They're having a wet spring, I'm told and you won't find me arguing the point. The second day here in Maine, one of the Conservation Officers took us on a tour of the Bigelow Mountains. We headed down the road that would end at the Lodge, slowly but surely, admiring the torrential waters cresting as never before.
Locals tell me the water has not been this high, nor this ferocious.
Gradually we came to a complete stop and pondered the road ahead. I waited, wondering what was the problem, but when he got out to take a look, I knew it was serious. A few moments passed and I got out too, then retrieved my camera. I shielded it from the constant drizzle and took these photos. Both sides of the road were washed out, undercut along a culvert apparently too small for such flow. Steve told me the thaw allowed the water to force a passage beside the culvert.
He then stretched caution tape across the road, and posted a stick and flag. The stick was nearly 6 feet tall. By the next day, early Sunday morning, road crews already fixed it along with several other areas.
Above, my coworker discovered a message in a jar, in another jar, inside a plastic container, buried under a previous caretaker's impromptu Patio. We worked all four days in the rain, rebuilding scree walls, opening drainages, transferring compost and picking up litter. He used a poncho. I lived in my silnylon gram weenie rain suit.
My boot blew out the side seam on the first bush whack up the mountain. I used electrical tape, then duct tape, then tied it with cord. As you can see, the tread is good. The leather just gave way under the soak and pressure. New boots are in order.I learned that most bindings will eventually wear away, or pull off in the rain and constant hiking of mountain work. The elastic band I used from day one, which you can see at the farthest right toe edge, lastest all 4 days.
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