January Surprise
January 29, 2014
It’s been a busy month in Rangeley this January! The month started off cold and snowy with a beautiful sunny day for Maine Day Skiing at Saddleback. On the first Sunday of the month Saddleback has a “Maine day,” where all Maine residents can buy a ticket for just $29! What a deal! The glades didn’t open until later this month, but the snow was soft and easy to carve in.
Just last weekend was the annual Snodeo, which filled the woods, trails, and restaurants with snowmobilers. Every year they hold this weekend snowmobile event where people come for demo rides, raffles, competitions, parades, marshmallow roasting, a chili chowder cook-off, fireworks and a “blessing of the sleds!” It’s quite an event!
Despite the mid-January thaw the snow has been slowly and steadily accumulating. Each time I arrive at Red Quill there is a fresh layer of light fluffy snow to shovel off the steps and to play in.
The other day I walked out the back steps, my head down, hood pulled tight against the cold, heading to the woodshed to get more wood for the fire. My feet were silent in the fresh fallen snow, and I was lost in my own narrow world as I hurried to get wood and get back inside. A noise startled me and I snapped my head up, momentarily forgetting the cold, and stood staring into the face of a large healthy doe! She had been pawing the ground in the backyard for fallen bird seed. We both stood stock-still and shocked to see each other. Our eyes locked. Neither of us was sure what to do. Then I smiled at her and let out a slow breath. Her breath came out in a similar slow white puff of air. We stared, still amazed to see the other so close. And then I sneezed uncontrollably and she jumped, looked at me, and then trotted away into the woods. I chuckled as she disappeared and quietly reminded myself to look up next time I went to get wood.
~Leah
Plenty of Snow this December
December 31, 2013
It has been a very snowy and cold December in Rangeley this year! Last year in December there was only a touch of snow on the ground for most of the month but this year we have several feet of good settled snow around camp! It has been excellent for tracking animals around the camp, skiing, snowmobiling, ice skating and building snowmen.
Just after Christmas I pulled into camp in the dark, my headlight beams illuminating freshly plowed snow banks around the driveway. I shut the engine off and opened my car door to a rush of cold air. My feet squeaked on the dry snow as I stepped out of the car. It was clear and quiet and my breath puffed from my mouth in a cloud as I exhaled. Nothing stirred in the cold snowy night. On quiet nights like these the dry snow seems to amplify any little sound. I stood for a while taking in the night and enjoying the stillness. Suddenly a little vole ran between my feet and off into the woods! There has been a constant crisscross of animal tracks all around camp: snowshoe hare, voles, mice, deer, and fox are the most common.
It had snowed at least a foot since I had last shoveled the steps and I dug my way into the porch and built a fire in the woodstove. With a warm fire heating the house I pulled the blankets snug around my chin and drifted into sleep eager to play in all the new snow in the coming days.
~Leah
Thanksgiving Snow in Rangeley
November 25, 2013
With Thanksgiving around the corner Mother Nature is beginning to settle into winter mode. There has been plenty of snow this month to cover the ground but not quite enough to ski on. The pond has iced-over but might break under the weight of a skater. The temperatures dip well below freezing and then sometimes sporadically climb back up to 45°. Everyone and everything snaps and cracks with the new cold. I have had to adjust to putting on gloves before heading out because it is too frigid to dash to the car without them. Soon winter will settle into herself and we will settle into winter. Soon my fingers will get acclimated to the chill and the pond will freeze solid.
In the meantime as I wait for the pond ice to be thick enough for skating, and the snow to be deep enough for skiing, I tie flies by the fire and watch big fat snowflakes fall to the ground. I watch the chickadees flit to and from the snow-covered bird feeder and I walk through a newly quiet woods covered in white. I peer at the tracks of the animals who walk next to camp while I am not looking— their prints in the snow giving them away in the winter. I marvel that winter has come again and I am thankful for the heat of the wood stove when I come in from tracking and catching snowflakes.
