Road East of Negro Lake
It is a wet morning, following on the heels of a very soggy night near the old campsite along Negro Lake’s north shore in the southern Five Ponds Wilderness Area. The rain fluctuated throughout the night, sometimes on, other times off – much like my sleep. Despite the rain, I still heard a barred owl during the evening at some point, its call breaking through the rain and dripping water during one of the many lulls.
There is no reason to get up and start the day, given the continuing rainfall. Even if it stops soon, the amount that has fallen pretty much ensures a very wet day, even with my rain gear on. The deluge was not unexpected though, as I heard about it for days on my little radio, as it encroached from the west. Now I just need to deal with it, especially given that the next few days will be dreary at best, with scattered showers throughout.
Looks like the weather over the next few days is going to be the kind only a duck would love. Good thing I am not part feline.
Given the coolness (it is 50 degree Fahrenheit at eight in the morning) and the increasing showers, I find little ambition to get up and start my day, especially when a warm and dry sleeping bag is currently surrounding me. If the weather conditions change, I can always reevaluate my ambition for the day.
Section Stats:
Date: June 28, 2015
Length: 2.8 miles (2.8 total daily miles; 24.1 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Moderate
Maybe I will get up later. Then again, maybe not. Lazy day, prepare to meet your best friend.
Retooling my trip because of the rain becomes my main goal for the morning, with the hope that the rain tails off during the afternoon. Today’s goal is Wilder Pond at best, with tomorrow being Beaverdam Pond during the afternoon and the lean-to at Trout Pond by noon the following day. Two days from now looks like an all day off-and-on rain, so staying put for a day of relaxation in the lean-to looks likely. After that, the last two days of traveling back to Raven Lake Road looks like a casual hike under clear skies.
I imagine I will need those last two rainless days just to dry out.
After lounging around for much of the morning, I switch gears and start getting stuff done. Well, that is if listing gear that needs fixing as getting stuff done. Holes in my insect netting shelter, a leaky Platypus reservoir, new antenna for weather radio and leaky fuel container are just a few of the things that need repairs and/or replacement.
While listing gear candidates for repair/replacement, I start packing things away in my backpack, still feeling hopeful that some progress forward will be possible today. The packing only goes so far however, as it cannot go beyond the stuff under the tarp, where it is still both warm AND dry. Anything outside in the elements has to wait.
Just as I finish packing up everything other than the tarp and my food bag/line, it begins to rain again. Well, of course it does! Lying under the tarp, I once again find myself waiting for the rain to stop, but it does not, at least for a couple more hours. Napping ensues.
After waiting for hours, the rain seems to taper off a little, so I get the bright idea to head down to the lake and see what’s what. By the time I don my rain gear and hike down to the shoreline, I can see that the rain has not really stopped at all. The rain drops constantly shatter the stillness of the water, the ripples of each drop colliding with that of their neighbors, causing a sense of chaos on the surface.
North Negro Lake Road
Any idea of getting to Wilder Pond drains out of my body, leaving me with drooping shoulders and shattered dreams. I decided to give it another 30 minutes before I throw in the towel and stay another night on the ridge overlooking the northern shore of Negro Lake.
That will mean making up even more time on my already aggressive schedule. Delightful.
Surprisingly, the rain stops just before my deadline, but instead of braving the wet conditions, I have a late lunch instead. Although I start with a peanut butter & jelly sandwich, the chill in the air compels me to make something hot, so an ancient Lipton cup of soup and hot cocoa soon follows.
With a hot meal settling in my stomach, I do a complete one-eighty degree change and decide to pack up and head to Wilder Pond. By the time I finish packing (and in some cases repacking), it is already four in the afternoon; hardly a time to start a wet hike/bushwhack. It has now been ninety minutes since it stopped raining, and the sky has even got lighter, so it is difficult for me to call it off now.
As I walk back toward the old main road, leaving the cabin site behind, I pull out my towel to wipe off my water-covered safety glasses. Suddenly, I realize one of the nose pads has fallen off, almost certainly while I was wiping them. I walk up and down side road in a futile, needle in a haystack situation, only to soon find the little piece of white plastic lying on the ground where it fell.
This has got to be a good omen, right?
Road East of Negro Lake
Back at the old main road along Negro Lake’s northern shore, it is easy following it eastward, although the farther I travel, the more rough the going becomes. After going for a short time, I come to an intersection with another old road. This new road appears well-used, as little vegetation is growing in it, and it appears rockier, having been completely stripped of much of the leaf litter. It almost looks as if vehicular traffic has been using it.
Just when you think you are in a remote area, something always appears to shatter the illusion.
Turning right, I begin looking for another side trail a little farther down the road, which should go to Negro Lake. This side trail is tough to spot, if not for some old flagging and a few cut logs, I would have missed it. Instead of continuing forward, I turn west, heading back toward Negro Lake for what could possibly be my last view. This side road ends shortly at a small clearing at the lake’s edge, with an old row boat lying on the ground in the middle of it near shore.
