Romaine Day 6

Catch up on the rest of the trip here.

Day 6:
12 miles
1.7 miles of bogging
1 communal pot of poutine in Havre St. Pierre

Well, we got up on the last day thinking wow, blue sky, nice out, this is great. As soon as we took down our tarp it started pouring rain, so we all raced into our drysuits and felt thoroughly demoralized. Right off the bat there was some big class III, followed by about 6 miles of flatwater to La Grande Chutes, the only unrun (unrunnable) rapid left on the river.

Boyce taking it in. The bottom ~60' of the 100+' cascade.

6 more miles of flatwater and two huge class IVs later Greg brought us in to a completely unmarked spot on river left where we proceeded to hike our 100lb boats up a ridiculously steep bank...Turns out Greg is a superhero and did the last bit of it three times as Isaac and I were dragging ass. Unfortunately, the top of the hill was not at the road, but instead at the beginning of the bog. The group that went a few weeks earlier than us had gotten lost in the bog and ended up spending four or five hours there. Thankfully, Boyce had a great route planned out on the GPS and led us fearlessly through 1.7 miles of bog in about an hour and a half. We came out of the woods onto a road -- no river in sight -- in far Northern Quebec exactly where we had stashed takeout beers a week earlier.

Bogging.

Boyce hitched a ride to the winnebago while the rest of us got drunk off one or two beers each. Meanwhile, a cop drove by, spun around and pulled up next to us. As he pulled up, Isaac filmed Greg pulling a knife and saying, "This cop better not fuck with us." Can't wait to see the footage. Then Scott decided to talk to the cop in English with a fake Quebecois accent. Boyce turned up and we proceeded to Le Promenade, a restaurant in Havre St. Pierre where we enjoyed some fine poutine before rallying back to the U S of A.

The crew after enjoying a healthy serving of poutine.

All in all, what an incredible trip. The inclement weather definitely made it a little more of a survival trip than it would have been. A big thanks to Boyce for putting the trip together, and thanks to Darin McQuoid for his helpful post on doing a self support trip. A couple things I'd add: definitely do not expect a bivy to work without a tarp in the rain. Really, don't use a bivy, just bring a good tarp. Also, make sure to try packing all your stuff into your boat at least once before driving 20 hours to the river. And, bring a small, lightweight thermarest. Comfort is nice, but cheap ones are very bulky and difficult to fit in kayaks.

The Willy Kern shot.

La Riviere Romaine, Days 4 and 5

If you haven't read the first few days, check them out here.

Day 4:
31 miles

Not a ton to say about day 4. We woke up to find wolf tracks throughout the camp all our sleeping areas...glad I didn't wake up during the night.

The scenery still sucked.

We geared up and paddled 31 miles of flatwater in the rain with a headwind (as per usual) to our next campsite, an island in the middle of the river with lots of wet wood and black flies. At camp, we could hear blasting sounds and saw construction lights ahead of us on the river.

Jonathan celebrating a brief moment of blue sky...don't worry the rain came back shortly after.

Day 5:
20 miles

20 minutes of flatwater into the last day, we rounded a corner and were confronted with a huge construction site. A busy road (complete with a guard rail) lead trucks and other vehicles down to a massive bridge across the river and a granite dome with a huge chunk blown out of it that is to become the diversion channel for Romaine 2. We paddled under the bridge through a small rapid filled with road blast...not something you expect on a wilderness run. A few of the construction workers came out in a boat and spoke to us. They said they've been working really hard for the last five months (which was obvious, since there was almost nothing at the Romaine 2 site a year earlier when Boyce and Greg had done the trip). Oh well.

Progress.

Day 5 only had a few rapids, but they were definitely the biggest of the trip. Shortly after the construction, we got to Finger of Fate (aka Spike Rapid) which we all snuck river right through some sievy low volume bouldery stuff. Isaac hiked up and ran the Finger itself disappearing even earlier above the lip than I thought he would, resurfacing a couple seconds later backwards at the bottom of the drop and paddling away.

Stuntman (aka Freebird Falls) was next, another huge rapid. A relatively easy leadin led off this broken 15' ledge with a horrendous looking landing zone that went perfectly fine if you rode it out to near the point of the ledge and then dropped off. Unfortunately, I didn't scout the leadin carefully enough, so I came in just a little too far right. Just above the point of the ledge, there are two humps. Boyce and Greg both had good lines going between the two humps and dropping off a little earlier than the point. It also looked like you could go over the river right hump and off the very point of the drop for a better boof (Jonathan in fact managed to hit this line). I hit the river right hump and then fell right. I realized it was happening, looked down, spotted my landing and braced into the pillow I was landing on. I hit a rock but was upright and thought I was fine...then disappeared underwater. All the water from the river right side of the falls, it turned out, pounded into this huge boulder. I got smashed into a bow-down pin with my chest against a rock ledge, probably on this boulder. After a few seconds, I was flushed off violently and felt rock just about everywhere. My boat also filled up with water. Eventually I rolled up and paddled over to the island everyone else was on. I wasn't sure if I was ok, and I thought I'd broken my boat because it was filled with water and my skirt appeared to still be on. All told, I came out with a gaping hole in my chin (that Greg wanted to sow up with fishing line, though I decided we didn't have enough whiskey left for that), several gaping holes in my skirt, and a badly bruised chest. All things considered, a pretty good outcome. I wish I'd scouted the leadin a little more carefully.

