Adventure on the Contoocook

Last summer, some friends told me they had parked at this little spot right off 202 in Peterborough and spent a day splashing and hopping all over the rocks of the Contoocook. Private but still close to town, it’s just over the bridge past the 136 junction, a quick right if you’re going north. You’ll find a little pull-off parking area right next to the river without much in the way of signage or amenities. It’s not even marked on Google Maps, although you can see the clearing on satellite view.

Last year, of course, was 2020, when the pool was closed and the pond was weird and the river was so low you could almost walk across it anywhere.This year, the river has been high and wild with all the rain, and the questions circling among the adventurous moms have been: can we put a boat in there? And: if we do, where will we end up? Some of the kids who experienced my fantastic adventure plan to ride bikes all the way from downtown Peterborough to camp at Greenfield State Park last summer joked that they’d mutiny if their mom and I tried it. But It wasn’t until late in the summer, when a Facebook acquaintance posted her successful kayak trip report, starting at the pull-off and finding a nice spot to take their boats out just before Powdermill Pond in Hancock, that I knew that this was definitely happening.

Last week, seeing the forecast for clear days in the 70s, blue skies, and peak foliage, I announced the plan. Thursday afternoon looked gorgeous, no kid activities were on the schedule, and Kurt was available to transport us. We packed snacks and life jackets and raincoats and drove to the mysterious pull-off. There’s a surprising amount of parking hidden in the trees there, especially considering there’s no real boat ramp to speak of. Rather, a small section of the riverbank slopes slightly more gently down to a spot with a touch more sand, just right for slipping three small kayaks into the water.

I watched the water carrying leaves downstream at what suddenly seemed to be an alarming speed. “This is a good idea, right? We can handle this, right?” I asked Kurt as he pushed me into the current, followed by the kids. Before I could hear his answer or wave goodbye, we were off, down the Contoocook.

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And then Clover dropped her paddle and the terror of being in a river began.

I retrieved the paddle, retrieved the petrified child clinging to a branch, retrieved the other child stuck on a rock, got myself stuck on a rock, got myself soaking wet rescuing myself, and guided the three of us (one of whom was screaming at top volume and scaring away some lovely wild ducks) over to a muddy spot on the riverbank. We were five minutes into our planned multi-hour excursion and I was already ready to call Kurt and head home in defeat.

Those who know me and my adventurous ways know that this is not something that happens often. Just a few months ago we stuck out a camping trip that seemed to throw new challenges at us each day, braving thunderstorms and fevers and other minor mishaps when we could have just driven 15 minutes and been home.

“This is a disaster,” I tried to text, but of course that particular little mudbank was a dead spot. With no way to contact anyone, no real way to paddle back up the rapids and between the rocks we had just narrowly escaped, I got the kids breathing deeply, ready to accept that the only thing we could possibly do was to go a little farther down the river. I managed to convince them that the water would get smoother as soon as we navigated around the branch we could see sticking out of the water just ahead. I hoped I was right.

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Thankfully, I was.

The water, now removed a bit from the rush of the waterfall on the other side of 202, slowed. We got used to the friendly flow of the river, and were able to marvel at how shallow the water really was, how warm the breeze, how bright the leaves. Everyone relaxed and all high-pitched fear noises subsided. Despite my history of dropping phones into bodies of water, I braved a reach into my drybag to text a follow-up to Kurt: “Disaster averted.”

We got good at spotting rocks just under the surface and calling navigational tips to each other. Clover noticed that a big benefit of taking this trip in fall was that the leaves would bunch up around fallen logs, creating golden beacons to mark semi-submerged hazards.

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The river stretched out in easy miles, golden canopies of trees leaning in over us, intricate root patterns woven into the river bank. The trees’ reflections in the barely-rippling river made it look like we were floating down a double-vision yellow brick road, a tunnel of flame-bright color. This view of the Contoocook was even more magical than I had anticipated. We leaned back and watched the clouds, streaked and purpling as the afternoon wore on. We stopped for a snack on a beach that seemed to be made of mounds of scarlet maple leaves, so that the kids weren’t sure at first whether there was even any solid land.

Even though there were occasional traffic sounds filtering through the trees from 202 as we meandered closer to the highway, the waterway was mostly silent except for whatever sounds we added. We spotted some wild ducks, a kind I’d never seen before with orange heads (I’m guessing a canvasback). We challenged ourselves to see how close we could float without spooking them. Later, we saw a blue heron and the sound of its wingbeats was so clear it seemed like we could hear individual feathers rustling the air.

By the end of the trip we were all three soaking wet, but we were laughing (even if at least one of the kids was hoarse from all the earlier screaming). On our way back to town, the kids couldn’t believe how quickly we made it back to the part of the highway where our adventure had begun, hours before. We’d been through a lot in that time: learning how to river-kayak, discovering the jewel-strewn path of the Contoocook at peak foliage, (and facing some intense personal fears while we were at it). We returned home to put our kayaks to bed for the season, but now that I’ve unlocked the secrets of that unmarked pull-off, I’ve got all of the cold months to dream up more adventures.

Adventure Location: The Contoocook River, Peterborough-Hancock. Put in off of 202 just past 136, take out Cavender Road, Hancock. For a longer trip, head for Powdermill Pond and the boat launch off of Forest Road. For a shorter trip, be prepared to carry your craft up a steep slope and a few steps through the woods at the Recycling Center, but I hear tell it’s possible.

Helpful advice: Take the right hand side of the fork to go around the island at the beginning of the trip (I don’t know why, but this is what They say). Give yourself lots of hours so you can spend some time just floating and marveling in the quiet. Maybe invest in a paddle leash.

Would I do this again? Even with our rocky start, this was an absolutely gorgeous and amazing adventure. I was already fond of our river before, and now I’m in love with this new, hidden side of her. I want to make this Fall Foliage Float an annual thing! I hope the kids will accompany me, but I’ll leave them behind if I have to.

Would the kids do it again? Clover, age 8: “I might go again. When I’m 9. ...Can we go to a pond or a lake instead?” Rye, age 6: “Maybe.”