TR-St Croix River (Long and Not Much Fishing)

Well folks here's the TR I promised for our float down the St.Croix
River. Its wordy without much fishing in it (and even less fly
fishing), so be warned...

Jacci, Mason (my 10 year old son) and I spent last Tuesday and
Wednesday canoeing 29 miles of the St. Croix River between Danbury and
Grantsburg.

Our first hurdle was to find some way to shuttle us or our car from
the put in to the pull out. I even considered leaving one of my bikes
hidden and locked at the takeout and riding the 25 miles of county
roads back to the put in. But in the end we decided to utilize the
services of Wild River Outfitters in Grantsburg
(http://www.wildriverpaddling.com/). For $57 they moved all of our
stuff (packs, paddles, rods and canoe) and us from Grantsburg to
Thayer's Landing, just outside of Danbury. We left impressed by their
general helpfulness and the feeling that they are involved with a
business they really enjoy. I can't recommend them highly enough.

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The wind was blowing hard in our faces as we started down the river.
Jacci paddled bow, Mason rode behind her in a folding canoe seat and I
took stern. Our old 16' Mad River Explorer is a great boat but it is a
bit cramped for three people plus two big tripping packs and a couple
smaller bundles. If I was to make trips like this more often I'd
invest in a longer boat but we made do with what we had. And as far as
handling and carrying capacity the Explorer was up to the trip, just a
little short on leg room for the stern paddler.

My only other gripe was with myself (it doesn't pay to complain about
the weather). In preparing for the trip I'd downloaded the trip maps
from the Park Services website. While the maps showed the campsites
and landings they didn't contain enough detail of river features to
pinpoint exactly where we were, especially on the first day. When we
got home I checked out images from the USGS 7 Minute topo maps and
found plenty of detail. My bad.

The paddling the first day was pretty daunting. The wind was blowing
hard enough to bring us to a standstill even with the fairly robust
current. So it was with some relief that we pulled in to Little Yellow
Banks landing for a break. We had been advised that the group
campsites like Little Yellow Banks were generally less desirable than
the individual sites scattered down the river. But Little Yellow Banks
seemed well cared for, the campsites clean and the water from the pump
tasty.

While Jacci and I rested our arms Mason swam and waded in the river.
The river bottom on the upper section was mostly sand, with very few
rocks or boulders. After awhile I broke out Jacci's spinning rod and
cast a jointed Rapala around some of the trees that had fallen into
the river. I hooked a small bass and handed the rod to Mason. The fish
obliged him with several jumps and splashes. After a bit he landed it
and I hemostatted the hooks free. The fish made a parting swipe at
Jacci's toes and then headed for deeper water.

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After about 45 minutes we regrouped in the boat and continued our
contested passage down the river. A few hours later, our butts sore
and backs and shoulders aching we pulled into Norway Point Landing on
the Wisconsin side. The campsites there were also nice but being
heavily wooded they also were swarming with mosquitoes, which the wind
had kept completely at bay while afloat. But what decided the issue
for us was the pile of fresh bear poop on the trail between the
campsites and the johns. We decided to push on.

A couple miles further downstream we saw a small sweeper extending
into the current. At its end was a large round object that we at first
took as a bird's nest. But when we got closer the bird's nest morphed
into a porcupine doing God knows what 20 feet from the shoreline. We
eased our canoe around and downstream from him. He raised the quills
on his back and champed his jaws at our intrusion. So after a few pics
we left him alone and continued our search for our home for the night.

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It was with considerable relief that only a few hundred yards below
the porkie's tree we came across a campsite on the Minnesota side. It
was fairly open (making the wind our ally in the mosquito battle) and
allowed us good visibility to the river. This enabled us to keep our
paranoid parental eyes on Mason as he played and splashed in the
water.

Even in the late afternoon the bugs weren't bad. Mason and I erected
the tent while Jacci fired up the stove for dinner. Afterwards I found
enough deadwood for a small, symbolic campfire (it was quite warm). A
bit later, casting from shore, Mason managed to hook the Minnesota
State Fish, which unfortunately was too small to be added to our ramen
and beef stick dinner. We had to let him go, to Mason's dismay.

As evening fell our marshmallow roasting and spear making activities
were curtailed by the skeets finally making their appearance. We
retired to the tent and soon were asleep.

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The night passed uneventfully. When I awoke Jacci had already been up
for a couple hours. There was a big pot of tea steeping. She had
breakfast partially made. After a little fiddling with our balky
stove, that too was finished. I left her and Mason to a Suduko book
while I washed dishes and took a few casts (one strike... no hook
ups). Then it was down with the tent, canvas and cordura packs
refilled and boat loaded and off.

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With faster water ahead we trimmed the canoe a little stern heavy as
opposed to the day before when we fought the wind by trimming very
slightly bow heavy. Mason, who had spent the first day riding behind
Jacci, now rode just in front of me. The packs were stowed ahead of
the center thwart.

Our first concern was filling our water containers. A mile below our
campsite lay Nelson's Landing. With the wind now switched to the
northwest and at our backs it was an easy paddle to the gravel boat
launch there. As I was securing the Explorer I heard Mason yell "A
turtle!". I turned around to the sight of a large soft shell turtle
sprinting down the bank to the river. I had never seen a turtle sprint
before. By the edge of the boat landing we could see where she had
just buried her eggs. A person couldn't help but wonder if the eggs
would survive to hatching or would join the myriad raided nests we had
found where ever we had landed the day before.

