What a great adventure I had to end my summer. I had planned on going on a road bike ride with Charlene but heavy rain in Solon caused her to cancel. I pedaled down to say hello to my mother who announced she was going fishing at Skinner Lake up near the Canadian border. I asked her to drop me off at Carrabassett Valley so that I could try to ride from there to Caratunk through the North Woods. My friend Tom runs New England Whitewater, a rafting company in Caratunk and I love to visit there. I had been thinking all summer about trying to make that trip. By public road it's at least 80 miles but as the crow flies it should be less that 30. That 30 miles would be through

deserted timber land crisscrossed with unmarked roads. Tom's office overlooks Wyman Lake, formed by a dam on the Kennebec River in a mountainous, undeveloped area.

I took several bottles of water, some lunch, a camera, my Delorme map, and extra clothes. As always, I had my tire pump, patch kit and an extra tube. Mountain bikes have far fewer flats than road bikes but it pays to be prepared. I took off at 9:30 on the old carriage road behind what used to be the Red Stallion in Carrabassett Village. I followed Poplar Stream for a while as the road soon became impassable, except by Jeep, and just right for a mountain bike. I pedaled up hill through rocky washed out areas. Being on two wheels I could go around huge jagged rocks that had remained when all the surrounding dirt and small rocks washed away. I went over some wooden bridges and mangled culverts and even a big wet hole that I had to walk around. I crossed Long Falls Dam road, a 30-mile stretch of paved road that runs from North New Portland to a

dead-end at the dam that forms Flagstaff Lake. It is sparsely populated at the southern end but deserted up here except for a few primitive camps. I went three miles on the only pavement I would see all day and then turned on a gated gravel road that leads to West Carry Pond. Gates cause me no problems and the road wasn't posted so I rode up it thinking how traffic was unlikely given the gate and indeed I saw no cars. I took a break and put on sunscreen but didn't need it for a while as the road tunneled through thick forest and only rarely did the sun penetrate to the surface. The road climbed steadily and I was working pretty hard. It soon passed into an enormous clear cut that permitted a marvelous view of the tree-covered mountains and hills in every direction. At this point I turned on a lumber company road, straight, wide and virtually untraveled. I stopped to pick raspberries and saw the only car I would see on my trip. I wanted to eat more raspberries but the thorns scratched my legs and I wanted to get to the river before the bubble got there.

New England Outdoor Center (NEOC) and route 201 and sit on the east side of the Kennebec and I would be arriving on the west shore. Purportedly one can walk across where Pierce Pond Stream runs into the Kennebec but only until the bubble gets there. The bubble refers to the water that the power company releases to make electricity. That release varies in amount but is done on a

schedule so that the rafting companies can run their excursions. I knew that I'd be safe if I got there before 1 p.m. Because my trip occurred spontaneously I had started relatively late and needed to keep moving. I did not know if I could find the crossing at all. A maze of woods roads run through the area but they are not marked and not all of them show up on the map. By getting dropped off I had put myself in a position where turning back would be tough. The easiest route would be to get to my destination. The map shows ponds and streams as landmarks but the ponds were usually hidden in the forest and the streams not labeled. Gradually I made my way and had pretty good success at figuring where I was and when I needed to turn. I joined up with a road running up from Bingham. At that point I could have turned right and gone home that way but, it was 48 miles at that point--a long way on a mountain bike.

Two hours and 18 miles into my trip I felt good but worried a bit about the time. I had to climb and enormous hill, a very slow process. I then had to decide whether to take the left or right fork up ahead. The right fork went close to the river but not to it and I didn't know if I could get through the woods and if I did whether I could get across the river there. The alternative did not go close to the river but took me across the Appalachian Trail, a hiking trail. It would probably be hard going but would take me to the crossing place. For the first time that day, I missed the turn and didn't even get to decide. I was on the left fork. It took me near Pierce Pond and when I crossed Pierce Pond Stream I got on the hiking trail. I could see a small waterfall and took a picture of it;

I would see many more of them. I thought the trail would be rough in places. It was smooth in two or three very short places otherwise I had to carry the bike over rocks and roots and up and down--exhausting and slow. It turned out to be 3.3 miles and took an extra hour. I met some day hikers who looked dubiously at my bike. They politely wished me luck. Later I met a family and told them I couldn't find anyone to hike with me so I brought my bike. They seemed glad when I hurried on by. The trail was beautiful for walking. It followed the stream all the way and because we dropped a long way altitude it produced a series of waterfalls. My arms got so tired I wondered if they'd make it.

