Sandwich Mountains
Hiking Company
The Mountain River-Walk Experience
Picture this scene in your head: you hear the low roar of rushing water up ahead, an insistent sound reaching you through the trees. A few yards further along, you turn a corner, go around a large boulder, and there ahead is the source of the water music-- a long sluicing cascade wending down through stones, polished nearly smooth by the splashing waters. The falls pass through a beautiful grotto of ledgy rock, almost vertical walls lining both sides of the stream. All the while, you stand there in awe, looking up at this stony cathedral towering perhaps 80 feet above your head, and you let the moment move you-- perhaps even to song or soliloquy.
But, how did you get to this exalted spot? Was it by car, to a parking-lot
a few yards from the place? Or, did you saunter up a wide, well-marked,
and heavily-maintained footpath right to the site? In this case, the
observer had not arrived at the Cascade Grotto by either of the above
methods. He or she got to this natural "wonder place" by walking,
scrambling, jumping from rock-to-rock, up a stream course, well away from
any flanking trails, roads, or superhighways. The seeker got there by
doing a river-walk.
There is no real evidence in either the scientific, or the popular
literature, that anyone has analyzed this method of accessing the back
country. After all, river-walking is really another form of good old
bushwacking, only the way ahead is perceived much more clearly by the
obvious configuration of the stream course. However, this is still a
bushwacking experience, lest you forget, and river-walking often involves
judicious circumvention of large blow-downs crossing the entire stream
course. The walker then has a choice of either moving under the
obstruction, going over the top, or, taking a "go-around" up on the bank
of the stream, a maneuver well-known to bushwackers on cluttered land
routes. And since this move goes up onto the bank, the rules of avoidance
for natural obstructions on non-riverine bushwacks come into focus: you
still have to decide how best to avoid trees and shrubs, dead or alive, as
well as ledge outcrops, and larger boulders in your pathway. All of this
may be done just to get around large branches across the
streambed.
Is it worth the trouble? This often depends on the reasoning behind the
river-walk, and even the season in which the seeker attempts
it. River-walks can be done during any season of the year. In winter, the
watercourse may even be covered with snow, thus making the job of moving
over near-stream obstacles somewhat easier, especially if you are on
snowshoes. Conversely, in this scenario, you would have to be aware of any
"fallouts" in the snow cover-- small holes going all the way to the stream
surface. Getting wet at this time of the year would not only frustrate a
walker considerably, it could also be life-threatening if you are
sufficiently far enough away from established trails or roads.
Then, there are the other times of the year, and, in particular, the
summer. For it is in this longest-light season that you might harbor the
greatest desire (and have the most time) to move away from crossing
trails, or nearby road access. The stated aim of a river-walker is not
only to make your way up the watercourse, taking in the sights as you go,
but also to yield to the desire to remote yourself from other people,
particularly if your stream leaves a popular trail or natural
attraction. Now, this does not mean that I, or anyone else, advocate
antisociality in the back country. However, the fact remains that many
people go to natural areas precisely to escape the enforced aggregation of
people in relatively small spaces while at work, while driving, or even
while out on the town. For many people, it is almost axiomatic, or
certainly an expectation, that they will see a lot of other people
wherever they go. They seem to be conditioned to accept this
expectation. Yet, those who choose to recreate in a place such as the
White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire may see it much
differently. Although they acknowledge that the huge population of the
northeastern megalopolis lies within a day's drive from the White
Mountains, thus implying a large amount of recreational access pressure on
the area, these people are determined to travel to the mountains to seek
areas providing both recreation, and a relative degree of solitude. If
their aim also includes a bit of adventure, then river-walking is truly a
"no-brainer".
If you see yourself as all or part of this adventurous spirit, someone
searching for solitude, a sense of "being out there", even though the
general area within which you seek this experience is highly-visited, then
river-walking might just be the perfect activity for you. You can begin
your journey as a traditional hike-- start up an established trail, even a
very popular one, right from the trail head. Once you encounter the stream
of your choice (which presumably makes a perpendicular crossing of the
trail), then you turn and head along the upstream direction of the
flowage, and you just keep on moving. That's all there is in essence to
begin the experience. Or, you could choose to ascend a stream which flows
under a road or highway, and head in an upwards direction from there. The
principles of progress are the same for each riverine experience.
Here, the focus will be on the summer walk. This allows the seeker to
enjoy warmer temperatures, the full music of the waterway in flow, and the
accompanying sights and sounds of teeming nature in mountain
backcountry. There are bird songs, green trees swaying in the breezes,
and, if warm enough, the opportunity to walk in the stream itself. As an
added bonus for those so inclined, the very action of moving towards areas
of solitude allows walkers the luxury of clothing optionality on the
journey.
Of course, as a careful walker, you must wear some form of footware, even
on the hottest summer days, because not all the way will pass over soft
ground. A sturdy pair of old sneakers or running shoes, or a good pair of
water sandals, can provide that extra level of both grip, and foot bottom
protection, often made necessary if you are forced to go around a massive
maple felled into the stream, or, to clamber over a gravelly stream
bottom.
The goal of the river-walk is as personal and unique as the individuals
who perform them. For some, the idea is to get off by themselves, and this
could be accomplished by going upstream only a half-mile or so. Here, one
could find a spot with large flat stones in the stream for a lunch
spot. Or, another could find a ledgy outcrop next to the waterflow from
which a view to a cliff above is possible from a perspective that few
people ever get a chance to see. A small party could seek the highest
reaches of their stream's flow, to seek its origin point, high up at the
head of the valleyway where the springs produce their waters through
landscapes dominated by mossy boulders and ferns in damp spaces under
spruces and firs.
There is no real "goal" to the river-walk. There are no guidebooks
extolling the method, inscribed with techniques and tools, a "how-to" for
obsessive goal-orientation. The reason to go up a stream course one day
could be well-planned in advance, or, it could be a totally spontaneous
concession to the whims of serendipity. Either way, the means always
justifies the end, even if no "end" is really the objective. The essence
is an exploration of places which people do not normally see, people who
rush by to visit more popular places. It is a way to be near to such
places, and yet, to be so far from them at the same time.
This is not an attempt to win converts or influence those who would try,
but don't know how to start. It is also not a sermon to preach to the
converted. It is merely a way to shed some light on a recreational pursuit
which anyone can do, and which provides seekers with a way to remove
themselves from the crowds while examining the best that our mountain back
country can offer.