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Sunday, January 30, 2005
A walk to remember
Copyright © 2005 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc. | ||||||||||||||
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Also on this page: EDITOR'S NOTE | |||||||||||||
MOOSEHEAD LAKE — The winter campers had spent just one night on the lake, and after they loaded their toboggans with a canvas tent, wood stove, and reams of outdoor gear, the thought of the trip ending already was crushing to some. "When I get home, I'll be depressed for a few weeks," said Tom Jamrog of Lincolnville with his head down. "I will. I'll just lay around the house." Jamrog was one of four "warm campers" who joined Maine guides Alexandra and Garrett Conover of Willimantic two weeks ago when they left Greenville on a 200-mile wilderness walk across the frozen waterways of northern Maine. The Conovers started across Moosehead Lake on Jan. 15 and plan to finish their winter trek on Feb. 12 on the St. John River in Allagash. The four campers who joined them were hiking only a small part of the Conovers' "Winter Walk for the Wilds." But even a small taste of the Maine north woods in the winter can make for the adventure of a lifetime. Warm campers, those who winter camp using canvas tents and wood stoves, are a small, familiar community in Maine. They are largely unknown, but by all accounts a hearty breed and, to a person, thoughtful and enthusiastic. "I know they do that out west in canvas base-camp tents with wood-stove adapters. But I've never heard of or seen that before (in Maine)," said Col. Tom Santaguida, head of the Maine Warden Service. "It sounds like a lot of fun." For 21 years, the Conovers have taught campers across Maine to survive in extreme winter conditions using skills they learned from Indians and trappers. It's this way of enjoying the northern woods they want to share with the world. So 25 years after they first winter camped along this northern riverine route, the Conovers decided to walk it again. Only this time they would bring the world with them using a satellite phone and Web site. The Conovers, both Massachusetts natives, moved to Maine 30 years ago to attend the College of the Atlantic in Bar Harbor. Both connected with the land here. At the heart of their spiritual journey this winter is the desire to share this bond with Maine children and to protect it for them. "If one child straps on a pair of snowshoes because of this, it will be worth it," Garrett said. So it seemed ironic that the Conovers were joined at the start of their trip by four warm campers who learned from them, and who came with a childlike zeal. Compared to the modern methods used by two others, their style of camping seemed as festive as a holiday banquet. FIRST NIGHT On the Conovers' first night on Moosehead, on a cove off Deer Island, the 30-mile-long lake groaned, cracked and sparkled beneath a moonlit sky. The next week an Arctic blast swept the area, sending sleeping temperatures to 23 below, and hiding pressure ridges beneath drifting snow. But that first night on Moosehead, the thermometer barely dipped below zero, the air was still and the sky was clear and bright. Still, even in these relatively "mild" conditions, a thrilling adventure could turn frightful without constant precautions. With the Appalachian Mountain Club offering winter survival courses and the White Mountain trails staffed with snow rangers, there are plenty of people who winter camp. On the weekend the Conovers left for their journey, virtually the entire stock of winter camping gear at International Mountain Equipment and Eastern Mountain Sports in North Conway, N.H., was rented. Santaguida said even for the well-prepared, a winter camping trip can go haywire at any time. "It is a wonderful place to be in a safe situation," Santaguida said. "But testing ice in open spots and assuming the rest of the waterway is safe is not really prudent." The changing face of winter was evident to this reporter as I camped alongside the Conovers on Deer Island, when a slight bout of hypothermia defied all the dry clothes in the backpack. Uncontrollable shaking and a growing chill sparked panic. But just as the temperature dropped, dumb luck led to a cure: Two hot cups of freeze-dried beef stew - even though eaten outside while seated on a cold log - brought instantaneous relief. And after three Kit-Kats from photographer Herb Swanson, I was almost comfortable again. Meanwhile, the experience of the warm campers was far different. Their camp, by comparison, seemed a warm lodge. "We sleep in the same temperatures as you," Roger Lee said, referring to the fact that the warm campers turn off the wood stove when they turn in. Perhaps. But from their toasty dining quarters on the Deer Island cove, these modern-day explorers seemed aptly named. During January, Moosehead was lined with pressure ridges where the ice had shifted and poked up toward the sky. That first night, the Conovers camped beside one that ran alongside Deer Island like a delicate barricade, nature's version of a white picket fence. The campers admired the 2-foot-tall sculpture - and made use of it. "We could curl," offered Gail O'Donnell, of Belfast, as she broke off huge ice blocks from the ridge. Instead, she collected the heavy weights to hold down the sides of the tent. Normally, she said, she'd use a log. The solid ice worked just as well. Sealing in the warmth from the wood stove kept the tents cozy. These steel or titanium tent stoves have long pipes used to vent the smoke and water vapor upward. They can heat a canvas tent at 60-below. For those using the shorter, more modern, polyester tents, a gradual freeze can occur at any time if you're not mindful - or if your tent is pitched on a hill. About four hours before dawn, teeth started chattering in the media tent, even with the 20-below sleeping bag closed tight. Adding layers did nothing. Was the temperature dropping? Did the 60-pound pack prove too taxing to the system? Did I need another Kit-Kat? Curling up like a cat didn't help. It did, however, reveal a slight imperfection in the sleeping quarters: The sleeping pad had slid down, putting my back closer to the frozen ground. An awkward push-up and the pad was back where it belonged. Soon after, it was lights out again. LIKE SIR ERNEST Meanwhile, the four warm campers following the Conovers enjoyed a tent lit by a firelight and a host of head lamps. For these four, the journey at first was more of a search for understanding and enjoyment than survival. Lee of Belfast entertained the group with the story of Sir Ernest Shackleton's 1914 voyage to the Antarctic, when his ship got stuck in ice and he saved his crew by sailing 800 miles in an open boat to get help. Jamrog countered with his own tale of a motorcycle journey around Labrador, a trip that went awry when a fellow rider passing a horse trailer got caught in a mess - literally. The tent erupted in laughter, and the possibility of hypothermia or frostbite seemed far away. Days later, it became real for these two. The warm campers all said they joined the Conovers because they would not have crossed Moosehead on their own. But a few days into the journey, Lee and Jamrog did. After leaving Deer Island, the Conovers remained at one site for two nights, so these two continued on, despite the fact that, between them, they had far less winter camping experience than their guides. Over the past few years, however, they learned enough from solo trips that the torch had been passed, and they ventured across Moosehead and Seboomook lakes on their own. Their travels were not without mishap, as they had to repair their homemade canvas tent and search for dead wood. In fact, the entire crossing challenged the warm campers in many ways. After 35 years of camping, Jamrog said, it changed his view of Maine's north woods. "Here we were in, supposedly, one of the most heavily promoted winter recreation areas in the state and we saw no one up there on the 40 miles of lake," Jamrog said. "Yes, we need folks like the Conovers to promote being out there and being comfortable. But even with all the promotion of this event, it ended up just Roger and me. It is a huge outdoor world up there." Staff Writer Deirdre Fleming can be contacted at 791-6452 or at:
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