Riviere Batiscan (Batiscan River) Trip: June 2016

Day 3, approximately 2 pm:  It's a different kind of boating.

That's what I told myself as I dragged my kayak, loaded with four days' of camping gear and food, onto the bank. If I was in my shorter creek boat, and if it didn't weigh 85 or 90 or 110 pounds (whatever it was), I'd be running this rapid. But I knew just from the sound of the rapid, and from the limited view I was able to get of it, that I'd be portaging around it.

Because it's a different kind of boating.

After climbing up onto a van-sized boulder, we were perched a mere ten feet to the left of a high-volume class 5 feature composed of a 15 foot slide into an ugly hydraulic shouldered by a reasonably straight-forward line through thundering waves, the three of us stared at the line. It was there. It was obvious. I bet I could get on that line with like three paddle strokes. But all my gear is in my boat, and it weighs so much I can't even lift the damn thing. 

Nobody spoke as we all hoped that somebody would chime in with a definitive plan, either NO or GO. But instead, Brian pointed upstream and screamed something different. His unmanned craft, which had apparently slipped from shore on its own, ran the line we were all staring at without even flipping over. We just stared in disbelief. Apparently I wouldn't even need three paddle strokes. But then it was out of view and as all three of us simultaneously realized that the boat contained everything Brian needed in order to survive, without a word we dashed into the woods and ran downstream as if our lives depended upon it.

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Sometime around 2013, after my second kid was out of diapers, Alden Bird's guidebook, Let It Rain, took the pole position on my nightstand, and the Canoe Tripping section of it began to wear heavily. The thick book includes extensive overviews of rivers in the NE United States and SE Canada. But, it has only 8 pages of short entries for long trips worthy of overnighters. Readers must explore and expand that information first-hand, expedition style.

Within that section was this:

A pre-train campsite at Portneuf

Batiscan  This definitely falls more on the "whitewater" end of things. There is a 70-mile stretch of this that begins at Lac Edouard and ends at Notre Dame des Anges. It's broken into a few sections. First, from Lac Edouard down to Miquick. From there the river is a little harder down to the Barrier Batiscan (near Riviere a Pierre). Then the river is easier down to Notre Dame des Anges (which is right near the town of Notre Dame de Montauban). Although there are some cascades right near the end. This should have water all summer. I have heard that the train shuttle might be the way to go. The train goes at least from Riviere a Pierre to Miguick, although I'm not sure of details. This might be more of a good one for decent kayakers looking for an overnight trip that's not too far out there but still has whitewater.

Waiting for the train

A train shuttle? That phrase was double-underlined and gave Quebec's Riviere Batiscan (beh-tee-SKEH) two stars.

There are 20 rivers listed in the section of the book.  Page corners ripped from dog-earing and dirty smudges formed on the edges. Tiny little stars accented rivers of interest like the Bonaventure, Moise, and Magpie and underlining emphasized the vague details of rapid ratings, access points, and distances.

First It was the Petawawa River in May 2014, where I discovered wild and beautiful Algonquin Provincial Park in Ontario. In three days, two friends and I paddled 55 miles through the most remote forest I'd ever experienced and found out that overnighters in wild places make for a different kind of boating, a phrase that would become a theme.

For my 2016 trip I began to investigate the Batiscan. I cross-referenced the section with maps, online trip reports, gauges, and other resources, but little electronic information exists for these way-out-there rivers. 

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The whitewater begins

Day 2, approximately 4 pm: Our second portage of a big rapid was only about 250 feet long. But, it took us over an hour to do it because the portage trail was barely scratched out of the steep and rocky canyon wall. We first removed all the gear from our boats and carried it around to leave it at the bottom of the rapid, our re-launch. Then, we walked back up, grabbed our boats, and either dragged or carried them. It was a bloody ordeal thanks to the thick vegetation, sharp rocks, and inexplicable leg-swallowing holes under the forest's thick debris. All of this was done adjacent to the deafening intensity of a swollen torrent of a rapid, rated class 3-4, within which lived a deadly hydraulic feature large enough to swallow a herd of Quebecois moose. It was as loud as a jet at take-off. I can't think of a class 3 or class 4 rapid on any other river I've had to portage. That's when I realized that the river was high.

