The forecast for our 4 day outing was looking bleak, at best.  One website predicted nothing but straight rain every day.  However, at 6:00 on Saturday morning, Erick and I chose to go with the more optimistic website (3 days of rain and one day of sun) as we loaded the truck and prepared for the long drive to Northwest Maine . 

Jump ahead 7 hours.  We finally reached Greenville , Maine at the Southern tip of Moosehead Lake .  Here is where our guidebook started it's seemingly basic instructions for getting to Lobster Lake .  Within 20 minutes of leaving Greenville we were on a dirt logging road... shouldn't be long now!!!!  Jump ahead 45 minutes of bone jarring, dusty driving and we found ourselves registering at the Caribou Check-In, where Jeb Clampett spent the next 15 minutes painfully negotiating a laptop in order to enter the requisite data to charge us $90 for 3 nights of camping and use of the miles of pothole strewn dirt roads.  

From Caribou, we drove another 20 minutes to the small boat access where Lobster Stream meets the Penobscot.  Within seconds of stepping out of the truck, we were attacked by a cloud of black flies thick enough to choke a moose.  As we unloaded our gear, the insightful ranger pulled up and informed us that the flies were particularly bad.  She also informed us that the forecast was for 30 mph winds.  Thankfully, at that moment, the rain had held off and it appeared we would stay dry as we paddled the 2 miles down Lobster Stream and across Lobster Lake to Ogden Point, where we planned to spend the next 3 nights.

As soon as we were on the water the black flies subsided and we were able to paddle in comfort.  This was a good thing, as the act of swatting at flies probably would have caused us to swamp the canoe.  With all the gear, the freeboard of the boat was about 3 inches and we had little room for extraneous movements.  The paddle on the stream was peaceful, and even on the lake it was relatively calm.  The sky was overcast and the light dull, but it was easy to see why Lobster Lake is considered one of the most beautiful in Maine .  First, it is pristine.  There is no road access, and because of it's remoteness, it sees only small numbers of human visitors each year.  It's bottom is mostly silt sand and some of it's shoreline is made up of sandy beaches.  Where there are not beaches are large rocks and cliffs.  Aside from the campsites,, you would be hard-pressed to find any indication of human presence along the coast.  It's easy to imagine that you are the first person to discover this gem.

When we reached the Ogden North site, mosquitoes took over from where the black flies had left off.  However, we quickly learned that a smoky fire and a breeze were enough to keep them at bay.  After setting up camp and dinning on hamburgers, we went for a short paddle and then spent the rest of the night playing cards .

It started raining sometime in the night, and it was continuing when we got up in the morning.  Thankfully, we had a couple of tarps that we were able to rig up over the table, and we were able to stay dry while preparing meals, eating, or hanging out.  As we prepared our bacon, eggs and coffee, the rain was reduced to a drizzle and the remainder of the day stayed the same with an occasional shower.  We had noticed that our cooler was no longer cool, so decided to cook up the steak tips shortly after Breakfast and had them for lunch, accompanied by baked sweet potatoes.  Yes, meals were a big part of the trip.

During the day, we did a little more exploring in the canoe, but stuck to the upper portion of Little Claw since the threat of rain was ever-present.  The wind was also pretty consistent, which kept the mosquitoes to a minimum.  However, late in the afternoon, the wind picked up and we finally experienced the predicted 30 mph gusts.  Shortly after getting settled in the tent for the night, we heard one of the tarp stakes being slingshot across the campsite and the tarps flapping around.  We rushed out and decided that the best measure was to take down the tarps.  Throughout the rest of the night we were serenaded by waves slapping the shoreline and the wind whipping through the trees.  We had intentionally set our tent in a area protected by large bushes, so were spared having to try to sleep in a virtual washing machine.

On Monday morning, we chose to do some more exploring before breakfast.  This time, we followed the shoreline along the Little Claw side of Big Island .  We worked our way down until we found a protected cove on the leeward side of a small peninsula.  Here we tied up the canoe and explored on foot.  On the north side of the peninsula, we found a huge bed of moss that I found an irresistible temptation for a nap.  Further along, we discovered a plentiful patch of low-lying blueberry bushes that were still in-season.  The Gods were obviously looking out for us that morning.  What are the chances of finding ripe wild blueberries before a planned breakfast of pancakes?  We pushed the canoe back up Little Claw, fighting wind and waves, with the thought of golden brown blueberry pancakes driving us forward.

We had heard that there was a trail that started along the shoreline and went up to the summit of Lobster Mountain .  Based on our maps, it appeared that the trailhead was somewhere around Little Cove.  After breakfast, we packed a lunch (and plenty of bug spray) and paddled down to Little Cove.  After much searching and harassment from the mosquitoes, we could not find the trail.  However, even if we had, I’m not sure spending extensive time with those blood thirsty swarms would have been advisable anyway.  Instead, we continued down Little Claw.

Near the southern tip of Little Claw is a small stream just wide enough for a canoe to explore.  We paddled up it as slowly and quietly as possible, in hopes of running into some wildlife.  About 50 yards in we saw the head of a beaver just before it submerged and disappeared.  A little way further up-stream, we ran into the result of his hard labors.  Blocking off the stream was a 15 foot wide by 5 foot high dam.  The water it was holding back was raised a good 4 feet above the water-level of the stream on the other side.

On the eastern side of Little Claw, and to the south of Big Island , is a large marsh where you would expect to see some wildlife, and maybe even a moose.  It is very shallow and dotted with many small rock islands and vegetation.  The only thing we saw was a Kingfisher trying to scoop up some lunch.

