mirabela
Active member
So, Isidora and I got our answer about that Cedar Brook crossing: deep, fast, and cold, especially after Friday night's showers. We hiked in to Franconia East, lunched by the river (pretty cool seeing the two-foot haystacks boiling over the summer crossing stepping stones!) and then went on to Cedar Brook. Our plan was that if we found ourselves able to cross, we'd go on to the environs of the bouncy bridge to make a hidden low-impact camp, then come out the next day on the other side of the river.
It was not to be. I've been a trout fisherman for thirty years and I've done some sketchy fords as a backpacker before; with another adult or two I might have attempted this one myself, but there was no way I was taking my almost-six-year-old in there. It would have been well above her waist, and with the cobble bottom and current it would not have been safe to try carrying her, either. We scouted up and down a ways and found no better options. So -- back to Franconia East we went for the night, and we had a nice stay. We had a five-chapter Laura Ingalls Wilder marathon after the sun went down, then slept soundly until morning. Our bear hang went unmolested: score one for us.
In the morning the river level was well down; the stepping stones were above the water on the east side, although still submerged closer to the right bank. Cedar Brook might have responded the same, but who knows. We packed up to head out ... Isidora was a little bummed not to get to try a river crossing, but we had an idea: what about Pine Island? The brook was impassably big on Saturday, but on Sunday we found it down more than a foot, very do-able looking, so we decided we'd use that trail and its two crossings as our way home. Off with the boots, on with the crocs ... packs unbuckled, hands held, poles in the free hands, we stepped out into the current -- and as we got into the first real channel, Isidora learned what a difference it makes when the rushing calf-deep water is ice cold, and decided retreat was in order. Back to the bank we went. She was still not happy to call it quits, though. We agreed we'd try it once more, and we'd either make it, or say we'd gotten the message and hang up the phone. So -- back into the water. Again, but with less fright this time, she decided she'd bitten off too much, so we got out, dried off, got back to the east side trail, and had a pleasant stroll back to Lincoln Woods, playing who-can-find-more-trilliums as we went. She won.
So ... it was a fun trip, and by every measure a success. It was also her first time carrying a full frame pack with all her own stuff -- a little Kelty mini-Tioga, 11 pounds loaded with sleeping bag, thermarest, clothing, water, and personals -- and she did just fine. I took mostly video this time, not many stills, so I probably won't have much visual support to add to this posting. So it goes.
It was not to be. I've been a trout fisherman for thirty years and I've done some sketchy fords as a backpacker before; with another adult or two I might have attempted this one myself, but there was no way I was taking my almost-six-year-old in there. It would have been well above her waist, and with the cobble bottom and current it would not have been safe to try carrying her, either. We scouted up and down a ways and found no better options. So -- back to Franconia East we went for the night, and we had a nice stay. We had a five-chapter Laura Ingalls Wilder marathon after the sun went down, then slept soundly until morning. Our bear hang went unmolested: score one for us.
In the morning the river level was well down; the stepping stones were above the water on the east side, although still submerged closer to the right bank. Cedar Brook might have responded the same, but who knows. We packed up to head out ... Isidora was a little bummed not to get to try a river crossing, but we had an idea: what about Pine Island? The brook was impassably big on Saturday, but on Sunday we found it down more than a foot, very do-able looking, so we decided we'd use that trail and its two crossings as our way home. Off with the boots, on with the crocs ... packs unbuckled, hands held, poles in the free hands, we stepped out into the current -- and as we got into the first real channel, Isidora learned what a difference it makes when the rushing calf-deep water is ice cold, and decided retreat was in order. Back to the bank we went. She was still not happy to call it quits, though. We agreed we'd try it once more, and we'd either make it, or say we'd gotten the message and hang up the phone. So -- back into the water. Again, but with less fright this time, she decided she'd bitten off too much, so we got out, dried off, got back to the east side trail, and had a pleasant stroll back to Lincoln Woods, playing who-can-find-more-trilliums as we went. She won.
So ... it was a fun trip, and by every measure a success. It was also her first time carrying a full frame pack with all her own stuff -- a little Kelty mini-Tioga, 11 pounds loaded with sleeping bag, thermarest, clothing, water, and personals -- and she did just fine. I took mostly video this time, not many stills, so I probably won't have much visual support to add to this posting. So it goes.
