It used to be an annual routine. On the third week in May, the Upside Down Canoe Club would invade the mighty Allagash armed with coolers of beer and very little knowledge. We bounced off every rock in the St. John and Allagash Rivers and somehow came home in one piece. When we graduated from paper bags to slick dry bags for our food and gear, we thought we were Lewis and Clark.
As we got older and frailer, the idea of sleeping on the ground for four or five days lost its luster. It ended for me when daughter Bridget provided a swanky RV in place of a tent for my annual Father’s Day visit. A kitchen! A toilet! A bed!
Now it appears that the UDCC will be returning to the mighty Allagash at least for a night or two. We lost charter member Walter G. to cancer last year. In memory of his many contributions to the club, we decided to take his ashes along for one last canoe ride. Like Gus in “Lonesome Dove,” we have no choice but to make the trip for our great and good friend.
Walter was always an integral part of those trips. He would always call in the second week of May from his Belfast outpost and say, “The black flies are out. I’m not going!” Each year we would remind Walter that the Allagash has a totally different weather pattern, more like Montreal than Belfast. Walter had cause for concern. He was deeply loved by insects. He always said that but I never believed him until we stopped in Baxter State Park on the way back from a trip. True, the black flies attacked us all. But if you looked at Walter, he had 50 times as many bites as the rest of us.
My God, how he loved to complain. Jefferson Phil would put together an amazing menu for the trip, at the cost of $25-$35 per member. That was less than I would spend at home for groceries. It was always too much for Walter. “I’m not paying,” he always said before he finally ponied up. He complained about the half and half that I needed to survive those Allagash mornings. He complained about the fabulous “Fiddle Faddle” that we always brought along for those campfire events. “I ain’t no kid,” Walter would complain. Then he would eat half the package.
But we needed Walter for those trips. I would provide the stove and gear. Jefferson Phil would turn out some amazing meals in the woods. I believe one meal featured fresh avocado. Phil claimed it was an Allagash first. But Walter was a member of a large Irish family and used to doing the dishes. He pioneered the concept of garbage-free sinks at Cobb Manor.
On the river he fetched water, boiled it, and then cleaned every pot and pan on the trip.
The amazing thing is that he never complained about that part of the trip.
The part I remember is when Jefferson Phil caught what appeared to be an orca but ended up to be a muskie, almost as big as his canoe. The muskie was actually pulling Phil down the St. John, away from the campsite. Phil screamed (like a little girl), “Walter, I need you!” Walter came out in the second canoe with a tiny fish net to land that fish. Like the chief in “Jaws” Phil said, “You’re gonna need a bigger net.” The muskie grew bored with the activity, snapped the line and swam away.
Walter was a former paratrooper and avid fisherman and knew a lot more about the woods than most of us, especially me. He was handy with a knife, an ax, a fishing rod or a canoe paddle. He was best at starting the campfire.
Now we must make a final trip to the Allagash to say goodbye to our beloved friend. We will have Jameson toasts to him around the campfire on our very last trip with Walter.
Who is going to do the dishes?
Emmet Meara lives in Camden in blissful retirement after working as a reporter for the BDN in Rockland for 30 years.