The third week in May has been reserved by hearty souls for an annual assault on the mighty rivers of northern Maine, much to the consternation of friends and relatives. Massachusetts relatives add the annual trips to the long list of reasons I am insane and should be committed.

They ask, not without reason, why anyone would forsake bed and board (not to mention electricity) to trek five hours (one way) carrying a few tons of gear to the Allagash to sleep in the woods where bears and wolves live.

The question seemed especially pertinent on the last trip when one day was spent in torrential rains and one night in heavy frost. The frost was on more than the pumpkin when we woke up that morning, just north of Allagash Falls.

As with skiing, you have to ignore the terrible hassle of just getting there with all of the required gear. Spending a sunny day on a gently rolling river is a gift from God. There is no place else that I know of where you notice the sky and the stars so much. If you can shut your mouth long enough, there is an excellent chance of spotting an eagle, deer or a moose. Can’t see that sitting on the couch.

Turning a piece of woods into a cozy camp with the simple addition of a tent, a stove and a campfire is a miraculous event, no matter how many times experienced. If the campfire were not allowed, no one would go camping. A few hours before the fire with a cigar and a vintage Scotch, accompanied by people who are not total idiots, is rumored to cure a dyspeptic disposition and an expired imagination, if not cancer and weak hearts.

The worst meal in the woods – think sardines on Triscuits – rivals the best meal at Cork restaurant in Camden just as long as the temperature stays above 50 degrees. Marinated chicken with rice and fresh asparagus served under the stars is heaven on Earth, especially if you can get someone else to cook, while you are pretending to find more firewood.

Waking up (without frost) by a rolling river, with bacon and home fries already on the grill and coffee in the air can make you forget some of the aches and pains of sleeping on the ground when you have a queen-size bed at home. You realize that you will spend the day doing nothing but floating along, enjoying some of the most beautiful places on Earth.

If done just right, after ice-out but before black fly season, it will create a comfortable space in your brain that you can visit when the Criminal Justice Committee hits the 45-minute mark in debate on another domestic abuse bill or Appropriations considers the finer points of taxation legislation.

As far as I know, you have only so many days on this planet. These days should be spent as wisely as we can.

You expect Massachusetts people to understand that?