Sudbury River
Where: Sudbury River: Fruit St. to Cedar Swamp Pond
When: 8/24/96
With: Solo
Years ago I'd read a newspaper account of a canoe trip up the Sudbury River to its headwaters at Cedar Swamp Pond. I was intrigued, because most descriptions of the river said this beginning section wasn't worth the trouble. The article did indeed mention lots of tough going, but said the objective - the pond - was a worthy goal. I started looking at maps and did some exploring to find the put-in spot and review the route. Whenever my commute took me over portions of the river, especially near the Turnpike/495 interchange, I'd look to see what the water levels looked like. At last, I had my opportunity. Jane & Andy had plans for a Saturday morning and I was free to do whatever I pleased.
Though summer water levels had been low, a heavy rain the night before was perfectly timed to add some needed volume to the river. Saturday morning, the rain continued and I carried the kayak to the water just off Fruit Street in light drizzle. Anticipating a short trip, I packed light - drinking water, first aid kit, fishing gear. For clothing I wore shorts, a tee shirt, a raincoat, and my canvas hat. I shoved a head net in my pocket for the bugs and pushed off around 8:40.
At first, the river was about 8-10 feet wide, a few feet deep, and wound beneath a canopy of trees. The current wasn't strong at all and paddling was easy. Within a short time though it emerged into a marshy meadow and narrowed to 3-4 feet. Progress was much more difficult as the "river" (really just a small stream) meandered its way through the thick grass and brush. The channel had deepened to several feet, so there was plenty of water below, but there was barely enough room to put a paddle in between the boat and the shore. The long, double-bladed kayak paddle was a problem, constantly getting caught in the growth on one side or the other. A single blade canoe paddle would've worked better. At times, the shore closed in completely and I was forced to abandon the paddle and haul myself along by grabbing the grass and brush.
After a good bit of this, both my boat and I were a mess. Covered in broken spider webs, mud, water weeds, and broken bits of various shore plants, soaking wet from the rain, and cut and scratched from being whacked by numerous bushes. I considered abandoning the trip, but not too seriously. Though the travel wasn't easy, the surroundings were neat. All sorts of interesting plants all around. My low seat kept me down in the channel, heightening the feeling of being far from familiar surroundings. My chief concern was the width of the river. Waterways tended to narrow as they went upstream, and if this narrowed any further, I'd have to quit. At the least, I wanted to make it as far as the highways, which I could hear getting closer and closer. Finally, the river emerged from the meadow and became a nice, wide (20 foot) waterway between tree-lined banks. Only the roar of the traffic on the highways above marred the peaceful scene.
At the end of a small pool, the river turned and entered the culvert beneath the Pike. The still, quiet water and heavy concrete surroundings were a bit eerie at first, but soon I relaxed and enjoyed the respite from the rain. I emerged briefly, on a stretch of water I'd seen from the highway above, and then headed into another culvert, this one beneath 495. It was a double channel and I took the right side. The length of this passage made for some great echoes and I sang a song or two during my passage. Shortly before emerging, I was startled by a splash in the water by my boat. Fish!
Back outside again, the river remained a pleasant, wide way for a while. Then, once again, it entered a marshy meadow area and narrowed. This time I had no road sounds to tell me I was getting close to my goal. I tried to get some clues from my limited view of my surroundings, but that didn't tell me much so I just did what I could to keep moving upstream as the channel wound its way along. My one consolation was the fact that the river was largely unobstructed. In a few places the meadow growth closed over the water, but I was able to just push my way through. There was only one place where a log blocked the way entirely, but I managed to do a "butt portage", hauling the boat and myself over the top without getting out.
Despite all the trouble I was having, I was really enjoying this trip. I was in a beautiful, natural setting, far from anyone else, getting some exercise, and doing something I knew few others could or would do. I was seeing interesting plant and animal life (I disturbed a great blue heron twice) and exploring a new, out-of-the-way place. Even the rain was a joy, adding as it did to the sense of isolation and adventure (though my opinion might've been different if the temperature hadn't been quite mild). At one point, I stopped for a brief rest during a short downpour. I sat there in the river, protected from the elements by my hat and coat, thinking, "This is so cool!"
