Paddling around Fountain City

There are thirty-three river towns located along the Wisconsin Great River Road.  I have paddled by these towns, driven through these towns, stayed overnight in these towns, gone on day trips to these towns, camped by these towns and frequented the restaurants & bars in these towns. I love all of them.  Fountain City is one of my favorite though. The town is so narrow there is just enough room to drive through the passageway between the river on one side and towering bluffs on the other. We were paddling out to a sandbar for the weekend with friends.

Now I have to admit something. I don't love camping. I didn't grow up camping. I didn't grow up with a large love of nature. I didn't dislike it.  It just wasn't a big part of my childhood.  Over time, I've learned to love the great outdoors though. Hiking & biking and short paddling trips have really grown on me. I always feel better after a blast of fresh air and the smell of dirt and evergreen. 

And sand.

We paddled up to our sandbar and made ourselves at home.

Time to check out the digs.

We sat in the sun and talked. We swam. Mike cooked. We ate a great meal. As Cathy and I kept sipping away at our wine, we asked for more "just to wash the rest of this food down." Yes, more please.  Just to wash down these snacks.

We watched the sun drop.

I choose to listen to the river for a while, thinking river thoughts, 

before joining the night and the stars.

--Edward Abbey

So night descended. And the sky turned orange. A barge rumbled by.

 Then the sky turned black. The moon shone and the stars sparkled and gave us so much light.

A paddlewheel glided by, illuminated by the yellow glow of twinkling lights, reflecting off the quiet river in front of us. We watched in awe.

and then morning came.

One of the things I like best about camping on the river is watching the river wake up. The sun quietly rises, the birds begin making noise, fishing boats slowly start motoring by.

If I'm lucky my husband rises before me and I wake up to the smell of camp coffee. If not, I scramble up & grab my camera to capture the whole scene. The river is still the wild west in some ways, particularly at night. Most out of season weekend nights are fine but the party boats are a large part of the scene.  So loud music and the sounds of partying break the reverie and remind me of the public nature of a river or a campsite. It's all of ours. We don't get to pick our neighbors. 

But the morning belongs to the birds and the fishermen.  And sometimes to the photographers.

He's a river rat. I just follow him.

We packed the kayaks. We paddled back to civilization. We zoomed back home. And we dumped sand out of our shirts, our shoes and our bags. We live in a river town and we take a little bit of the river home with us each time.

Battered by a Lock & Dam, Saved by a Sandbar

For about 10 minutes, in a lock & dam in Minnesota City I thought my days were over.  We were more than halfway through our kayak trip from Alma to Fountain City. It was a windy day so the paddling was a little bouncier than normal.

The first couple of hours were nice, paddling through lotus flowers, blue herons flying up in front of us, the wind pushing us from behind.

We stopped at The Cove in Buffalo City for lunch. The difficulty started as we tried to cross the river from the Wisconsin to the Minnesota side.  Paddling with the wind hitting us sideways was much harder.  I was fighting hard just to get to a sandbar to rest.  The lock was within sight and our camping spot was a little further along. I hopped back in my kayak and thought we were so close, what could go wrong. As we neared the lock, I could feel the waves strengthening and I was really working to keep my boat pointed south so as not to capsize.  I recalled the words of my husband not 30 minutes prior.

Me: It's pretty choppy out here.  Aren't the waves going to get bigger when they hit the walls of the lock?
Husband: No, it should be fine.  It's a protected area.

