THE MAINE GUIDES ARE A STURDY RUGGED TYPE OF MANHOOD AND HAVE WON THE ADMIRATION OF MANY TRAVELER'? ANn 
CELEBRITIES. AMONG THEM THEODORE ROOSEVELT TRAVELERS AND 
Page 423 
canoe itself must be lifted up on the 
high banks and then shouldered along 
the bramble - bushed carry until we 
could get past the dam, where the art¬ 
ful Simon lowered it into the roaring 
waters. 
As I stood on the top of the dam and 
noticed the strong head of water that 
was pouring through the gates, and 
the rush of water 
down - stream r 
through a mass of 
rocks, I wondered 
if we could ever 
get through this 
part of the trip 
and have left 
our canoe, our 
luggage, or our 
senses. But there 
was not much time 
to think of the dan¬ 
gers, and after the 
canoe was carried 
around the dam 
the campage must 
be lugged still far¬ 
ther down-stream to a point where it 
could be safely put aboard, and the 
guide was to take the canoe down to 
that point of landing while the “sport” 
worked on the packs. A short distance 
below the dam I had noted quite a pitch 
of water and had reported the fact 
to the guide when, as I stepped out 
of the trail to the shore, I saw Simon 
standing up in his canoe and drifting 
apparently straight to the brink of the 
falls. I scrambled over the boulder 
rocks as quickly as possible until I was 
within hearing distance, then raised 
my arms and shouted above the roar 
of the water, “Simon, the Falls!” 
Simon never paid any more attention 
to me than if I had been a wooden 
Indian, and here was a live “Injun” 
seemingly going to shoot over these 
miniature falls—like the fabled Indian 
maiden at Niagara, who is pictured as 
making the leap standing upright in a 
canoe. 
I thought I might never see Simon 
again, at least alive, but just before he 
reached the brink he deftly worked the 
canoe shoreward, stepped out, and then 
calmly roped down the canoe. Then 
he informed me that he never took any 
man s word about the pitch of water, 
but had concluded beforehand that an 
empty boat on a rope was the proper 
caper for a falls of that depth. 
CALM, PEACEFUL WATERS—THE RESTITIL AFTERMATH OF A DIFFICULT PORTAGE 
. We were now past the falls at the 
dam and had the canoe again loaded 
for the passage down, but the rapids 
were ahead of us, and the subject of 
swift water brings to mind a para¬ 
graph of Hubbard’s fine book—“Woods 
and Lakes of Maine.” Says Hubbard: 
“The act of running rapids in a canoe 
is always exhilarating. To a person 
of good nerves who tries it for the first 
time, it is apt to be nothing but pleasur¬ 
able, but one who knows its dangers 
never enters upon it without some slight 
fear or trepidation. And yet the dan¬ 
ger passed, one is ever ready to face it 
again with a skilful steersman.” 
Skilful steersman Simon was now 
standing in the stern of the canoe, set¬ 
ting-pole in hand, and surveying the 
situation before we took the quick 
water that was tumbling, rushing, roar¬ 
ing, seething, surging, among the rocks 
—water enough to float the canoe, but 
could she get through with a whole 
skin? 
Of course, the way it is done is by 
the guide putting on the brakes or, as 
he expresses it, “Snubbing her down.” 
Before the canoe is allowed to budge, 
he has cast a searching glance on the 
immediate water in the foreground 
and determined what flow of water or 
channel” he will allow her to shoot 
for a . short distance before he again 
puts on the brakes, 
viz: jams down his 
pole and holds her 
just before she 
strikes the rocky 
eternity for which 
she is bound. Then 
he finds another 
streak of safe wa¬ 
ter before he gives 
her another shoot. 
Sometimes the 
guide has to work 
the canoe across 
the whole stream 
before he will let 
her go again, hold¬ 
ing the boat with 
all of the strength he can command 
against the avalanche of water that 
would send her down-stream onto the 
lock that juts up right in the path. 
It takes a skilful steersman, for 
shooting rapids is a real bit of guiding 
and is in striking contrast to a lot of 
so-called “guiding” which is indulged 
in by many city folk on Moosehead 
Lake, viz: motor-boat picnicing. 
But with shooting white water comes 
the labor and the hardships of camp- 
*ng the backing of dunnage and sleep¬ 
ing on balsam boughs under a tent. 
However, the experience is worth the 
hardships many times over, and it is 
doubtful if even flying can give an ad¬ 
venturer a greater thrill than several 
hours in raging, rocky water. 
After shooting and snubbing for an 
hour or so, we came to another falls 
near Stony Brook which required an¬ 
other haul of luggage and another wade 
by chc guide—this time in one plunge, 
(<Continued on page 468) 
