It took me three attempts in a five year period to finally reach this beautiful place, one of Maine’s most remote waters, Allagash Lake.  The lake is accessible only via a long hike in from Johnson Pond, or by canoe, and there are no internal combustion engines allowed on the lake.  To access the lake by canoe is more involved than it may sound. One way is to paddle all of Chamberlain Lake (an Allagash River headwater), a distance of about 16 miles, and then pole 6 miles UP Allagash Stream to the eastern end of Allagash Lake.   It is also possible to drive to a put in on Allagash Stream and paddle downstream to the western end of the lake.  Both methods involve their own set of hardships.  Another way I have read about to get in is via a carry trail coming in to the south end of the lake, which I never attempted to find, nor have I found any accounts of anyone that has actually entered the lake this way.  Allagash Lake covers 4,360 acres and spans 3 and a half miles, averaging 35 feet deep, it’s deepest being 89 feet.  It is renowned for it’s brook trout fishing. My first attempt to visit this lake was during a trip down the Allagash River.  In the deadwater that signifies the transition from lake to stream at the northwestern end of Chamberlain Lake, we glided by the derelict Umbazookus railroad trestle, with it’s twisted rails decending into the tannin colored water.  The canoe was laden with a weeks worth of provisions for the river, and the stream was swollen with three inches of thunderstorm rain from two nights previous.  The situation quickly became unmanageable and went from bad to worse.  I paddled and then fashioned a makeshift pole, and then hopped in the chest deep stream and pulled the canoe upstream before discretion became the better part of valor and I turned around.  Resting as the current took  it’s hold on us I noticed the beauty of the fir and spruce covered banks of this narrow stream, and the peaceful feeling of how remote this was.  I instantly vowed a return trip, and to make it a destination instead of a side trip.  After poring over maps, a year or so later I attempted the trip again, this time driving to the put in on Allagash Stream with the hope of  paddling down to the lake and returning back upstream, a distance of about three miles.  Due to the numerous logging roads a current and updated map is essential.  DeLorme map publishes  the Maine Atlas and Gazateer, which is a must have for this region.  Logging roads change constantly so use other landmarks such as streams when using a map to get to the put in on Allagash Stream.   Driving in this way had it’s own set of hardships, and I was very happy that I was in a 4 wheel drive vehicle.  There were numerous brook crossings and a beaver dam with a washed out culvert that had to be crossed as well.  I made it to the put in, there appeared to be enough water to float the canoe, and no shortage of black flies.  With the canoe packed, we headed downstream only to bottom out around the first bend.  We were able to walk the canoe for a while and ever the optimist I reassured myself by thinking surely around the next bend there will be enough water for us to float, but eventually were forced to turn back.  The return trip came in June of 2002, this time with my father who was a large part of my interest in canoeing and a fitting companion for a finally successful trip.  My main goal at the lake was the ice caves, which lie on the southwestern shore and take their name from the ice found in them year round. We arrived at the put in and loaded the canoe.  Our first trial was the clouds of black flies.  At one point I stuck my head in the truck to get my water shoes, and several minutes after closing the door the sun’s heat killed the black flies that had come in with me, which turned the dashboard black with their remains.   In all the years I have spent canoeing in Maine, I truthfully have never seen the black flies as bad as they were then, and I would have given my paycheck for a bug net.  The first bend, where I had bottomed out before floated us just fine.  I smelled success for a moment before the stream captured my full attention as we twisted and turned the canoe around the rocks and occasional spruce branch strainer.   On the way we noticed where turtles had crawled up onto a sandbar and deposited eggs.  The stream began with good current and as we neared the lake it got deeper and slowed down considerably.  We watched a huge trout zip under the canoe, headed upstream.  Rounding a bend the lake came into view – I had finally made it!  The first campsite was just past where the lake begins, and we waved to it’s occupants as we went by.  Maine fishing is legendary and Allagash Lake is renowned for it’s fishery.  I believe this lake is as good as it gets as far as the way “fishing used to be”.  The lake surface that day was smooth as glass which, as any person who has canoed a large Maine lake before would agree, is not the normal state of affairs.  So, without further ado, we hopped back in to the canoe after setting up camp for a little trolling.  Trolling by paddle is one of the best fishing techniques there is, because every stroke of the paddle varies the lure speed, and gives it a more natural appearance.  We fished for several minutes before my rod bent over, and the line began singing off the reel.  There we were on a lake that looked like a mirror, in the remote Maine wilderness, with a big fish on. For a moment I forgot the bugs in the excitement.  Several minutes later I landed a nice 17 inch brook trout.  We caught and landed several more fish in the 18 inch range before hunger brought us in off the water.  After an enjoyable dinner and evening, we went to bed amidst the chorus of loons. Early the next morning we had a quick breakfast and hit the lake again in search of brookies.  Someone was looking over us this trip, as my paddle made the only ripples across the surface for another day.  We explored the lake which is extremely beautiful and rugged.  After lunch, we went to the ice cave which had an easily visible path to it.  We made it in as far as I dared to go, which was a point where you would have to ease through a little crevice in the rocks, almost cervix like in appearance.  Upon getting back to camp I saw a timber-jack, a/k/a a canda jay.  Legend has it that these birds are deceased loggers that have come back to life and that it is good luck to feed them.  They are by nature very tame, and as I hadn’t seen one in many years, I fed it some crackers. There was a baby nearby in a tree, and it got some crackers as well, brought to it by it’s mother.  On the day we left, as we packed and took pictures of the sunrise, a bald eagle sat in a tree and watched us.  The trip upstream was much easier than I had anticipated, only taking us a couple of hours.  This trip was extremely rewarding, and the possibilities surrounding it, and other trips in the region are seemingly endless, all of it in fascinating country, both in history and scenery.

A great satellite image of Allagash Lake can be found  here.

Note: this is a portion of  a story I felt lucky to get published in the now defunct Paddle and Portage magazine Summer 2003.  I wish it was still in print, it was a great magazine.