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The beginning of the Batiscan as it drains Lac Edouard

I paddle rivers a lot, but not as much as I'd like to (nobody does). But, when I paddle I generally run all the safe rapids. That is to say, the ones where screwing up won't kill or seriously injure me (locally, that means I don't run Splat or the Meadow slides, but go ahead with pretty much everything else on the classics). Looking at rapids in the context of a multi-day trip is a much heavier prospect. Lines need to be relatively straight, or maybe with a gentle turn or two in them, because long, heavy kayaks don't maneuver well. Eddies need to big enough and easy enough to catch with a boat that responds poorly. Swimming, usually a pain in the neck that everybody laughs about later, could be catastrophic if your boat or any gear is swept away and not recovered. Because of the gravity of the situation, we are much more likely to choose the portage over gambling with the consequences of running a questionable rapid.


And so our trip down the Batiscan followed such protocol: if it sounds big, get out and take a look. If it drops out of sight, get out and take a look. If there's an straight-forward line that looks like it can be done, go for it! In all other cases, consider a portage or - at the very least - carrying your gear around and running with an empty boat.
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Day 2, approximately 6 pm: For several hours after getting through the toughest portage, we saw a few more rapids, but none were all that intense and none were rated above class 2. But the intensity of that portage had shocked my nerves and left me with a touch of trauma. I'd never experienced trauma from not running a rapid before. But that's how I was feeling and it had rained hard at least three times through the day and a fourth storm was currently ramping up. Rapids downstream were building; it was like I could feel it in my blood. So, we found the first reasonable campsite so we could let them settle down for the night. 

The site was just barely adequate. Downstream of us was over ten miles of class 3, 4, and 5 rapids, and the high river was clearly going to be rising further. I was scared. And, to add toxicity to the mixture, I really began to miss my family. Scared. Sad. Ed told me I looked like I was miserable. The rain let up a bit, which made the bugs really happy. We got a fire going only thanks to our campstove. I was soaking wet. Ten miles of portaging could take days. I was on vacation.

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The second day on the Batiscan was, for some reason, one of the toughest days I've experienced kayaking. Forty kilometers over ten hours with two portages (both described above). Perhaps it was the rain, the fact that the sun never came out, and the chill I couldn't seem to shake all day long contributed, and having to portage two class 3 rapids because they were swollen to class 5. But that wasn't it. I wasn't having fun, I was having an adventure. An epic. Something that is exciting in the future, hard in the present, and fabulous in the past.  I don't leave my wife and kids very often, and so even a short (and healthy) separation for a few days makes an adventure like this even harder.

On that second day, my camera stopped working thanks to all the moisture. I don't regret it, though, because Ed was right and my photos would have certainly reflected it. I went to my tent early, partially because I wanted to just sleep it off, partially to escape the bugs, but mostly to fast forward to the end of this epic. 

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Day 3, approximately 10 am: When the railroad track was next to the river, portaging became a relative breeze. As a team we could lug the boats up the embankment. Rest the boat across the rails. Fasten a sling of webbing, end to end across the boat, and pull. It was like pulling a 100-pound sled across an ice rink, except it was even easier than that because our footing was solid. The biggest fear, of course, was a train, which came along once, whistle screaming at the worst possible spot: a sharp (aka, blind) bend in the tracks. I don't know how far the train was from hitting them, but when the whistle blew, I instinctively looked back and saw nothing but the front end of a diesel locomotive thundering toward me, and wee-little Brian and Ed quickly and furiously dragging their boats to the side in a microsecond. 

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On our third day on the Batiscan, we paddled through 5+ mile section of rapids that were, with one exception, rated up to class 4. It was the fabled Gates of Hell. We ran all of the drops, except for that one class 5 slide. The sun shone bright and the high water gave us one big water sequence after another. I yeehawed at least a dozen times. Morale had taken a 180.

