Joe & Isaac's Adventure: Episode 1 - Chapter 4

We returned to Aitkin on Sunday July 8th to continue our journey. The river level had dropped considerably -- the river was approaching normal levels. It was however still thoroughly muddy. I must at this point pause and mention the support that Isaac and I received from Clare (wife and mother). The section of the river that we were canoeing was on average 650 miles from our home in St. Louis. There is no direct interstate highway route and so the trip must be made on primarily two-lane highway. Clare drove us up in May and then drove back to St. Louis alone. She then drove to Aitkin to pick us up and back again to St. Louis. One week after a 1600 mile trip to Florida Clare again drove us up to Aitkin and then drove back to St. Louis alone, and finally on July 26 - 27 (our 16th wedding anniversary) she drove to Redwing to pick us up and again back to St. Louis. And she doesn't like to drive! Wow! thanks Clare, we couldn't have done it without you. We love you. Clare had one of the more interesting and insightful comments to make about our journey. She said this trip was, "a passage into adulthood for Isaac and a passage into second childhood for Joe." Clare took this picture of the two of us just before we set off again from the Aitkin landing. Below is a picture of our canoe at the Aitkin landing packed and ready to go.

The aluminum canoe, the tail end of which you see in the picture, belonged to Scott and Rod. They arrived at the Aitkin landing while we were getting ready to leave. Scott and Rod were also traveling down the Mississippi. They were Canadians. Their plan was to paddle to the Twin Cities where they had a pontoon boat waiting for them. There they would sell the canoe and continue on with the pontoon boat to New Orleans where they would sell the pontoon boat. By mid-August they had to be finished as they were then on their way to Arizona to attend this year's Burning Man. (And we thought we were having an exciting summer)! It was really hard to have to tell them the MDNR map was wrong about the showers in Aitkin. They arrived in the same muddy condition we had two weeks earlier and they were counting on those showers. Later that evening they caught up with us and we camped together.

We said our goodbyes to Clare and off we went again, down the great river. A lot can change in nature over the course of a couple weeks. In the time Isaac and I were off the river visiting grandparents the seasons changed from Spring to Summer. When we left northern Minnesota on June 15th everybody was complaining about the excessive rains, now on July 8th they were praying for rain. As we paddled away we noted another change. A new and more menacing pest had hatched out -- biting flies. At first they weren't too bad. But as we progressed further into the wilderness they got worse. The thing about biting flies unlike mosquitos is that the flies will follow you onto the water. In the Spring we would always find instant relief from the mosquitos by simply launching the canoe. All day long in the canoe we were mosquito free. The flies however do not respect the river boundary. They are also faster, louder, bigger, and more aggressive than the mosquitos. When they bite you they draw blood and it really hurts. We made it through the first day, but the second day they were worse still. Deep Woods Off was no concern to them. For all we knew it was just extra flavoring. We couldn't paddle the canoe for swatting flies. By noon on the second day I could feel the usually solid wall between reason and insanity starting to weaken. At the highway 5 river bridge we pulled the canoe out. We couldn't go on without a way to ward off the flies.

The town of Crosby was five miles down the road. We started walking and hitch-hiking. Too bad we couldn't hitch-hike with our canoe in tow. People had been really nice to us until now, but most folks don't pick up hitch hikers, Minnesotans included. We walked more than three miles until a young man in a pickup finally stopped for us. We told him our story and in true Minnesota fashion he offered to wait a few minutes and then drive us back if we could find what we needed. We thanked him, but having spied the Subway shop on the corner we decided to stay in town for lunch. After lunch we started looking for an outfitter or sporting goods shop. The best we could find in town was the local hardware store. We were hoping to get some netting. Isaac had bug netting for his head -- we wanted more coverage than that -- for both of us. Unfortunately they didn't have what we were looking for. They referred us to a boating shop back up the highway on the outskirts of town. We started walking again. The boating shop didn't have netting either, but they did have 100% DEET. We opted for the poison. Having walked nearly four miles already, I asked the clerk if anyone there could drive us back up to the bridge. Fortunately someone with a truck and trailer was just getting ready to leave and we got a ride. The 100% DEET was effective against the flies and we were able to continue. I was however beginning to get concerned about the amount of dangerous chemicals we were spraying on ourselves. We weren't just weekend campers -- we were coating ourselves with this poison day after day. In the long run the flies would win. The theory behind DEET is that we can tolerate more poison than they can. The flaw in that theory is that for every one of us there are a bezillion of them.

The river between Aitkin and Brainerd is beautiful except for the muddy water. There is a slow change that begins as the river leaves the ancient glacial lake bed. Rocks start to show up again along the river bank. After so many many miles of paddling through mud you have no idea how exciting it was to begin seeing natural rocks again along the river banks. As you approach Brainerd the water begins to clear. In the last ten miles or so the river widens and begins to back up behind the Potlatch Paper Company dam. We were getting ready for another day of lake paddling when the most astonishing thing happened. The wind began blowing at our backs. We had a tail wind for the first time and, for what would be only one of two occasions the entire trip! In addition to his waterproof clothes bag (we each had one) Isaac also had a small blue tackle box that he had troubled himself to seal with weatherstripping. In this box Isaac had packed an odd collection of sundry items. The mind of a 13 year old can function in strange ways -- I would never have thought to bring along some of the items he had in this box. Like the radiator hose clamp that he used to fasten one of my shirts to the end of his paddle. We were able to raise a small sail. Isaac held the paddle wedged against the gunnel and his leg and, held out the other side of the shirt. It filled with the wind and with light paddling and steering at my end we sailed into Brainerd. We may have looked rather foolish, but we felt great. The wind wasn't blowing in our faces! We couldn't believe it!

