WEST FORKS, Maine — Perched on the front, left air-chamber and paddling with the fear-induced, robotic zeal of rally-car racing pistons, my bulging eyes pin-balled between a suddenly looming gorge rock wall and the exploding grandeur of the Kennebec River's notorious class V rapid, Magic Falls.
My reaction to such a formidable presence, beyond an insane desire to grab onto the nearest raft fixture, was a sequence of self-deprecating yelping that swiftly morphed into a barking animalistic resolve — if I was going for a swim, well, then let the river have me.
The raft dipped, the river swelled up into a broiling foam, and blindsided by a sudden wash of oxygenated white water that easily unhinged my so recently tightly hinged foot from beneath the front thwart (an impeccably named device), the raft climbed into a 50 degree pitch, and a Magic Falls knock-out punch was kind enough to send me flailing helplessly into the raft's self-bailing floor.
The truth of the matter is, in spite of my apparent cowardice, I have rafted Maine's trio of superlative waterways (the Kennebec, Penobscot, and Dead rivers) since I was a pockmarked seventh-grader, and it just never grows old.
With daily water releases from the Harris Station Dam, I've been privy to Kennebec rafting days that ranged from the modest (5,000 CFS; the Kennebec's cubic feet per second mean) to the absurd (8,000 CFS). The aforementioned acronym, CFS, stands for cubic feet per second, and for the sake of remaining sports-related, if one could imagine 5,000 basketballs flowing from said dam every second, then you have the force of the water.
For the third straight year, I chose the Magic Falls Rafting Co. to host my deluge desires. Started by Dave and Donna Neddeau in 1989, Magic Falls is celebrating its 20th season in a business that has witnessed its share of recent departures.
Originally a meat-cutter, Dave Neddeau, like many others after him, fell in love with the 12-mile stretch of the Kennebec and soon traded in his band saw and cleaver for a paddle and a life vest. From humble beginnings that featured a handful of rafts catering to a surging number of participants, Neddeau's rafting company now has a fleet of more than 50, a camp ground, a lodge, and a rotund populace of new and returning paddlers.
The white-water rafting season runs from May to October, but is busiest during the year's 10 summer weeks. As is such, in addition to Neddeau and the company's more experienced crew, a fresh crop of guides are brought in and trained every year to keep the system flowing at full capacity. Two in particular are Jenny Thompson and Jared Sullivan; a pair of outdoor enthusiasts who after years of rafting, opted to get a little more intimate with the sport. Their training was extensive; rafting 25 times in a span of a week, that featured continuous runs as guide, paddler, rescuer and rescuee — solo trips down rapids like Dead Stream, White Washer, and Lower Alleyway ensured each budding guide's white-water confidence.
Sullivan, was my guide for this trip and was able to keep me in the raft and managed to hit each of the Kennebec's most prominent rapids — Big Mama, Taster Wave, White Washer and Magic Falls — head on.
My latest Kennebec River rafting trip was measured at 6,400 CFS, and it served as a near perfect trip. Though it remains arguable amongst rafters and guides alike that bigger doesn't necessarily mean better, the availability of hitting rapids is increased when outputs are large, but not too large.
For instance, on 8,000 and above CFS days, an enormous river swell rises up opposite Magic Falls in the gorge's lower reaches like a breaching whale. Coined the Maytag, it serves as the Kennebec's most devastating rapid; featuring a wave, that if hit directly, minus the proper amount of paddling, is a guaranteed flip — dump-trucking the entire shrieking raft (guide included) into the water. However, despite the emergence of Maytag, the CFS also serves as a blanket on other rapids; as the high water level simply washes out smaller waves.
Besides staying raft-bound, the aim of paddlers is to work in unison, and to adhere to whatever their guide screams — something that is slightly more tricky when sitting at the raft's wave-crashed forefront. The two paddlers at the front of the raft are, for all intents and purposes, second in command; as all other paddlers follow their rhythm.
Yes it can be a mighty position, a trendsetter if you will, but it is not always the enviable one — in most cases, the first people to go for a swim are the front paddlers.
Although it has been built up into nightmarish proportions by your oft-exaggerating uncle or from its intimidating visual, as frightening as white-water dips appear, they are not as bad as one may think.
I've had the opportunity to fall out of a raft on numerous occasions — I was amazingly exempt this time around — and the moment you hit the water, it is certainly one of clarification and simplicity.
Your immediate goal is to get back in the raft, and lucky for you, there are six other people trying to help you. As it happens, I've fallen out and been pulled back in a full second later. Other times, I've landed in white water and went for a ride — it can be scary, but it's also exhilarating. Unless your guide tells you to swim toward the raft, keep your toes pointed to the sky and wait for your raft, or one of the many others, to pick you up.
When your guide informs you that the bulk of the rapids are now behind — which generally initiates a satisfied chorus of cheers — the Kennebec River's remaining few miles serve as a chance to swim — of your own accord.
Justifiably a perfect summer destination, Maine's West Forks offers exactly what summer is all about: adventure.
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