Bronze's Mississippi Expedition Log

My time in St.  Paul was most agreeable.  Availed myself of the amenities of where I am lodged: shower, laundry, etc.  Slept on the floor in the corner of an apartment inhabited by two musicians and songwriters, and was treated to a small performance of original material which I found most pleasing.  Sampled the fare at Mickey’s Diner, an iconic eatery some 70 years old.  Also explored the historic Fort Snelling, the northernmost and most remote outpost on the American frontier, built at the confluence of the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers on land purchased from the Dakota by Zebulon Pike.  Walked along the river from there to Minnehaha Falls.  I was thoroughly successful in the repair of my mirage drive, and also acquired some additional spare parts should further repairs be needed.  I am eager to see how the craft performs, now that she is restored to her original form.  Very well fed and rested, re-supplied and ready to make way upon the morning.

Here are some photos of St Paul and Fort Snelling.

A beautiful day on the river, though without benefit of a good current due to the dams.  Continued to pass luxurious homes along the banks.  Made our final portage around 10am, and was much relieved to know I will no longer be made to lug my 200lbs-plus boat and equipment around these impressive structures.

Soon Minneapolis’ skyline of towering buildings loomed on the horizon, giving me a sense of excitement and a goal for which to paddle onward towards.  Passed the trappings of industry—a coal plant, lumber yard, power station.  As I approached the massive St. Anthony’s Falls I headed right, into the northernmost lock on the river.  A flashing green light indicated it was safe to enter, so I paddled within the confines of a long concrete and steel box.  The lockmaster indicated for me to hang onto a rope which hung from a large piston on the wall.  The massive steel doors through which I entered slowly drew closed behind me, and the water level began to drop.  Presently, I was 40 to 60 feet down in this box.  The doors behind me resembling a toothy steel maw, clenched shut, though some cloudy silty water poured forth from the bottom.  It was with some apprehension that I contemplated the vast volume of river water which was held back, now towering 60 feet above me.  Then, the doors before me slowly pulled open and a horn sounded, whereupon I made my exit back to the river.  Before day’s end this process would be repeated two more times.

Passed under a great many bridges in town: streets, railroad, highways, some recently constructed and some historic.  The channel is now maintained by the Army Corps of Engineers to a depth of nine feet, and indicated by a series of red and green buoys, which gives me a great sense of comfort for I now no longer need worry for the safety of my boat and its mechanics being damaged on rocks or snags.  Between Minneapolis and St. Paul, the banks became wooded again, and it was here I found a private marina where I arranged for keeping of my boat whilst in town.  I now have several days to arrange for repairs, re-supplies, and to explore the city.

Day 16: 34 miles, 1 Portage, 3 Locks

Departed camp early to make the most of favorable conditions, which I had the bulk of the day.  The river is wide and generally deep, however when it is divided by islands it becomes shallow with many riffles, thus I find most of my attention placed on the river bottom.  Having already severely damaged my drive I am anxious to avoid any further trouble.

Stopped in Monticello for an excellent lunch, including pie! Intended to continue only two more miles, but found the weather and current so agreeable that I was obliged to continue another 12.  I am now feeling quite fine as St. Paul lies less than 30 miles down river, so I have but little travel left until I may re-supply and seek repairs.  My river companions, K & S, have arranged lodging for us with a friend in town, where we might have baths and launder our clothing, which is much in want of it.

Day 15:  45 miles

I find I am able to keep nearly my original pace, despite the use of only one fin; though I am now obliged to paddle twice as fast, the drive offers half the resistance.  The portage around Blanchard Dam was exceedingly toilsome, requiring over an hour to complete.  The passage led up the embankment, then up a steep sandy hill, and then a series of 12 wooden steps.  Then down a steep slope, across a footbridge, up a small slope, through a woods and down through rocks to the river.  I estimate the distance to be a half-mile.  Fortunately, I have been traveling with companions, K & S, whom I met the first day of the expedition, and have recently caught up to.  Without their assistance, this portage would have taken double the time and the effort.

Later in the day a fierce headwind arose, perhaps the strongest yet, causing substantial waves in my path.  Stopped at County Park to recuperate for 45 minutes, then proceeded on to the St.  Cloud region.  Here the river is bordered by many fine homes, many boasting their own decks, beaches, etc.  Was made to portage two more dams in this area.  Also traveled through Sauk Rapids, which was exhilarating, yet not fully enjoyable as my concern for further damages to my craft is high.  Reached camp past sundown, incredibly fatigued due to the wind, portages, etc.