Since we were now protected from the wind, we decided to stop for lunch.  We found a spot to land and climbed a 50 foot cliff where we heated water for our Vegan Hot and Sour soup.  The fact that it was Vegan escaped attention when it was purchased.  This fact was more difficult to ignore when being consumed.  However, I suppose anything tastes edible with enough MSG in it.

We continued through the marsh and exited out into the Big Claw section of the lake.  We then followed Big Claw north along the eastern shoreline of Big Island .  On this side, we ran into a small flock of Mergansers.  We had seen them a few times previously.  This time, we were able to get a closer view of these odd-looking variety of ducks.

As we neared the northern tip of Big Island , we noticed that the large span of lake beyond the tip, that section of water that was taking the brunt of the Northwest wind, was a field of whitecaps.  Even from a distance we could tell that the waves were large (by lake standards).  In order to return to camp, we would have to round the tip, putting us smack in the middle of these waves.  Worse, we would have to either take them on broadside (the direct route to camp), or perform a major tack… meaning more time on the water.  It was about this time that Erick reminded me that he will never be mistaken for Michael Phelps, since he “sinks like a rock”.  I also had my camera gear on-board and, even though it was in a dry bag, I wasn’t anxious to test it at that moment.

We consulted the topo map and discovered that the tip of the island had a sort of neck that appeared to be a lower elevation that the rest of the island and not nearly as wide.  In hopes of finding a suitable place to portage across the island, we landed and checked it out.  We found that our assumption was true, and had an easy portage.

We weren’t completely out of the fire, since we found ourselves at the wrong end of a long narrow cove, and the waves were being funneled into it.  These were averaging 2 feet, with a couple of 3 footers about every 8^th wave or so.  No problem in a kayak, but in a open canoe designed for flat lake paddling…. Not so much.  However, we had now positioned ourselves so that we could take a direct course to camp that was 90 degrees to the waves (better than taking them broadside).

Launching was interesting, but we managed to get on the water and were soon punching into the waves.  The first half was exciting as water splashed over the bow as we came crashing over the backs of each wave.  But, as we got closer to the other shoreline, the waves gradually subsided the more the wind was blocked by the mainland. 

Back at camp we emptied 3 gallons of water out of the canoe, dried off, had a snack and then relaxed until dinner time.  I took a nap and by the time I woke up, the wind was barely noticeable.  This, of course, meant the mosquitoes were now in their glory and came out in swarms.  I was able to take a quick bath in the lake and we threw together a few pizza’s before being chased back to the tent for the night. The next day was our last, and that night I made up my mind that if there was no breeze in the morning, I would suggest skipping breakfast and just packing up and getting out of there as quickly as possible.

Sure enough, the morning proved still, as well as overcast.  We managed to breakdown camp and pack the canoe with still enough blood to get on the water and paddle back across the lake to Lobster Stream.  On Lobster Stream, we overtook 3 guys who had spent the previous night at the Ogden Point Camp.  I felt no envy when they told us that they were working their way up to the Penobscot where they would camp another night.  The sky was looking ominous and it was apparent that they were going to have a wet time of it, to say nothing of the mosquitoes.

We were not even out of the canoe when a cloud of black flies was swarming around us at the launch.  It was like something out of a horror movie.  I had to breath while filtering air through my teeth at the risk of inhaling something.  We through all the gear in the truck with total disregard for any sense of order,   tossed the canoe on top, and dove into the cab.

The first five minutes was spent ridding the inside of the truck of all the castaway black flies.  Then we were ready for the 1+ hour drive out of the wilderness.  It was at that moment that I realized, with dismay, that the gas indicator showed nearly empty.  Unfortunately, we had not anticipated the ride in on the dirt road to be so long, and we obviously never considered the gas when it actually did take that long.  We were screwed… no two ways about it.  Erick was more optimistic than I, and thought the ranger at the Caribou Check-in might be able to sell us some gas.  I figured we were going to have to hike our way out.

By some sort of divine intervention, we pulled up to an intersection and noticed a painted wooden sign that we had barely caught our attention on the way in.  It was for a Country Store that was at the Northeast Carry, the portage point between Moosehead Lake and the Penobscot.  The sign listed beer, pizza, ice, and a few other items…. Including gas!!!!!!!  We consulted our map and determined that we had to go back the way we had just come and past the launch.  We weren’t sure if we had enough gas to get to the Country Store, and most distressing was the possibility that it might be closed for the season, putting us even deeper into the woods when our gas finally ran out.  But, the decision was made and we went for it.

We pulled up to the Country Store on fumes and were relieved to discover that it was open and they had one gas tank.  We had seen a few cottages as we got close to the store and we figured there must be a few more in the area to warrant the need for such a place.  When we inquired we were told that the gas was $4.75 per gallon.  This is understandable considering what it took to get the gas in and factoring supply and demand.  Given our circumstances, we would have paid 4 times as much.

Before making a second attempt to drive out of the wilderness, I retied the canoe and discovered that the clevis pin for the bow toggle was missing and the toggle was centimeters from coming unattached.  This toggle happened to be the secure point for tying the canoe to the front of the truck.  I could only imagine what would have happened if this popped off while driving 60mph on the highway.  I went back in to the store and bought a package of curved quilting needles for $3.00.   From the largest of these, I was able to make a replacement clevis pin that held for the ride home.

Bearing in mind that we had skipped breakfast, one could imagine how hungry we were as we headed back to civilization with thoughts of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and coffee.  However, by the time we reached Greenville it was 11:00 and we had to yield to the notion of lunch instead.  However, the chili and burgers at Kelly’s Landing, a nice sit-down establishment on the lake, was excellent.