about 15 miles and two tough portages to just before the Waterford Bridge Boat Launch (river mile 119)

After a lovely breakfast with Carl, Dot and I set off down river. We made plans to meet Carl midway down the Moore Reservoir. It was another lovely windless morning and I hoped it would stay that way for our afternoon paddle down the Moore Reservoir. This body of water, which is formed as a result of the Moore Dam, is 3500 acres and when the wind picks up it can be brutal to paddle.

This area was once populated by the Abenaki who farmed along the banks of the river using fish as fertilizer. It also used to contain what was once considered the finest and longest stretch of whitewater paddling in the eastern United States. This was all covered when the dam was built in the mid 1950’s.

As I paddled along I felt I was really getting into the rhythm of the trip. We had a few fast moving rocky sections to navigate but they weren’t causing my heart to pound in fear. In fact I was able to relax into them and enjoyed navigating my boat around the rocks. I called to mind a saying I have always told the scared kids I work with when I am teaching them to ski. I tell them, “Just because you are afraid doesn’t mean bad things are going to happen to you.” I found that by acknowledging the fear and recognizing it as a feeling separate from the activity, the kids were able to move beyond their fear. I was doing the same thing on this river. I also recognized how just the act of doing something can lead to mastery and a decrease in fear.

When we arrived at the Gilman Dam we were surprised to see Carl. He was curious to learn what these portages were like and so had driven his car as close as he could get to this one and walked the rest of the way in. It was great to have the extra pair of hands.

The portage started out easy enough, if lugging a 45 pound boat full of food, gear and water for a week is ever easy. But lest we get complacent, it threw in some gnarly, rough rocks for us to maneuver around at the end. I was able to pull my boat on the easy parts by myself but needed help getting over the rocky bits. Once I got my boat into the water I carried my trailer back to Dot who was struggling with her small set of wheels.

We resumed paddling down the reservoir, thankful the wind was not strong. The Moore Reservoir is over 100 feet deep and two miles across in places. We had to paddle eight miles down it. A strong headwind would have made it a chore. As it was, it was a real pleasure.

I was surprised that on this hot Saturday there were not a lot of motor boats zooming around. I had expected the place to be swarming with them. It again made me glad that I live in rural Vermont.

I tried out different methods of holding the paddle in order to put less stress on my aging, arthritic thumbs. I experimented to see if I could tell which took more effort; paddling with stronger strokes which took me farther, or pulling and pushing less which used less energy per stroke but required more strokes over all. I decided I liked changing it up but that the stronger strokes took more out of me in the end. I relaxed into the rhythm of paddling. In this wide reservoir I was even able to paddle with my eyes closed. I opened them every twenty strokes or so to be sure I was on track.

I was glad for the lunch break when we met Carl four miles past the Gilman Dam. It was so hot that when I pulled out my lip balm it poured out as liquid onto the ground. After lunch, Carl bade us goodbye. After the Gilman Portage we could not convince him to meet us for another!

We made it to Moore Dam about 4:45. By now we were getting good at strapping the boats onto my trailer. I was convinced it was well worth carrying that seventeen pound set of wheels. The entire portage was one third of a mile. We pulled my boat up first. After a short climb, the trail went down an embankment steep enough to be a black diamond ski trail. We followed the portage trail signs which directed us through waist high weeds. The bindweed kept wrapping around my feet, threatening to trip me up. When we reached the bottom of the weeds we had to lug the boat down a set of wooden stairs onto a small floating dock. Then we went back for Dot’s boat, carrying that trailer up the steep hill in the hot sun.

After much moaning and groaning we got Dot’s boat moved to the top of the climb. We decided to eschew the weeds and head straight down the very steep, mowed slope. We were tempted to sit in the boat and use it as a sled! As it was we were able to let the bow ride on the grass as it made its way down the hill.

We never did find the take out for the Moore Dam camping area, though we could see some large tents set up over the steep bank. After going up and down the bank a bit we finally pulled our boats out at a small break in the bank. We hefted them up and out of the water so that if the dam released and the water rose we would not lose all our gear. After a delicious dinner of rehydrated spaghetti and meat sauce with extra cheese we fell into our sleeping bags. Two portages and fifteen paddling miles in that heat had done us in!