I found Fisher tracks almost as big as dog prints! She had snuck from the bird feeder over to the camp and along the back wall. Meg and I portaged the canoe back to camp just as the snow started piling up. It was a slippery portage but we made it! We used golf bag carriers as wheels!!
~Leah
October Harvest
October 19, 2013
Checked green and red wool jackets pass through the woods, their colors & patterns as much a sign of fall as the leaves covering the ground. The ground is littered with oranges, browns and reds, and the occasional patch of green grass poking above the thick layer of leaves. Only a few leaves still cling to the branches. Between the skeletal trees I look for grouse. The woods behind Red Quill are an ideal habitat for grouse and woodcock and I have been flushing them all month.
The leaves rustle beneath my feet as I move slowly through the woods keeping my head up and my gun bent over the crook of my elbow. I think about the time as a kid that climbed my favorite tree behind our house, for no other reason than to be outside, and listened to my father move slowly down through the field to the edge of the woods. He stood beneath me unaware that I was there, scanning the field for deer. When he began to move on I whispered, “Hey Papa!” and he looked around laughing and joking that the hunter was being hunted. I thought about that now, wondering how many birds were watching me pass by.
Fall is harvest season— time to harvest the last of the veggies from the garden, game from the woods, and firewood from the trees. I stand and listen to the sounds of fall: the rhythmic chop of an ax splitting wood and the “thunk” of stacking it, the swooshing of a rake against leaves, the far off boom of a gun shot, and the dry tinkle of leaves hitting the ground as they fall. I head back to camp and wonder if it will be cold enough to start a fire in the wood stove tonight and if I will be lucky enough to eat a partridge.
~Leah
Fall in Rangeley
September 20, 2013
The leaves are changing colors, the fishing is good, and I know it is fleeting, so I try to store the sunshine in my skin and fish as much as I can. I sit on the porch of Red Quill and write this as a warm breeze blows over my bare arms. The breeze carries the remnants of the summer warmth and tells of the coming cold. At night I have to wear a sweatshirt and hat when I walk down to the pond or along the woods-path behind the camp, but right now I am soaking in the last warm rays.
The fishing has picked up again for the last few weeks of September and I can hardly stand to be without a fly rod in my hand. Recently as I stood along the Magalloway River at pump house pool I watched a friend pull out a good sized salmon from the water, it’s shiny silver sides catching the eye of a great blue heron upstream who was standing stalk still and undisturbed by us. Later my bike tires crunched over orange and red fallen leaves along the Rapid River as I searched for more fish. It’s fall in New England and it only lasts for a few weeks. I keep trying to imprint the smell and feeling of the air into my memory so that when November comes I will have something to hold onto to get me through to the powder days of winter.
Last weekend I resurrected the old wooden skis from the corner of my Grandparent’s box attic and dusted them off. Delicately carved into the wood above each of the binding are my relatives’ initials: my great grandmother, great uncle, grandfather, aunts and uncles. There is even a pair that my grandfather used in the 1930’s Olympic Ski Trials. As I wiped away the dirt the hand painted mark of the maker started to show through the years of wear. Carefully I put all the skis in the truck and drove them to Red Quill where they can be seen and enjoyed. I unloaded them on the porch and rested my fishing rod next to them—fishing and skiing tools illuminated in the fall sunshine —what a perfect image of being at camp.
~Leah
Summer in Rangeley
August 11, 2013
I slipped my canoe into the water and followed a great blue heron around the pond. I had finished my dinner and walked down the road from camp to the water. It had been unrelentlessly hot for two weeks, which in Maine feels like eternity, and it was the first evening that was cool enough that I could do anything other than sit on the porch. Quimby Pond glowed with the evening light, a few dark silhouettes of the mountains around me were mirrored in the water, and I pushed the canoe in with a few ripples that set the heron flying. He was a big heron who stayed just in front of me as I paddled. He must have been fishing for his dinner– it had been too hot for me to fish until recently. I went to Little Falls and caught three nice brook trout the other night. Their colors this time of year are getting darker and darker making it look like someone took a bright red paintbrush and painted their fins, then dipped the edge of each one in a can of starch white paint.
