Five of us awoke to sunny cold weather on the second day of our Cascapedia River expedition on the Gaspe Peninsula in eastern Quebec. Powerful winds had blown out of the northwest the entire previous day, and they hadn’t subsided.
The gale provided a substantial benefit: a tailwind had pushed us so rapidly downriver, we were uncertain of our location on the topographic maps. Combined with high water, an exceptionally fast current fueled by a steep gradient, and a multitude of long rapids, we were making remarkable progress.
We were a diverse group of paddlers. Bruce Weik and Chris Knight paddled a tandem canoe while Brent Elwell was in a solo version. Ken Gordon and I were navigating expedition kayaks.
I started feeling mildly ill on the first day of our outing. During the night, I developed a sore throat and felt fatigued despite many hours of sleep. Simply getting out of the tent in the morning was a chore.
But there was no turning back; civilization was at least forty miles downriver in New Richmond. I alerted my companions. There was a positive aspect, separation wasn’t a problem. I paddled a solo kayak, slept in a one-person tent and was cooking my own meals.
The Cascapedia is the most scenic river I’ve paddled in eastern Canada and the northeastern United States. Flowing down a picturesque valley through the eastern Chic Choc Mountains, every turn provides another spectacular view.
The perpetual panoramic vistas were a distraction from another marvelous feature of the journey: a seemingly endless succession of long, exciting whitewater rapids.
High water added a challenging dimension, big waves. The large breaking waves were particularly significant for the canoes, which in many instances, were taking water over the gunwales with no opportunity to bail until reaching the bottom of the whitewater.
A loaded canoe partially filled with water is a beast to maneuver and a threat to swamp or capsize.
None of us had paddled the Cascapedia before so we carefully boat-scouted the approach to each rapid, watching for obstacles and debris in the river.
The topo map indicated there was an upcoming waterfalls, but we weren’t sure of our location. A salmon fishing outfitter had warned Bruce to expect a consequential rapid called Porcupine Falls. The difficult descent was reputedly pockmarked with obvious large boulders that needed to be avoided. We were intently watching for signs, especially prominent boulders.
After an hour of paddling, we identified the first reliable landmark since the previous day, Route 299. The Cascapedia would parallel the highway for the remainder of the trip to New Richmond.
With the strong tailwind propelling us quickly downriver, we guardedly studied the beginning of each falls looking for the telltale large boulders. Several rapids came and passed but no boulders and no unusual difficulties were encountered.
A river-wide horizon line garnered our attention. No distinctive boulders were visible, but the gradient was definitely steeper than the earlier rapids and there was no end in sight. The tandem canoe team entered and I followed.
Once into the falls, there was no doubt it was Porcupine. Everything was bigger and pushier than previous rapids. Powerful waves hurtled us toward the much-anticipated boulders.
We successfully avoided the dangerous obstacles and careened down the lengthy circuitous cascade. After possibly a mile, we safely assembled in an eddy at the bottom.
The canoeists had some serious bailing to do. I checked my cockpit and found the dynamic waves had forced their way under the spray skirt, adding a couple of inches of unwanted water.
Porcupine behind us, we continued downriver passing through one long twisting rapid after another. At the foot of each, we regrouped in eddies and the canoeists bailed.
We were preoccupied with navigating demanding rapids while enveloped in the rugged beauty of the majestic Chic Choc Mountains.
The miles quickly passed. Time and distance seemed irrelevant. The continuous adrenaline rush was the perfect antidote for what I optimistically decided was a minor head cold.
We stopped for lunch on a sunny, sandy beach sheltered from the relentless wind. Two of us napped. We didn’t know where we were on the river. More excitement was undoubtedly ahead.
My book, “Maine Al Fresco: The Fifty Finest Outdoor Adventures in Maine” documents six stimulating Maine river expeditions.