At the end of it we were faced with the homestretch: 12 more miles of flatwater pushing fast through the deep canyon. I finally felt for certain that we'd make it to the car in one piece. So, as I had done on the Petawawa in 2014, I did something stupid, but ritualistic. I popped open my water bottle, lowered it into a swift section of river where the water flows crystal clear, and drank a liter of the Batiscan like a vampire drinking the blood of its victim.

Bottoms up!

The content below is intended to be a resource for kayakers and canoeists who wish to plan a trip down the Batiscan.

For non-boaters it will probably be nothing more than technical jargon-laden boredom with a couple pictures.

Happy boaters aboard

Train Shuttle: Brilliant, even if you're not a 4-year-old boy. The ViaRail 601 train travels upriver from Montreal every Mon/Wed/Fri. As of June 2016, tickets were $23 Canadian per person (pay over the phone and tell them you have a kayak) and $50 Canadian per boat (payment must be taken on the train; credit, US cash, and Candian cash are accepted). If you're not sure where to launch, then buy a ticket to Lac Edouard because you can always ask the conductor to drop you off before your stop at the last minute, but not after. While on the train you get to see many of the rapids, including much of the Gates of Hell and the slide below the confluence of the Batiscan and Jeanotte rivers , probably the second biggest of all the drops you'll encounter. As the train approaches Lac Edouard it will become clear whether or not the upper reaches are runnable. If they are, you'll be excited to see the creeky drops that flow out of the big lake. If not, then you're going to to carry around a half dozen dry rapids.

At the pick-up spot, Rousseau, QC

Take-out and train shuttle pick-up: Rousseau, QC is a very small village and few people in the area even know it as a place, rather then know it as the name of the road -- Rue Rousseau -- that passes through. Despite its colloquial anonymity you can purchase a ticket on the ViaRail train from Rousseau. To be clear, there is no train station. There is no designated stop. The train conductor is notified that he or she has passengers picking up the train there and so the train slows while passing through until you're seen, waving at the train.

We safely parked our car here, where the train crosses a small dead-end road, and there was a very convenient pair of dumpsters there for when we got off the river. This is a great take-out because it's easy to find from the water, just below a very well-defined rapid (S3/4) followed by a hard right bend, and the river is very close to the road.

Fresh off the train, Lac Edouard

NOTE: While looking for Rousseau, we got lost for a bit and nearly missed our intended pick up time because the road (Rt. 367) is marked as a North/South (Nord/Sud) route and in this area the road travels geographically South (Sud) while being marked Nord (North). So, be careful, but bear in mind that the train is usually late (90 minutes in our case), as confirmed by the attendant on the train.

Put-in (option 1, high water): Lac Edouard, QC is a vacation spot with a handful of cottages, lots of boat shelters, and absolutely zero amenities. You are NOT going to grab that last item you forgot to pack here. For us, the conductor even drove a few hundred meters past the official drop-off point to get us closer to the water. These guys are so helpful and friendly. There is a 2 or 3 mile paddle around the lake to get to the outflow into the Bat.

Launching at Lac Edouado

Put-in (option 2, lower water): Pearl Lake, QC is also a vacation spot with no amenities though the lake itself is away from the tracks so putting in here is a snap: launch onto the lake's outflow stream and you're on the Bat in no time.

There are other options for launching (Club Jacques-Cartier, Miguick, Linton, perhaps others) but these two seem to be the more common spots.

Resources:

• Canadian Canoe Routes has a few discussions about the Batiscan as well as other links.  
• This PDF document, in French, was useful for us simply for its maps for the section between Lac Edouard and Pearl Lake. (note: S means ledge-drop, or slide, though I began to think of it as a single drop; R means rapid, which usually means longer, and potentially more complicated whitewater). If I could read French it would have probably been more useful to me.
• This PDF document, in English, was tremendously useful for its maps below Pearl Lake, commentary on rapids, and gear suggestions. However, the writers were on the Bat at very low water, so some of the rapids' rating would be modified in better water.

A heavenly campsite

Camping: The Bat is not paddled very regularly, so campsites are scarce. We didn't use any of the ones on the map, instead electing to make our own (not my typical philosophy) simply because we were running out of time each day and couldn't find any established camps in time.

