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.