I did not see the heron catch a fish, perhaps because I was distracting him, but the loons were diving exuberantly after fish. Loons will eat about 600 pounds of fish each year. On Quimby Pond we have a nesting pair of loons and a floating nest box for them. Last summer they laid two eggs, but unfortunately neither of the eggs hatched. A Maine State biologist told me that the eggs most likely had a disease that didn’t allow them to fully develop and hatch. This particular pair of loons was banned over ten years ago so that the state could track and study them. They come back to Quimby Pond every summer; the male usually comes back first, a few weeks before the female, to reclaim the pond as their territory. It hasn’t been proven, but it is commonly thought that loons ‘sing the landscape’. They have four distinct calls, and the “yodel call” varies from region to region changing with the landscape. Perhaps my loons were singing about the mountains this evening, or maybe they were just enjoying the way certain pitches and tones echoed off the mountains.
I pulled my canoe back onto shore and walked along the path to camp in the dark. I stopped and picked a few blueberries in the front yard and the loons called. There was a very slight breeze that smelled of woods and water and summer. I tipped my head back and threw the rest of the blueberries into my mouth smiling at the joys of summer in Maine.
A few other updates from Red Quill Camp:
I built a new woodshed and a crew of my family members came up to see Red Quill for the first time!
~Leah
Fishing the Rangeley River
June 15, 2013
I love the Rangeley River because of its healthy hatches and remote feel. It seems to be a quieter spot compared to the Magalloway or the dams on Richardson. When we parked in the muddy area next to the gate and stepped into the squishy ground I knew the river was going to be high, but I was amazed by how high the water really was. We had to wade thigh-high on the trail where it is usually bare ground. Laughing at the absurdity I sloshed toward the spit of land beyond the river bend where the good pools are. I peered out of the trees to see if anyone was in my favorite spot, and to my delight only a flock of sparrows were swooping over the pool—a good sign that there was a hatch happening.
As I emerged from the water, onto the now tinny spit of dry land, I found myself in the midst of twenty or so little tree swallows with bright blue backs and clean white bellies. They were obviously eating a recent hatch or emergers being forced up by the flooding water. They flew next to the tip of my rod and I was afraid at times that they were going to eat my fly or get caught in my line as I cast. On my third cast I caught a beautiful brook trout! It’s bright red fins and shiny silver belly danced onto shore as I reeled it in. It was my first fish of the season! How auspicious that I caught it amidst the little blue tree swallows darting around my line. The camaraderie of fishing is fun, but the solidarity of that day, casting by ourselves with the birds feeding on the bugs around us was pure and beautiful.
A few weeks later I went back to the Rangeley River with my parents, (up for a weekend of fishing with Granny) and a fisherman caught a 16.5-inch salmon in that same spot! It was one of the first beautiful sunny summer weekends, and everyone was out enjoying the weather.
~Leah
Fishing in Rangeley, May
May 3, 2013
I pulled into Red Quill after dark. When I stepped out of the car I stretch my hands to the sky arching my back and almost immediately a great horned owl hooted, greeting me to camp. The stars were bright, but not piercing the way they are in winter, and the air was laced with the smell of melted snow and spring. Even though I was tired adrenaline coursed through my limbs and the Great Horned Owl kept me company as I assembled my fly rod on the porch before bed.
A little after 5 am, as soon as it was light, I walked to the Rangeley River with my rod in hand. I wasn’t sure if it would be crowded or not and wanted to get a good spot at my favorite pool. I discovered it was not crowded— in fact it was completely empty— perhaps because it was 33 degrees, or perhaps because the river was really still too high and swift for good fishing. My line bristled with ice crystals as I stripped it in, but I was happy to be on the river again watching the morning light creep around the bend and illuminate the mist rising off the dark riffles of the river. I cast, getting the kinks out of my arm. My body became still and I became part of the landscape, melting into the space between the river and the shore as my line looped back and forth in the air. Fishing isn’t just about catching fish. It is about being outside, being still, and being present for the magic of the mist rising off the water, sharing the river’s edge with a moose, and feeling your line loop through the air overhead.