The portage at the Potlatch dam was one of the easiest. We noted that there are two types of dam portages. Those maintained by private companies like the one in Grand Rapids and here at Brainerd and, those maintained by public utility companies. Blandin Paper in Grand Rapids is so nice that when you arrive at the portage site, you just give them a call -- within half an hour a truck shows up. They help you load your gear into the truck and then drive you around. Thank you Blandin! At Brainerd the short portage trail is paved, the grass is mowed, and clean restrooms are provided. Thank you Potlatch! At Blanchard on the other hand (a public utility power dam), Isaac stepped out of the canoe onto submerged barbed wire that cut his foot. The restroom provided was so filthy as to be unusable and the portage trail was so hazardous that some canoeists who went before us abandoned a load of firewood rather than try and carry it around. We were never in more danger of physical injury the entire trip than at the Blanchard portage. I'm generalizing a bit too much, the Sartel portage at the International Paper Company dam wasn't very nice while the portage at the Coon Rapids power dam was fairly easy. Still, Blandin and Potlatch were so nice and Blanchard so awful that the others seem worthy of little attention. At Brainerd we left the canoe overnight at the portage site and called a taxi to take us into town. This time I was interested in a hot shower not so much to get clean as to wash the bug poison off myself and my clothes.

Late that night in Brainerd two young men went swimming down by the railroad bridge over the Mississippi. They supposedly wanted to cool off after some hard physical labor. One of them, Allen Daniels apparently drowned. The next morning Isaac and I had the eerie experience of paddling by that bridge and watching the state police boats drag the river for his body. The river current was strong and as we passed the bridge the muddy water surface was turbulent with boils caused by the current rushing over obstructions in the river. It was the last place I would ever have chosen to go swimming. For hours then as we paddled south I kept watching the banks of the river with a sick feeling hoping that we wouldn't stumble on the young man's body. We were on our way then to Crow Wing State Park and the confluence of the Mississippi with the Crow Wing river.

In the first half of our trip the weather was wet, cold and windy -- our struggle had been to stay dry and warm. Now in July the sun, which we had seen for only three days in over three weeks before, was quickly becoming our worst enemy. Isaac and I, are both fair skinned and sensitive to the sun. Isaac so much so that his doctor recommends he never leave the house without an application of sunscreen. As we paddled on toward Crow Wing we were beginning our fourth consecutive day in unrelenting sun. Isaac was applying SPF 45 sunscreen twice a day and he was still burning.

To my dismay, the river began silting up again as we approached Crow Wing State Park -- more mud. When we arrived at Crow Wing we decided we would have to stay an extra day and give our skins a chance to recover from the sun. We found a nice campsite in the park and got settled. An hour or so later I noticed another canoe pass by and headed for the boat landing. I ran over to see who it might be. There I met an old man and I believe his nephew -- I wish I had written down their names. The old man was in his seventies! They were canoeing down the Mississippi to St. Louis and then up the Missouri to Omaha! The old man and I talked for awhile; some years earlier he had canoed down the entire Missouri river. Wow! They did have a small 5hp motor on the canoe (they'd never get up the Missouri without it) which allowed them to go farther and faster, but still -- what a trip. They were stopping for water and to get cleaned up. In another hour they shoved off for Little Falls. You see what looks like a bike wheel in their canoe? That old fellow was clever. He had rigged up an axle and welded a sleeve onto the canoe over one of the thwarts. When they came to a portage, he hooked up the axle and two wheels and they could just pull the canoe along on the wheels. Boy, talk about envy.

The next morning while I went to take a shower Isaac went foraging for firewood. We were accustomed to collecting firewood from the forest around our campsites. At Crow Wing SP the firewood supply was abundant. However it was against the park rules to collect fallen wood. The park ranger, Robert Morgan, came by and caught Isaac in the act. He gave him a warning and then later spoke with me making it clear we couldn't collect any more wood. Firewood was for sale at the park office. That was fine for the other campers, but the park office was a mile down the road. Walking a mile to the office was one thing, but walking back a mile carrying forty pounds of firewood was entirely another. So we were basically cut off from building a fire -- no big problem as we did our cooking on a propane stove, but a fire was comforting at night and helped keep the bugs away. We basically loafed away the day; did a little fishing and a little reading. A couple times the ranger came around and said hello. Then around five after he was off work Bob Morgan drove up in a pickup with a load of firewood for us. He said it was wood that they had laying around at the picnic shelter. I just laughed out loud and then thanked him for his kindness. Isaac and I had never complained or mentioned that it was too far a walk to carry firewood. What a delight that experience was -- what a genuinely nice man to have a full campground of people and I'm sure enough headaches, to then care enough to take the time after work to bring wood to the very culprits who earlier he had caught breaking the rules. Thank you ranger Morgan -- you're the very best!