After taking in my last view of the lake, and spotting two female common mergansers swimming away to the west, I take a closer look at the clearing. Just back into the woods, there are some old piers. Apparently, this location once contained a building just like the old cabin site I just recently left along the lake’s north shore. These ones are much more substantial than the cabin’s however, made of concrete rather than rocks cemented together. This area once got a lot more human use than it does today, though then it was probably in private ownership.
Side Trail to Negro Lake
The air is nearly saturated with moisture, making me feel that rain is once again imminent, if not already starting. Not wanting to waste any more time, and possibly get poured on, I backtrack and begin searching for another old road going south toward Wilder Pond.
Using my GPS and my own instincts honed from years of bushwhacking and route finding, I locate the old road south. This road is very indistinct due to the dense regrowth of young conifers in its path. This new road remains mostly flat and quite grown in, but a large culvert is a clear sign I am on the right track.
By this time, I am completely soaking wet, including my camera bag, which I removed from my backpack and placed it back on my hipbelt back when I was on the well-used road. Thankfully, the bag is weather-resistant, as the camera is not. The wet conditions made photography difficult; resulting in fewer photos taken during this wet hike.
The road begins climbing uphill now, although I keep a very swift and steady pace – my heart beating loudly within my chest, echoing up as if it were in my head. The climbing levels off and then the road descends, before ascending once again, like a topographical roller-coaster.
Boat on Negro Lake
The old road is present on my GPS, so when I get to the point where a side trail to the west toward Wilder Pond is indicated, I stop and scan the area looking for a way forward. My mapping materials differ on the location of the trail, as my GPS and National Geographic map indicate it is along Wilder Pond’s north shore, while my older USGS topographic map shows it south of the pond. Not helpful.
Finding no trail, I continue further before arriving at what appears to be an old intersection. Apparently I am not the only one stopping and looking for this T intersection here, as a bear did the same, taking a sizable dump while deciding on its own way forward.
Not feeling the same sense of urgency, I am free to try and figure out whether this intersection actually exists or is a figment of my imagination. When I follow the old road left, which requires penetrating a dense bunch of small conifers, the GPS indicates I am moving eastward, away from Wilder Pond.
I turn around and head in the opposite direction, piercing through several thick bunches of conifers, becoming even more soaked than before, if such a thing is possible. When the forest opens up some, becoming much more hardwood dominated, the old road becomes increasingly less distinct, more like two parallel ruts in the ground, one with water actively flowing through it.
Negro Lake East Piers
Large prints appear in the wet leaves and saturated mud along the remnant of the trail. The shape is indistinct, they could be from the shitting bear, a human or even a moose. I keep thinking I hear people talking, but it might just be the sound of water drops falling from the wet canopy. Or perhaps it is just my sense of impending doom and paranoia from a combination of wetness, sensory deprivation and the creeping isolation.
Soon open water appears on my right – finally Wilder Pond is near.
What remains of the road ends at a beaver dam on a small pond just south of Wilder, leaving me for the first time today without any guide forward. Turning west, I head into the forest, crossing a small stream and forcing my way through some dense conifers before finally popping out at Wilder Pond’s shoreline.
The shoreline now acts as my guide, despite the dense conifers lining it, until another stream crossing. The forest opens up and becomes more hardwood on the opposite side of the stream. A beaver swims out in the pond near my location, occasionally slapping its tail in the water to startle me. It works, at least the first time.
Running out of pond and the time nearing six in the evening, I start looking for a level enough location to set-up camp for a damp night. When I find one that looks level enough, I setup the tarp and begin to make the site my own, despite the mosquitoes doing the same on my hands and face. The constant bites combining with the soaking wet conditions provide the ideal situation for a good deal of swearing; there is no disappointment in that regard. My frustration does not evaporate once the tarp is up however, as I realize a large root is under just where my back will be all night. Bummer.
Old Road to Wilder Pond
The chance of rain hangs in the air, much like the fog hovering around the nearby Wilder Pond. My haste reflects this threat of getting even wetter than I already am, so I lose no time finishing up all my camp chores. So, within a couple hours, the tarp is up, food line hung, water filtered, and a light dinner consumed.
Minutes after finishing my tasks, rain start falling once again. Thankfully, it does not last long, although now the wetness has been renewed, though I fail to see how that is even possible. The wet is not the only thing rejuvenated, as the mosquitoes return with even more ferociousness than before.
Not wanting to endure a renewed onslaught and bloodletting, I retreat to my shelter, carefully stuffing my wet rain gear into a plastic bag. After a quick change, I nestle into my sleeping bag, feeling warm and dry for the first time since leaving Negro Lake several hours before.
Unfortunately, my weather radio fails to pick up any NOAA stations, so I am flying blind tomorrow without a forecast. Given the previous forecast and today’s conditions, I do not anticipate it being sunny and dry, but maybe I will be wrong on this one.
After catching up on the day’s notes, my warm and dry sleeping bag lures me into an uncomfortable sleep, as the rain returns, dripping and rolling off my tarp above me.
Wilder Pond
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