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Skip report; go straight to slideshow As the summer fades, so too, do my memories of previous trips to the beautiful Saco River: five decades ago with family and friends, the memorable highlight being the loss of my buddy Ricky‘s bathing suit, him running up the beach trying to cover up his now-public “privates”; a trip with friends in high school that involved a shuttle on my Kawasaki 500; two decades ago with our local Boy Scout Troop, me paddling in the stern, my two boys lazing up front. It was uncharacteristic of me to plan a paddling trip with my son, on only 2 days notice. I typically lay out all my gear on a bedsheet on the garage floor, at least a week before an upcoming trip. Because the weatherwoman had forecast a bluebird sky, crisp fall Saturday, I decided what the heck, we could do this. With not a little cajoling, we cobbled together enough food and gear for an overnight trip on the river. We started our two-hour drive shortly after N got home from work, and arrived early enough (dusk) at the Saco Pines Campground to set up our tent, then hastened to our destination that was the reason for our Friday tenting-Flatbread Pizza in North Conway. We had hoped to be on the water by 8 o’clock on Saturday, but my previous phone call to the office required us to check in at 8:45 for registration. The unforeseen (by me, anyway) SNAFU of the ever-popular Fryeburg fair was disconcerting. Because of the snail-paced traffic along the Fair main drag (route 302), the proprietor at the canoe livery was not willing to have someone drop us off at Walker’s Bridge; instead, we had to shorten the trip by 10 miles, by launching at the more upstream location of “The Landing“. We crept most of the 5 mile, one-hour trip to the Landing, parking-lot hawkers flagging fair goers with enticements of coffee/donuts, fire ring, and porta potty. We quickly loaded the canoe, jumped in, and were finally on the water at 1120. A small party of eight with three canoes were the only people we would see on the river during the next two days. We made good time along the meandering river, averaging 3 kn, assisted by a <2 kn current along this upper portion of the trip. Long sandy beaches were plentiful, and account for the summertime popularity of this section. The depth of the water averaged less than 1 foot on our first day (gage height =2.5’; flow~250 cfs); we scraped bottom only a few times. The trip up to Walker’s bridge was pleasantly uneventful. The fall colors, though not brilliant, were soothingly reflected in the flat water. Upon nearing Walker’s rips, we landed at the infamous skinny dipping beach, to survey potential tent spots. There were many, though the former lean-to of my youth had disappeared. We climbed up the granite bridge trestle to scout out the short rapid, and agreed that either extreme river left or right were the only options, and decided that the near, more active left passage would be more fun. Given the early hour and our respectable paddling pace, we chatted about extending the trip by continuing paddling beyond the pre-planned take-out of Brownfield, to camp a few miles beyond, leaving an approximately 12-mile trip for Sunday. I phoned Saco Bound, and Laura agreed to our request for a pick up in Hiram at 1415 on Sunday. We were quickly back on the water and happy to recover from the disappointing float plan from earlier that morning. We took a 10-minute break to harvest some dried firewood from fallen trees, the 8-foot sections neatly and evenly balanced on the gunnels. We had decided that 6:00 would be the cut-off time for finding a beach-side camp, and within a few miles beyond the Brownfield bridge we landed at a supreme site. N Got busy sawing the firewood, while I prepared the evening repast on a conveniently-placed large stump. We savored the warming meal and fire, hoping to elevate our core temperature to prepare for the cold night ahead. We dropped our knackered heads on the pillow at 9:15 and slept soundly in our cozy tent. Day 1 track My watch thermometer read 28.8 F at 0700 the next morning, and we shook off the frosty flakes from the tent and fly, on the water by 7:40. Within a short time we sited a small group of five deer at the waters edge and sat stock–still as we floated closer. Long stares from the wild animals finally resulted in a single loud snort (Who decides to make that call?) and a quick departure. Of course a photo attempt bombed, the creatures too far away, as was the case the day before, when a single deer crossed the river in front of us. The section of river beyond the Brownfield bridge is a bit deeper, slower, and forested, though no less beautiful, with occasional high sandy banks. There are fewer camping beaches, and many are “posted”. Because of our decent pace (N at the stern with his kayak paddle), we took a few short diversions – one, a clockwise loop around and oxbow that dead-ended, the other a quick duck into a granite-lined culvert (see track, day 2). We arrived at the Hiram take out a few hours before the designated pick up time. We had hoped to find a café serving a warm breakfast; Alas, no such luck in this sleepy hamlet. We toured the cemetery, searching for the top three unique names; Thankful, Freedom, and Ephraim were the winners. Dan arrived early and shuttled us back to our car. We loaded, then made haste for Flatbread again, relieved that we had not filled up at an imaginary café! Day 2 track