Maine paddling, maine kayaking, maine whitewater, crooked river

six states .net new england travel and adventure

03.22.10
Just Add Water
After heavy rains, Maine's Crooked River gave paddler Corey Norman and friends a lesson in how unpredictable — and dangerous — a river can be.

Above: A paddler puts into the surprisingly rapid Crooked River. Below: The river at low-water on a much more peaceful day. (Corey Norman Photos)

Having been a kayaker the majority of my adult life, I have found myself returning season after season to particular paddling destinations. One of my favorites is a small river that meanders some 46 miles from Oxford County in Maine, eventually emptying into Sebago Lake. It is called the Crooked River, and as its name implies, it bends and winds across farmlands and through wooded regions, like a watery snake if seen from above. A harmless river by nature, the Crooked is an ideal paddle on a lazy summer afternoon, but this trip would be like none other I had taken.

As we pulled into our launch site at the base of Scribner’s Mill, my jaw dropped. In July, one would normally expect a solid quarter mile stretch of river, where paddlers would normally spend more time shimmying over exposed rocks than paddling. Nearly five straight weeks of rain throughout May and June had transformed this area into a turbulent span of Class II whitewater. As we launched, we were immediately swept into the current. Hurdling downriver with a speed much greater than I anticipated, I found it difficult to navigate around a downed log in the river. Had I known the river would have been this intense, I would have opted for my Overflow, a whitewater boat, instead of the recreational Perception I paddled today.

After what felt like only a minute, the turbulence subsided, leaving us in an expanse of deep, fast moving water. Knowing we would not see another house until just before our pull-out, we decided to stay on our toes in case any other surprises were lurking around the next bend.
You know its funny—on many occasions my friend Dan and I would paddle this river and comment on the debris clinging to tree limbs some four to five feet above our heads. It was hard to picture the river at those heights, but today we no longer had to imagine. We were experiencing a flood stage river first hand, and in July no less!

We found ourselves moving quickly downriver into the area known as Jugtown Plains, a stretch of river that glows an orange hue due to the formations of a barren pine heath that the river passes over. Had I not seen several landmarks welcoming me to this area, I would have never known I was there. The river bottom was not visible today, the orange hues replaced by thick, dark water. It was surreal. Another tree branch stretched across the river, causing us to quickly ferry to river right. To avoid it, I passed over the remains of a large sandy beach, now submerged in my watery pass. The riverbanks were no longer able to contain the water within, spilling over as it created many small bog-like areas in our normal picnic spots and throughout the surrounding woods.

The river had become a new entity, one I had never before experienced, but it wasn’t until later in the day that I would pay it the respect it deserved.

In many ways, a river responds to water in much the same way that the characters in Steven Spielberg’s movie The Gremlins did. You add some water, and watch it go wild. We saw this first hand at our put-in, but now as the water appeared to be docile, this thought had left our minds. That was our biggest mistake. Misjudging the current around a particular bend, my mother, a fellow paddler on this expedition, was pulled sideways into a down tree, otherwise known as a strainer. The current was strong, and even though she was wearing a life jacket, she began to be pulled underwater and into the strainer. She panicked. We could see her arms and head fighting to get above water and the current tried to hold her down. Luckily, we had a throw bag handy, and were able to free her from her obstruction. But often, this is not the case, for strainers are one of the leading causes of kayaker deaths as reported over the past decade. Today, we averted disaster, but for future paddles, much more caution would be needed.

Flood-stage rivers are not only a thing of the spring, but can happen at any time during the season. Weeks of continual rain are normally a good sign of this, but err on the side of caution, and scout any river prior to running it. A little research can help avert any potential disasters that may occur on the river, and as always, having a safety plan is essential for saving lives.

Freelance writer Corey Norman is also a professional film maker and adjunct professor at Southern Maine Community College. His article 'In The Drink,' about riverboarding Maine's Penobscot River, appeared on SixStates.net in October.