After twisting and turning my way further and further upstream, the river began to widen again and I suspected I was near the source. A few more turns and there it was, Cedar Swamp Pond. A beautiful, nearly round pond surrounded by a ring of trees, stretching away from the river's exit. The time was about 10:00. I paddled out to the middle and just drifted, enjoying it all. All around, there was nothing but trees and marsh. No sign of civilization at all. For all I knew, I could've been deep in some wilderness. Since the pond was only accessible via the route I'd come, I was pretty confident I'd have the place to myself. I tried to pay attention to the birds in the area - the pond's isolation made it a premier birding area - but mostly I just looked around and relaxed.
After a bit, I decided to explore the pond, since I figured I wouldn't be back anytime soon. I paddled to the shore and began a circumnavigation of the shoreline, looking for...whatever. My route took me through a patch of water lilies and I spent a few minutes there, listening to the rain drumming on the floating green pads. Looking up, I saw the first sign of human existence - the tops of some office buildings on a hill in the distance. They'd been hidden earlier by an intervening hill. One seemed to have an observation tower on it. Perhaps worth a visit sometime.
A bit later, I found myself at a point almost directly opposite the pond's outlet. For the second time on the trip, a couple of splashes startled me. Fish! I paddled out a bit and looked back. I realized then that I was at the mouth of the main feeder inlet to the pond. The fish were apparently feeding on the nutrient-rich water flowing in. I assembled my fishing gear, attached an orange spinning lure and began casting. Immediately I got a hit. A nice 8-9 inch bass. I unhooked him, let him go, and cast again. Another hit, another fish, about the same size. The place was teeming with bass.
I cast some more, got more hits, and then noticed a large bird in a nearby tree. I was drifting generally toward it, so I sat still to avoid disturbing it. When I started to turn though, I had to paddle a bit. To my surprise, the bird didn't react to my movement. A few more cautious moves convinced me that the bird really wasn't concerned about me at all, so I paddled up quite close and just watched it. Not a great blue heron. It had a curved beak like a cormorant, but I don't think cormorants sit in trees.
I watched the bird a while and then resumed fishing. I hooked another and reeled it in to find it had swallowed the lure. I tried to remove the hook, but wound up cutting it off and letting the fish keep it. Rather than replacing the lost swivel, etc., I decided to quit fishing. I put the gear away and finished my tour of the shoreline. Returning to the outlet, I took one last look around and began the journey home. I'd been at the pond about an hour.
The trip out was considerably easier than the trip in. Though the river's current wasn't much, it was certainly a help having it going in the same direction, rather than fighting against it. I also figured out a way to "paddle" the grass, so I was able to get more use out of my paddle. As a result, I made pretty quick progress. I still took my time though, stopping a few times and trying to spot some landmarks mentioned in a guidebook. I was especially interested in a "pool" at a junction with another stream where it was said that trout could be found. I did find a stream junction, just downstream from the pond, but there wasn't much of a pool so I figured it was the wrong place.
In quick order I returned to the culverts, passed through the lower meadow, and returned to my starting point. The return trip had only taken an hour, even with my stops. I was completely soaked, exhausted, a bit cold, sore, and very happy.
Afterthoughts:
The stream junction I found WAS the trout pool junction. My guidebook says that other stream can be canoed down to the Sudbury. What I saw of it indicated otherwise, but it might be worth some further investigation.
Periodically, I noticed birdhouses attached to trees along the waterway. I wonder who had put them there and when. They appeared to be old, though not ancient.
I was almost all the way back on the return trip when I realized how clear the river had been of any trash. I can't recall seeing a single piece of litter during the entire time out. A testament to the area's inaccessibility and lack of visitation.
A trip in the spring might be better. More water and less vegetation. Also, more fish.
There is supposedly a duck blind at the pond, suitable for a lunch break. I didn't see anything of the sort, but I wasn't really looking. Next time perhaps.
