NFCT – Laurie Apgar Chandler

A March gathering of canoeists warms the heart

Thanks to a generous invitation, last weekend I attended my first (but probably not my last) Wilderness Paddlers Gathering. Begun in March 1993 during “a blizzard of historic proportions,” this annual event has become a tradition at the Hulbert Outdoor Center in Fairlee, Vermont. For those of us who love canoeing, what could be a better way to spend a March weekend? Sharing stories, photos and videos, skills, and incredible amounts of tasty food with those who love canoeing the waters of the north.

Once there, I discovered a few old friends and made lots of new ones. I had 25 minutes on Saturday morning to tell my story and practiced at great length on the 4-hour drive over to this comfortable camp on the NH/VT border. See what a great audience I had! As always, though, listening to everyone else was the most fun. Through the beautiful magic of media, we rafted the Grand Canyon, paddled the Alatna and Koyukuk Rivers in Alaska, and followed Chewonki down Quebec and Labrador’s George River.

My favorite was a documentary, “Into Twin Galaxies: A Greenland Epic.” This hour-long film follows three young explorers on a insanely breath-taking quest kite-skiing across the Greenland ice cap to reach a river that they discovered on Google Earth. Delayed by the terrain and a serious injury, they arrive later than planned to find ice where they expected open water. When fate finally provides them with a churning river filled with huge, uncharted waterfalls, viewers will hold their breath in astonishment at what they try to run. Seize the chance to see this one when you can!

Of course, you never know quite what you’ll learn. Above, retired Vermont fish & game warden Eric Nuse, whose stories are featured in Megan Price’s book series, Vermont Wild, tells a great breakfast story. Seems there was this ripe moose carcass caught up in a tree, one that could perhaps be best removed with dynamite. The key to success, learned the hard way, was to have a long enough cord to get well out of range!

Below is the traveling library that appears at both of the yearly Northern Wilderness Travelers Conferences, including the November Snow Walkers Rendezvous. I borrowed a book that’s been on my list for a long time, Kabloona in the Yellow Kayak: One Woman’s Journey Through the North West Passage by Victoria Jason. I guess that I just can’t get enough of reading by the woodstove, waiting for spring!

Upwards receives first book award!

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OK, how humble is it to say “first” book award? Honestly, though, my hopes and dreams for this book continue to grow, as more people read and share their thoughts. The volume of responses is growing and opportunities for the new year are coming in fast.

A few highlights:

Four upcoming events in the next three weeks (details on the events page)
Just invited to present at the Wilderness Paddlers Gathering in Fairlee, VT in March
Planning two events during the Adirondacks’ Celebrate Paddling month in June
And, of course, Honorable Mention in the category of Biography/Autobiography from the New England Book Festival.

The Boston-based New England Book Festival, sponsored by JM Northern Media, recognizes the best books of the holiday season in 17 categories. Winners are judged on “general excellence and the author’s passion for telling a good story” and “the potential of the work to reach a wider audience.”

To balance out the many hours devoted to the book, I continue to plan for next summer and enjoy today. A deluge of rain, amid temperatures as high as 55 degrees, has washed away much of our snow. The sight of green grass and brown leaves has been a welcome change. Sunday’s afternoon walk, on boots not snowshoes, felt free and unencumbered.

I tramped, I tromped, the trail more brown than white, looking around at the woods, rather than down at my feet. You know how it feels when you’ve just climbed up, then down, a mountain and hit the flat? The joy of simply swinging along is wonderful.

Gone, though, was the hushed white wonderland of winter. Every step was a loud crunch, either on a couple of inches of frozen remnant snow or, mostly, on frosty ground. Crunching along at a good pace, out to the edge of an old beaver pond.

There, nature had sculpted striking designs in the paper-thin sheet of ice that rimmed the pond. I walked a few feet out to sit on a log, trying not to destroy too much of the beauty, finding an inch or two of air between the ice and solid ground below. The sound of my progress was deafening, all wildlife no doubt well warned of my visit.

When I sat, though, to take in the play of the brilliant sunlight across the ice, the ruckus continued. A vigorous wind, rustling the trees in the pond, gave the ice a tortured voice. The grinding, cracking, and squealing never let up, and the cold soon nudged me to head back home to a cup of hot cocoa and my never-ending to-do list.

As my faithful readers know, I am still learning the ins and outs of social media, and recently discovered that my automatic sharing of posts somehow missed the last one. If you’d like to join me on an earlier walk, here is my January 5th post.

