90 Miles In A MidSummer’s Nights Dream

by Chas Billingsley

Living in Lake Clear, New York, one hears tales of paddlers hardy enough – or foolish enough – to attempt the 90-mile paddle from Old Forge to Saranac Lake nonstop. Falling into the latter category, I thought it would be a great way to celebrate the summer solstice. I’d done the 90-Miler several times but never attempted it in one outing. When I pitched the idea to my partner, Diana, she enthusiatically agreed. In fact, Diana’s enthusiasm and stamina is what got us through the day.

We watched the weather during the week leading up to the solstice and determined it was favorable, so we loaded up our Jensen 18 and had a friend drive us to Old Forge. We checked into a popular hotel overlooking the startline at Old Forge and waved goodbye to our friend who returned to Saranac Lake with our vehicle, leaving us no choice but to paddle home.

Next morning the alarm rang at 3:30 a.m. Our boat was sharing the room with us. It was full of our gear, and already strapped to a wheeled cart. The morning was cool, the night sky clear, and the wind calm. As we rolled the boat to the launch area, a few curious deer followed us looking for handouts. We were on the water at 3:54, following the lighted channel markers out of Old Forge Pond heading for the first carry at Inlet. The bright starlight was soon supplemented by the first rays of the rising sun. By the time we reached Inlet, the sun was completely up and the temperature already climbing.

The Inlet carry was our first experience with a portage cart. Before the day was over I came to hate that cart, but at Inlet it rolled up the hill just fine. There was no traffic on the road and no backup at either end of the portage at that hour! Back on the water, we continued across 7^th and into 8^th lake. Wheeling the boat through 8^th Lake Campground, we spotted the campsite of fellow NYMCRA members Nancy and Rodger Dempster. I thought of rousting them from sleep, as the day was wasting, but Diana persuaded me they might not welcome a 7 a.m. wakeup call. Our portage cart rolled through the campground and we quickly reached the Brown’s Tract carry. The carry proved a challenge for our cart as the wheels repeatedly sank in the mud and the axle struck roots and rocks. We seemed to spend more time fussing with the cart than moving with it.

Brown’s Tract passed quickly. It seemed less of a challenge without other boats nearby to contend with. Raquette Lake was refreshingly calm but this was our first time following the old route up the lake into Outlet Bay. It’s a long way across Raquette to the carry to Forked Lake! We reached the carry by mid-morning and the day was becoming hot and humid. We stopped briefly for a peanut butter sandwich before entering Forked Lake. The approach to Forked Lake Campground was especially bony due to low water. We resupplied with water from the campground spigots, then walked and rolled down the road. The campground access road was freshly scraped and passing vehicles raised thick dust clouds. Due to the low water, we bypassed the short sections of river that are usually floatable and instead hiked down the road to the put-in below Buttermilk Falls. Below Buttermilk Falls the river is rumored to be canoeable but in that first ½ mile our Jensen sustained more scrapes and scratches than it had ever seen.

We paddled, poled, and pushed our way into Long Lake, heading for Long Lake village and a planned rest stop there. We’d hoped to be approaching Raquette Falls by 2 p.m., yet here we were just reaching Long Lake village at 1 p.m. After a quick stop at the beach, a water refill, and another peanut butter sandwich we started up Long Lake. The afternoon was glorious and the lake winds light. We found low water again on the Raquette and worked hard to reach the Raquette Falls carry at 3:30. I was tiring but as usual Diana showed no signs of fatigue. Gary Valentine, the summer caretaker at the falls, welcomed us to the carry and reminded me that I had bragged we would be there by 1 o’clock in the afternoon. Gary walked the carry with us and laughed at the curses I directed towards that darn portage cart. We retrieved the water and snacks that we’d stashed near the ranger cabin earlier in the week and said, “Goodbye” to Gary. Gary offered to call our friends and neighbors Brian and Grace McDonnell to report our progress. I tried to tell myself it was all downhill from here.

Diana and I paddle the Raquette frequently so the downstream leg from the falls to Stony Creek passed quickly despite the low water. Stony Creek, however, was where I broke down. The creek was so shallow, we struck bottom with every paddle stroke. I was hot, tired, cranky, and frustrated as we poled and pushed our way upstream on Stony Creek. I began to entertain the thought of quitting. I mean, this was supposed to be fun, right?

Finally we crossed the Stony Creek ponds and reached the Indian Carry. Cursing the portage cart entertained me enough to complete the carry as far as Route 3. As we started down the other side of the carry we found our friends, the McDonnells – Brian, Grace, Amelia, and Royal – waiting to cheer us on and resupply us. I was too tired to appreciate that they’d been waiting for us but seeing their van with a roof rack tempted me to call it quits right there. Diana chatted with them, but I didn’t have enough energy to join in. It is downhill to the water on this section of the carry, so I hung on to the canoe and let its momentum pull me down the road. I was quite ready to quit but the presence of my friends kept me going. We put on a good sprint as we paddled away from the Indian Carry but quickly slowed down once out of their sight. I was exhausted and feeling sick and leaned over the gunwale and vomited up a day’s worth of peanut butter sandwichs and gel packs.

Twilight was upon us as we reached the Bartlett Carry. Sadly, there was no bagpiper to march us over the hill. We crossed Middle Saranac as the sun set and the moon rose. The night sky was magical. The wind was dead calm but we seemed to be crawling along now. Diana’s stroke in the bow was still strong, but I was just dead weight in the stern. The Saranac River was suck water the entire way, but eventually we entered Lower Saranac Lake. I was having trouble following the lighted buoys. I could see the lights but was too tired to remember what the green and red lights meant. My goal now was to reach the state boat launch at Route 3 where I was determined to pull out. Diana was digging hard in the bow while I was nodding off in the stern. In my tired condition, I mistook the channel between Pope Island and Picnic Point for the turn into 2^nd Pond. We blithely turned right between a small island and channel marker. As we did so, I thought I heard someone calling us but assumed it was camper’s conversation on the nearby island. We continued into Pope Bay; all the while I was convinced it was the correct heading to the state boat launch. We narrowly missed colliding with a fishing boat – the fishermen were as surprised as we were. Soon after, we narrowly missed colliding with a huge rock that my fuzzy vision missed. I remained certain of my direction up to the moment we ran into the end of Pope Bay. I was ready to cry but there was no choice but to retrace our route. We turned around and missed both rock and fishing boat on the way out back to Lower Saranac. As we approached the channel marker where I’d led us astray we DID hear voices calling our names…it was our friends (and NYMCRA members) Jim Minnie and Sandy Waters who’d paddled out from Lake Flower looking for us. They’d received word via the phone tree that we were well behind schedule, so they came out to resupply and fetch us. They came alongside and handed us fresh water and cool juicy grapes. I declared I was going to quit at the RT 3 boat launch. “Oh no, you’re not,” they replied. “Get behind us and follow us in”.

I don’t remember much of the rest of the route. I don’t even know how much longer it took to reach Lake Flower but my watch read 11:59 when we stepped out of the boat. Brian McDonnell was waiting there faithfully, with hot tea and chicken sandwiches. We’d finished in 20:05. It felt good to get out of the boat! We’d finished because of Diana’s determination and the support of our friends.

I think it was a week later that the pain faded and we started talking about how much fun it had been….and Diana starting talking about doing it again. So, next June, if you see us on the water somewhere between Old Forge and Saranac Lake, say, “Hello.” I’ll be the guy dozing in the stern.