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Welcome to Nanook's Campfire |
| Ramming Speed on the Nepisiguit |
Elsewhere in this website, I ramble on … far too long, I know … about what to do when the rapids are all run and the river nears its end. On the Main Southwest Miramichi, we slipped into the deep water and bobbed from eddy to rock, cooling off on a hot spring day.
 Indian Falls is a six-foot ledge dropping into a calm pool. The locals warn about the keeper hole at the foot of the drop. I didn't attempt it ... this time. |
On the Nepisiguit, however, we resurrected an old sport we hadn’t played for many years. We call it "ramming speed". I’m sure many of my visitors have played a version of this at one time or another.
The Nepisiguit runs wide, deep and even in its upper stretches. The four of us were staying in a cabin at Indian Falls, the only significant stretch of whitewater from the headwaters in Mount Carleton Park until the Narrows gorge above the Grand Falls of the Nepisiguit. This was our base for a weekend of day trips in two boats on different stretches of this big river.
 This is the ledge just above Indian Falls. Don't mistake it for the big jump about 500 meters downstream! |
We were approaching the end of our first day trip, from Allan’s Rocks below Indian Falls to the Heath Steele Bridge. Our attempts at fishing produced only fingerling trout, and, even more discouraging, our coolers were empty. I noticed that Bill and Laurie’s boat was turned temptingly sideways, so I hollered out the obligatory challenge, "Ramming Speed", and Scotty and I leaned into our paddles, aiming for a direct hit broadside on their boat.
Our first attempt met with only limited success, as they sped around, and deflected our bow with their paddles. As they pulled away, they whipped their paddles on to the water, and sprayed us with soaking streams, direct hits. Our retaliation was just as swift and effective.
By the time we had made four attacks and missed each time, we were all soaked, and eager to deliver a finishing blow to knock the others out of the water … all in good fun, of course. So we found ourselves facing each other on opposite sides of the river, and with no prompting, dug deep with our blades, intent on a head-on collision to settle this matter once and for all. I was sitting in the stern, and saw the intense gleam of fear and excitement burn in the eyes of the bowman Billy Bogan in the opposite boat as our two craft drew near.
 Left to right, Nanook, Hal the Gullboy, and Jay Grenham play ramming speed on the Merrimack River, New Hampshire, during the New England Paddlers' Rendezvous, August 2005. This particular game was played with poles, and we stood up, me on the floor, and Hal and Jay on their gunwales. We all went for a swim. |
 A kayaker plans his descent towards Pabineau Falls on the lower Nepisiguit River. Credit: Communications New Brunswick |
 Okay, here's what Pabineau Falls looks like from downstream. Beware, paddlers have come to grief here. |
That was not the only flip we experienced that weekend. On next day’s run, from Popple Depot to Indian Falls, the river runs through a deep, wide valley, rimmed by the high rounded hills of the last leg of the Appalachians. There are nearly no rocks in this section, the river runs from one deep trout pool to the next, in a swift unobstructed current three to four feet deep all the way.
Once again, we had depleted our cooler reserves, and were enjoying the warm breeze pushing us downstream to our takeout point just around the bend. It seemed all too perfect, just to lean back, take in the magnificent scenery, and enjoy the glow of the sun on the hillside … and it was. In a nanosecond, I was lying three feet under the water, looking up at the inside of my boat above me. One freak gust coming off Mount Carleton had spun us over like a leaf on a lawn.
Yes, we were tempting the river gods, floating sideways downstream, our paddles slack, lying back in our seats without a care. They had every right to call our bluff. Thankfully, the water was not cold, and we were able to muscle our boat to shore with no further mishaps. I should know by now that the wind can play clever tricks on you that the water can’t.
Nanook of the Nashwaak
Reach out and touch a rock
Whenever I see a jet-ski, I think of our close encounter on the Nashwaak.
 Scooter and Hal on the Nepisiguit, May 2007 |
