Day Three: Expedition Journal
Round Pond to Umsaskis Lake
It was nearly minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit when I woke up on day three. I went out to feed the dogs. Druid was already pacing in circles, like a fighter shadowboxing to warm the muscles and burn adrenaline before a big fight. “He truly is tireless,” I thought to myself. If I had a team of Druids, we would be a force to reckon with in any race.
Second only to Druid, Kyra seemed inexhaustible throughout the entire expedition. A yearling just shy of two years old, she is the newest addition to our kennel from Deer Creek Seppala Kennels.
Frost, my command leader and mother of Druid, seemed to be in good spirits despite being older than most of the team. Vodka, the other white, blue-eyed female leader, had a hearty appetite. While not as trustworthy in lead as Frost, she is our go-to when we need downhill speed.
The other four were not so charged. Olav the wheel dog was nibbling only on meat and struggling with diarrhea. He is the strongest dog on the team; if he goes down, we go down. Zoe, Bear, and my blind dog Sawyer all seemed lethargic in the -20 degree cold. I began to wonder: was this the beginning of the end of the expedition?
As I pondered whether to pull out, my cell phone—which hadn’t had coverage in two days—buzzed with a “Verse of the Day” notification: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness…” (Isaiah). Shortly after, Andre Landry, who has run Jalbert Camps for years, looked me in the eye and said, “I knew you weren’t going to quit. You’re going to finish this expedition.”
Andre gave me the news I needed: we had reached the Maine Highlands. From here on out, the elevation would be an equal give-and-take of climbing and descending. When I brought the harnesses out, the excitement spread through the team until every dog was barking to go.
The first 15 miles were the most technical of the trip—weaving through brush and massive trees in soft snow. I remember lodging the sled against a tree and hearing the sound of a broad-winged hawk cutting the air just over my head. It was a reminder to be thankful.
By the time a storm began blowing in, I reached McNally Camp. I faced a moment of geographical confusion on the frozen river where my map and compass seemed to disagree. I chose to trust the compasses and turned left; it was the right move. I had been on a tributary, the Chemquasabamticook, rather than the Allagash itself.
Ranger Trevor O’Leary met me on Long Lake via snowmobile. He had been keeping an eye out for me and planned to shuttle the videographer, Jeremy, into my camp with resupplies of meat. As night fell, the snow thickened, and I was at the mercy of Frost and Druid to keep the team on the trail through the darkness.
When I reached the ledges to set up camp, Trevor had already dug out a fire ring and started a fire. Standing there in the falling snow, this veteran woodsman said, “I must say, I’m really impressed with you and your dogs, Jonathan.” Coming from an Allagash native, that meant the world.
I pitched my tent, shared a call with my sponsor Cyndi Robbins, and climbed into my -30F sleeping bag. Join me next time as we travel from Umsaskis Lake to Chamberlain Lake.
Please consider donating to the erection of the Togo monument at the State House in Poland Spring, Maine:
