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At
last, we came to a sharp left turn in the trail that I knew meant we were
getting close. Passing a Forest Protection Zone sign that generally
precedes the area around a hut or designated campsite, we crossed over the
brook again. There we finally saw a sign that pointed back across the
river to mark the route of the Lincoln Brook Trail for hikers coming from
the other direction. Although I couldn’t see it, I expected to come
across the 13 Falls Tentsite at any minute. Soon the trail ended abruptly
in a clearing on a little peninsula between the two brooks that flow
together at 13 Falls. But where was the tentsite? Out loud, I once again
complained at the lack of trail signs. "Is there anything wrong with
putting up one darn sign to point the way?!" I was tired, and just
wanted to rest. It was getting dark, the air was gloomy with fog and light
rain, and I was running out of patience trying to stick to the right
trail.
Since
the brook on the left seemed wide with plenty of flat, relatively dry
ledges, I decided to give that direction a try. Crossing easily, we came
upon a path leading away from the stream. A few paces later we passed a
sign – WATER – which pointed the way to the brook as the water
source for the campsite. Turning left onto a large path, we finally saw a
sign that announced the 13 Falls Tentsite. We passed a clearing with a
large blue tarp, continued uphill past an outhouse, then spied the
caretaker’s large platformed wall tent. "Hello," I called.
The
caretaker, a college-age girl, emerged from the tent. I had apparently
woken her up, as she hadn’t been feeling well. She was also surprised to
see us because it was getting late, around 7:30, and the weather was bad,
so she figured that no one was coming that day. She explained about the
cooking area where the tarp was, and about bear-bagging, then went back in
her tent. Since the rain had stopped temporarily, Muffin and I went to set
up our tent before supper. The
tent platform, unlike most of the backwoods tentsites, was a leveled-off
dirt and gravel area rather than a wooden platform. I figured that this
was probably because the 13 Falls area was much flatter than most of the
other tentsites in the area. The gravelly soil didn’t hold the stakes
very well, so I put in lengths of parachute cord between the tent and fly,
and nearby trees or rocks.
My
sleeping bag, extra clothes, and the food were in pretty good condition,
but a lot of my other stuff, including my Goretex jacket, my hat, and the
pages of trail descriptions were soaked. I took the food bag and my
headlamp, and we headed back downhill to where the tarp was set up to eat.
I
decided to make a dehydrated enchilada mix for supper, which was easy
because all you had to do was add 16 oz of boiling water to the foil
package. While the water was boiling, I fed Muffin, who had been carrying
her own food and dish. While we were eating supper, which was too spicy
and not very good, the lightning, thunder, and rain returned. I was hoping
that it would stop before we were ready to go back to the tent, but it
only seemed to come down harder and harder. The “dining area” was
lined with rocks, which helped to keep out the rivers of rainwater that
were flowing around us, so we pretty much stayed dry underneath the tarp.
The lightning and thunder were quite a show, and I was glad we weren’t
up high on the ridge at the moment.
Finally,
after putting everything back into the food/bear bag, I couldn’t wait
any longer for the rain to let up. I told Muffin to stay under the tarp
while I went out and wrestled with the cables the
AMC had strung up to
hang bear bags from. A long wire line stretched between two trees
supported several cable/pulley setups with hooks from which to hang your
bear bag. After hoisting the bear bag up high, I hooked the other end of
the cable to an eyelet on a tree, which held the bag up in the air. It was
still pouring while I was doing all this, of course, and I got wetter and
wetter. I called to Muffin so we could head back to the tent, but she had
disappeared. It was totally dark by this time, and my headlamp barely
illuminated the area. Oh great! I thought. How will I ever find her? After
looking for a minute, I gave up and headed back to the tent, hoping to
find her there. But as I passed the caretaker’s tent, there was Muffin,
sitting on the platform by the tied flaps of her wall tent, whining to get
in out of the rain. I grabbed her and quickly dashed for our tent.
Finally,
we were in out of the rain, for the most part anyway, because Muffin made
her own rain shower inside the tent as she shook herself dry. I put a
small backpacking towel down on the floor of the tent for Muffin to lay
on, I put on dry stuff, and collapsed on top the sleeping bag. It had
been a long day. I was planning on reading as I mentioned earlier, but
it never happened. I was too tired, and it didn’t take long to fall asleep.
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