South Branch Dead River

An early Spring run on the South Branch of the Dead River had captivated my imagination for several years. From what I had heard the river had a sort of ephemeral, mirage-like quality: frozen or unmanageably high early in the season, impossibly (maybe impassably?) low and rocky most of the rest of the year. In fact, though the 740-mile long Northern Forest Canoe Trail uses twenty or so miles of the South Branch to connect the Rangeley Lakes with Flagstaff Lake, thru-paddlers are frequently forced to portage this section by wheeling their craft along Maine Route 16 to Stratton. Deepening the mystery of the South Branch is that, unlike many canoeable Maine rivers, it lacks a USGS gage. So determining whether levels were somewhere between a bony drag-fest and raging torrent involved equal parts pseudoscience and intuition. Given moderate recent rainfall, a healthy snowpack in the mountains, and above-freezing but not-too-warm temperatures, I figured that now might be just the right time to give it a look. I called up (bowman) Spud and we planned to head north the morning of April 15.

The day dawned warm and sunny, with highs forecasted to be around 60. Perfect. We wrangled Spud’s new hitch-mounted canoe rack onto the Tacoma then slid on the Discovery 158. The canoe seemed reasonably well attached with an assortment of NRS cam straps but as we rolled out of the driveway we thought some ratchet straps might provide some more peace of mind. So it was off to the Topsham Renys where any true Maine Adventure starts. With ratchet straps procured we then made our way north, grabbing bagels in Augusta then heading up Route 27. The Sandy sure was pumping beneath the New Sharon bridge and looked very non-canoeable in an open boat. After bearing right in Farmington we headed up the Carrabassett Valley, scoping out the boulder-strewn river along the way which looked tricky but barely navigable above Kingfield—I’m sure the Kingfield to Wire Bridge section would have been a blast. A stop at the Valley Crossing bridge showed the level to be just below a ‘1’ on the river right gage. Another 45 minutes of driving or so and we were in Stratton and thought it wise to address any last-minute bathroom issues at the general store / gas station. The place is really pretty gourmet given its rurality and had a great selection of microbrews as well as these giant calorie-bomb lard-infused homemade cheesecake brownies which the ladies at the counter admonished us to buy. Best decision of the day. Except the one to canoeing. We stashed bikes at the Route 27 boat launch where the South Branch empties into Flagstaff Lake, piled back in the Taco and headed toward Rangeley on Route 16 in search of a suitable put-in.

I had visited the area a year earlier at the end of what was an exceptionally unsnowy winter when the water was much lower. The traditional put-in listed in most guidebooks is the Lower Dallas Bridge where Route 16 crosses the South Branch about 4.5 miles northeast of Rangeley. I found there to be an easy river-right put-in near the roadside “campsite” below which are purportedly several miles of smooth water before the river enters Fansanger Gorge. The gorge a series of four ledge drops which can be rated III+ for a canoe and I wanted to catch a glimpse of the action. I drove north (downstream) on Route 16 for a few miles, and parked where 16 intersects with Quill Lane—a small camp road on your left if you’re heading toward Stratton. You can hear the river below and a careful tree-root-assisted clamber will get you down to the river-right bank. On that day in 2016 the first few drops looked really rocky and scratchy and a portage seemed unpleasant—especially with the myriad icebergs lining the shore leftover from winter. With more water and the right crew it could probably be a fun run.

Even with better water levels this time around, Spud and I were not going to challenge the gorge—frigid water, no dry suits (wetsuits instead), intermediate canoe skills, and no help if trouble arose meant it was better left for another time. Nonetheless, we wanted to go up to the Lower Dallas Bridge put-in so I could get a water level comparison. It was indeed much higher than a year before when I had taken some reference photos. There’s a horizontal notch in the concrete on the corner river left abutment which has the appearance of a 6” or so line, and the water was just below it (compared to over a foot below on previous visits). Also—and here’s where the real pseudoscience comes in—there is a small boulder at the river-right put-in which would be a great stepping stone if the water were low. I lunged out and precariously dipped my rubber-booted foot onto the rock (ignoring Spud’s multiple pleas that this was a “bad idea”). After launching myself back to shore without getting wet, I glanced at the waterline on the boot and estimated that it had been submerged 8”. Despite the lack of scientific rigor (it’s what you get when there’s no USGS gage) I hereby declare that when this river-right stepping stone rock is submerged by 8”, water levels are PERFECT for running the South Branch of the Dead! But we didn’t know this just yet.

Water level check complete, we headed back toward Stratton on 16 for a few miles to where the river comes right alongside the road just below the gorge. On the Maine Atlas and Gazateer it’s just about on the Dallas Plantation / Langtown Mill Line, and there’s a blue road sign on the river side of the road and also ample space to park a vehicle with minimal fear of it getting wiped out by a logging truck. There’s also a worn path down the river bank proving that we were not the first to use this put-in. We donned our wetsuits, huffed and puffed to partially inflate my new NRS center float bag, passed out, woke up, huffed and puffed some more, lashed everything in and slid the green Discovery into the crystal clear water—her maiden voyage!

