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A Wild Wild Ride Along the Wild River

© Michael J. Saletnik

The scene is the opening of the Simpsons. Bart is writing repeatedly on the chalkboard:

"I will pay attention when the White Mountain Guide says 'Crossings may be difficult or impassable at high water.'"

This weekend I needed to get away. Nothing serious, just a mental health hike to relax and clear the mind. A solo trip with no worries, no summits, and plenty of laid-back reading. This was also a chance to use the new hammock and the new lightweight isobutane stove.

I packed up my gear & food and drove up Saturday morning. After traveling through wet, foggy, cloudy weather, I reached the Whites and found myself in hazy sun. At first, I was regretting my decision to stay low in the valley. It looked like there would be plenty of good weather to get a high hike in.

Then I rolled down the window, felt the humidity, and decided I was right for choosing an easy hike. As I drove through Evans Notch in Maine on Rte 113, I checked out the Wild River running alongside the road. It is a beautiful sight, and I felt more reaffirmed with my chosen destination.

I parked at Wild River Campground, an awesome-looking spot, and started on the Wild River Trail. The first stream crossing, still in sight of the car, was a rock-hop but full of water. A slip would mean soaked to the shins, but I balanced myself across. The trail then made its way to the banks of the river, and I was thrilled. The Wild River is a gorgeous, rock-filled river like something you'd see in a wilderness movie. Picturesque, with a fantastic rushing sound. The water was fairly low, but looked like it would still be tough if I had to get across the channel.

For 2.7 miles I followed the old logging railroad bed along the southeast bank of the river. It was hot and humid but it didn't seem to bother me. The trail looked badly eroded; at one point it seemed to be lower than the river and I wondered if at high water the Wild would overflow right across the trail.

At Spider Bridge a group was sitting down on the river's rocks soaking their feet and filtering water (hopefully not in the same spot). Another 0.7 miles and I arrived at Spruce Brook Shelter. Nestled on the corner of Spruce Brook's confluence with the Wild River, the shelter is