A Downeast Adventure: St. Croix River Canoe Trip

As the “plan guy” in the family, a week off in the middle of summer without any set plans threw me into a mild state of panic. No itinerary? No backup plan? That’s my idea of a vacation challenge.

So, we packed up two vehicles, a motorboat, a canoe, and a kayak, and headed Downeast with only a vague idea of where we’d end up. Our first surprise came when we stumbled upon a fantastic campsite at Donnell Pond, where we spent a few days soaking in the quiet and the scenery. But as is often the case, my restless side wanted something more. I managed to convince my patient wife, Stephanie, to take on a little more adventure—a multi-night canoe trip down the St. Croix River.

Swimming at our campsite on Donnell Pond.

The Journey Begins: Logistics, Shuttles, and New Friends

Our first obstacle? Logistics. With no set route and no shuttle planned, we had to figure it all out as we went. Fortunately, we connected with some generous locals in Vanceboro who let us park and launch right from their property. They shared invaluable advice and local knowledge, which proved to be a huge help throughout the trip.

Once we pushed off from the riverbank, I could feel the trip coming to life. The St. Croix River, winding through wooded landscapes and marshes, marks the border between Maine and New Brunswick. Mostly swiftwater with riffles, it offered occasional rapids to spice things up. Along the way, we met other paddlers at some of the more challenging spots, where we swapped tips and celebrated each other’s successful runs.

Nature’s Bounty: Fishing, Firewood, and the Great Outdoors

Fishing on the St. Croix was off the charts. I barely had time to cast before feeling the tug of a fish—every cast seemed to produce a solid smallmouth bass. Stephanie even managed to capture a topwater strike on camera, following the action as I landed a big one.

As we made our way downriver, we camped at various spots, gathering firewood, sleeping in hammocks, and filtering water straight from the river. The simplicity of it all was refreshing, though the insects were a constant reminder that we were deep in the wild. I’m pretty sure a good chunk of my protein intake that week came from bugs, and the ones I didn’t swallow made sure to feast on my legs. Blisters, cuts, and sore muscles piled up, and by the end of Day 2, my fingers were so stiff from paddling that they wouldn’t bend properly.

One of many St. Croix smallies.

Whitewater, Rapids, and the Paddling Challenge

Whitewater paddling isn’t exactly Stephanie’s idea of fun, but she powered through nearly 20 named rapids like a pro. Despite her reservations, she’s an excellent paddler and a fantastic partner on the river.

The rapids varied, ranging from rock gardens to wave trains to sneaky pillows. Most of the time, it was just swiftwater, and we could manage both floating and fishing at the same time. The most challenging rapids came at Little Falls. We met other paddlers there, each calculating the risk vs. reward of running the rapid versus portaging. We opted to portage most of our gear and I successfully ran the rapid in my canoe. Afterward, I cheered on a new acquaintance as he navigated a successful line through the rocks.

Later, after a long paddle through a headwind into Loon Bay, we powered through Canoose Rapids and Dog Falls before reaching our next campsite. We hadn’t anticipated these obstacles, but the challenge was worth it. Instead of portaging around the falls, I decided to take both the canoe and Stephanie’s kayak down the ledge. It worked out perfectly!

Running Little Falls in the Old Town Camper.

The Border Crossing: St. Croix Knows No Boundaries

After nearly 20 miles of paddling on Day 2, we were feeling pretty worn out. We reached a perfect campsite on the Canadian side of the river and briefly considered camping there. But ultimately, we decided to stick to the U.S. side. The next morning, on our way out, we encountered Customs and Border Patrol at our takeout. Getting caught crossing the border illegally can lead to all kinds of headaches, so dodging that bullet felt like a win.

The real hiccup of the trip, however, was our camp stove crapping out on us. I was deprived of morning coffee on the final day—the horror!

Our first campsite at Tunnel Rips, looking across the river to Canada.

The Final Stretch and Reflection

In the end, we covered about 35 miles over 44 hours. We were proud of our accomplishment but agreed that next time, we’d plan for a more relaxed pace, with extra time for fishing and a bit more rest. The best part? The whole trip was incredibly affordable. All the campsites were free for first-come, first-served, and our biggest expense was gas. Not bad for a high-value, low-cost vacation.

By the end of the trip, we were tired, sore, and deeply satisfied. There’s something incredibly liberating about setting off on the St. Croix with everything you need to survive for several days. The experience brought a sense of accomplishment that we’ll never forget—and now we’re already thinking about our next river adventure.

We paddled about 35 gorgeous miles on the St. Croix River which forms the border between Maine and New Brunswick, Canada.