Over the 41-year existence of the Kenduskeag Stream Canoe Race, I’m happy to report, I have never flipped, nor flopped, at Six Mile Falls.

I have not succumbed to “shopping cart hole.” I have not asked for, nor accepted, any help from Dirigo Search and Rescue, the Bangor Police Department, or the local Cub Scouts.

My Kenduskeag record, I’m proud to point out, is flawless.

The reason: When the rest of you – 452 boat-fulls, during Saturday’s most recent April classic – head to Mystic Tie Grange and start packing on the pancakes, I don’t.

Instead, I head to Six Mile Falls, or Valley Avenue, lean against a tree, and wait for the broken canoes to start piling up.

Pen and pad in hand, of course.

I would participate in your annual ritual, you see. I’d love to get out there and show people the few whitewater skills I possess.

But (sigh) I’ve got to work.

At least that’s my story.

Most years, that’s fine. And this year’s race even gave the most bloodthirsty river vultures indigestion.

Broken boats. Fractured paddles. Soggy, despondent, abandoned racers, sitting on roadsides and riverbanks from Kenduskeag to Bangor, wondering where-in-heck their broken boats and fractured paddles had wandered off to … and how they’d ever get back to town.

I spoke with one woman I know (notice, I use the words “spoke with,” instead of “interviewed,” because if I’d tried the latter, she may have punched me) and she related a common tale of woe.

She and her paddling partner were doing fine, right up until they got to Vulture Central. Then everything went bad in a hurry.

She was still a bit waterlogged when I caught up with her, but she said her boat (and many important belongings) were last seen at Six Mile Falls, heading south at about 5 mph.

Since I’m a professional news man, I didn’t laugh once.

I laughed twice. OK. Three times.

But after covering this race for so many years, I immediately felt badly. Her torment, I realized, was entirely my fault.

If only I had written something, anything, to warn her about the unseen pitfalls beginning paddlers should avoid.

So, a day late and a few dollars short, here’s my Veteran Vulture list of things for new paddlers to remember.

Clip it. Save it. Laminate it (that part’s important). And next year, sidle up to a new racer at the Mystic Tie Grange, and slide this list into their plate of pancakes:

. Rule 1: Don’t use your own boat. You just went up to Old Town Canoe and got a great bargain at the annual sale. You can’t wait to try out your craft on the Kenduskeag. So you head to the village, paste a number on it, and … oops.

Wrong answer.

The Kenduskeag eats new canoes for breakfast. It regurgitates them just before lunch. And if you dare launch your shiny new boat, be prepared to be doing a bit of patching come sundown.

If you’re lucky. (See Rule 2).

. Rule 2: Don’t get too attached to your boat. A canoe or kayak is a tool. And if you’ve ever seen my personal filing system, tools sometimes get misplaced.

Forever.

The Kenduskeag gnaws boats, chews boats, swallows boats, and spits them up in places you’d never imagine.

Your missing canoe? It might not be in Castine yet. Then again, it might.

Or it might be in the woods of Kenduskeag, or (if some evildoers found it) on the top of someone else’s truck.

The race is 16 1/2 miles long. If you and your boat get separated, you may well find it … eventually … if you get help.

Which leads to …

. Rule 3: Write your name on your boat. In permanent marker. Several times. In locations that won’t likely break, rot or be dashed to bits by rocks. Add your phone number. Then, in huge letters, write this: PLEASE CALL ME! CASH REWARD!

After that, hope for the best.

. Rule 4: If it’s electronic, leave it. Cell phones love water. Just ask my newly canoe-less friend. Hers was in a dry bag (theoretically, dry, at least), and after her mid-day swim, the phone stopped working.

After drying out, the cellular beast woke up just long enough to taunt her a bit, and make her think everything was going to be OK.

Then, an hour later, it rolled over and died for good.

You don’t need your phone. Trust me. Unless … well, read on.

. Rule 5: About that other stuff. You can live without your wallet and your car keys, but you don’t want to.

The Kenduskeag gobbles up keys and cash, too. A couple years ago, a paddler told me that he’d fared well at Six Mile Falls. Almost.

Made it almost to the top of the last drop.

Then his canoe hit a rock, folded neatly around it, and everything in the boat was pinned.

Last I heard, he expected to wait a week, then come back to see if the river had spit up his boat.

And his wallet. And his keys.

Must have been a long walk home. Too bad he didn’t have his cell phone.

Rule 6: Don’t end up sitting around in the sun … or the snow. Make a plan on where to meet your pals at the finish. Then make another, potentially more useful plan: Give all your valuables (especially the cell phone) to a loved one. Tell them that someway, somehow, you’ll call and let them know where they can pick you up, should the angry stream steal your boat and disgorge you on shore in some inconvenient location.

Sounds unnecessary?

On Saturday, the roads along the stream were littered with soggy former paddlers who were undoubtedly wondering how they’d ever get in touch with their loved ones … or their boats … again.

Of course, that was all my fault.

My Kenduskeag record may still be flawless … but maybe I should have written something sooner.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.