Day 14:  42 miles, 3 Portages.

A great many beaver populate this section of the river.  Also seen in many numbers were the whitetail deer: thirteen doe in total.  Traveled by the site of Old Crow Wing, once a settlement along the river, and a prosperous stop along the Red River Ox Cart Trail.  Railroads and steamboats spelled the end of this path and now all that remains of the town is a lone building.  Also gone is Fort Gaines, erected as a buffer between the relocated Winnebagos and the Ojibwe and Dakota peoples.

The river later passed through a maze of islands, all wooded and very inviting.  This route was once completely clear, but logs floated downstream and occasionally became caught on rocks or boulders midstream, whereupon further debris would cling, until enough soil accumulated to support large tree growth.  It was in this region that, in 1893, the largest logjam ever recorded formed: some 6.5 miles long and 30 feet deep, taking 150 men, 5 teams of horses and a steam engine to break up over the course of six months.  Upon close inspection, old logs can still be seen protruding from the base of some of the islands.

The water exceedingly shallow in many areas, causing me to collide with rocks.  My special paddle-operated drive was rendered inoperable due to the damage.  After tinkering on the riverbank I was able to recover the use of one of my fins, which allowed me to continue, albeit at a greatly reduced rate.  It also now causes me to list side to side with each stroke, which is disturbing to the senses initially but eventually acclimated to.  In the region of St. Paul I will look to engage the services of one who can repair or replace my damaged parts, as I was quite accustomed to gliding effortlessly across the water.

Day 13:  39 miles, 1 Portage.

Very chilly last night, in the 40s, for which I was not prepared, having left my woolens in the kayak and consequently slept fitfully.  When I rose to make coffee and fry the homemade potato sausage purchased in Aitkin, a heavy mist was flowing along the river’s surface.  Became a fine warm day, with a perfect cool breeze, riverbanks now predominantly lined with elm and maple.

Having such an early start I experienced a glassy surface to the river and, heretofore having known only windy conditions, I found myself able to maintain an excellent pace with minimal effort.  As if making a gift or offering, a bald eagle soared ahead and dropped a single feather in my path.  It twirled to the surface and I scooped it up as I glided by.  I also passed several families of Canadian geese, the ganders standing alert as the mothers led their broods of downy brown chicks up the embankment to safety.

Throughout the day the river gradually widened, becoming nearly double the width of yesterday.  It now feels like a proper river; it is now no longer possible to call from shore to shore with ease, as I did last night when asking and receiving permission to camp.

The shoreline very sparsely populated today; when it was, generally with nice homes rather than farms.  It would appear that after fishing, lawn mowing would be a native Minnesotan’s favorite hobby.  The climate lends itself to rich grasses.  It is indeed very similar to my home state of Oregon, except with respect to geology.  Large rocks are seldom seen, to the point that any rock larger than a foot or two across is a rarity and worth remarking upon.  I daresay the only exposed bedrock yet seen existed for a mere 60 yards of river near Grand Rapids.

Today is the fist time in some time that I’ve seen another boat on the river—a fisherman outside of Brainerd.  The dam in Brainerd required a 200-yard portage, which I accomplished speedily thanks to a paved path and my increasing aptitude for such things.  A dead beaver lay floating in the foul and foamy water downstream from the dam.

Day 12:  49 miles, 1 Portage, 1 Lake.

Enjoyed breakfast at a café in Palisades before setting out.  Though quite hot, the day was perfect and I made the 31 miles to Aitkin without incident.  The river is now high enough that I encountered no obstacles and was thus able to make excellent time.  I continue to travel through hardwood-lined banks, interrupted by the occasional vacation home or old farm, often accompanied by a crumbling old wooden barn or a silo.  The current flows quickly, perhaps 1.5 mph.  Was plagued further by noseeums in the night, despite the mesh of my hammock.  I find now my back to be covered in itchy bumps.

Was feeling depleted upon arrival in Aitkin during the peak heat of the day, but after refreshing my thirst and hunger at a local tavern felt greatly invigorated.  Also obtained in town a long-sleeved cotton shirt and tall cotton socks which will hopefully protect me from the bugs and the sun.  Returned to the river at 5:30 and enjoyed another 2.5 hours of paddling in perfect calm and fair temps.  The sun now behind the trees.  Was stopped only by the approaching darkness.  Many beaver on the river at this hour.

