We spent the night camped behind a storage container at a DEC boat launch, figuring that we were far enough from the road that it should be a quiet and restful evening. Instead, our sleep was interrupted by a collection of coyotes who we can only assume were working on their audition pieces for a cross-species production of “CATS”. Up at the crack of dawn, we packed up and hit the water with the hopes of getting across the bulk of the reservoir toward Downsville before the wind picked up. Turns out we cleared the remainder of the reservoir in two hours; when we apply ourselves, we can get some serious miles in.
We pulled up at the last launch before the dam, stashed the gear, and hiked up the road to get a look at what our portage options were; instead, we got a great look at an incoming thunderhead and sprinted back to the boat. Sadly, our feet aren’t as fast as our paddles and we ended up frantically throwing up the tarp to try to stay dry. (We failed.)
After eating most of our fruit snacks supplies and dancing around a bit to get warm, we decided the day warranted a hike into Downsville for a beer and a real look at the river. We looked pathetic enough that a passing tourist picked us up and shuttled us to the local dive bar where the bartender provided us with a few shots, a weather report, and an entire roll of paper towels so we could attempt to dry out the contents of our wallets. According to the weather channel, we weren’t going to get any dryer any time in the next week.
A carful of older fishermen at the end of the bar overheard us laughing uproariously at the weather report as we wrung out our soggy dollar bills and treated us to a “beer to go” and all of their leftover french fries in addition to a ride to the local gear outfitter and liquor store. I bought a cheap headlamp, Steve got some military-grade waterproof plastic baggies, and then we hiked back up the road with our twelve pack and sack of fries to set up camp for the night. Dinner ended up being mac and cheese those french fries rolled into burritos with extra hot sauce, which resulted in a LEVEL FIVE backcountry poop: outside, with a view, with a wildlife sighting… and the wildlife happened to be a bald eagle that was also pooping.
We stashed the canoe on an empty boat rack under the tarp with everything we owned dangling underneath it and set up the tent in the middle of the closed launch road, since it was the only place that hadn’t turned into a river during the rainstorm. (We realized later that we were in a bald eagle conservation area; oops. Sorry, eagles.) Steve decided to pile into the tent for the night since the afternoon temp was 48 degrees and scheduled to drop sharply, and we figured maybe with two of us in there we could get it warm enough to dry out all our socks.
My knees were super sore from dragging along the bottom of the river while halting the escape of the boat when we flipped, but beyond that and our sunburn we were in good spirits and having a fantastic time.