Greg styling Freebird Falls.

The next rapid we scouted was called Triple Threat, a pretty huge, long rapid that involved punching two holes on the right then quickly turning around, ferrying across to river left to avoid a massive ledge hole, and then busting back right through the runout. Apparently Eric Boomer came into this one their first year and said, "Looks good," and they ran it blind...I'm glad we scouted. Immediately following is the leadin to what I suspect is one of the largest rapids ever run, Land of the Giants. Boomer ran the bottom two holes (of probably seven) on one of the earlier trips and swam out of the bottom hole. Isaac fired it up from the top, styling everything until the bottom hole where he get worked briefly but flushed. Pretty impressive paddling.

After the rest of us portaged, ate, and lounged on the rocks in the brief period of sunshine, we paddled another twelve miles of flatwater to the last rapid before camp. Shortly after LotG, we saw a pipe in the river and wondered briefly what it might be...within a few hundred yards we realized. They were pumping raw human sewage into the river. For the rest of the trip we were paddling in shit. It was at least as gross as it sounds. After twelve miles of shit paddling, we encountered another horizon line that Boyce told us to follow him off. It turned out to be a busy lead-in to an awesome six foot boof over a big hole through one of the narrowest spots on the river called Zero to Hero or Boof to Camp. Camp was a couple hundred yards downstream on a rock outcropping.

Jonathan showing off the "gaper arms" boof on Zero to Hero.

The rock outcropping we hung out in, complete with rock benches.

You can read about the last day here.

La Riviere Romaine, Day 3

For days 1 and 2, look here.

Day 3:
21 miles

I woke up in the middle of the night sopping wet -- don't bring a bivy sack on a self support kayaking trip -- and was looking pretty grim by morning, when we all hopped straight into our drysuits and packed up camp quickly. The day started with (surprise) a lot of flatwater leading up to the first big rapid, Dome Falls, named for the large granite dome on river right upstream of it. This rapid has three main channels and a couple low volume sneaks. Most of us ran the far river left channel through the first drop, a big boof onto a seam, then worked our way around the huge holes and waves in the 'runout.'

The scenery sucked.

Isaac ran the huge boulder garden in the river right channel, boofing into the runout. I ran a channel out of sight coming in on the right side of the photo.

A few miles later was Rhino, one of the only rapids without side channels. Just a big, bouncy rapid scattered with holes and rocks. We ran a left to right line down the rapid trying to avoid the big hole at the bottom left. Jonathan ran a slightly different line, wanting to count the fishes on the river left side, but it all worked out. Reminded me a lot of Hance on the Grand Canyon, but roughly 8 times bigger.

Me getting right of the big hole. Photo Levinson.

Some more flat led to what looked like a boogie rapid -- a small ledge that we could see from an eddy right at the lip. Boyce and Greg called it the "big breaking wave" rapid. Well, from the eddy I saw five people paddle into it, two flush through upside down, two bust through it no problem, and one get surfed briefly before escaping on river left. So, I paddled into the rapid, hit a curler that was much bigger than expected and literally folded me over backwards, rolled up and hit the "breaking wave." Then I had the worst trashing I've had in years. Even when I was in a controlled sidesurf the thing was breaking over my head so I was pretty much underwater. I probably hit twenty ends before it tore my helmet off, and then finally managed to surf out ten or fifteen seconds later, but by then it was too late. My helmet had run the next little ledge and was floating downstream to the next huge horizon line. I eddied out with Greg and Jonathan who then cruised downstream and I watched as everyone in the group disappeared over the misting horizon, leaving me to portage a side creek with no helmet in order to make downstream progress. About a quarter of the way across I dropped my paddle, which then proceeded to route the next drop in the same fashion as my helmet. So there I am helmetless, paddleless, about to get cliffed out on river left, with no friends in site, many, many miles from civilization. I handpaddled across the rest of the creek and clambered up the left shore to see if I could see anything. Isaac eventually comes up the river right shore -- a long way away -- holding my helmet and my paddle. Good news, but how was I going to get to him? Well, it was the scariest handpaddling I've ever done, I'll tell you that. Ferrying across a boily current above an unknown misting horizon line with no paddle and no helmet is not something I'd like to repeat...but it worked out ok, and I was reunited happily with my paddle and helmet, none the worse for wear.

This misting horizonline was called Adder by Greg and Boyce, with a big S-turny drop on river left and a nice slide to boof in the middle that I ran. On Fred Coriell's blog, it's the first drop of "Double Mister." The next one downstream split around an island with river left being a huge, scary unrun rapid and river right being a huge, scary, but incredibly easy rapid called Horseshoe Hole. Apparently somebody lost a boat in here last year and had to ride the rest of the river down to Hydro-Quebec's construction site on the sterns of his partners' boats. If he really did go into this hole he's lucky that's all he lost.

