Normally, I hate rain more than any meteorological phenomenon, particularly when I'm trying to have fun outside.

A number of years ago I spent one of the longest nights of my life outside without a tent in the White Mountains of New Hampshire during a monsoon, when our hiking party strayed off the trail en route to a cabin (we found it in the morning only yards away from our sodden campsite).

On another occasion my son and I once scrambled down Mt. Mansfield in Vermont in a downpour so intense that the trail became a knee-deep, whitewater torrent.

I also recall developing a wet sock-induced blister in the first few miles of a rain-soaked marathon that made my running shoe at the finish line look like I'd stepped into a vat of ketchup.

On various other outings rain has saturated my sleeping bag, "waterproof" boots, parka, gloves, and of course packets of oatmeal and other food items that turned to glop.

But this weekend's soaking storm, and the typical wet weather we can expect in the coming weeks of early spring, is great news for whitewater paddling fanatics. Tuning in to the forecast for Saturday and Sunday I heard two words that send shivers down the spine of any hardcore kayaker and canoeist: flood warning.

Normally gentle streams and rivers, such as the ones we're accustomed to paddling in southern New England, can take on Niagara-like characteristics this time of year.

A cautionary note: Often these waterways are choked with "strainers," or branches that can trap you in powerful currents. It pays to scout any river before running it. And extremely high water may also carry whole trees and other debris that can torpedo your boat and anything else in their paths.

I remember a few years ago, during just such a flood, pulling my kayak into an eddy and waiting for a 40-foot oak tree to sweep past. Normally you're so focused on the haystacks, hydraulics and standing waves ahead it doesn't occur to you to glance every so often to the rear.

With a few hours to kill my buddy Ian and I jumped the gun on the whitewater season a few weeks ago after heavy rains and had a fun ride down a section of the Shetucket River in Baltic. We put in off Waldo Road near the Scotland line and paddled south about four miles to just above the dam. This is a good river to start on – a swift current with a few riffles, but nothing overly demanding, and it's nearby enough to make it a morning or afternoon outing, not one that takes the whole day.

For those looking for slightly more challenging water, there's the Wood River in Rhode Island, which eventually flows into the Pawcatuck. The easiest access is off Route 165. I remember the most difficult part of this journey was having to run over a beaver dam.

Next on the degree-of-difficulty list is the Salmon River near the Colchester-Marlborough-East Hampton line. A three-mile section from River Road to the covered bridge near Route 16, which passes through a state forest, includes a hairy plunge over a broken dam that can be portaged by the faint-of-heart.

Finally, you can move up to the Farmington River, where there are exciting Class III-IV sections at Satan's Kingdom and through Tarriffville Gorge – there's a broken dam that puts the one on the Salmon to shame – and the Housatonic River in Kent, where wild conditions at Bull's Bridge Gorge can approach the Class V level – somewhat beyond my comfort zone.

So, enjoy the white water while you can. Soon enough the levels will drop in our neck of the woods and the thrill-sport paddlers will have to drive north to Vermont, Maine and New Hampshire, or tackle the surf off Rhode Island.

Of course, paddling doesn't always have to be a white-knuckle adventure. I'm also looking forward to lazy days on a placid pond in summer. It's all good.