By mid-morning the small ice-crystals on my line had melted and by mid-afternoon it was a balmy 70 degrees. For all you fishermen the Magalloway and the Rapid River are good right now and green caddis flies have brought me luck.
~Leah
Fishing Season
April 17, 2013
As I drove up route 16 to camp my eyes focused on the back of the truck in front of me. I had been following it for a while but I hadn’t actually looked at it. Fishing stickers were plastered to the back window. That’s when it hit me. Fishing season had begun. How had I forgotten? Perhaps because I still have my skis in my car and the snow in Rangeley is still thigh-high in the woods. Just when I realized I was following a fisherman, I also realized I was coming up to one of my favorite places to spring fish: the Magalloway River in Wilsons Mills.
I drove over the bridge and peered down the river at the pale evening light reflecting off the water. There were four fishermen chest high in the water and another one climbing over the snow bank to get into the freezing river. The truck in front of me put its blinker on and turned in. I cursed myself for not remembering it was spring and to put my rod in the car. But then again, it looked mighty cold in that water.
Instead of fishing, I hiked/waded through the snow behind Red Quill to Moose Pond and built a snowman. When I came back to camp I built a roaring fire in the woodstove and pulled out all my fly boxes and started organizing and getting ready for fishing season. With my flies spread out on the table before me I started thinking that the water might not be too cold for fishing…I dreamt of trout sucking down my flies. Even though the snow is still high, spring is in the air, and fishing season has begun. It’s time to keep the fly rod next to my skis in the car.
~Leah
The Sweet Spot
March 14, 2013
Things have started to warm up in Rangeley. It was perfect spring skiing this past weekend. The sun was shining and the temperatures were in the low 40’s, which felt heavenly compared to the -6 it was last month! The birds have started coming back too. I walked onto the sunny porch and stopped in its warmth, enjoying the sun streaming through the windows. It made me realize I haven’t felt warm on the porch in a while. It has been a place to put snowy boots and skis, grocery bags, and suitcases, before rushing in to stand by the wood stove. But this time I stopped and enjoyed the trapped heat and sunshine. It reminded me that summer is coming and days of leaning my fly rod against the porch after dusk to sit in the swinging chair to drink a beer and listen to the loons is not far off. It’s not quite time— there is still some great spring skiing to be had, but I am starting to dig through my closet for my waders and beef up my fly box for the spring hatch.
The bright red and orange sunset over the pond lured me out to the road and down to the frozen water. I headed through the snow to the pond and delighted in the quietness of the evening. Snowshoe Hare tracks crisscrossed with mine, and I inspected deer tracks that followed the edge of the pond. I followed a set of wandering fox tracks along the pond, and then leaned against a tree with my legs outstretched over the snow absorbing the quietness and melted into the landscape. I inhaled the smell of spring mixed with the lingering cold of winter. We are in the magical sweet spot of warm days, birds returning, and snow to play in. It doesn’t last long—just about the length of Sugaring Season, and it’s just as sweet.
~Leah
Saddleback Snow Report
February 15, 2013
We sang loudly and laughed as we drove the short distance from Red Quill to the lifts. It was a bluebird sky at Saddleback for our first day of skiing, and with skis slung over our shoulders we eagerly headed out of the parking lot to the slopes.
At the top of Casablanca Glades we peered into the woods, testing each other with our eyes. Who was going to drop in first? Was that really powder, or were there some stumps and rocks hiding under there waiting to scratch our skis? I took the plunge and turned hard, testing the snow. It was fantastic. No rocks, no ice, just powder. The five of us lapped the glades all day until my legs burned even when I was standing still. On the last run of the day I fell over in the snow above the glades, giddy at our good fortune and punchy from exhaustion. We lay at the top of the run and soaked in the warm sunshine and marveled at the snow conditions and the view.