Thank you, Aqua-Bound, maker of fine paddles, for writing about Upwards!

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Aqua-Bound, who manufactures quality U.S.-made paddles in Osceola, Wisconsin, recently invited me to collaborate on a blog post about my thru-paddle and book.

A long paddling expedition is built of many components, both within the paddler and without. When it comes to on-the-water equipment, after the boat, the paddle you choose is key. In my case, it was an Aqua-Bound Sting Ray Carbon kayak paddle that brought me safely through to Fort Kent. Here is the blog post, published yesterday. We covered a lot of ground, or should I say water, in 900 or so words!

I was especially pleased that we were able to include a quote from Upwards, in response to one of the more introspective interview questions, about paddling solo. The post also links to two of my favorite websites, the Northern Forest Canoe Trail (with an amazing online auction ending Sunday) and the Pemaquid Watershed Association. Thanks again, Aqua-Bound, for introducing the book to a new community of paddlers!

One is silver and the other’s gold

031915 first meeting — Mike meeting Dad for the first time on the east shore of Maine’s Umbazooksus Stream. That yellow thing is the collapsible sail that he was experimenting with that summer.

The summer of 2014 was Dad’s time for a grand adventure, a 200-mile section paddle from Spencer Rips on the Moose River to the village of Allagash on the Northern Forest Canoe Trail. He had started out alone and was planning to meet me, so we could do the Allagash together. Our rendezvous hour at the Umbazooksus Stream bridge came and went, though, with no sign of him out on the water. I decided to go exploring.

It turns out that you can drive into the last campsite on the east shore of that wide stream, really an arm of Chesuncook Lake. Down through the potholes and brush I went, until suddenly emerging right next to an ancient picnic table complete with roof. Set up next to the table was a roomy canvas cabin tent looking lived in and loved.

It was too late to escape without being seen. I stopped and walked down to the shore to say hello to a friendly-looking man sprawled in a camp chair. Mike Messick, from Missouri, had many a story to share and a history of long, adventurous road trips following wherever the spirit would lead.

That morning, it had led him to us or, rather, us to him. After Dad arrived, over a cup of Mike’s freshly brewed coffee, we found ourselves inviting him to join us on the Allagash. This was a bit beyond the boundaries of our usual behavior, but it turned out to be the birth of a strong friendship.

Hastily, knowing the day was moving along, we spread out maps, jotted down the name and number of our favorite outfitter (Tylor Kellys Camps in the village of Allagash), and agreed to meet a few days later at Umsaskis Bridge.

Even though we were a bit late in arriving there, Mike was waiting for us with a campfire crackling…and the rest is history, part of which made it into the pages of my new adventure memoir, Upwards.

031915 on the allagash — New friends, united by the river.

031915 pciking berries — Picking blueberries at the campsite that had it all, including two whitetail bucks, a moose, a gray jay, and plenty of sunshine to light up our morning. An evening view from that campsite, Deadwater North, graces the front cover of Upwards.

031915 yummy — There’s nothing better than blueberry pancakes and bacon

DSCN5462 — Mike was at home in (or under) a canoe

DSCN5583 — Until we meet again…saying farewell at Michaud Farm

I’ve been thinking this week that our lives flow along as glistening threads in an almost unfathomable web, their intersections our places of decision or serendipity. My author’s walk, still in its infancy, has been strewn with crossings, some joyful surprises, others the fruit of grasping courage with both hands and making them happen.

I’ve met trail founders, penned prayerful inscriptions for friends and strangers battling cancer, and sent copies of Upwards to stores hundreds of miles away. Through it all, the abiding kindness of people and the strength of their stories has filled me with new energy. On Thursday, I came in from my morning bus ride with the students of Bus #14 to discover that my school was celebrating ME, with snacks and speeches and lots of love! The handmade card below, created by Karen Hight, is one I will always treasure.

I’ve found there is something in those who go to the rivers and forests of the north that reflects those places and their intrinsic character. These are souls who live by the rhythm of the seasons, who know gratitude and peace. Rooted in the land, they love hearty meals and heartier laughs, have simple stuff, but complex thoughts. They are people like Mike, who quickly become dear to the heart. If you have gone there, you know. If you haven’t, I hope you will!

