On a stormy 4th of July, while families prepped their fireworks, lit the grill and recounted their favorite floats in their small town parades Joe, Luna (our sometimes chaotic but always loveable pup), and I pushed off and slipped quietly into the East Branch of the Penobscot River. This river runs through the traditional homelands of the Penobscot and has been canoed for thousands of years. We had 47 miles ahead of us—from Bowlin to Medway—and three days to savor one of the most remote and rewarding canoe trips in Maine. Note: We launched from a private boat launch after obtaining permission.
Canoe camping is, hands down, my favorite way to travel in summer. You get the solitude and beauty of backpacking, but with a cooler, camp chair, and the joy of cooking something delicious in a dutch oven over a fire. There’s something deeply comforting about floating with all your gear—your little life—in the belly of a boat.
We launched around 4:00 PM, swatting away mosquitoes and choosing our lines carefully through shallow gravel bars (the water was running at about 350 cubic feet per second below Matagamon Dam—low, but doable). We were starting our trip later than we hoped and half a mile in, Big Spring campsite (NPS site) tempted us with its towering hemlocks and peaceful clearing, but we were feeling ambitious and paddled on, eyes set on Elbow or Fiske campsites. Elbow (5 mi) nearly eluded us—it’s high up on the bank, unmarked, and only visible thanks to another group already camped there. Fiske (7.2 mi) was more obvious, but also full. Rats! We kept going, kind of wishing we had stopped at Big Spring campsite and hoped Big Sebois campsite (NPS site) (10.5 mi) would be open. By the way, NPS campsites can be reserved in advance at recreation.gov.
It was—empty, beautiful, and buggy. As soon as we pulled ashore, mosquitoes descended like a curtain, driving us straight into camp mode: fire first, then tent, then dinner. Smoke helped, and soon Luna was fed, camp set up, and we were relaxing by the flames, cooking steak, potatoes, and corn on a fire under a purple sky.
Where The Rivers Meet
The next morning we aimed for the new Penobscot River Trails (PRT) paddle-up campsite, about 10 miles downstream. Between Big Seboeis and our take out in Medway, there are few backcountry camping options, so although we wanted to get more miles in on day two we were grateful for this site, which had only opened the year before.
This stretch—passing through Katahdin Woods & Waters National Monument and then the privately conserved Penobscot River Trails—is stunning. The river deepens and widens. We floated by the spot where Donn Fendler was found in Lost on a Mountain in Maine, passed the old Hunt Farm, and moved through long, quiet bends where bald eagles soared ahead like our own feathered parade. We stopped to swim where the cold, clear waters of the Wassataquoik meet the Penobscot—one of the most refreshing swims of the summer.
Whetstone Falls came next. The Friends river guide rates it a class II+ or III, but at this water level it felt more like a technical class I+ or II—tight maneuvering, small splashes, and fun wave trains under the bridge. It was the perfect kind of rapid—enough to wake you up and make you focus, but not enough to knock you around too much.
After Whetstone, we pulled up on a sunny gravel bar for sandwiches and a long break. The beauty of this trip is how much time you can spend not paddling—just being. Eventually, we made it to the PRT campsite around 2:00 PM. It’s impressively spacious: two large tent platforms, several picnic tables, benches, a fire ring with a grill, and even a pretty decent outhouse (campers know this is no small detail). A quick heads-up: there’s some poison ivy starting to pop up around the site, so keep an eye out.
We had plenty of time to relax and went for a walk through the nearby forest, admiring massive white pines and red oaks. We looked for mushrooms (no luck), listened to hermit thrushes, and let the quiet of the woods settle in. Dinner was backcountry jambalaya—shrimp, sausage, rice, spice, and a touch of that smoky flavor only a real campfire can give you.
One Last Bend
Day three was our longest stretch: 17 miles to the Medway take-out. I wasn’t ready for it to end. There’s a bittersweetness to the last morning of a trip like this—especially when you’ve been unplugged and fully present. But with shuttle logistics, trip clean up and work waiting at home looming over us, we pushed off by 7:00 AM.
We navigated a series of rapids: Crowfoot Falls, with tight moves between rocks, and then Grindstone Falls. We scouted the upper ledge and ran it clean on river left, slipping through a narrow channel. I now understand where these falls got their name—sharp, jagged rocks that required careful reading and some rock-bumping. I was nervous for our canoe, but we made it through with only a few scratches. Luna didn’t love this part—she stayed curled between my legs for the whole stretch, tail curled and eyes shut. But once we were through it and she could hear us hoot and holler she joined in the glee.
The last rapid of the trip, Ledge Falls, sneaks up on you. We heard it before we saw it and pulled over on river right to scout and have a quick snack. It wasn’t very difficult, but we were glad to choose our line from shore.
After that, the river smoothed out. The last 20 minutes were quiet and familiar—cars humming on the highway, fishermen on pontoon boats, and the strange re-entry into the human world after days of quiet and peace. It always feels too soon.