Also next time, bring food and spend the day. I wonder if an overnight trip would be possible.
When: 8/24/96
With: Solo
Years ago I'd read a newspaper account of a canoe trip up the Sudbury River to its headwaters at Cedar Swamp Pond. I was intrigued, because most descriptions of the river said this beginning section wasn't worth the trouble. The article did indeed mention lots of tough going, but said the objective - the pond - was a worthy goal. I started looking at maps and did some exploring to find the put-in spot and review the route. Whenever my commute took me over portions of the river, especially near the Turnpike/495 interchange, I'd look to see what the water levels looked like. At last, I had my opportunity. Jane & Andy had plans for a Saturday morning and I was free to do whatever I pleased.
Though summer water levels had been low, a heavy rain the night before was perfectly timed to add some needed volume to the river. Saturday morning, the rain continued and I carried the kayak to the water just off Fruit Street in light drizzle. Anticipating a short trip, I packed light - drinking water, first aid kit, fishing gear. For clothing I wore shorts, a tee shirt, a raincoat, and my canvas hat. I shoved a head net in my pocket for the bugs and pushed off around 8:40.
At first, the river was about 8-10 feet wide, a few feet deep, and wound beneath a canopy of trees. The current wasn't strong at all and paddling was easy. Within a short time though it emerged into a marshy meadow and narrowed to 3-4 feet. Progress was much more difficult as the "river" (really just a small stream) meandered its way through the thick grass and brush. The channel had deepened to several feet, so there was plenty of water below, but there was barely enough room to put a paddle in between the boat and the shore. The long, double-bladed kayak paddle was a problem, constantly getting caught in the growth on one side or the other. A single blade canoe paddle would've worked better. At times, the shore closed in completely and I was forced to abandon the paddle and haul myself along by grabbing the grass and brush.
After a good bit of this, both my boat and I were a mess. Covered in broken spider webs, mud, water weeds, and broken bits of various shore plants, soaking wet from the rain, and cut and scratched from being whacked by numerous bushes. I considered abandoning the trip, but not too seriously. Though the travel wasn't easy, the surroundings were neat. All sorts of interesting plants all around. My low seat kept me down in the channel, heightening the feeling of being far from familiar surroundings. My chief concern was the width of the river. Waterways tended to narrow as they went upstream, and if this narrowed any further, I'd have to quit. At the least, I wanted to make it as far as the highways, which I could hear getting closer and closer. Finally, the river emerged from the meadow and became a nice, wide (20 foot) waterway between tree-lined banks. Only the roar of the traffic on the highways above marred the peaceful scene.
At the end of a small pool, the river turned and entered the culvert beneath the Pike. The still, quiet water and heavy concrete surroundings were a bit eerie at first, but soon I relaxed and enjoyed the respite from the rain. I emerged briefly, on a stretch of water I'd seen from the highway above, and then headed into another culvert, this one beneath 495. It was a double channel and I took the right side. The length of this passage made for some great echoes and I sang a song or two during my passage. Shortly before emerging, I was startled by a splash in the water by my boat. Fish!
Back outside again, the river remained a pleasant, wide way for a while. Then, once again, it entered a marshy meadow area and narrowed. This time I had no road sounds to tell me I was getting close to my goal. I tried to get some clues from my limited view of my surroundings, but that didn't tell me much so I just did what I could to keep moving upstream as the channel wound its way along. My one consolation was the fact that the river was largely unobstructed. In a few places the meadow growth closed over the water, but I was able to just push my way through. There was only one place where a log blocked the way entirely, but I managed to do a "butt portage", hauling the boat and myself over the top without getting out.
Despite all the trouble I was having, I was really enjoying this trip. I was in a beautiful, natural setting, far from anyone else, getting some exercise, and doing something I knew few others could or would do. I was seeing interesting plant and animal life (I disturbed a great blue heron twice) and exploring a new, out-of-the-way place. Even the rain was a joy, adding as it did to the sense of isolation and adventure (though my opinion might've been different if the temperature hadn't been quite mild). At one point, I stopped for a brief rest during a short downpour. I sat there in the river, protected from the elements by my hat and coat, thinking, "This is so cool!"
