Sandy River 2020

With the spring freshet subsiding and many small streams becoming scratchier by the day, it was time to head back to an old, reliable favorite—the Sandy. I’ve always loved the mountainy feel of the Sandy River with its giant midstream boulders, cobble-strewn bed and (who woulda guessed it!?) sandy banks. Despite feeling quite isolated at times, access is good for most of the runnable sections and you’re never very far from the road. And because its watershed includes drainages on the southern slopes Saddleback and Abraham—both 4,000 footers—it retains water quite well into the spring. Later in the year, despite being slower and scratchier, it can be eked down at levels well under 1,000 cfs.

While we had eschewed splash tops last weekend on the Sheepscot, air temperatures in the low fifties and water temperatures (likely) in the 40s dictated full neoprene and nylon regalia. We put in on river left just below ME 149 at the “The Park by the Bridge” in Phillips. It’s a nice little park. By a nice little bridge. Said bridge is a scenic spot to check out the much burlier rapids upstream; as the current slackens and water warms during the summer months, swimmers often occupy the deep pools and potholes below the bridge. But this was certainly not our goal on this brisk spring day.

Putting in here involved carrying the canoe 50 yards or so to a small, sandy beach on river left (which avoided a shorter, but more precipitous put-in a bit further upstream). With float bag, dry bags and helmets secure, we shoved off. The large boulders at the put-in provide a good opportunity for ferrying back and forth across the current to warm up—not a bad idea since the first rapid requires some maneuvering and comes upon you fast. Fortunately, we had scouted the rapid a bit from the bridge, as well as from a small trail along the river-left bank before we started. At 1,500 cfs the river divides around some large boulders, with most of the current heading right. Here, it piles up against a smooth ledge before sliding back into a deep-water channel which creates a tempting downstream ‘V’ of sizeable haystacks. But there are several things to ponder at this level: 1) The current heading into the ledge on river-right is strong, and broaching is a possibility if you miss a stroke or two. 2) There are several barely-covered rocks just upstream which could set you off your line. 3) At this level, there is a formidable rooster-tail right where all the current goes, betraying the presence of some undoubtedly nasty-shaped rock underneath. I had run the rapid at lower, slower, warmer, and all-around less consequential conditions without any major issues; at higher water the waves are likely bigger, but the problematic shallow rocks may be covered, perhaps making it easier overall. Likely…may…perhaps—that’s a lot of hedging on my part. Go scout it yourself if you want to know how it looks at higher water. This time around, a bobbing tree branch lodged in the main current made our decision easy: we’d eddy out on river-left, well away from the main flow, and wade/line the canoe down the shallows, through (and over) the boulders. This all went well, and we were both glad about our decision not to run it.

After briefly playing in the wave train, we turned downstream and enjoyed a quarter-mile of easy class I/II until the river makes an abrupt turn to the right. The AMC guide denotes a “class III” rapid at this spot, but certainly not at 1,500cfs. We scouted from a river-left eddy, then easily plotted a sneak route on the far right between a huge boulder and shore. I assured my bow-woman that this marked the end of the real rapids (oops!) and we could now relax. We took in the beautiful views of Mt. Blue, the late-afternoon sun, and a bag of Fritos. Our late start of 4pm meant that we kept out of the eddies and stayed in the main channel as much as possible, paddling steadily forward as we passed the farm fields and cobble beaches. Where the river valley broadened, it somewhat reminded me of the glacial rivers of Alaska as the river splayed out into several channels that carved through the gravel-y riverbed.

The next 3.5 miles were generally relaxed until another sharp right bend in the river. We made our way to the right shore where I promptly ate my words about us being done with the rapids. In my defense, the AMC river guide claims that this section below the initial rapids is nothing but “quick water and riffles.” The problem at this rapid isn’t a big wave train or souse hole, but the fact that, at this level, each of the strands of current ends up piling up and making a pillow on one of several mid-stream boulders. This was further complicated by some strainers caught amongst the boulders. After debating whether to line or try to maneuver through on the right, we decided to go for the left side, gradually working center-left, away from some problematic boulders. As we shot through, the current kept pushing us left, left, left. “RIGHT DRAW, RIGHT DRAW” I screamed from the back, probably with more urgency than this class II rapid deserved. Then, BUMP! “LEAN LEFT, LEAN LEFT.” Sarah (new to whitewater) and I quickly leaned left toward the boulder we had come against amidships thus preventing a flip, and the current pushed us uneventfully downstream. A small adrenaline rush, and a good exercise in damage control when you don’t make your line exactly.

After this rapid, the river resumed its steady-but-smooth character, interrupted only by the occasional riffle for the next four-or-so miles. These stretches of the Sandy free up focus from navigating the current and allow more time for noticing one’s surroundings. Earlier, Sarah had spied a gigantic eagle’s nest perched high atop a pine on the left bank. As we floated past, we thought we made out an inquisitive white head popping out from the aerie. Mergansers and sandpipers provided interesting additions to the bucolic scenery along the way. It was human fauna, however, that made the most racket: As we came around a bend, we were shaken by the sound of gunfire nearby. We looked behind us, and up on the hill to the left were two people that had apparently been doing some target practice (or setting off fireworks—we couldn’t see which). As we stared up at them, they headed inside, possibly realizing that they had given us a fright. Then, when the house started to slip out of view, we heard the loud reports again. We were pretty rational about it all (i.e. didn’t think we were in a Deliverance-type situation), but also had nil desire to stay in that spot and hastened our paddle strokes.

As Route 4 got closer to the river’s right bank near Strong, the current picked up and some fun class I rapids began. These required maneuvering in and out of the rocks and boulders, and constantly trying to pick out the deep(er) channel from the shallow riffles. Pretty stress-free, but a fun “obstacle course” after four miles of smooth paddling. These rapids run for about .75 mi down to a swimming hole (accessed from river right just upstream of the Route 4 / Route 145 junction in Strong). Here, the smooth ledges plunge straight down into a deep pool, providing fishing and swimming opportunities during the summer. Just after this pool Valley Brook dumps in on the left and the current picks up, creating a short, straightforward class II rapid with the ME 145 bridge in plain sight just downstream. We eagerly splashed straight through the one-to-two-foot waves and took on a bit of water. This was of little consequence, however, as we landed just downstream of the bridge at the river-right take out where there’s an out-of-use ballfield and American Legion hall. Overall, we completed the nine mile trip in about two-and-a-half hours.

We quickly split a Snickers and transitioned into “bike mode” for the shuttle back up Route 4 to the car. Unlike some bike shuttles we’d recently done, this one was relatively flat, and the few hills had moderate grades—another thing that makes this stretch of the Sandy great!

Back at the car, we pondered a run on the Carrabassett the next day. But a polar weather system was moving in and it was already getting quite chilly. We stayed the night at Sarah’s Sugarloaf condo, and put our wetsuits out on the porch to “dry off.” Six inches of fresh snow later, they were still wet, and quite a bit colder. A look out to the car and snow-covered canoe confirmed that we’d be turning up the heat and steaming back to Portland instead of tackling another river.