Kayak/camping on Squam Lake, New Hampshire

We drove from my parent's house in Tamworth to the launch at Squam Lake in Holderness, New Hampshire. The improved launch has restrooms, a two-sided launch, lots of parking and is FREE! Judy (my oldest sister) and I, with the help of my parents and husband, loaded up the yaks for our more than a mile paddle out to Bowman Island. Bowman is managed and owned by the Squam Lakes Association and camping reservations must be made through them. Plan as far ahead as possible, as their campsites are very popular and fill up fast. Judy and I waved goodbye and headed out along the inlet out to the lake. 

Yakkin' Lake Arrowhead, Waterboro/Limerick, Maine

My daughter, Chelsea and I, after doing some housework chores, decided it was way too nice to stay home. So, we loaded up our two yaks and headed to one of our favorite paddles; Lake Arrowhead. We use the boat launch at the damn at the end of the lake. It's on New Damn Rd. in Waterboro. Arrowhead was originally called, and in some circles is still called, "Little Ossipee Flowage" or "the flowage" and damned decades ago creating the Lake Arrowhead Community . The change in this lake also created the only trophy bass fishing lake in the state and an overwhelming array of coves, backwaters and ecologically diverse water habitats.

Yakkin' the Royal River

Here we are kayaking on the Royal River in Yarmouth, Maine in late May. We've paddled this river several times, but always put-in at Dunns Corner off Rt. 9. From that launch we've either paddled downstream to the Royal River Park launch (where we've left a shuttle vehicle) or paddled upstream and just turned around when we were ready to head back.

Yakkin' the Bearcamp - Memorial Day Wknd '09

Each Memorial Day Weekend, as much of my family who can, gets together to kayak as a group. Last year, we yakked the Bearcamp River in Tamworth and Ossipee, New Hampshire. We traveled the entire length, into Ossipee Lake, paddling down the lake to the mouth of the Pine River, then up the river to the boat launch on Route 25. That took the better part of a day, stopping on a sandbar for lunch then paddling across a very, windy Ossipee.

The last day

I awoke before dawn to a very windy rain pummeling my hammock. Great. Today we have to pack up to leave and I don't want everything wet. I hunkered down as best I could and catnapped until first light. The rain let up, but it was still blowin' pretty hard. I made a run to the privy and ducked under the kitchen tarp. I cranked the radio and checked on the weather. Looks like we might have a good window of opportunity before lunch to get back to the put-in. The wind conveniently dried most of our gear, so after we ate, we packed up and waved goodbye to Pine Island.

Day 3: The 'vacation' day

The night before, we warmed up from our long day, applied a LOT of pain relieving gel, popped more than the legal limit of Advil and played a very loud game of cards well into the night. I cranked up the radio and listened to the weather report since we heard a few rumbles of thunder off in the distance. Well the folks back home must have thought we were ripped up and splintered in to the trees around here only after we must have weathered a freakin' hurricane! The report made the weather sound really bad up here. I vowed to break out the cell (yes, I brought it only for an emergency) and call home.

Day 2: A paddle too far

The next morning was glass-calm and ohh soo quiet. We scanned this scene with wonder. This huge lake was flat calm and the only sounds were the chickadees disrupted by a fish breaking the surface catching breakfast. Ahh - THIS is what we came for. It's good to feel small, as I always say. We gathered for a good hot breakfast and talked about our next leg to Pine Island. Susan used her GPS often, while the rest of us checked the map and scouted what we could by sight. We took our time breaking camp and slipped innocuously away from the shore, our paddle dips sounding obsurdly loud with the deafening stillness.

The first night

While Susan was working the GPS, Kyle, Judy and I scanned the shore, in a line not closer than 20 or 30 feet from each other, but could NOT, for the life of us, find "Red Pine 1". We hollered back and forth to each other, took turns being first in line, but no luck. Just when Susan was reminding us that the GPS says we must have passed the site, Kyle scoots around and sees a little, itty-bitty white sign facing down the lake. Judy says "well that's probably it!" This was only the first of several annoying things we dealt with while on this lake. You see, Upper and Lower Richardson Lake sites, although some being Maine Public Reserve Lands, all are "managed" by South Arm Campground (at the southern tip of Lower Richardson in Andover). And I use the word "managed" lightly.

Day 1: The search for "Red Pine 1"

We hugged the northwest shore, trying to keep out of a stiff breeze, and found calmer waters cruising behind Beaver and Big Beaver Islands. We slipped around each other, excitedly chattering about just how cool this was going to be. Coming around a bend, we found a creatively built "inukshuk"standing proudly on a boulder. The Inuit (among others) used these man-made landmarks or cairns for navigation and markings. We just guessed it was saying "Hey, dudes - we liked this place, too - it rocks".

Day 1: Upper Richardson Lake, Maine

Upper Richardson Lake, Maine
August '08
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"The love of the wilderness is more than a hunger...it's the only home we shall ever know, the only paradise...if we only have the eyes to see." - Edward Abbey

Put-in (44 degrees 54' 25.40"N 70 degrees 54' 25.45" W)was at the top of the lake from the launch off of Rt. 16 out of Wilson's Mills. We unloaded the four 'yaks and took about an hour to organize and pack our supplies. Having all previously practiced this task at home, we packed quickly and efficiently. Surprised at how fast we accomplished this, we were suddenly ready. This is it, there was nothing holding us back now. Months of planning, mapping, stocking food and purchasing necessities for this adventure had come to fruition. John (my husband and our driver) took the obligatory first photo, hugged us goodbye and stepped back. We smirked at each other, paused for a deep breath as we scanned the wild lake before us. With a cheer and paddles held high, each of us slipped into our boats and wiggled off the shore to begin our adventure. Location info