After another excellent meal put on by Gene Nice and Richard Eaton that evening, there was a lot going on. Our trip was half over; the toughest half I felt was behind us. I was basically right; we had overcome our major obstacles.

     Day number three was cold and clear in the morning. My poor old Allagash Bull Cat was froze up tighter than a drum and some of the other sleds were experiencing the same problems. I was prepared though; I had a blowtorch and a piece of stovepipe with me. The day before we had gotten into two or three whiteouts and quite a lot of powder. This created a lot of moisture around the engines and froze up all the cables. My transmission is operated by cable, so this was a major problem. Bob Brodeur was smart by taking his oil out at night and keeping it warm inside the cabin. David Johnson had to heat the spark plugs every morning on the O-13. Believe me, we were living in the past. Before we bid patty adieu, C.J. lined us all up out in front of Nugent’s Camps and took our picture. Except for a couple helmets that our guides wore, it could have been taken in the early ‘60’s. This picture was published in the A.S.C.O.A. newsletter, The Maine Snowmobiler and Snowmobile Magazine.

    Now we were on our way back to Nesowadnehunk Lake for our last night on the trail. This leg of the journey was probably the fastest.  It averaged out to somewhere around 11 miles per hour. Our basic problems now were that they were just kind of rattling themselves to death.  Nothing major was happening; some had broken up to two motor mounts and had rubber bushings missing. Now it was just a matter of whether or not there was anything left to rattle by the time we got home. When we got to Nesowadnehunk Lake that night, Wayne took Bob Brodeur out in the garage at the rangers cabin and showed him how to make motor mounts. He had Bob hold an old bolt he had found with a pair of vice grips while he sawed the head off with a hacksaw. He then ran a nut out over the cut end to straighten out the threads. The plates had been lost out of the chassis, so he held a nut in there with a couple of screwdrivers and threaded the stud into it and added another nut. They still didn’t have any rubber bushings though. These we had to do with out. After a few other repairs, we gassed up and went into the ranger’s camp for another evening of drinks, bull slinging and another tremendous meal.

       Day number four arrived and along with it the last leg of our journey. Forty more miles to the Northern Timber Cruisers Clubhouse in Millinocket and our journey and our recreation would be over. Due to rainy, warm conditions just prior to our trip, the section of trail that had been dedicated to my father had to be avoided. Now though the weather was favorable and as we left Togue Pond at the Baxter State Park gatehouse, we turned onto my fathers trail. This is a beautiful section of trail and I was very pleased to be able to take it. The traveling was great, as it was freshly groomed and everyone got into racing. I think of the times we may have hit breakneck speeds of 15 mph or better. Edgar Hetteen took the O-13SR Ranger past everyone. The oldest sled there was the fastest.

       Our trip was finally winding down to a close as we came to our last turn off about 5 miles before the clubhouse. I was convinced that we had made it when Paul Doherty threw a track off – and so close to home too! After a lot of swearing and maneuvering, Wayne, David and Edgar had it back on and we were headed for the clubhouse. At about 2:30 pm February 20^th we had made our destination. We were sitting in the dooryard, which we had started from – about 150 miles ago and four days earlier. Some of our families were there and although it was a great trip, it was still good to be home.

       That evening we had another great steak feed put on by Gene, Richard and some of our wives. We even still found some energy to shoot the bull and recap the trip events one last time. Edgar Hetteen told a few jokes and Jim Chase showed a video tape that he had taken at different times during the expedition. A good time was had by all to say the least. I guess one big thing that amazed me was all these sleds that had done this expedition so many years before all made it once more for old times sake. Every last one of them made the trip under its own power. I guess there is something to be said for the engineering and workmanship. As crude as they were in the formative years, they worked due to the perseverance and forethought of the pioneers that were building them and using them.

     That is who I would like to dedicate this trip and this story to - the individuals that made the sport of snowmobiling what it is today. The reason I organized this trip was to recognize these people, the history of snowmobiling, and especially to my father, E.B. Campbell.