Jonathan cruising around Horseshoe Hole, that massive looking thing above his head. Photo Levinson.

The day wrapped up with some more flatwater above an (as far as we know) unrun drop called Le Maudite, where Boyce and Greg had camped previously. It's a big, big rapid with a leadin with big curlers on both sides that funnels you right into one huge hole which is immediately backed up by another even worse hole. The line is to bust left or right of the holes at the bottom, and which one is better probably varies with water level. Isaac tried to bust left and ended up heading straight into the top hole, but after a brief working managed to surf his way out on river left in just about the only spot he could avoid the second hole. The rapid is now called Le MauJoo in his honor.

Isaac looking small with about 1/5 of the rapid visible.

We ended up going about six miles further in an effort to find a beach camp because it was going to rain, which was a good decision -- it knocked a good chunk out of the next day, which was supposed to be 37 miles flat, and we found a great campsite across the river from half of a canoe that Boyce and Greg had seen the previous year further upstream.

Check out days 4 and 5 here.

La Riviere Romaine, Day 2

Day 2:
26 miles

We packed up camp in cold, cloudy weather and paddled about 12 miles of mostly flat water (with some class II here and there) to a nice bedrock lunch spot next to a Hydro Quebec gauging station and helipad. Shortly thereafter, we came across Entrance Exam, the first huge rapid.

Boyce in it.

Greg showing us just how big the waves in the runout were. Photo Isaac Levinson.

Shortly downstream we found the next big one, a long, complex rapid we called the Ferry rapid because in years past they'd run down the left through the leadin only find themselves faced with a shitty portage or a very difficult ferry between two holes. We found a nice line down the center and right that didn't involve any terrifying ferries.

Isaac about to style his way through the seam of a huge crashing wave/hole.

Next up was (after, of course, some more flatwater) was the Micrometer of Doom, a riverwide ledge with -- surprise -- a huge hole, and a sweet boof on river right.

Me boofing the Micrometer. Photo Levinson.

Next up was a super fun slide to autoboof rapid, after which we paddled another ten or so miles of flatwater to Fowlersville on Acid, a huge rapid with three channels -- on river left, Fowlersville on Acid, a rapid that looks like Fowlersville on the Bottom Moose but with a much bigger hole. River right was a slide into a big crasher called Nascar, and the center was a low stress low volume slide (I think "Pit Stop" would be a good name, although it's also a good name for the campsite there). We camped on river left at the bottom of Fowlersville on Acid at an amazing beach with plenty of wood. Unfortunately, I found out on this night that my bivy was not nearly as waterproof as it claimed to be, and I woke up soaked the next day.

Greg Hanlon accelerating down Nascar. Photo Boyce Greer.

On our way to the gym, or trying to dry off our drysuits? Boyce, Jonathan, me, Isaac, and Greg at Fowlersville on Acid camp. Photo Scott Murray.

Read on to hear about day 3.

La Riviere Romaine

The drive to the float plane base: 16 hours
The flight: 85 miles
The river: 110 miles
The paddlers: me, Boyce Greer, Greg Hanlon, Scott Murray, Jonathan Baker, and Isaac Levinson.
Animal sightings: 5 moose, 1 beaver, a few loons, ducks, wolf tracks, and what was probably a porcupine, but may have been a bear cub.

To summarize briefly, God shat on us for five days straight. It rained every day, and we had a headwind for just about 90 of the ~95 miles of flatwater. And then on the brutal two mile hike out with loaded boats...it was as sunny as can be. But damn, what an incredible river. About 20 huge named rapids, and countless class III/IV "boogie water" with holes the size of the Winnebago we drove up in.

Boyce's Winnebago. Great way to travel.

Day 0/1:

We met at Greg's house in Lyme, NH around noon on Saturday, piled into the Winnebago, and drove 16 hours straight to Havre Saint Pierre, Quebec. After a brief border crossing hassle where the US border patrol somehow decided to pull us over before we even got to the Canadians, and then the Canadians decided they needed to question Jonathan, we made it into Canada. Driving late at night on Highway 138 up the northern edge of the Saint Lawrence, I was passed by a truck doing at least a hundred. A few hours later, around dawn, Scott was driving and passed a wreck...we went back to make sure everyone was ok and are pretty damn sure it was the same guy. He seemed alright, though, beyond being completely hammered and having a totaled truck, so we left him for the authorities. Rallying into Havre Saint Pierre around 6:30am, we headed first to the cache, the point on Highway 138 -- with no river in sight -- where Boyce claimed we'd be taking out (6 days later) to drop beers, then headed to the traditional (now that Boyce and Greg have done the river three times) breakfast place, Le Promenade. Then we went to the float plane base and after packing up, we loaded boats onto the Otter.

The otter, and our boats. 3 Grandes, 2 Jefes, and an Everest. Thanks, Liquid Logic (and Pyranha).

Two of us went in the otter with the other four in a beaver following shortly after. Then we saw a beaver at camp (a big sandbar in the middle of the river).

He was pretty unfazed.

We cooked dinner and lit a fire in what was to be our last sunlight for the next four days.

The sunset with Scott's boat and tent in the foreground.

Read on to hear about day 2.