Wednesday was “my” day, and one of the more high-stakes days, since it was a high-risk/high-reward kind of day. We started off driving Route 4 through Farmington up to Rangeley. It was a pleasant drive, but not unusually breathtaking, which I was disappointed in, since Rangeley is beautiful. The Rangeley Lakes region has the rather large Rangeley Lake as well as lots of other smaller lakes and ponds, and it is in the heart of the western Maine mountains, so it is very pretty.
We got to Rangeley and walked down to the public landing and park area and enjoyed the view. But we were hungry, so we did not stay too long, but walked the very small downtown, and decided on eating a late breakfast at Mooseley Bagels. We got a table on the back porch overlooking the lake, which is a rather nice way to have breakfast.
I had a 1:00 appointment, but we had some time after breakfast, so we got back in the car and headed back out of town. I had seen two intriguing signs on the way in – one was for a state park, and another was a small sign pointing to the Cascade Gorge Trail. I was not sure which one to go see, but in the end the gorge won out. The parking lot was a small lot at the top of a very steep and rutted gravel road, so I was not sure how this would turn out. The lot was mostly full with four or five cars, but we found room to park. There was a three-generation family there, filming baby’s second “hike,” so I figured the trail could not be too hard.
It was moderate – the trail was obvious, and in many places not too challenging, but there were a few steep areas that were made more challenging by roots and rocks. Boy, did the trail feel like the middle of nowhere – I would really hate to get lost in the woods. The short walk was well worth it – the stream was great, the gorge was impressive, and the falls into the gorge were beautiful. We stayed for some time at the falls, and although the trail kept going on to somewhere, we had to go back to Rangeley to catch a plane.
My high-risk/high-reward event was a seaplane ride. There is a man who runs scenic flights from his seaplanes based off of Rangeley Lake. It is not cheap to do, so I was a little worried that the flight might not be worth it, but I had never been on a seaplane, it was in a beautiful area, and it was a tour for just me and Mer, so I thought it would be worth it. It certainly was.
We got to the dock just in time to see the plane take off. Keith, the owner, has fifty-dollar tours that go up, circle the lake, and come back in fifteen minutes. I figured that is what we were seeing, and I was correct. Fifteen minutes later the plane landed on the lake, and taxied up to the dock. Two little girls, a mother, and a grandfather got out of the plane. While I was talking with Keith, Mer overheard the mom ask, “Who liked the seaplane ride?” and heard the girls reply excitedly, “I did! I did!” It seemed a good start.
The plane was a five-seater, although the last seat was definitely in the way-back. Mer got in the front seat with Keith, and I sat behind Mer. We all put on headsets so we could talk and hear because the engine noise was fairly loud (the plane was a single-engine plane, so we sat right behind the propeller). We taxied out into the lake and took off. Mer and I were both surprised by how smooth the takeoffs and landings were – we expected them to be choppier, but they were very smooth.
Throughout the flight, we had a good chance to chat with Keith, who is a great guy (and fairly handsome, for any single twenty-somethings out there). He was born in Maine, in Leeds, which is only a few miles from my Dad’s house. He went to school in Florida and majored in aviation with a minor in meteorology. He is certified in several kinds of small planes and helicopters. When I asked him what he best liked to fly, Keith said he was fond of the plane we were in – he said it was fast, fuel-efficient, and reliable. The plane looked as if it would top out around 150 mph, and we cruised most of the time at about 120 mph. Keith said it had a range of about eight hundred miles, if I remember correctly. It sure made the Ohio-Maine connection look a lot more attractive when Keith said he flew to Ohio State in one long afternoon.
The flight did not disappoint at all. The scenery was amazing. I do not know how high up we got, but it was high enough to see everything – forests, lakes, ponds, mountains – it was everything I could have hoped for. We flew north for about thirty-five or forty minutes, passing Saddleback ski resort and flying over the Dead River lake and river for much of the way. The lack of civilization was sobering – there were very few roads and houses, and no towns to speak of – just trees and more trees, and although you certainly could see evidence of past logging in the area, it seemed to have been carefully done, and the forest was coming back strongly in those areas. We had pretty good weather, with just a few isolated rain clouds that we usually flew around (we flew through one small one).
After about thirty-five minutes, we came around to bear on a small lake called Enchanted Pond. It had only two camps on the whole lake – a hunting camp on one end, accessible only by logging road, and a small camp on the other end, accessible only by boat. There were mountains with exposed bedrock on either side of the lake, and we lined up and landed smoothly. Keith took us over to a shore covered in large rocks, and he tied up and let us out. Mer and I wandered around in some awe of the place – it felt really remote. Mer was not wearing great shoes for scrambling up what was basically a loose rock pile, but I felt the need to get up there and see. The trip was not too difficult, but involved a lot of heavy breathing. I had hoped that getting to the top of the pile would give me a grand view of the mountain above me, and it kind of did, but it more or less just kept going up after a slight leveling off. The view did give me great views of the mountain on the other side of the lake and of the lake itself and of the shore where the plane was tied up. I took some pictures and scrambled back down to join Meredith. We wandered around a bit more, and Keith was good enough to take our picture. We climbed back in the plane, and after an extended fast taxi to get us more room, we turned around and took off and headed back south toward Rangeley.
Keith took us back a slightly different way, more to the west. He had been trying to help us spot a moose, and after a few minutes, he found one drinking and eating in a small pond. The moose looked up as we flew by, so we got a good look. Keith spotted another that Mer and I missed, but we had one more sighting of another one eating in a shallow pond.
We landed back on Rangeley Lake and tied up. The entire flight lasted about one hour and fifteen minutes, and it was absolutely worth it. What a great time.
That was the major event for the day, so we headed back to the car. I had read that Route 17 was a scenic drive, so we went the slightly longer way around the lake and drove back on Route 17. We stopped at the Height of Land pull-off to look back at the lake, but we could only stay a few minutes, as it began to rain. We drove out of the rain as we headed southeast, and it was a very pretty drive. The road soon started following a shallow, rocky stream that kept catching my eye, and so I finally decided to pull off at a paved area. What a lucky find.
What I had stumbled across was Coos Canyon. It is an amazing place where the small stream gets hemmed in more and has carved out a channel though some very impressive rock. There are a lot of waterfalls, and the area is fairly accessible, so we were able to get down to the water in several areas. Coos Canyon is supposed to be the first place where gold was panned, and you can still pan for gold if you like. I think we saw one person doing that, but most of the dozen people we saw were enjoying the scenery or playing in the water. We joined them by dangling our feet in the very cold water, and we had a great time watching the waterfalls. What a lucky find Coos Canyon was.
We followed Route 17 back to Livermore Falls, and I stopped at the grocery store in town and picked up a few whoopie pies. These were great whoopie pies – huge, thick, and sweet. We were both big fans. But that was not the only treat we had – when we got back home, Dad made us fried bread dough, which is exactly what it sounds like. You take bread dough and fry it, kind of like what you can get at fairs. Dad’s are really really good. I eat mine with just butter – Mer added powdered sugar to hers. I’m sure fried dough is bad for you, but we only get to eat it every year or two, so what a great meal.
High-risk, high-reward, and high fat content. A pretty good day.