Day 11: 43 miles

Weather generally fair today.  It became quite hot in the afternoon and any exposed skin is now red.  Faced down numerous 20-30 mph gusts along the way, which often sent down cascades of whirling maple seeds.  During moments of calm I was treated to a different aerial display—that of prodigious swarms of dragonflies overhead.  If these creatures consume mosquitoes then I am more than happy to travel with them.

The mosquitoes were exceedingly troublesome last night and even worse this morning, compelling me to forego my breakfast in favor of a speedy entry into the water.  Was made to break camp covered head to toe, including a net for my face, which despite the heat allowed me some respite from their advances.  Have yet to devise a solution to the noseeums, which leave my feet and ankles in a continual state of red bumpy discomfort.  When possible, I hope to obtain some light cotton socks that may deter them.

Day 10: 36 miles

Made excellent progress this morning, nearly 5 mph.  The convergence of the Prairie River has nearly doubled the flow of water, making for a deeper channel and more rapid current.  There still is the occasional hazard in the water.  It takes a keen eye to differentiate between underwater obstacles, eddies, and wind disturbances, and though my aptitude is improving I still fall prey to unseen submerged logs.  These are very injurious to my mirage drive, and I found midday that it was quite damaged.  It is however a resilient and well-designed machine and I give great credit to the engineers, for I was able to quickly realign it and repair it.  The numerous collisions have taken their toll however, and the blades are rather warped and show serious wear.  It continues to perform admirably, and I look forward to when the channel is finally free of obstruction.

It rained most violently and gusted the same, from 4:30 to 6:00 this morning, but I remained dry and snug in my special hammock.  The day was fair until 3:30 though, and I enjoyed the cooler temperatures and marbled sky.

After leaving the town of Jacobsen, the torrents began.  Such a volume of rain poured forth that not a single inch of the river was level.  It appeared as if I were gliding across a boiling morass.  I and all my equipment were thoroughly drenched in but a moment, though the air remained warm.  I was given a blessed reprieve as I arrived at my camp.  The clouds opening to let in warm rays and a rainbow appeared over the river as I rounded the last bend.  I was thus able to unload the kayak and pitch my shelter in a moment of calm, if damp, peace.  Thunder can be heard to the south; I expect further storms this night.

Day 9: 40 miles

Upon rising I was served a delicious breakfast of fried pike by my genial neighbors.  They also furnished me with a new fishing rod and reel at a reasonable cost, my original one having been lost somewhere in the rapids of the first day.

I decided to visit a local forest history interpretive center and was given a ride there by the gentleman manning the Army Corps of Engineers office.  The north woods of Minnesota contained at one time vast amounts of timber, which was quickly exhausted during the end of the 19^th century and beginning of the 20^th.  Prized especially was the Eastern White Pine, as it makes exceptional lumber.  In the desire to populate and press farther into the frontier, the demand for material was insatiable.  Minnesota, in this region, developed a substantial logging and milling industry which continues today.  There remains, however, merely 1% of the old growth forests in the state.  It was truly inspiring to learn about the lives of the lumberjacks, those rugged and tireless men who labored in the snow, and gathered in the dining hall, and hung their sodden garments next to the stove before retiring, two to a bunk, for one or two dollars a day.

I was without a ride back to the dam, so I walked the four miles instead, partially along the railroad tracks.  A fearsome wind had developed, and when I put my kayak in the water downstream of the Blandin Co. Paper Mill I battled intensely strong headwinds and waves, which I was not aware could exist on such a small river.  The water was lifted from the peaks of the waves and cast into my face.  At first the river was shallow and progress exceedingly slow for 30 to 40 minutes.  But upon reaching deeper water I found my craft most suited to slicing through the wind and waves and was able to make an impressive speed in the face of the tempest.

Thankfully it cleared and I was left with gorgeous sky and a calm river, which ran through lush grassy embankments, stands of Oak, Maple, Red and Jack Pine, some farms, and a few fine dwellings.  I encountered five fishing boats on the river.  Presently, I am situated on a small point overlooking the river.  The sky has grown grey and still and damp and I await what will surely be a thunderstorm.  I pitched my hammock so as to avoid the worst of the wind, only to realize I was adjacent a tree which has been half chewed through by an industrious beaver.  Needless to say I have relocated to an area of juvenile Silver Maple, which, should one fall upon me, will hopefully be less injurious.

Day 8: 17 miles.  2 portages