Snow, bridges out, flooded back roads, and more muck than our four wheel drive Frontier could maneuver through, kept us from truly remote camp sites. Lobster Lake, Blood, Roach and Trout Ponds were all inaccessible. By the end of Saturday, with the truck covered in mud and pleading for rest, we clattered into Spencer Bay campground – a wide open, gravely area with multiple fire rings and faint sounds of late summer parties. But we were all alone and it was home. Adam and I will tell the story of this trip and I think it will be worth reading.
I’ll begin with the ride home on Tuesday.

“Hey, Matt, would you like to take a trip like this one again? Maybe go back in the Fall?” I thought the answer would be a quick, yes.

“Wellllll, that depends. It depends on many factors.”

“Like what?” In my head, I scanned possible caveats : no thunderstorms, maybe one night’s sleep, not getting stuck in the snow … .

“Like, how about a trip where I don’t have to worry about my demise.”

The boys’ tent, far from ours, perched on the edge of the water with a panoramic view of Moosehead Lake and the mountains beyond. Idyllic setting to be sure, but …
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that was before Sunday night’s thunderstorm. Daryl and Robby survey the damage…no, that is not Matthew in the collapsed tent.

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