East Inlet

My bungalow room is 85º, if the thermometer on the wall is to be believed. I'm sitting in what is more or less the living room, kitchen windows open, table fan blowing at top speed. I packed for cooler weather. We're getting 90º days & mid-60º nights.

I am nursing sunburned legs after an unforgettable kayak trip. About me & kayaks: I don't own one. I rent or borrow one on rare occasions, for use on some nice flat body of water. I avoid embarrassment only by traveling alone. Today, I put aside my reluctance to look like a fool, just because I wanted to see East Inlet from the water, not from a few glimpses off East Inlet Road.

At the East Inlet Road boat launch, Pete, Lainie, & I put ourselves in Armand's capable hands. An easygoing man with a dry wit, Armand knows this area well. He brought a kayak for each of us, so no one was subjected to tandem-kayaking with me.

I was candid with everyone about my relative inexperience. No matter how awkward or downright wrong my paddling style became, Armand never raised his voice except to call out something encouraging. I suppose that's what guides are supposed to do, but since I never took a guided trip before, I was relieved not to be taken to task by a stern local with no patience for out-of-towners who can't paddle a boat properly.

The area we were in has several names, each referring to a specific spot, and I'm not sure which ones we were in: Norton Pool, Moose Pasture, East Inlet. We went across a big pond and then into a narrow stream that wound in what to me seemed like a hopeless maze through the trees. All beautiful, regardless of name. Eventually, it all empties into 2nd Lake.

The blazingly sunny day was moderated by a breeze on the water. We paddled out with the wind but against the current, and came home with the current but against the wind. I found paddling upwind to get back across the big pond much easier than trying to push through an opening in a breached beaver dam, against the current. (I believe that maneuver took me five minutes, compared to the 10 seconds or so achieved by each of my companions.)

I told Pete that he had the best free show in town as he paddled behind me, watching me maneuver clumsily but persistently around the many curves. We had the maze to ourselves. When we first hit the pond on the way back, we saw one kayak after another heading out. Armand remarked that most of the people heading onto the pond would probably not continue into the stream – certainly not as far upstream as we went. Their loss.

I was able to paddle very close to a great blue heron too intent on fishing to pay any attention to me. I saw a bald eagle, huge in comparison to the tiny bird harrying it up in the sky, probably defending her young against the eagle's depredations. I saw the eagle's nest. Geese, ducks, & cedar waxwings were abundant.

Kim Nilsen has written in the official CT guidebook about the never-cut stand of black spruce we saw today. Spruce budworm damaged the stand some years ago, but the trees rebounded & this one little area has somehow never been logged.

Perhaps today didn't count as hiking, but without my CT hike, I never would have found this place or the people who accompanied me. Much of this "hiking" trip, in fact, has been spent doing things other than hiking. I am loving almost all of it. I remain opposed to rainy hikes punctuated with insect stings.

The payment assessed by Lainie & Pete for use of the Bungalow is an unspecified monetary donation and/or some trail work. I am going to be donating more than I had originally budgeted. I tried to imagine the bill for everything if this were the “real” world: 5 nights' lodging, one road trip/moose tour, shuttles to the village, 1 load laundry, ATV ride to the summit of Prospect Mountain, and incidentals like a pair of boot insoles. Nothing but the lodging was expected.

Yes, insoles. I walked to Young's today, and for the first time in my 3 visits, they had a pair of padded insoles. I do mean a pair, just one, men's size. I snatched them up. When I got back to the Bungalow, I dropped into the swing on the lawn to catch my breath. Lainie got home from errands a few minutes later, and she spied me on the swing. “I have something for you!” she sang out, so I joined her at the house. From her shopping bag, she triumphantly produced a pair of insoles. I burst out laughing, and showed her the pair from my bag. She very sensibly compared them, and pronounced her pair lighter. She's right, and I accepted them with thanks.

A fine day, despite my stinging legs. I'm draping my damp laundry over my legs to cool the burn. Sunburn seems a fair price to pay for a day like this.