As we entered the lock, the waves were throwing around the kayaks. I paddled over to the wall toward my husband and my boat crashed right into the side of his boat but luckily stayed upright. I grabbed a hold of a rope which was really the signal cord to let them know you're there. We heard through the speaker that it was going to be 15 minutes. I kept holding on to what I thought was just a rope. The river patrol officer told us to let go and repeated the 15-minute wait. There are a series of ropes that boaters are supposed to hold onto while waiting. Normally they come out and help you but noone was there. I could have grabbed onto one of those ropes but I've only locked through one other time so I didn't understand everything that was going on. Holding onto the ropes next to the wall wasn't a great situation. The wind was causing so much movement within the lock that our boats were banging against the sides. We were moving up and down a lot with the waves but we were more or less in one stationary spot.  Mike suddenly paddled away from the wall and out into the big waves.  I followed him and immediately realized that now we were really in trouble.  The wind was pushing our boats toward the lock that was going to be opening. The waves were so big they were rolling over our kayaks.  I was quickly soaked up to my shoulders. I yelled for help unsure what to do.  Mike was behind me telling me to just keep back-paddling to try to stay in the same spot. I felt sure I could not maintain this for 15 minutes. I wondered what would happen if I capsized. The waves were so high and we were quite a distance from the wall and the ropes now. My boat kept turning toward the waves as I paddled with all of my strength to keep the boat pointing forward but not moving forward. Just as I was considering my imminent death, Mike yelled, "They're opening!". We scooted on through into another holding area. At this point the officer came out and explained that we were supposed to wait for a green light to come into the lock area. I doubt we could have avoided coming into the lock anyway, with the wind pushing us from behind. Now he said that the cord was a signal cord and then pointed out the ropes. I paddled over to Mike and once again banged into his boat as I desperately grabbed for a rope. The turbulence had died down some now that we were in the second holding area.  We waited another 5 minutes and the final lock opened.  As we paddled out onto the river, the choppy water and winds and dark skies were gone.  The sun slowly showed itself, the water was practically flat as we paddled on.  Two eagles started circling each other above our boats.  The sun was shining down upon us and I breathed.  I breathed and as I watched those eagles, I felt the thin line between danger and beauty. We found our sandbar and bolted out of the boats.

I stripped off my wet clothes and layered myself in dry clothes. My husband had a fire going and a cup of chilled white wine in my hand within 5 minutes time.

My husband said he had no fear during any of this lock & dam drama. He said he gets this urge to giggle, a little maniacally whenever these situations come up. Note to self, take control of all future kayaking trips.

Fountain City off in the distance.

A selfie to remember this wind-battered, wave-crashing, kayak bashing day.

We watched the sun fall.

As I ate dinner with Mike I continued to go over the events of the day. If I held my husband accountable for the lock & dam chaos, I would never speak to him again.  This didn't seem like a good option.  I told him that he is a risky kayaker. I am not a risky kayaker. I should say I won't be a risky kayaker in the future.  Winds, storm clouds, choppy water, waves are not for me.

Give me sunshine and a smooth day and I'm on board. I've learned my paddling limits the hard way. Thanks to majestic Lake Superior and the magic Mississippi, I'm still a paddler though.
We climbed into our tent to the sounds of Ken Burns' Mark Twain.

Sunrise on the Mississippi is not to be missed.

The Mississippi River. The Upper Mississippi Wildlife Refuge.  A Wisconsin Driftless gem.

A Soft and Driftless Long Weekend

Biking on the trails, hiking through the woods, kayaking in the river...the summer weather has arrived and the Driftless Region, our little corner of Western Wisconsin, hums and chirps, rustles and ripples and sits back waiting for us to join her in the trees, in the waters and in her backyard.

The Human Powered Trails is a non-profit organization that develops sustainable trails for the city of La Crosse (WI).  The trails are beautiful, often overlooking large vistas and provide all levels of hiking and biking.  We had a great hike with our dog and were virtually alone on our trail.  There was a sign that said No Dogs but noone bothered us about it and we made sure he didn't get in the way of the few bikers that came through.  They seemed happy to see him.

I love when a long weekend starts out with beautiful weather.  The kind of weather that makes you just want to seize the moment.  And I'm off at noon on Friday and I should go home and relax and clean but what if this is the best weather of the weekend?  So off I went with my husband with plans to meet my brother at our secret spot along the Mississippi.  A quick jump across the river to a sandbar to pass some hours away.

Along the Upper Mississippi River, every hour brings something new.  There are crowds of odd islands, bluffs, prairies, hills, woods and villages--everything one could desire to amuse the children.

--Mark Twain

and Hamlet loved his first river trip.  Yep, he's a river dog.  We wouldn't have it any other way.

refreshments

his favorite position

Hamlet's first kayak trip.  He did awesome.

Off to Winona for some relaxing at the Forsell household.

which generally means taking lots of pictures of my niece, Tula.

Kissing the dolly.

and then a cookout the next day.

a Brewers cup and a wiffle ball in hand, pretty much my husbands dream come true....except for the Bears t-shirt.

the Odin man went nuts with the kiddie pool.  I couldn't stop taking pictures, he was mesmerized and mesmerizing.

the kiddie pool was the place to be.

friends and family make me happy, very happy.

conferring at the grill.

the Odin stare down.

Summertime is always the best of what might be.
--Charles Bowden