After twisting and turning my way further and further upstream, the river began to widen again and I suspected I was near the source. A few more turns and there it was, Cedar Swamp Pond. A beautiful, nearly round pond surrounded by a ring of trees, stretching away from the river's exit. The time was about 10:00. I paddled out to the middle and just drifted, enjoying it all. All around, there was nothing but trees and marsh. No sign of civilization at all. For all I knew, I could've been deep in some wilderness. Since the pond was only accessible via the route I'd come, I was pretty confident I'd have the place to myself. I tried to pay attention to the birds in the area - the pond's isolation made it a premier birding area - but mostly I just looked around and relaxed.
After a bit, I decided to explore the pond, since I figured I wouldn't be back anytime soon. I paddled to the shore and began a circumnavigation of the shoreline, looking for...whatever. My route took me through a patch of water lilies and I spent a few minutes there, listening to the rain drumming on the floating green pads. Looking up, I saw the first sign of human existence - the tops of some office buildings on a hill in the distance. They'd been hidden earlier by an intervening hill. One seemed to have an observation tower on it. Perhaps worth a visit sometime.
A bit later, I found myself at a point almost directly opposite the pond's outlet. For the second time on the trip, a couple of splashes startled me. Fish! I paddled out a bit and looked back. I realized then that I was at the mouth of the main feeder inlet to the pond. The fish were apparently feeding on the nutrient-rich water flowing in. I assembled my fishing gear, attached an orange spinning lure and began casting. Immediately I got a hit. A nice 8-9 inch bass. I unhooked him, let him go, and cast again. Another hit, another fish, about the same size. The place was teeming with bass.
I cast some more, got more hits, and then noticed a large bird in a nearby tree. I was drifting generally toward it, so I sat still to avoid disturbing it. When I started to turn though, I had to paddle a bit. To my surprise, the bird didn't react to my movement. A few more cautious moves convinced me that the bird really wasn't concerned about me at all, so I paddled up quite close and just watched it. Not a great blue heron. It had a curved beak like a cormorant, but I don't think cormorants sit in trees.
I watched the bird a while and then resumed fishing. I hooked another and reeled it in to find it had swallowed the lure. I tried to remove the hook, but wound up cutting it off and letting the fish keep it. Rather than replacing the lost swivel, etc., I decided to quit fishing. I put the gear away and finished my tour of the shoreline. Returning to the outlet, I took one last look around and began the journey home. I'd been at the pond about an hour.
The trip out was considerably easier than the trip in. Though the river's current wasn't much, it was certainly a help having it going in the same direction, rather than fighting against it. I also figured out a way to "paddle" the grass, so I was able to get more use out of my paddle. As a result, I made pretty quick progress. I still took my time though, stopping a few times and trying to spot some landmarks mentioned in a guidebook. I was especially interested in a "pool" at a junction with another stream where it was said that trout could be found. I did find a stream junction, just downstream from the pond, but there wasn't much of a pool so I figured it was the wrong place.
In quick order I returned to the culverts, passed through the lower meadow, and returned to my starting point. The return trip had only taken an hour, even with my stops. I was completely soaked, exhausted, a bit cold, sore, and very happy.
Afterthoughts:
The stream junction I found WAS the trout pool junction. My guidebook says that other stream can be canoed down to the Sudbury. What I saw of it indicated otherwise, but it might be worth some further investigation.
Periodically, I noticed birdhouses attached to trees along the waterway. I wonder who had put them there and when. They appeared to be old, though not ancient.
I was almost all the way back on the return trip when I realized how clear the river had been of any trash. I can't recall seeing a single piece of litter during the entire time out. A testament to the area's inaccessibility and lack of visitation.
A trip in the spring might be better. More water and less vegetation. Also, more fish.
There is supposedly a duck blind at the pond, suitable for a lunch break. I didn't see anything of the sort, but I wasn't really looking. Next time perhaps.
Also next time, bring food and spend the day. I wonder if an overnight trip would be possible.