On Day Two Michael’s van, “Homer,” chugged up the access hill to Saddleback Mountain through the cloudy morning. As we drove through the slippery snow, I was surprised to see that the flags at the Nordic Center were violently whipping around their tether. I pointed to them and the van fell silent. As we rolled into the parking lot I peered out the windshield and announced, “there are no lifts running.” Without hesitation everyone started digging through their bags for their skins. The mountain was on wind hold but it wasn’t going to stop us. My legs burned from our day of skiing yesterday, and I heard a few other groans as people got out of the van. But the powder was too good to pass up, and we were going to have it all to ourselves today.
A few men trudged into the parking lot from the lodge, carrying their skis and telling us, “Don’t even bother, the lifts aren’t going to run today…too windy.” We smiled, turned our music up, and told them we didn’t need lifts. We could ski uphill with skins, and nothing was going to stop us from shredding the powder in the glades.
The wind was blowing straight into our faces as we skinned up the trail. I had to stop a few times brace myself so I wouldn’t get knocked backward. When I turned to hide my face from the onslaught of wind I could see the others behind me doing the same. The gusts scoured the open trails and swirled snow around us like a twister. Through the slits in my eyes I could see the untouched powder sheltered by the trees and continued up.
As soon as we were able to duck into the woods I felt the relief of their shelter. I was able to get a grip in the snow and not be blow backward. I could think about things other than moving forward and people became more talkative. The snow inside the trees was soft and easy to move through. We started laughing and playing in its softness and the shelter of the trees. My legs tingled with anticipation as I pulled my skins off and put my helmet on. We had the woods to ourselves with fresh new snow! I dropped a knee to tele-turn and felt my edges arc effortlessly through the snow like a butter knife in soft butter. I turned, threading the needle though tight trees, whooping and hollering to my friends, who were spread through the woods around me, puffs of powder flying from their skis with each turn.
~Leah
Winter Weather Snow Dance
January 17, 2013
Despite the January thaw Rangeley still has plenty of snow. As I drove up Route 16 North through the fog, which was sucking all our snow away in the White Mountains, I wondered if I was going to arrive at camp and see muddy bare ground. I rolled the window down and felt the heavy warm air on my face. I blinked a few times at the dark pines whose bows were being released from the weight and pressure of ice and snow as it melted away. At some point on route 26, between Errol and Richardson Lake, my skin prickled and I had to close my window. A chill had crept back into the air. I sat up a little straighter and squinted my eyes at the dark road. I thought I saw a little frost on the pavement– and dancing along the edge of my headlight’s reach there were definitely trees whose bows were still loaded with snow and touching the ground! My heart quickened a little. Maybe there was still snow in Rangeley…maybe there was enough to ski and play in…
I turned onto Quimby Pond Road between big snow banks, and started grinning uncontrollably. To an outsider, I might have looked like a crazy old bat wildly grinning alone in my car on a dark and snowy night. But a kindred spirit who also loves the snow would have known and understood. Rangeley still has plenty of snow and it’s not going anywhere fast. That is something to celebrate. So to all my kindred spirits: our snow-dances are working.
~Leah
Snow, Snow,Snow!
December 30, 2012
It was a beautiful snowy Christmas in Rangeley. The storm hit the day after Christmas, and we were shoveling ourselves out of the camp! We got over a foot of new snow! It snowed all Thursday and was fabulous skiing at Saddleback Mountain on Friday. Saddleback was on wind hold for the duration of the storm, but it didn’t stop my parents from Nordic skiing behind the camp on the trails. They skied through the storm and falling snow out behind the camp to the snowmobile trails, where there was not a single snowmobile yet. The laid the first tracks in the powder and explored up to Ephraim Ridge, which took about four hours round trip. At the east end of Nutting Pond they followed some snowshoe tracks to the top of the ridge and had a great run down. I kept the fire going at camp and watched the snow and wind howl while drinking my tea.
