A large group of Chowderheads from the Penobscot Paddle & Chowder Society was preparing for the second day of their annual Fall Supper weekend of outdoor activities in Carrabassett Valley.
Several decided on mountain bike rides in the area; I had scheduled a paddling trip on Flagstaff Lake.
A major concern for our planned lake excursion was wind. During the previous day, we had experienced gusty gales that brought down trees and caused numerous power outages throughout the state. But overnight conditions improved dramatically: light variable winds and sunny skies were forecast. The trip was on.
Flagstaff Lake has a rich, compelling history. In the fall of 1775, during the Revolutionary War, Col. Benedict Arnold led a small army on an epic march through Maine and southern Quebec to conduct an unsuccessful attack on Quebec City.
For several days, the beleaguered army struggled through what was then the Dead River and now Flagstaff Lake. While in that vicinity, a hurricane destroyed a large number of their bateaux that carried most of the food supply. At the time, Arnold is believed to have raised a flag in what became Flagstaff Village, hence its name.
Subsequently, the three small communities of Bigelow, Dead River and Flagstaff were established along that stretch of the Dead River. In 1950, Long Falls Dam was constructed, flooding the villages and creating Flagstaff Lake. Some residents, many resistant, were removed through the process of eminent domain.
Some remnants of the former villages exist, much of them underwater.
Eleven paddlers in nine kayaks and a tandem canoe joined me at the boat landing on the western shore of Flagstaff Lake in Stratton on a calm, cool, sunny morning.
That was the meeting place, not the planned launch point. Instead, we drove north on Route 27 to Eustis and motored east on Flagstaff Road to Myer’s Beach. From that location, the distance to a campsite situated where the former Flagstaff Village was located is about four miles. That was our destination.
Vehicles cannot drive to the beach. Rather, boats must be carried across a narrow bridge and launched in a tiny inlet that connects with the lake.
Our enthusiastic band of Chowderheads quickly spilled out into the lake. lear skies provided spectacular views of the towering Bigelow Mountain Range that parallels the southern shore. We delighted in that majestic vista for the remainder of the outing.
Our choice to delay paddling until Sunday was a good one because winds were negligible as we navigated easterly past Flagstaff Peninsula and along the shoreline of a large island in the western center of the lake.
Lofty Flagstaff Mountain and Picked Chicken Hill dominated the eastern horizon. Slightly west of distinctive Jim Eaton Hill, two small boats could be seen next to the shore close to what appeared to be our island campsite destination.
A trio of paddlers greeted us when we arrived at the campsite. The friendly boaters were camping at another location east of Jim Eaton Hill, but were investigating the area. They had spent the previous day paddling in extremely gusty winds and had been fortunate to survive the ordeal without capsizing.
We were thankful to have waited a day for the winds to subside.
Our group of inquisitive Chowderheads lingered at the exceptional campsite for lunch and some exploration. Two rusted vehicles, remnants from the former Flagstaff Village, were found on the outskirts of the campsite. There were several locations that appear to be the remains of old building foundations.
Later research by one kayaker in the group, Suzanne Cole, indicates we had paddled over numerous submerged former homes. During periods of very low water, some of the surviving structures reportedly can be seen.
Returning in the shadow of the Bigelow Mountain Range with light winds, we paddled west toward Myers Beach. Several walkers were strolling on the beach as we approached. This was a remarkable day to experience the beauty of Flagstaff Lake from any vantage point.
We disembarked satisfied to have completed an exceptionally scenic fascinating excursion. Alas, Fall Supper activities had ended for another year.
My book, “Maine Al Fresco: The Fifty Finest Outdoor Adventures in Maine” narrates the best lake and river trips in Maine and details a rollicking whitewater ride down the lower Dead River.
