When I hit the first set of rapids, I considered I might be off course.

When I hit the second set I almost capsized and I realized I was in pretty big trouble.

And as the river pulled my canoe toward the third set of rapids, I considered that I might not survive.

Spoiler alert… I survived.

I woke up that morning at 4:00am. I was four weeks and 470 miles into a 740-mile wilderness canoe adventure through New York, Vermont, Quebec, New Hampshire and Maine. It was about this time last year.

I had camped overnight on a small island on the Dead River in the North Maine Woods and staged my gear and food in advance because I needed to get an early start. This was the day I would have to track my canoe up the dreaded Spencer Stream and it would likely take all day.

Spencer Stream is a seven-mile section of river running through a beautiful and remote wilderness valley that requires walking the entire way upstream on slippery rocks while pulling the canoe over and through numerous rapids and ledges. There is no portage option, and the only way out is to make it all the way to the end at Spencer Lake.

The first order of the day would be a one-mile portage that included a close up view from the top of the spectacular Grand Falls, the largest waterfall on the trail.

When I arrived at the put in, I launched my canoe back into the Dead River and paddled upstream to get a photo of the falls from below. This is when I got myself into trouble. I missed the turn for Spencer Stream and headed straight toward the longest section of class 3, 4 and 5 rapids in the northeast. Before the third set I managed to steer my canoe to safety in an eddy near the shore where I considered my options.

Bushwhacking thru the dense forest was not possible so my only alternative was to pull my boat back up through the rapids I had just run and it wouldn’t be easy. I was safe in the eddy but definitely in a predicament. I used the walking stick I had cut and carved from a fallen tree the night before and struggled as I tracked my boat up close to the shore and through the rapids grabbing overhanging tree branches along the way for leverage and support. I finally arrived at Spencer Stream at 10:00am. A late start.

After two hours of tracking up Spencer Stream I checked my GPS and was disappointed I had only travelled 1.5 miles. My micro spikes had been lost to the river soon after I began and I switched from my neoprene socks and water shoes to a pair of lightweight trail shoes hoping they would better protect my feet. I considered for the first time that I might not reach the end before it got dark and I would have to stealth camp in the forest.

My progress continued to be very slow. At 4:00 I was a little more than half-way there when I came upon a moose and her calf on the other side of a narrow section of the river. The mama grunted loudly and charged at me, so I backed up and she returned to her calf. I waited a few minutes while she intensely stared me down. I thought that perhaps I could sneak by if I turned sidewise and looked the other way as I casually strolled by but she was having none of that. She grunted and charged again so I backed off and she returned to her calf. I tried a third time with the same result and she stared at me while her calf ate lilies and drank from the river. This was their home and I was a visitor so I backed off a little more out of respect and accepted that I had no choice but to wait. It was a half hour before they walked off together into the forest and I proceeded on my way. More lost time.

Shortly after that, thunderclaps exploded above me and strong winds began whipping through the valley as the skies darkened and a storm rolled in. A debate ensued between smart Bob who wanted to get off the river and dumb Bob who wanted to continue. Smart Bob prevailed and I unloaded my gear on the shore, pulled up my boat and found two trees where I could hang my 12x12 tarp in the forest. I got all my gear under the cover just before the rain started. I changed into dry clothes and set up my tent under the tarp where I spent the night.

The next morning was cold and overcast as I broke camp, put on my wet clothes from the day before and re-entered the river. It was another five hours before I reached the end. I was glad Spencer Stream was behind me.

I reflect on this day often with some trepidation about what might have happened had I proceeded farther down the Dead River. And I think of that mama moose protecting her calf with such determination and recognize that it was a great privilege to meet them. We are all shaped by our experiences and I will always be grateful for this one.