On Friday, when the wind had died down and the snow had slowed, there were plenty of fresh turns to be had in Casablanca Glades at Saddleback Mountain! They opened the glades for the first time this year and I was one of the first to bust past the dropped rope and break trail out to the glades. It was fabulous conditions. Ducking between the snow-laden branches and into the glades I dropped a knee into the light powder and cut through uncharted freshies spraying snow behind me. Even by the end of the day, when my legs were burning and I could hardly stand it, there were still soft puffs of powder to blow through. I was amazed that the snow held out all day and didn’t get skied off. It was a great start to the season!
The settled snow around the camp measured 24 inches on Friday and we’ve been getting more all weekend! The drifts are already coming up to the windows—always a good sign for the coming winter. Fortunately I had come up a few weeks prior and burned the old scrap wood piled by the fire pit, so the fire pit was clean and ready to be buried in snow.
As I sit busily writing this blog my mother is replacing the last of the old shag carpeting on the stars and my dad is putting in a new vanity light in the bathroom. It’s always fun to tinker at things and have a project for camp, and it has been very nice to have their help.
Well, the snow is piling up and we must be off to play in it….
~Leah
Snowy Holiday In Rangeley
November 26, 2012
The snow has begun to fall in Rangeley, and in preparation we cut a short trail from behind the camp, through the woods, to the snowmobile trail. Now we can hop on a snowmobile from the door of camp and drive directly to the extensive trail system. It’s also a great snowshoeing and skiing trail to get to Moose Pond and the Round Top Mountain Trail. Quimby Pond is not frozen enough to ice skate on yet, but Moose Pond just behind the camp is!
Everything looks white and clean now. The snow makes the bare trees look decorated and festive again. It also means I can track the animals around the camp.The birds are abundant! The white-throated sparrows love a mineral in the driveway and have been congregating there to feed all fall. They’ve just begun to leave the driveway now with the cold weather. The deer prints run crisscross all over the backwoods, and I have seen coyote prints and rabbit prints as well.
The mountains don’t have enough snow to ski or sled on yet, but the Thanksgiving holiday still felt like winter with a dusting of snow on Saturday. The wood stove was cranking, and the camp was cozy. Eleven of us fit around a long table on the porch and had dinner in the late afternoon sun with the wood stove crackling and keeping us warm.
~Leah
Fall Hunting In Rangeley
October 17, 2012
The leaves have turned brilliant orange, red and yellow, and most of them have fallen to the ground; the air is crisp and cool and smells of apples and distant snow; it is the perfect weather for hiking in the woods, and many hunters are doing just that. Moose hunting in Maine has just ended, and bird season is open for a few more weeks. A friend came up for a week to bird hunt and he harvested his limit of grouse and woodcock each day. He said the best hunting is right behind Red Quill! The bird cover is perfect because it was logged years back and is now at the stage where it is the perfect bird habitat. Come rent it for the week and see for yourself!
Deer season is also just around the corner. I spooked two big doe as I was raking leaves out of the yard last weekend! I was hauling the wheelbarrow into the woods and as I dumped the load of leaves into my compost pile they bound away, only a few yards away from me. I can hardly keep them from eating all the buds off the young trees. Book your stay for hunting season now!
~Leah
Renovating Red Quill Camp
June 24, 2012
I had a big work party at Red Quill Camp this past weekend to get the camp ready to rent. We were very busy all weekend and for part of the week, scraping paint, and replacing trim, and then re-painting the exterior, as well as reroofing the porch. The sun was shining the whole time, as one group scraped and painted the outside, replaced some of the siding and trim, another group re-roofed over the porch, and a third group reconstructed the porch. The Quill is looking sharp now, and just about ready to be rented out!
~Leah