A country book goes to the city…and other nice moments

November has arrived with brisker air and comparative calm after Sunday night’s monumental winds and rain. Our town is still mostly without power, but neighbors are helping neighbors in the true Maine spirit. Why are the lyrics to “The Maine Christmas Song” suddenly playing in my mind?

School for us has been closed for three days, and I’ve accomplished a lot on my “to-do” list, including sleeping nine hours last night. I’ll let the photos tell the rest of the story. Look for another post soon about an initiative to get Upwards into our libraries.

Book launch thanking Skidompha — Presenting Skidompha Library director Pam Gormley with a copy of *Upwards* at Sunday’s celebration. The inscription read: “To Skidompha, the library at the heart of our community.”

Friends and family, including Phil, Linda, Sue, and Mary did everything but sign the books. Also helping were Pam, Mal, Bill, and Hannah – hats off to you all for the delicious food, cashiering, videography, photography, and more. It was a perfect afternoon!

On a book signing visit yesterday, I safely passed (twice) under this tree held up just by wires.

Janet Fischer's post — Post from my Swampscott, Massachusetts friend Janet today: “Reading this on a bus in Boston this morning! What an adventure!”

On Eagles’ Wings

Those that hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary. Isaiah 40:31

58 - Sunrise on Dead River — Another promising morning on the Dead River during 2011’s Paddle for Hope

Today we will gather to officially celebrate the book launch and continue the encouraging start that Upwards has had. This is a day that I’ve been anticipating for months. It would be natural to be focusing on the refreshments and slideshow and whether we have enough pennies and nickels to make change for $18.94.

This morning, though, I want to think of eagles’ wings, not book sales numbers. To remember why I felt such a pull to write and how long I agonized over how much of myself and my faith to share in what is, at heart, an adventure tale.

The dawn has been arriving a bit later every day, but when it was light this morning, I walked down to nearby Webber Pond. Thinking about this day, it seemed like the summit of a high peak, for so long hidden by clouds. If not for my hope in God, that peak might still be shrouded in mist. I might never have reached it.

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. I had hoped and found the strength I needed – to brave escaped convicts and insane stretches of upstream whitewater. I had learned to be more flexible, to try to forgive myself when things didn’t go according to plan, on the water and with the book. I had believed in a dream enough, just enough, to reach the summit. So thank you, God, for walking (and paddling) with me.

In time of sorrow…may you see God’s light on the path ahead

When the road you walk is dark,

May you always hear, even in your hour of sorrow,

The gentle singing of the lark.

When times are hard may hardness never turn your heart to stone—

May you always remember when the shadows fall—

You do not walk alone.

A Celtic blessing, from the Upwards epilogue

Bearing up wonderfully…a New Hampshire weekend

The 2017 fall conference of the U.S. Power Squadrons was held this past weekend at New Hampshire’s North Conway Grand Hotel. Boaters from Cape Cod and Rhode Island to northern Maine attended my Saturday NFCT presentation. I was grateful that the books had arrived in time and that folks enjoyed my talk. The organizers (one of whom was my father) had asked if I would be willing to bring my boat and gear, which sparked much discussion with the conference participants. I continue to enjoy listening and learning from them and hearing their stories, as much as telling mine.

I’ve been working on a slide that better explains the direction of flow for the NFCT’s major rivers. One man added that paddling north on Lake Champlain is actually going downstream, as there is some slight flow or current to the lake. I did not know that.

On Sunday, I came home by way of West Milan, Errol, Rangeley, and Farmington, visiting friends and stores along the way. Here’s the day in photos:

This unique looking shop, with a refreshing focus on independent authors, is in North Conway, NH. I dropped off some informational materials there and will wait to hear if they are interested in selling Upwards. Next was a drive through the White Mountains…

I sense a theme emerging…the book keeps popping up in my photos! Seriously, it was a lovely ride through Pinkham Notch, where the foliage is fading to brown, rather than orange and red, with the yellow of the birches now the brightest color on the mountains.

The Androscoggin River, along the NFCT, was just calling to me, “Come and paddle!”

In Errol, NH, I stopped in unannounced at L.L. Cote, a large outdoor supply store, and was warmly welcomed. They took and paid for six books, my first sales outlet in New Hampshire! Then on to Rangeley, to drop off books at Ecopelagicon, where I proposed a book signing during the Logging Festival next July.

I will close with Amazon news. This morning I set up my Amazon Author Central Page and discovered that we are #240,887 in sales among 8 million books, after 4 days. There is nowhere to go but upwards!

