{"id":35938,"date":"2025-05-15T08:00:22","date_gmt":"2025-05-15T15:00:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/?p=35938"},"modified":"2025-05-19T13:35:28","modified_gmt":"2025-05-19T20:35:28","slug":"follow-the-water-our-100-mile-source-to-sea-journey","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/2025\/05\/15\/follow-the-water-our-100-mile-source-to-sea-journey\/","title":{"rendered":"Follow the Water: Source-to-Sea on a Vital Maine Watershed"},"content":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s a cold, gray morning on Songo Pond in the Maine mountains. Dry bags are sealed, food is stashed. We squeeze ourselves into dry suits, buckle on PFDs, and slide our kayaks into the water.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s the beginning of May, National Drinking Water Week, and we\u2019re setting off to paddle 100 miles through one of Maine\u2019s most critical watersheds\u2014two rivers traditionally fished and traveled by the Wabanki people, who have been caring for this place for centuries. Outdoor photographer Andy Gagne<\/a> and I have spent years photographing and writing about the land and waters we love, but this is a chance to get intimate with our home. To learn the journey of a water droplet by going on it.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s one thing to know what a watershed is. It\u2019s another entirely to understand it in your body.<\/p>\n

A whopping 200,000+ people\u20141 in 6 Mainers\u2014get their clean drinking water from the Sebago Lake watershed<\/a>. This is thanks to the forests around it, which act as a natural filtration system, making it one of the top 50 cleanest water drinking supplies in the U.S. But development in Maine is booming, and losing just 8% of this forest could have huge and costly consequences for clean water. It\u2019s a rare environmental story where humans haven\u2019t destroyed the natural system\u2014yet. But the threat is real. Our mission is to transport our audience into the watershed, demonstrating how the rivers, forests and wildlife are all connected to the faucet, and to highlight the unique and creative ways people are working together to protect these waters for future generations.<\/p>\n

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Our first day on the Crooked River finds us chest-high in cold water, pushing our boats through a tangle of bushes, and playing a careful game of limbo with the trees that have blown down in recent storms. We slip silently through high rocky gorges, over glassy black water framed by hemlocks. It starts to rain, as if the water knows what we\u2019re doing. As if it\u2019s saying, ready, set, go. <\/em><\/p>\n

I get my first taste of a Crooked River rapid\u2014shallow, bony, and technical\u2014and I come out bleeding, having bashed my knuckles with a too-deep sweep of my paddle. Though I\u2019m the only one Charlotte had to push off a rock, I\u2019m a tiny bit relieved to see the others scraping the bottom, too. Andy, Charlotte and Alex have all been boating for over ten years, which makes me very lucky. This is my second time in a whitewater kayak\u2014the first was last Tuesday, when Alex gave me a crash course on pulling in and out of eddies. And though I\u2019m the kind of person who, given a good cause, will cheerfully leap into just about anything, I\u2019ll be honest: I\u2019m terrified.<\/p>\n

I know how to read a river. I trained as a raft guide on the American in California and the Kennebec in Maine. I\u2019ve guided whitewater canoe trips on the Raquette River in the Adirondacks, and sea kayak expeditions in Casco Bay. The highest class rapid on the Crooked is Class III, which I know I can do. But I\u2019m paddling a borrowed boat, and it\u2019s loaded and awkward. I can\u2019t roll, so if I flip, I\u2019ll swim. Not to mention people don\u2019t really paddle this route, and we\u2019re about to find out why: Dams and downed trees, minimal camping, protected Atlantic salmon habitat, shallow rocky rapids.<\/p>\n