12.5 river miles and one tough portage to the Barnet -Monroe Bridge Access (river mile 131.5)

Neither Dot nor I were too quick to get started in the morning. Dot had contracted Lyme disease before leaving home and was on a round of Doxycycline which made her more prone to sunburn. Despite slathering herself with sunscreen and trying to keep herself covered, the sun was taking a toll on her. Her cheeks, nose and lips were especially sore. Not only was it beating down from above. It was also reflecting off the water, magnifying its effect. I was glad to take it a bit slower as it gave me time to write.

In many ways day nine was similar to day eight. We were again paddling through a large reservoir. The Comerford Dam was built in the 1930’s and at the time it was the largest retaining wall in the country. It flooded an area known as Fifteen Mile Falls, forming eight-mile long, 1093 acre Comerford Reservoir.

I thought about the homes now buried beneath this water and of all the changes people have wrought upon this river. In the north, a large section of the CT River was straightened in order to make it easier to drive logs from the northern forests to the mills. This caused a lot of erosion along the banks. Since the log drives have stopped, the river is again meandering back into its original curves.

I also thought about the moods of the river. While it is one continuous body of water, each day it seems like such a different river. We had started in the northern spruce and fir forests. Now I felt I was sometimes paddling in an estuary with tall grasses sticking up above the water. Other times the river was one large lake.

I thought about how just as my moods vary depending on outer circumstances, these river moods were dependent on daily weather. The rain and wind created one mood, while the heat and stillness of the day I was in created another. In order to enjoy my trip I had to learn to adjust to the moods of the river. I thought of the value of being aware of my daily fluctuations in moods. I was glad that with age I had learned to adapt to them and not let them control my day. I slowly paddled down the reservoir not aware the mood of the day was about to change.

We pulled out at the picnic area on the NH side of the river. This is where our one-third-mile portage around the Comerford Dam was to start. We chatted with some of the many picnickers enjoying the water on this hot summer day. We got my boat loaded onto the trailer and began the trek.

The first part was not too difficult. But then we hit a steep downhill followed by close to thirty steep steps which led to more hauling along a poison ivy infested path. I had been watching for this weed the entire journey but this was the first time I had spied it. In the midst of the poison ivy we realized we had lost some nuts off of the cart and the wheels were now listing.

We walked around for a while looking for the missing parts to no avail. I worked hard not to become upset and to stay in the moment. I did not want to go to that place of despair, feeling I had a big problem on my hands. Instead I braided some grass together and wrapped it around the axle to hold the wheel in place. I was both relieved and proud when it worked!

We left my boat by the river below the dam and returned for Dot’s boat. The first leg of the portage had taken us 45 minutes. I expected Dot’s much heavier boat to take longer and was eager to be done so we could settle down to a late but well earned lunch.

When I returned to the picnic area I called out in a loud voice, “Does anyone have a wrench?” I had figured out that I could shift some of the remaining nuts on the wheels to make them stay on.

I was thrilled when two men responded that they did have wrenches. One of them, Neil, proceeded to help me move the nuts and reassemble the cart. He then insisted that I take the wrench with me the rest of the way.

Neil was part of a local extended family who were enjoying their time at the beach. I chatted with them and it was not long before Dot and I were seated at their table eating grilled chicken and drinking ice cold water. This meeting would not have happened had my cart not lost those parts. I tried to make a real mental memory of this as confirmation that good things can and will come out of what feel like current disasters. I will lovingly carry that wrench with me to the sea!

We pulled ourselves away and got Dot’s boat around. Soon after we set off I heard sirens and realized that water was being released from the dam just above us. We had narrowly escaped what could have been a series of class III waves below the dam.

Our midway car for this stretch was coming up. We had left it with Nancy and Jay who had housed me when I was on my bike trek around Vermont last fall. Dot and I were debating what to do about re-shuttling when Dot had a wave of nausea come over her. I could see she was done for the day. I knew the weather looked rainy for the next day. As much as I hated to break up our trip, I listened to what my gut felt was right and suggested we pull out where our car was at the Barnet Bridge. That would give Dot time to recover and change boats. I had a few pieces of gear I wanted to tweak. And it would give me the time I was craving to catch up on writing.

We loaded our boats onto my car and drove north to where Dots car was. After a quick dinner at a diner in Littleton, NH, where I had stone ground buckwheat pancakes with strawberries and cream, we parted ways and headed home for a well earned rest.