Memoirs of an Adventure Mom

by Chris Dean

When we put the canoe in the water, the day was overcast with the threat of rain. There was a chill in the air and we had miles of river ahead of us before we would camp for the night. This was how I began my first canoeing adventure in the Canadian wilderness. For years my husband and I had wanted to take our two sons on an adventure vacation. When they were 6 and 10 years-old, we decided the time was right. They would be able to fully participate and be up for the challenge of such a trip. There would be eleven of us on this particular trip, which included a Canadian wilderness guide and three assistants. It was a white water canoe trip on the St. Croix River, which borders Canada and Maine, a short trip of four days and five nights. Our nights would be spent camping in the woods, along the riverbank, at different spots chosen by our guide. Our guide would prepare and cook the food while we would be responsible for setting up and breaking down our campsite. We would pack our possessions in river packs distributed among six canoes. I particularly liked the part about not having to cook or prepare food. About a week before we were to meet at our Maine base camp, Ed, our guide, called us at home and asked us what our food preferences would be for the week. I hesitatingly told him that we were vegetarians and only ate some fish, but I quickly reassured him that we were flexible and pasta and salad were our old "stand-bys." "Not to worry," he said enthusiastically. "You just tell me what you like and we'll fix you up." "Heaven," I thought, "I was in heaven." I tentatively began, "Salmon, veggie burgers, tofu in any form, tofu hot dogs…" "Shouldn't be a problem," he replied. "Do you prefer white or red wines with your dinners?" This camping trip was shaping up quite nicely. We left our upstate New York home ten days before we were to be at the base camp in Northern Maine, because we wanted to slowly work our way through New England and up the coast of Maine. We arrived at the base camp in Northern Maine at about 6:00 AM on the morning we were to start our wilderness adventure. We met the other members of our small group: a couple in their 40's, Mary and Allen, who were experienced white water canoers; a single man in his 30's, Mike, who had no canoeing experience; two college boys, Brian and Dale, who were to help Ed, our guide; and Ed's fiancée, Debra, who was a nutritionist and herbologist. Ed, our guide, was a man in his 50's who was every bit the true native of Maine. He had a dry sense of humor, was a man of few words, was extremely skilled in the woods, and could prepare the most exotic meals armed with only a mammoth frying pan! I had never seen anyone who could maneuver a canoe the way he did--he went down the rapids standing up in the back of a canoe with only a pole, which he used for balance! When we arrived on that overcast morning, everyone was sitting around an inviting fire sipping steaming coffee and eating a breakfast that Ed and Debra were putting out on a large table. They invited us to eat and pointed us in the direction of the breakfast table that was laden with hot pancakes, eggs cooked to order, fresh fruit, yogurt, a pitcher of juice, and maple syrup. We were the only members of the group with children and for a brief moment I felt a little concerned. I reminded myself that Ed had been very positive regarding the children and I knew that he had taken the time to speak to each member of the group to make sure that each one was comfortable traveling with two boys. According to Ed, not only were the others O.K. with the kids, they were looking forward to sharing this adventure with my two sons. Shortly after breakfast we began packing for the trip on the river. Every item that we were bringing had to be packed, first in plastic bags, and then stuffed into rubber river packs and tightly secured. We did not bring our own camping supplies except sleeping bags and mattresses, so we were given a tent, poles, and canoe paddles. We were also given waterproof boxes (old ammo boxes), for our personal items, which proved invaluable. After all the packing had been completed and everything was loaded into (and on top of) a van, we headed off to where we would enter the river. We traveled about an hour and a half and eventually turned off onto a dirt road that led to the river. Here, we unloaded the equipment, loaded the canoes, ate a satisfying lunch served up on the bottom of a canoe balanced between two logs, and had a lesson from Ed in the basics of white water canoeing. Back paddle, "J" stroke and straight ahead paddling. Shouldn't be too tough. He then gave us a lesson in how to "read" the river and avoid getting hung up on a rock or log in shallow water. I decided then and there that I would never be found far from Ed's canoe. It was evident, as he talked, that he knew this river like the back of his hand. Ed and Deb would always be in the front and Brian and Dale would be in the back. The seven of us in the middle would be well protected. My 6 year- old and I shared a canoe with him perched in the front like a figurehead on a ship. My husband and my 10 year- old would share a canoe, Mary and Allen would have a canoe, and Mike would ride alone. Ed's last piece of advice to us as we started paddling on that first day was, "If you capsize and find yourself in the water, stay put--we'll get to you." This began one of the most delightful, exciting, rewarding, and just plain fun vacations, we have ever shared as a family. We paddled for as many as six hours a day, sometimes in still water, and sometimes we wound our way through 2+ to 3 rapids. The river wove its way through untouched wilderness that was protected by the state of Maine and many of the wooded campsites that we used for our own camp, were only accessible by canoe. The sights were breathtaking. At one point, Ed stopped paddling and raised his paddle upward toward the treetops. Without uttering a word we all looked up and two bald eagles were dipping and swooping, performing their own private dance against the crystal blue sky as a backdrop. Awe inspiring. We stopped to make camp during late afternoon and Ed would immediately begin preparing the evening meal while we set up our tents, each picking our own spot in the dense woods. The meals that Ed turned out were culinary marvels. We had grilled salmon with dill sauce, pastas with vegetables, fresh salads, deserts cooked in special containers placed in the coals, fresh breads, and wine with our evening meal. I can honestly say, food never tasted better! In the evening we sat together around the camp fire, shared stories and enjoyed each other's company. On one particular evening, Ed regaled us with a side-splitting account of the worst canoe trip he had ever taken out on the river. He deemed it The Canoe Trip From Hell and delivered this fabulous story in a way that truly displayed his ability as a master storyteller. He had us all hanging on his every word and he didn't disappoint us. Each day brought a new adventure within an adventure as we explored the St. Croix River. On one breathtaking morning we all arose early for a sunrise canoe trip as a preface to a gorgeous day. On another day we had several hours of still water paddling. We all talked among ourselves and each took a turn leading the small group in a sing-along which consisted of songs from every era and ended with the Sesame Street theme song, led by my six year- old son. It was so wonderful for me to watch my sons grow into this experience, with never a complaint. They went to bed early without a word of protest, slept on the ground, rose at dawn, ate the breakfast that was served (they lived without froot loops!), helped with the clean up, and actually did their fair share of paddling. Brian and Dale took special care with them and never tired of my sons' tagging along asking them endless questions. My sons truly matured in that five day period. It was a pleasure to witness. As the trip came to an end and we took our canoes out of the water for the last time we all felt an underlying sadness at leaving and going our separate ways. We had all come through this adventure together and we were hesitant to let it go. The van met us at the river bank, we all helped pack, and climbed on board. On the way back to base camp we all talked about the experience we had just shared and what awaited us upon our return to the "real world." We traded fantasies about living in the Canadian woods, becoming Maine guides, and experiencing this beauty on a daily basis. Ed told us that he would be at the base camp for only a few days before he and Deb would go out on a longer trip and tackle a more difficult river with a small party. We could only dream. We arrived at the base camp and began the process of re-entry and packing our cars and vans to head home. We slowly said good-bye to our fellow adventurers, promised to stay in touch and left. We took our time meandering down the coast of Maine and as we got closer to home, we started to plan our next adventure trip. A rain forest in Venezuela, perhaps…

Chris Dean is a free lance writer and avid adventurer traveler.