started to rain meteors.
There will be all new people at dinner tonight. This morning I checked again with the guy that had given me the trail report on Gulf Hagas and he said that they had gone only as far as Buttermilk Falls. I must have missed that part.
We are leaving tomorrow morning. Our plan is to go to Greenville for supplies and then head to the northwest. Chuck, the manager here, has lived in the area for his whole life. He knows the country. He suggested some spots and had a lot of good stories to tell. He is a wealth of information about the North Maine Woods. He has been a Game Warden and was a Millinocket police officer for more than 20 years.
Right now I think we’ll take a look at the North Branch of the Penobscot River. The fishing is supposed to be good there. I’d like to visit Hurricane Pond, which appears to be one of the closest bodies of water to the Canadian border.
I hope I feel better tomorrow. I’m not recovering very quickly.
I never worried about being in the woods, Chris was always on edge and very careful. That isn’t completely the case any longer. Now he’s at home being in the woods and I really don’t have to worry about him. I know every year that he becomes more than capable of taking care of himself out here. Right now he is somewhere out on a pond in a canoe fishing. He’s old enough and knows what he’s doing. All I could say was “be careful.” Be he knows that.
Last night while I suffered, he was out kicking around in the woods. A family of four had come into camp and after seeing Chris’ fish asked him to take them fishing. After dinner he grabbed his pole and with them following traipsed off toward second Little Lyford. They didn’t catch any fish, but they ran into a moose and he took them to a beaver dam where all the attention made the beaver angry. It slapped its tail on the water a couple of times, which seemed to make everyone happy.
Even as recently as last year if he had run into a moose at night in the woods it would have spooked him. Now it’s just another moose. One of the guys we ran into up here last year told us that a moose is going to do one of three things. It will either stand there looking stupid and continue doing whatever it was doing, look stupid and run away, or look stupid and try to kill you. Usually it’s only the males during the rut that have murder on their minds.
Friday, August 14
3 PM
I walked out to second Little Lyford Pond where Chris was fishing. It hurt, but I had to move. He had a nine and a half inch trout on his string and caught a couple more while I was there. But he decided to let them all go, even the one he had in the water on the string. I asked why he was releasing the big one and he said, “She’s going to be a mother Dad. She’s loaded with eggs. If we come back again, they’ll be even more fish to catch.”
Second Little Lyford Pond
It is a beautiful day, but humid again. Since we’re leaving tomorrow, I expect rain. Chris started back to the cabin with me, but about half way decided he’d try his luck in the river and bounded off through the woods.
Chris fishing from the bridge at Second Little Lyford
Friday, August 14
8 PM
We had chicken casserole for dinner. It was very nice. Joe and I played chess and I lost. Chris not surprisingly went fishing. When he returned he sat on the bed and drew in this book as I continued my chorus of moans. I think a good night’s sleep tonight and I’ll be ready to go tomorrow.
Chris' drawing of a Fish
A Wulff Dry Fly. Probably his most successful fly.
Friday, August 14
9:46 PM
Entry by Chris
Fish for breakfast tomorrow. The sky is amazing. There are stars like crazy, because there isn’t much light pollution like there would be back home. I’m going to wait until 10:30 when I’m estimating the meteors will be more visible.
There is something out in the woods, just sitting there watching. Plus the bats are out and come within six inches of your head. I’m hoping that wherever we go tomorrow there will be fish. This cabin is nice, better than I first thought.
The views and opinions in the Enterprise blogs are those of the author and are not neccessarily shared by Falmouth Publishing.