A Special Celebration
This was the perfect trip for our own 4th of July celebration this year, bringing relief when the world feels chaotic and heavy. Our fireworks were lightning bugs flickering above the river. Our BBQ was steak on a fire. Our music was the splash of rapids and the trill of birdsong. And our parade? Dozens of bald eagles soaring overhead. Paddling along the East Branch, through public lands managed by our National Park Service partners as well as state and private agencies, was a great reminder of all we strive to protect in our work at Friends of Katahdin Woods & Waters.
This wasn’t just a canoe trip. It was a celebration that America’s best promise might still be found in its rivers, forests, and skies. And that freedom sometimes looks like paddling quietly downstream, with your dog curled at your feet and everything you need in the hull of a canoe.
Three Days, One River, and a Different Kind of Fourth
Posted: July 14, 2025 by Elise Goplerud
On a stormy 4th of July, while families prepped their fireworks, lit the grill and recounted their favorite floats in their small town parades Joe, Luna (our sometimes chaotic but always loveable pup), and I pushed off and slipped quietly into the East Branch of the Penobscot River. This river runs through the traditional homelands of the Penobscot and has been canoed for thousands of years. We had 47 miles ahead of us—from Bowlin to Medway—and three days to savor one of the most remote and rewarding canoe trips in Maine. Note: We launched from a private boat launch after obtaining permission.
Canoe camping is, hands down, my favorite way to travel in summer. You get the solitude and beauty of backpacking, but with a cooler, camp chair, and the joy of cooking something delicious in a dutch oven over a fire. There’s something deeply comforting about floating with all your gear—your little life—in the belly of a boat.
We launched around 4:00 PM, swatting away mosquitoes and choosing our lines carefully through shallow gravel bars (the water was running at about 350 cubic feet per second below Matagamon Dam—low, but doable). We were starting our trip later than we hoped and half a mile in, Big Spring campsite (NPS site) tempted us with its towering hemlocks and peaceful clearing, but we were feeling ambitious and paddled on, eyes set on Elbow or Fiske campsites. Elbow (5 mi) nearly eluded us—it’s high up on the bank, unmarked, and only visible thanks to another group already camped there. Fiske (7.2 mi) was more obvious, but also full. Rats! We kept going, kind of wishing we had stopped at Big Spring campsite and hoped Big Sebois campsite (NPS site) (10.5 mi) would be open. By the way, NPS campsites can be reserved in advance at recreation.gov.
Where The Rivers Meet
The next morning we aimed for the new Penobscot River Trails (PRT) paddle-up campsite, about 10 miles downstream. Between Big Seboeis and our take out in Medway, there are few backcountry camping options, so although we wanted to get more miles in on day two we were grateful for this site, which had only opened the year before.
This stretch—passing through Katahdin Woods & Waters National Monument and then the privately conserved Penobscot River Trails—is stunning. The river deepens and widens. We floated by the spot where Donn Fendler was found in Lost on a Mountain in Maine, passed the old Hunt Farm, and moved through long, quiet bends where bald eagles soared ahead like our own feathered parade. We stopped to swim where the cold, clear waters of the Wassataquoik meet the Penobscot—one of the most refreshing swims of the summer.
Whetstone Falls came next. The Friends river guide rates it a class II+ or III, but at this water level it felt more like a technical class I+ or II—tight maneuvering, small splashes, and fun wave trains under the bridge. It was the perfect kind of rapid—enough to wake you up and make you focus, but not enough to knock you around too much.
One Last Bend
Day three was our longest stretch: 17 miles to the Medway take-out. I wasn’t ready for it to end. There’s a bittersweetness to the last morning of a trip like this—especially when you’ve been unplugged and fully present. But with shuttle logistics, trip clean up and work waiting at home looming over us, we pushed off by 7:00 AM.
After that, the river smoothed out. The last 20 minutes were quiet and familiar—cars humming on the highway, fishermen on pontoon boats, and the strange re-entry into the human world after days of quiet and peace. It always feels too soon.
A Special Celebration
This was the perfect trip for our own 4th of July celebration this year, bringing relief when the world feels chaotic and heavy. Our fireworks were lightning bugs flickering above the river. Our BBQ was steak on a fire. Our music was the splash of rapids and the trill of birdsong. And our parade? Dozens of bald eagles soaring overhead. Paddling along the East Branch, through public lands managed by our National Park Service partners as well as state and private agencies, was a great reminder of all we strive to protect in our work at Friends of Katahdin Woods & Waters.
This wasn’t just a canoe trip. It was a celebration that America’s best promise might still be found in its rivers, forests, and skies. And that freedom sometimes looks like paddling quietly downstream, with your dog curled at your feet and everything you need in the hull of a canoe.
Category: Trip Reports, Uncategorized