Each year, one friend or another is sure to approach me with one of those offers I can’t refuse.

“You know what you and I ought to do?” they’ll ask. “We ought to enter the Kenduskeag Stream Canoe Race.”

My responses vary. Sometimes, I begin wagging my head back and forth vigorously. Other times, I do my best crazy-as-a-loon cackle. At no point, however, do I ever … ever … actually consider such a foolhardy adventure.

First, a disclaimer: I love the Kenduskeag Stream Canoe Race. I have immense respect for anyone who would compete in the race. And I encourage everyone to enter the race.

To prove my sincerity, I’ll say this: If you’re interested, you have until 1 p.m. on Friday to fill out the necessary paperwork at the Bangor Recreation and Parks office.

I, meanwhile, will remain on dry land to document the entire affair.

The reasons are simple.

I am not what you would consider a whitewater canoeist. In fact, I have yet to paddle through whitewater. And (this is the biggie, as far as I’m concerned) the Kenduskeag Stream Canoe Race is long.

A few years ago, a couple of friends (one of whom had tried for years to convince me to be his paddling partner) entered Kenduskeag.

Neither had any more paddling experience than I do.

I took the easy way out: I drove to Bangor, chowed down a few doughboys, and waited for my buddies to arrive at the finish line. I waited … and waited … and waited.

Finally, they showed up, just a few minutes before the If-You-Can-See-Me, You’re-In-Last-Place sweep boat arrived. They were sunburned. They were exhausted. And they vowed to never do such a foolhardy thing again.

“It’s not Six Mile Falls that gets you,” one of them said. “It’s all that flat water you’ve got to get through, just to find out if you’re going to make it through Six Mile Falls.”

I figure that in life, folks fall into a few distinct categories. There are paddlers, whom I respect greatly. There are would-be paddlers (which, I sometimes convince myself I could … eventually … become … maybe).

And there are river vultures.

I am a river vulture. And I’m proud of it.

River vultures, of course, live vicariously through the foolhardy pursuits of others.

We stand beside the stream and wait for the carrion to start piling up.

Then (I’m sorry to admit this) some of us cheer.

Some river vultures are more bloodthirsty than others. A few years back, one pair of pre-teen vultures quickly figured out that one passage through Six Mile Falls was tenuous at best, and bordered on dangerous. They spent the morning trying to convince novice paddlers that they’d have better luck if they headed over to run the virtually impassable set of rapids.

Me? I’m not that mean. (Or at least, I’m usually working on race day, and wouldn’t want to have to explain any paddle wounds to my boss after I file my story on the day’s events).

I am (by necessity) a quiet vulture.

But when the race starts, and the canoes begin to show up at Kenduskeag Stream’s most famous set of rapids, I’ll be there. Perched. Ready. Waiting for carnage.

I took a quick swoop past Six Mile Falls on Wednesday … just to see what kind of mayhem we might expect on Saturday.

Muddy water gushed through the rapids. Muddy water gushed under the bridge. Muddy water even hid some of the perches we river vultures like to use on race day.

On Saturday, hundreds of people will climb into canoes (some, of course, for the first time in their lives), and head downstream from Kenduskeag Village. They will puff. They will pant. Some will tip over … get wet … and vow to never return.

Next year? They’ll return. But not before a few of them call me with that offer I can’t refuse. Again.

Rest assured, I will. Again.

A vulture’s got to know his limitations, after all.

While rivers and streams around the Bangor area are flowing freely, many boat anglers are still waiting for their favorite lakes and ponds to lose their winter coats of ice.

A reader from Eddington checked in this week asking if other readers might be able to provide information about ice-out at local lakes.

He said many anglers look forward to fishing ponds – some of which require a bit of a trek – and publishing the information would save many an unnecessary ride to a lake that is still iced in.

This reader didn’t just call seeking information, however. He passed along word that the ice in Davis Pond in Eddington went out on Monday.

With gray-and-rainy weather expected to dominate this week, I’m sure many other lakes will be following suit in the near future.

A Tuesday trip to Green and Phillips lakes illustrated that point: Both have plenty of open water … and plenty of ice. They’ll each go out soon, but an official notification from an angler lake dweller would be appreciated.

If you know of any local lakes that are ice-free and ready to fish, please consider passing the information along at the phone number listed below.

I’d appreciate it … and your fellow anglers would appreciate it, too.

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