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Rhon Bell

Rhon Bell, an outdoor enthusiast, spends his time exploring the Maine Woods and documenting his journeys. Growing up in Aroostook County, he embraced the outdoor lifestyle at a young age. Living today near Portland, he spends weekends and week-long adventures hiking New England summits, canoeing the historic Maine waterways, and ice fishing for lake trout. Follow the journey as Window to the Woods discovers new destinations, and check out his other blog, Backwoods Plaid.

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Window to the Woods with Rhon Bell
Posted: September 17, 2013

Canoe Trip Part #1/3 | Maine Camping | Chesuncook Lake

The morning finally arrives in which I leave to meet my cousin, Kendall, in mid-Maine for our latest adventure. A multi-day canoe trip like this involves weeks of planning and we intend to fully enjoy every moment. Plans consist of exploring Maine’s second largest lake with an 18ft. canoe that Kendall crafted by hand. At its greatest lengths, Chesuncook Lake is 22 miles long and 4 miles wide. On it’s shores we’ll find restful sleep in our hammocks and hopefully catch our dinner on a fly line.

Two chairs, at the last public camp site we cross, overlook a section of lake near our launch site. This will be where I retire and spend my evenings.

We set out upon blue waters with a matching sky. Wisps of clouds slowly transform as the wind brushes lightly against the sides of our canoe.

We crank up the old Johnson boat motor to cross the widest section of lake. An hour later we are casting our fly lines into the water as we approach our first campsite.

Rolling up the sleeves of my flannel to soak in limited fall sunshine.

As we locate our beach campsite, we toss up our hammocks before the sun sets and begin cooking dinner.

Tonight’s low temperatures will nearly touch 40 degrees Fahrenheit. We rig tarps above our hammocks to keep the evening dew and  possible frost off ourselves.
My fall sleep setup includes a down bag that is rated into the lower temps and a favorite hammock.
Peeling off my boots, I throw on my Sanuk sandals. I toss my feet up to rest my bad back after an afternoon of paddling.
A wool shirt and my hammock, combined with the splashing waves and a pure Maine sunset, are the cure for too much city. I need a solid amount of country running through my blood and this is exactly the evening to reinvigorate myself. The quiet country is precisely the place to clear your mind and collect your thoughts.
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