I climbed one particularly steep hill that seemed really unnecessary but a welcome sight greeted me: the Kennebec River far below.

I made my way down the steep, winding trail using the bike's brakes to help me hold it back. I got to the river at 1:30, but lots of rocks stuck protruded from the water telling me that the bubble had not yet arrived. I changed to my sport sandals and tried walking across with my panniers (saddlebags) but soon the water was up to my neck. I tried another spot same result. Now what? While I was thinking a powerful thunderstorm and deluge hit. While the river had been pretty warm the rain soon had me shivering big time. I put on a synthetic long underwear top which is supposed to keep you warm even when wet. It worked fairly well but I was so cold by the time I got it one that it took a while. The rain finally stopped but by then the bubble had hit and the river was big and fast moving. The Appalachian Trail Club runs a ferry but only from 9-11 a.m. I didn't have anything to sleep in so staying the night was not a plausible option. My arms couldn't possibly drag the bike back over the trail so going back wasn't and option either. I knew that if I could get across the river I could walk the 1-3 miles to Tom's place and get a canoe to get my stuff, but how to get across. I could easily have swum before the bubble but now I hesitated. I'm not a great swimmer and I didn't want to be a statistic. The fast moving water had my respect.

With the rain gone and the sun out I walked around a bit and saw a narrow, neglected road, actually more of a trail but smooth enough to bike on. I followed it and it appeared to run back toward the main dirt road so I got my bike and pedaled it. I rode it 4 miles up hill and through very rough spots but sure enough it took me back to the main road. I hadn't needed to do make brutal walk along the hiking trail. If only I'd known. By the time I got back to the river I decided that I would try to make a life jacket for myself. I put empty water bottles in my jersey, and blew up a spare tube which when wrapped around my chest made a really good flotation device. Leaving my bike and saddle bags behind, I climbed into the current and began floating down the river. I fit a two-liter coke bottle into the waist band of my shorts to hold my legs up and when I saw that it was going to work I started to laugh. I moved quite quickly and since the bike ride had warmed me up I felt good. I had to paddle quite a bit and kept wondering how much more my poor arms could take. When I was almost to NEOC I hit some pretty slow water so got out and walked along the shore. My hike took me up on a ridge with gorgeous views of the river. I went by a spot where beavers had cut down a dozen or more huge poplar trees. They didn't seem to eat them just cut them down--beaver vandals I thought. When I arrived at NEOC I wondered where I'd find Tom but fortunately he was out working of a truck. He seemed rather incredulous as I explained why I was here, all wet with an inflated bike tube. Then he got a real kick out of it and spread the word among camp staff. "How are you getting home?" he asked, and I responded that I was riding to Kingfield with him for our regular Wednesday night meeting. He wondered why I hadn't called but I told him I didn't know if I'd make it and didn't want him looking for me.

After a while, we put a canoe in the truck and he dropped me off just a ways up river of the crossing. "Do you know how to paddle a canoe alone?" he asked. "Oh sure" I replied with some exaggeration. He was busy with girl scout, young Christian and kosher campers and didn't have time to go with me if we were going to get away in time to go to the meeting. I gave the canoe my full attention and practiced a few landings in advance. I didn't want to go zipping past my landing or tip the canoe over trying to get in there as the water was fast in that area. Well, I got my bike loaded without a problem and was soon paddling down stream with a good push from the bubble. I could not have picked a prettier place or time of day for a canoe trip.

That alone would have been enough for one day and I guess I could say that about the hike and the previous float down the river as well as the ride itself. I felt a great sense of peace to go with the feeling of accomplishment from having persevered and achieved my goal. I spent the entire day traveling through glorious relatively untamed nature. When I got back to NEOC I put on dry clothes--what a feeling! Tom and I threw my stuff in the truck and headed back where I had come from. Fortunately we stopped in Bingham for sub sandwiches and drinks. It felt great to sit in the truck enjoying good company while appreciating not having to exert myself and feasting on my delicious, messy sandwich. I had started at 9:30 and not really stopped until 6:30 and had biked, hiked, swum and paddled in incomparable natural beauty away from it all. I had made a memory to carry me through the long winter.