The next few miles made up some of the most enjoyable Spring paddling we’ve done: The main character of the river was smooth but quite swiftly flowing, dotted with large boulders that created very defined eddies—perfect for practicing eddy turns then taking in the scenery—and smaller boulders around which to slalom. These swift smooth stretches were regularly punctuated but several hundred yards of Class II whitewater. While there were occasionally a few small holes to avoid, most of the rocks were covered at this level making navigation quite easy: find the wave train / main current and ride it on down! We caught a large river-right eddy just above the Langtown Mill Bridge to scout what looked like a heavy Class II rapid underneath it. There was a clearly defined passage through, but some nasty looking rocks center-left that we really wanted to avoid. As we shot through into the calmer water below the bridge, we realized we weren’t the only ones enjoying the river on this beautiful spring day. A fly fisherman was plying a river-right pool, probably just as surprised to see us as we were to see him, and likely muttering under his breath how insane it was for two young yahoos to be on the river with the water still so cold. (We will assume he did indeed refer to us as “young yahoos” as we are both in our early thirties and increasingly appreciative of being referred to as “young”…or having our IDs checked at bars.) On a less tangential note, although it would certainly be possible to take out on river right at the bridge it’s not an ideal spot being a bit steep and brushy. While the AMC River Guide notes that the bridge is posted as “private,” I couldn’t make out any such signs when we scouted the bridge on our way up to the put-in. For most of these first three miles Route 16 had paralleled the river but it remained unobtrusive and never spoiled the feeling of relative wilderness.

Below Langtown Mill the rapids diminished and current slackened. I started to worry about Spud’s health since he has an almost-anaphylactic allergy to flat water and we had packed neither epi-pen nor trolling motor. To make matters worse, the AMC River Guide had given this section the dubious “quickwater” designation which, in our experience, sometimes refers to water that while, yes, is technically flowing downstream, is doing so at such an imperceptibly glacial pace that you could cast a stick into the water and return a month later to find it had made but two feet of downstream progress—and that’s assuming the absence of even the slightest upstream breeze. But our fears about actually having to paddle hard were put to rest as (at this level anyway) the South Branch maintained a pleasant three-ish mile per hour current most of the way to the Kennebago Road Bridge. In the 6.5 miles between Langtown Mill and Kennebago Road the river continues its northeasterly course and gradually moves away from Route 16. It winds its way through farmland and marsh in a series of pleasant meanders and near-oxbows, offering occasional upstream views of Saddleback to the south and the Crocker/Sugarloaf massif to the east. At the Kennebago Road Bridge there is a nice put-in upstream on river right if you wish to skip the relatively lazy portion above or want to avoid the rapids below.

After floating beneath the bridge we took a quick respite to chow on some high-energy snacks and prep for the last six miles. It was late afternoon and starting to get a bit chilly. The current gradually quickened and intermittent class I rapids became increasingly frequent. Then, about four miles from the bridge, we approached some chop and eddied out river right. I was able to rock-hop to a better vantagepoint while Spud held the canoe. While it looked like there was a line down the center, we opted for the sneak route river right—possibly not an option at lower levels. This was no time for a flip given the hour, temperature, and lack of help. We worked our way down a few hundred yards of Class II rapids to another horizon line, once again eddying out river right. I climbed a large boulder which provided a perfect scouting platform and it revealed a consequential class III rapid. I could possibly convince myself there was a good line through the ledge river left. The entire center of the river was a collection of chaotic cross-currents, shallow, and very unfriendly looking. We opted to hug the shore on river right just sliding by the scouting boulder, over a two-foot drop into a micro-hole which led to very slack water river right. We bumped a few rocks but didn’t take on too much water and were thankful for not having attempted a run out on the business. We snuck downstream using river right shore eddies and immediately another set of haystacks came into view. An upstream ferry to river left allowed another scouting scramble up the bank as I post-holed through the snow. This time, though the haystacks were large I could see the line was straightforward: stay river left by the ledge outcropping and splash on through. We caught our breath in the nice pool beneath the drop, psyched to have paddled some legitimate rapids that challenged our skills.

The last mile before the Route 27 boat launch was more fast water/class I with great views of the Bigelow Range. It reminded me of Alaska as the river was braided with many gravel bars and a broad open feel. We picked up the pace since it was getting on toward 7pm and there was a bike shuttle left to do. Soon enough we had hauled the canoe up the ramp, found our bikes, and guzzled some Gatorade in preparation for the 16-mile trip. I briefly lamented the first law of bike shuttle physics which dictates that your put-in is always at a higher elevation than your take-out. Rule number one is that you will likely be wearing a wetsuit and it will rub in all the wrong places.

The ride was quite pleasant—very strenuous up-hills offset by some prolonged downhill coasts with a refreshing warm breeze the whole way. We slalomed around dozens of deer and Spud even spied a moose! As expected, traffic was light but I made sure to get WAY over since, unless there’s an annual Tour de Eustis that I don’t know about, drivers up here aren’t used to a ton of bikes on the road. We retraced our steps in the Tacoma, threw the gear in the truck, popped on the canoe and made our way south on 27. Despite snacking on the cream cheese brownie bomb purchased earlier in the day, we couldn’t resist the siren songs (and smells) of barbecue at The Rack at Sugarloaf.

Pleasantly full and exhausted, we finally made our way back to Topsham around 11:30pm. We both agreed that it had been one of our best one-day paddles on a Maine river and felt lucky to catch the ephemeral South Branch at just the right time.

#SouthBranchDeadRiver #Canoe