A special date for the release of Upwards

Grandma Jan

Today would have been my maternal grandmother’s 110th birthday. Growing up, Grandma Jan and I shared a love for books and birds and wildflower walks. Through her, I discovered treasured favorites like The Secret Garden, and she encouraged me to publish my first article at age 13. I have chosen today, October 19, 2017 as the official release date for Upwards, in honor of a very special woman.

The weather has been glorious for fall paddling with family and friends. Karen Jones, who I met at the Maine Canoe Symposium, joined me for a paddle (and swim) on nearby McCurdy Pond.

As you may imagine, the five days since the books arrived have been incredible. Incredibly busy, humbling, energizing, exhausting, and amazing. A quick update:

Friends who are reading Upwards like it. A simple statement, but imagine writing for well over a year, then transforming those words into a book (over another long five months), then handing a copy to a friend. And holding your breath..
You can now purchase the book here, as well as on the Northern Forest Canoe Trail and Maine Authors Publishing websites. Our Amazon listing is a work in progress, as we are debating which categories and keywords to use.
Books are on their way to or have recently arrived at: The Maine Coast Book Shop in Damariscotta, The Corner Shop in Greenville, The Birches Resort in Rockwood, Ecopelagicon in Rangeley, and even Newbury Kayak & Canoe in Newbury, MA.
This coming weekend, I will be in North Conway, NH speaking at a conference of the U.S. Power Squadrons. If you’re in the area, the public is welcome to stop by Sat., Oct. 21, from 2 to 5 p.m., downstairs in the North Conway Grand Hotel. I’m bringing my canoe and gear and will, of course, be signing books. More news soon!

Floating on cloud nine

Somehow, I was still floating on cloud nine yesterday afternoon, even after discovering exactly how heavy 1,000 books truly are. Most of them are now tucked away upstairs, after Dad, Mom, and my Aunt Sue drove to Cambridge, Massachusetts to pick them up. I love them. I adore them. I slept for eight hours last night and have woken ready to start shipping. Then, this evening, I’m doing a short talk for the Penobscot Bay Sail and Power Squadron in Bangor, Maine. It’s started and I’m loving it!

Look at that grin from Dad, who carefully packed and tied in his precious cargo

The official book release date has been set for Thursday, October 19, 2017. That would have been my Grandma Jan’s 110th birthday…good memories and a good feeling about choosing that date. By then, I hope to have the books available for purchase here and on Amazon. You can already find them for pre-order in the Northern Forest Canoe Trail’s online store, where members receive a 15% discount.

So thank you, readers and friends, family and organizations, for patiently waiting!

Moosehead in all its moods

School’s begun, but the long weekend gave us the chance to head north to the NFCT once more before summer ends. It was the usual cast of characters for a stay at The Birches in Rockwood: my parents, aunt, uncle, and me, plus one canoe, two kayaks, and Dad’s motorized skiff. Name the weather and we had it. From bathing suits to the woodstove, it all felt good at some point.

Dad’s hand, which he broke back in July on Little Spencer Stream, is almost healed. At the tiller, he motored us up Tomhegan Creek a couple of mornings in search of wildlife. Moose, really, but they must have missed the memo. In place of moose, we got herons, kingfishers, and a bald eagle.

Dad, Aunt Sue, and Uncle George on the lookout for wildlife

Sue braved the chilly waters for a long swim

Sunday was the day of wildest weather, winds, and whitecaps, but at dawn the lake still slept. Some confusion of dream woke me, ready for adventure even as my eyes opened. Two cups of quick-brewed coffee, some of Sue’s banana bread, a whisper of my plans to Mom, and I was gone. Mist still clung to the rocky shores as my canoe began the 8-mile journey around Farm Island.

Rounding the north end of the island, I turned toward home and breakfast, warmth and bacon. The risen sun threw a path of wave-tossed sunlight straight to me. As I paddled south, it followed, for miles. I paused a moment and the canoe turned to face the sun. In the distance, a loon cruised through the shimmering light, and then moved on.

The morning solitude allowed my thoughts to flow freer than they had in many days.

Nature, I thought, embraces us. It’s unpredictable at times, perhaps, but never judging. Nature listens more than talks. Nature simply is, a continuity fading backward into the mists of time, and carrying the promise of a future long after we are gone.

What meaning there is in nature is for us to find, and maybe, each one of us finds what it is we need just then. That morning, I needed rest and found it.