Watering up we soon were back in the boat. The first rapids of the day
approached and were easily run. The campsites became more numerous and
the river divided itself in small and large islands. At one cluster of
campsites the were half a dozen fishing boats pulled up and a variety
of tents and families scattered through the woods.

When the first real whitewater appeared a small knot of anxiety grew
in my stomach. While I knew that none of the rapids were rated above a
2 on the river running scale and that we had run more difficult ones
in the past, the worry of a mishap occurring was still there. With a
yell from Jacci of "What have you got me into!" we dropped over the
first pitch.

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It had been a few years since we'd been paddling together on a fast
river and the first couple of rapids and riffles were run a bit self
consciously. But after that the old magic of paddling with a partner
whose judgment and skills you trust kicked in. Paddling a tandem canoe
in fast water is probably best compared to dancing or skiing a single
track trail fast, one right behind the other. The rules are set by an
outside force... the river... the music... the dips and turns on the
snow. And as the stern man I was following Jacci's lead. Soon the
only time words had to be exchanged was when there was a choice
between good (or bad) options. Usually the movement of her paddle or
lean of her body gave me all the information I needed. This is
something I luckily am able to forget how deeply I enjoy. Or else I
don't think I'd ever be happy off of the river.

But, lest I make this overly dramatic, the real whitewater on this
stretch was very limited. Of much more concern in this section were
the shallows and riffles. Many of the shallows consisted of bank to
bank sheets of bedrock with the water flowing thinly over it. We
scraped bottom a few times and twice had to get out of the heavily
laden boat and wade it a short distance to deeper water.

Near the bottom of the constellation of rapids and riffles, at a place
where the Minnesota and Wisconsin channels meet we passed the perfect
campsite. There was fast water on both sides and the site was open to
the wind. A person, a flycasting, smallmouth bass fishing person in
particular, could establish themselves there and for the next three
days (the statutory camping limit) fish six miles of prime, easily
waded water. The bass habitat there is virtually omnipresent. I've
promised myself that campsite and those three days some day in the
future.

But the fast water soon swept us away from that site and within a mile
most of the rocks and standing waves were behind us. Needing a break
we pulled up on a exposed sandbar for some lunch and a short rest.
Just before we left I unstowed the 7 weight and cast a diver to likely
looking spots. In one small shaded pool I got a couple of small,
bluegill-like hits. The next cast brought a solid hit and a small bass
acrobatted across the water. Calling Mason over i handed him the rod
and watched as he brought it to hand. A quick examination and he was
released, scooting between Mason's legs to freedom.

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And that was it for the fishing. All told we probably fished less than
an hour the whole trip. The impression I was left with was of a river
witha healthy fish population. The spots we caught fish in... near
swamped timber, in deep holes and from rocky pools... are repeated
endlessly along the Riverway. I'm sure a serious fishing foray would
see dozens of fish caught. But that would wait for another day. This,
in essence, was a scouting trip.

After we passed the Soderberg Ferry Landing the river's nature changed
again. It broadened into huge, lake-like pools. With the wind at our
backs we breezed through these stretches. Although after the more
intimate water upstream I still had to wonder where the hell all this
water had come from.

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I found it hard to judge distances on these pieces of water, sure that
they were longer than they were in real life. So I kept predicting the
appearance of the Highway 70 bridge and pull out well before they made
their actual appearance. But eventually the final bend was passed and
the bridge lay in the distance. We eased up to the oddly boulder
strewn pullout, I jumped out, dragged the stern ashore and our trip
was finished.

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I walked the half mile back to the outfitters to get our car (They
would have moved it to the landing as part of their service but I
thought, correctly, that a longish walk would feel good after sitting
in the boat for two days.). Picking up a trio of cold sodas and
thanking them again for their fine service, I unlocked the car and
drove down to the landing. Loading up we drove the 40 miles to Spooner
and had a good meal at Nick's Restaurant on the main drag.

Then we threaded our way home down highways 53 and 8 and then along a
course of back roads to Merrill. On the backroads I kept the speed to
55 or less and we were rewarded with a 25 mpg average with a fully
loaded Taurus station wagon for that leg of the trip.

It was a fine outing. What would I do differently. Well, better maps
and maybe a bigger canoe. Breaking the trip into three days would have
given us more time to fish and been easier on or butts and shoulders.
But for a first time down this particular river I came away very
satisfied. I also came away wondering how many Wisconsinites realize
that this fantastic resource (the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway)
even exists. We saw only a handful of canoes and kayaks on our trip.
The campsites we visited personally did not seem to be suffering from
over use either. Even if a person is not into canoe camping the number
of landings make a variety of day trips possible. but we heard on the
radio on the way home that the top three "most desirable Summer
destinations" were Disneyworld (in the Summer?!), Universal Studios,
the Grand Canyon (at least its real), followed by the Wisconsin Dells!

What more can you say.

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Map of the section we floated:

http://www.nps.gov/sacn/planyourvisi...%20Map%205.pdf



HTH

Geo.C.