The river passes through the Reserve Faunique de Portneuf (listed on maps at second pdf link above) and theoretically one must purchase a permit at the office in Riviere a Pierre to camp within its borders. We paid the $40 Canadian for one night, but the likelihood of being found camping without a permit is negligible.

Bugs: Freaking atrocious in early June 2016. Netting is essential, and getting off the river at the end of the day tends to be delayed until absolutely necessary. These little enemies, along with the fast water through the flats, got us to our take out much faster than expected. Your best friend is a smoky fire.

A creeky drop high up on the Bat

The river: The distance from Lac Edouard to Rousseau is 105 km. Putting in at Pearl Lake shortens it by 20 km. From Lac Edouard, the river starts with a handful of really fun creeky drops through the narrow channels that separate the grassy flats. For the most part all of them are straight shots not requiring a scout, but we had to portage one of the drops due to a strainer blocking passage. This is a beautiful and unintimidating, but slow, stretch of river. We covered 15 km of it in 3 hours.

Below Pearl Lake the river gradually gains strength until a big S3, which was more like class 4-5 when we saw it at high water. A small dirt road on the right makes an easy portage. At this point you're in the whitewater section, and other than the obvious flatwater sections indicated on the map, you're in for an awesome ride, and probably a handful of portages, all the way through the Gates of Hell. The collection of class 4/5 drops in the vicinity of the Jeanotte confluence are spectacular - and probably a great ride at lower levels - but not worth the risk for us. We portaged the first two in a single boat-drag along the tracks, and the third with a second drag. On our second day we paddled 40 km in ten hours, and on day three we paddled 50 km in ten hours.

If you're familiar with mid-Atlantic rivers in the US, we saw a river with big rapids that looked the Gauley with some hidden holes.

Post-portage splash down

Gauges: This gauge provides a virtual reading on the Batiscan way downstream of the section we paddled. Depending on which report I was reading, the optimal levels for this would be between 25 cms and 100 cms. When we paddled it the level was between 180 cms and 210 cms. It was definitely high, but not too high for the seasoned whitewater boater willing to portage the big ones. For my own preferences it was too high simply because I was hoping for stress-free trip with few portages.

This gauge provides a reading from an unidentifiable (by me) source that relates to the Gates of Hell section of the river. The page claims that the ideal levels are between 55 cms and 200 cms (an enormous range) and when we were at that section of the river we had levels of around 130 cms. We were fine with a few portages, but I'd have preferred lower levels while paddling a 12-foot boat loaded with the gear I needed to survive another day on the river.

Technique tips:

• The maps in the above links are essential for gauging mileage and for navigating the lakes of the upper river because where the river flows out is not at all obvious in many cases. Prior to launching, maps should be double-sealed in ziplocs in pairs so that you can flip over from one page to the next. Then, you get the next pair out when it's needed. Opening the bag, even off the water, is a risk, because everything is soaking wet. Laminating would be a better, but more expensive, option. The maps are out a lot in between rapids, getting blown off the boat and into the water, and so they get soaked. That's why they should sealed well and two copies would be good. As far as rapids go, the maps are helpful but not necessary if you've paddled enough to know when to get out and scout.

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  Scouting from the tracks

  Portaging comes in various forms. If there is a rough portage trail, or no trail at all, then you're probably emptying your boats and carrying the gear and boat separately. Or, you might give the rapid a shot without gear (and without the risk of losing all your stuff). If you're along the railroad, then you can put your boat perpendicular across the rails and drag. But, don't be surprised by a really loud and terrifying train whistle tells you that that you and your boat are in its way and to get your shit off the tracks pronto!

• As you become more acquainted with the river, boat scouting will be more informed. However, don't be surprised by the Military Ledge (S5), which at the levels we saw had an obvious big-volume line down the left that nobody wanted to dance with. We started with a policy to scout anything class 3 or higher, but eventually boat scouted everything that didn't have a blind horizon or wasn't really long. That policy worked for us just fine.