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Thursday, July 8, 6:40 P.M.
Here we go again. For the third year in a row we are canoeing a piece of the Susquehanna: first upstream of Binghamton, second the West Branch, and now the main river again (N. Branch to Pennsylvanians) from Sayre to Pittston, Pennsylvania. Ray, Terry, and I spent most of the day driving setting up the shuttle while Jimbo relaxed at Sayre and guarded our equipment. We drove 200 miles and discovered that it was faster to make the trip by way of Binghamton (81 and 17) than it was to drive directly on state highways. We didn't finally put our paddles in the water until 5:15.
Now, however, we are ensconced on the east bank just south of Sayre in a very nice "prepared" campsite. The farmer/owner's nephew even wished us a pleasant stay. Oops, supper is ready.
7:58 P.M. Adventure - Just as supper was being eaten (Terry's spaghetti, meatballs, and salad) a storm blew up, literally! The dark cloud was accompanied by fierce winds that threatened to blow everything away. The tarp, suspended over the cooking canoe, became a flapping hazard that we had to untie. Fortunately we never got a drop of rain even though I'm sure elsewhere it is pouring. Now it's cooler and overcast. If the wind completely dies I will even try my hand at baking.
It rained very hard at Terry's yesterday (Newfield, N.Y.), several inches in a few hours. This has resulted in a muddy river today but we will take all the river water we can get. We have nearly 90 miles to go and high water with good current will speed us on our way. We may well arrive at our takeout late Tuesday but who cares? This is a week to relax.
Friday, July 9, 6:00 P.M.
We are camped across the river from Rummerfield, stuffed with Jimbo's kielbasa, saurkraut, and pierogies, a great "refill" for tired paddlers. "Prince Henry the Navigator" (a.k.a. Ray) says we have come 27 miles since Sayre, almost all of that today. Good campsites (already cleared areas) are hard to find, but we finally discovered a nicely mowed shore area. It is posted but we are safely camped below the high water mark, a legal point made by all of our armchair lawyers.
The rain that missed us yesterday must have fallen upstream. This morning we awoke to a river noticeably deeper, at least by four or five inches, although it dropped some during the day. We were on the water by 8:30 A.M. and often encountered stretches of swift current, even some short sections of big standing waves that forced us to bail afterwards. With the river so muddy I'm glad we brought plenty of drinking water. No one even wants to bathe in the river.
The front that went through last night gave us a comfortable day today with a breeze behind us and an often overcast sky to shade us.
We are in mountain country where the river sometimes swings against nearly vertical cliffs. We have seen little sign of civilization except for the often-present highway (heard, not seen) and the occasional bridge.
Jimbo had the comment of the day. In an incredulous voice he said, "Are you guys really making me the new Richie?" That says as much about poor Richie as it does about our treatment of Jimbo.
Terry had the experience of the day. A large fish jumped beside Ray, then another near Jimbo, and finally one jumped hitting Terry's paddling hand so hard that his paddle thumped loudly against the canoe. Despite these over-anxious fish Jimbo has caught only one little small mouth bass. He needs to get his $30 worth to redeem the cost of his license.
Saturday, July 10, 5:22 P.M.
We have already had soup. How's that for first class service? Terry is tonight's cook. We are camped on an island a few miles south of Laceyville, fortuitously on the east side of the island so that we are comfortably in the shade. It was a hot day, our first real sweat. We found a clear, cold incoming stream this morning for a cleansing dip, our first opportunity to rinse off a layer or two of grime. The muddy river is still not inviting.
At Laceyville we walked the two blocks into town where the community was hosting a town fair on Main Street. We enjoyed lemonade, icecream sundaes, and bought a homemade blackberry pie for tonight's supper.
Earlier we had met a crew of kayakers and canoers out on a day trip. They were from "Endless Mountains' Outfitters" whose owner said he was working on a map/booklet of the river, especially featuring camping places. His web site sould be interesting. He is also the one who tipped us off about Laceyville's fair. Thanks, amigo.
In the last two days we have seen several bald eagles as well as many great blue herons. This section of the Alleghenies ("Endless Mountains") with their high cliffs continue to be beautiful. Terry and I also investigated some fascinating stone formations along the river that were eroded into pillar like shapes embedded in the rock. Above them (delineating the high water mark?) were overhanging "shelves" of rock, all very much layered as if sedimentary rock.
Jimbo continues to have no luck, but is catching fish even necessary for a good day of fishing?
We made 26 miles today, putting us 47 miles along. That's a great total for only two days. Tomorrow we can afford to take it easy as we have covered more than half our distance and have two and a half days to finish the remaining 43 miles. My muscles were a bit sore and tired today by the time we finished. I could use a break but who is complaining? As long as my repaired shoulder continues to do so well I'm happy.
Sunday, July 11, 7:30 P.M.
We are bloated with food (Jimbo's rice risotto and hot sausages as well as Ray's salad) and waiting for the chocolate chip cake to finish baking. The sun is sinking lower in a cloudless sky, the river runs swiftly by our island campsite just above Tunkhannock, the hills "march" away from us in a parallel procession of ridgelines , and the highway traffic reminds us of the hectic world we have temporarily forsaken.
Several times today we have remarked to each other about the pristine, almost wilderness character of these heavily forested mountains, especially because there are so few summerhouses on the river.
Today we camped early, knowing we are within easy paddling distance of Pittston. Our muscles may not be used to all this paddling, a fact that Jimbo and I are willing to admit. Ray and Terry would never say it even if they were hurting.
Jimbo continues to fish, this time with hot sausage as bait. He has disappeared from sight so he is either seriously fishing or swept away by a large fish and the river current. If that is the case there will be more cake for us. The other three of us are relaxing as we write, read, or meditate. Life is truly fine when you have such good companions in such a beautiful place.
8:20 P.M. Upriver the sun is a fading red smear on the western horizon and the clouds are puffy white and lavender on the eastern horizon downriver. Parachutists over the nearby local airport have entertained us all evening. A pilot in a biplane even did a barrelroll for our private airshow. What an ending to our day!
Monday, July 12, 9:00 P.M.
We are unexpectedly back in Binghamton where we gathered before our trip. This morning we awoke to overcast skies, packed quickly as the first raindrops fell during our oatmeal, and were on the river by 8:00 A.M. just before it started pouring in earnest. For the rest of the day we had intermittent pounding rain, sometimes strong headwinds, and no sign of a serious reprieve.
The scenery continued to be outstanding, mist rising out of narrow valleys to highlight forested ridges. As many as four great blues together provided our flying escort. However, the rain did make it more difficult to appreciate the aesthetics of the Susquehanna.After a wet lunch, during which we all struggled to stave off the damp chill increased by our sudden inactivity, we paddled resolutely on intent upon reaching our takeout today instead of camping overnight in the rain. Incentive is a marvelous thing. Soon the bridges of Pittston hove into sight and we found refuge in our cars. Over twenty-two miles by 3:00 P.M. is great mileage.
In the dry dining room of Pop's house we celebrated the end of another great canoe trip. The good memories will last and easily outshine the haze of a rainy last day. The only remaining question is, where do we paddle next year for the Old Man's Trip?
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Copyright © 2004 Scott Clark