Upper Goose Pond Cabin, Aug 10
M=26.8; C=1521.3
Upper Goose Pond Cabin
Oh man, what a disaster this last tenth of a mile became. OK, so I've endured over twenty-six miles today, the convict manhunt, joe pye weed, countless road crossings and Massachusetts PUDs. In the last minutes of twilight, the topo map I bought during yesterday's roadtrip showed these two ponds: Upper Goose and Lower Goose. There's this little blue line of a creek between them and the Cabin shelter is just up the hill from it. I came out of the road crossing. Looks like I could carve off a half mile just with a bit of bushwhacking and a jump across the stream. Cool beans. DNA, you should know better...
So I bushwhack in from the road, rounding the hill and following the contour around the first pond. Slowly making my way through the scrub trees and briers. Always briers or stinging nettles when I'm wearing shorts -- why is that? It's dark now and I really can't see that well. The maglite is buried in the pack. Oh, I'll just wing it. I'm a tough (braindead) thru-hiker. In my best Dire Straits imitation, I'm singing 'let's go down to the waterline'. I make it to the shore line - rocky with cobbles and some soft peat. Mostly cobbles.
Walking the shoreline, I can see the pond on my left, and some narrower water, and a much wider expanse ahead. OK, so where is the little blue line of creek between? I walk on. Yep, this is a big pond. There are some lights up the hillside across from the narrow stretch. I turn around and walk on a bit. Past the narrows. Now I'm back to the other expanse of water. The lights on the far shore hillside are back behind me. Damn.
I put the pack down, fish out the maglite, my little compass, and again with the map. There's the road. I can hear occasional car sounds - engine and tires on a road - up past that end of the pond, up the shoreline and the rise above. That's where I came from. There's the hill and the elevation I bushwhacked through. Across the narrow, up the hillside should be the cabin - yep, that's about right. Except for this narrow. The flashlight reaches to the trees overhanging the far bank. That bank looks a lot like what I'm standing on - rocks, with a steeper bank beyond. Maybe fifteen or twenty feet over there. Shining down into the water -- well, the cobbles are right there, clear water. It's completely dark now, the watch clipped to my shoulder strap says 9:45.
OK, fine. I'll ford this. Can't get those new boots wet, can we? No, just got 'em in Kent - hell, they're not even broken in. So off come the boots and socks, tie them to the top straps of the pack and fetch out the $5 flipflops. People drown with packs in water, even shallow water, if they panic and can't get out of cinched straps, or hit their head. I hoist the pack back on, prop the hiking staff 'Thing' against my belly, loosen the shoulder straps and the hip belt is clipped and really loose. Maglite in one hand, Thing in the other, I step on to the first cobbles. Will have to do this by feel, but I bet I won't get my knees wet.
First careful steps and I'm out a foot from the bank. Two feet, three. I'm up to my knees. I can still see the cobbles and my feet with the maglite. They're further down than I thought, those rocks. OK -- walk it. Feel with Thing, a few steps. Now it's up to my shorts. I pull the pack up a bit. Arms out of the straps, put a strap around my forehead, waist belt cinched below the armpits. Poke with the staff, there's a rock. Take a step. And I'm underwater.
Great, I can't touch, I'm under water with my pack cinched to my top half, resting on my head, released the staff - reaching for the hipbelt buckle to unclip it, holding on to maglite. And maglites look pretty cool under water -- great visibility in there. I unsnap the buckle and come up for air. The pack is slowly taking on water. I try to stand up -- it's deeper than I thought. I'm six-one and not touching the bottom. Treading now, I get the light out of the water and sweep around. At least I'm facing the far bank. I grab the slowly settling pack with the maglite hand and sidestroke toward shore. Knee smacks against a rock. Ouch. What's that, a dock? And a boat? Finally, I'm ashore. Drag the pack on to the dry dock. Scan the water for my staff and an awol flipflop. There they are, half way out. Back out I go. Fetch. Retrieve. Finally out of the water.
THAT wasn't the plan. Maybe the plan sucked more than I thought. I slip back into the pack, the flipflop and stand. Water is running out of my pack and down my legs. I take a look around. There's a thin trail up the hillside to the lights above. Muddy. Really slick with flipflops. The flops slide down the path with each step. When they catch and gain purchase on the mud, my foot slips out of them. Grrrr. Sidestep -- they slide and fold out from under. Barefoot was easier. Water still running down my legs. Finally up to the shelter. It's a cabin, and someone is still up! Watch says well after 10 now. Lovely. I'm beat. Left my pack out down below to drain. Leaving a muddy wet trail of my own through the cabin. Grabbed my camp towel. The food bag is dry. The rain gear pouch is dry -- go figure. The camp cloths are mostly dry. The sleeping liner was wet in a corner. Big deal. There's an empty bunk and I'm crashing. I can't help but think there was a lesson in today's adventure. Now, if I could figure out what it was...
- Definitely Not Aquaman