About 25 years ago, the whitewater boating community “discovered” this little paddling jewel. Ever since, testing their skills on the Cathance has been a rite of spring for local whitewater boaters. The American Whitewater Association describes it as a Class III/IV creek run with two Class V waterfalls. Unlike most of the outstanding creek runs in Maine which are located several hours away in the more mountainous areas, the Cathance is a mere half-hour drive from Augusta, Lewiston or Portland.
Proximity and exciting rapids are not the only benefits of the Cathance. A moderately large watershed for a small river, the water levels rise fairly fast and tend to remain high longer than most similar sized streams. It’s not unusual for the river to be “runnable” throughout the spring and then for several days after a good soaking rain during the summer and fall.
In accordance with custom, a group of kayakers and canoeists from the Penobscot Paddle and Chowder Society recently challenged the “Cat’s” precipitous rapids. Bedecked in dry suits, neoprene boots, helmets and life jackets, the five of us shivered in the cold as we launched our boats from snow-covered banks into the icy waters. Predictably, one participant had to ask aloud the glaringly obvious question: “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
“Stop whining! We’ve been here when it was a lot worse” was the caustic response.
We chipped our way through patches of ice for a short mile of flatwater paddling past a mobile home park on the right and through a swampy, wooded area. A muskrat jumped from a nearby ice shelf and an owl soared just over our heads. It was great to be back on the river.
As we navigated sharply to the right, the banks steepened, the river narrowed and we entered a dark, attenuated gorge. The first rapid loomed directly ahead, tumbling down through the chasm and then disappearing from sight.
“Catch the eddy on the left,” I counseled myself as I powered my kayak through the waves, recalling that the rapid around the corner and just below was usually cluttered with debris. Sure enough, the channel on the left was blocked with logs and branches, while a fallen tree lurked ominously in the right channel near the surface. Carefully charting our course, we bounced over the tree, snaked first left and then right in a steep boulder-strewn torrent and plunged blindly over a vertical drop with a sticky hydraulic at the bottom. Forgotten were the cold air and the frigid water as we gathered excitedly in a calm spot next to the raging current. The challenge and thrill of the moment was all that mattered.
From this point, the Cathance is an unrelenting series of increasingly precipitous rapids and cataracts. Each turn in the river brings another horizon line with a noisy waterfall kicking up frothy whitewater below. We continued on, scouting drops from shore or from our boats. On one particularly steep drop, we drove hard from left to right to avoid a large, protruding rock formation with a nasty hydraulic lurking at the bottom. Just around the corner we toppled over a ledge narrowly avoiding a rock pile on the right.
After a short stretch of flatwater, the river turned to the right and entered another deep gorge — the beginning of the Class V waterfall known as Magic Carpet Ride or, less charmingly, Little Gorilla. This rapid is rated a Class V for several good reasons. The river drops about 20 feet in a little more than 30 yards, an overhanging ledge extends out from the left and a wide sticky hole is located strategically at the bottom, with nearby jagged rocks looming just below the surface. The rapid begins near the top of the constricted canyon, makes an almost 90˚ turn to the left and pitches steeply down a shallow rock slide to a menacing foam pile at the bottom. After thoroughly scouting it, some of us carried our boats around while others successfully conquered this defiant nemesis.
Just around the corner and to the right was the final drop: a longer, straighter and somewhat safer, but more technical, version of Little Gorilla. This falls is normally run by starting right, powering left through a couple of small holes, blasting through a breaking wave, bouncing down a steep, shallow ledge and punching the hydraulic at the bottom as far right as possible. “Simple” was the sarcastic observation of one member of our group. Only after we were all safely paddling the flatwater below did we remember we were cold.