Manigotagan River Trip 2: Quesnel Lake to Elbow Rapids, 5 km

View Manigotagan 1 in a larger map

James and I quickly and efficiently unloaded the gear. I turned around the car for Marilyn and she was on her way. At the boat launch, a guy was readying his fishing boat. He told me that he has a place on the lake. James and I made sure to stay out of his way.

Making sure nothing gets lost in case we swim ...

We loaded the canoe, decided on foot- and outer wear for this first short leg and hopped in for the 150 m or so to the first portage around the rapids emptying Quesnel Lake into the Manigotagan. While not as awe-inspiring as Wood Falls, these rapids did everything to instill us with a healthy respect for the river at or above flood stage.

The first rapids did everything to instill a healthy respect of the river

Like it would be the case with many of the other large falls and rapids on this trip, the portage would end within the turbulent current of the tailwater. During the first couple of times, loading the bouncing canoe as well as shoving into the stream seemed daunting but James and I got used to it rather quickly. At the end of this very first portage James wondered whether we wouldn't capsize when I headed straight for the frothing river's center.

Looking back at Duncan Rapids

 

Our next portage, around Duncan Rapids was green and soggy. Poison ivy in evidence everywhere. If I don't get a rash after this trip, I must be immune ...

We arrived on top of Elbow Rapids and made camp on the lovely spot river right. After the traditional first-night steak dinner James turned in. The s'mores we had been discussing could not entice him out of the tent.

Still light out at 22:30

After scoutig out Elbow Rapids for a possible run, I sat by the camp fire for some time, enjoying the long midsummer night dusk and the haunting voice of a veery. My attempts at catching fish did not pay. I went to bed between 22:30 and 23:00, with still some daylight left.

Manigotagan River Trip 1: Drive from St. Paul, MN

We left at 4:30 AM. As expected, I had a hard time to transfer James from his bed to the car, but eventually, I succeded. He lay cuddled up under an old sleeping bag in the passenger seat while I headed NW on I94. As expected, there was little traffic, the few construction sites with single-lane traffic hardly slowed us down at all. We made Fargo by 8:10, Pembina, for a last refueling stop in the US, and the Canadian border by 11:10. The Canadian customs/immigrationagent agent greeted me in English and French to which I responded in French. Since he saw my Belgian passport, all formalities were done in French. It felt definitely like crossing into a different country and took just a couple of minutes.

By 12:30 we were done with getting currency from a teller machine and lunch at Burger King I did not see a Tim Horton's, sorry), we were on the road again, for the first time in real traffic. It delayed us by 15 minutes at most and the open road greeted us onece again. Hwy 59 turned from four-lanes divided to two lanes and we took Stead Road as a variation on the regular 304. Before the dam across Winnipeg River at Powerview, MB, 304 traverses a vast plain. After that point, and a last refueling stop, the landscape changed to scrubland, with the granite outcropings typical of the Canadian Shield. Water in evidence everywhere, in the ditches, in swamps, creeks and rivers, even among the low treestands.
We got to the bridge across the Manigotagan River by 14:30. We got out of the car and looked in awe at the masses of water thundering down Wood Falls before the last 2 km to Lake Winnipeg.

At a business (or what seemed like one) at the intersectionof 304 and the road leading to the town of Manigotagan, we asked for directions to the Simards. People were busy cooking and baking and we learned later that this was no longer the general store it had onece been but was now a catering business. Directions were given and within two minutes we were face to face with Marilyn Simard. We were two hours early, the entire trip had taken us just over 10 hours. Charles Simard had arranged to meet us at 17:00. No problem said Marilyn, either I'll find you another driver or I'll come along. Within 10 minutes she sat next to me and we were heading E towards the mining town of Bisset, 304 now a well-maintained gravel road.

The 40 or so km to the turn-off to Quesnel Lake and Caribou Landing and Jackson's Lodge took just about as much time as the last 10 km. Now I understand why both Charles and Marilyn had emphatically recommended the bigger vehicle when I asked Pontiac Vibe or Honda Odyssey. Especially the second half of the trail to Quesnel Lake was very bumpy and we scraped the bottom several times. At 16:30 we got to the lake and our adventure was about to begin.

Upper Iowa River 2b: C. Baker County Park to Decorah

Tom's lunch-time cigar

We stopped for a shore lunch at one of the rare gravel banks, around 1:00 PM. The limestone pebbles made me think of miniature versions of some of the collapsed bluff sections we had seen along the river. Where the macro versions had suggested river tsunamis, the micro remains of bluffs were just right for skipping rocks across the river. Pretty soon, a friendly skipping competition was under way, only interrupted when Mellie had to be whistled back when she attempted to retrieve a rock from the stream or when the odd kayak or canoe (three of them in total) came by. Some of the rocks were clearly fossilized coral, of the "Galena Group dolomite of ­Ordovician age" about 450 million years old, as I learned on p. 45 of the Iowa State Preserves pamphlet.

Soon, we were floating again, too. The boys had forgotten their mishap, took the lead and were quickly out of sight. Unfortunately, and very much to their fathers' chagrin, they were still very much out of sight when we passed Hutchinson Family Farm & Campground, where we had h to hoped pend the night. There was nothing we could do but continue downstream. When we finally caught up with them about a mile farther down the river there was no thinking about backtracking to the campground because of the swift current. The missed chance at a restful afternoon was added to the growing rap sheet of our careless travelers. Like us, they were quite disappointed.

Malanaphy Springs invites to take a refreshing shower

As the afternoon wore on, the effects of the warm sun and the stagnant air became more and more noticeable. A small waterfall on the left bank seemed like a welcome chance to take a refreshing shower. Malanaphy Springs (p. 45) gushes out high in the bluff and its waters tumble down in a small torrent towards the Upper Iowa. We climbed up to the spring, glad to stretch our legs.

The spring is located a ways up on the bluff wall

Refreshed, we continued, still aided by the swift current. Gradually, the stream became more populated, we passed a few canoes, kayaks and even some inner-tubes. This did not seem to bother the bird life along the river. Great blue herons (Ardea herodias) flew up frequently just downstream from us, I saw green herons (Butorides virescens), too.

Signs on the bridges we passed alerted us to the remaining distance to the Hwy 52 bridge at the outskirts of Decorah. 3.5 miles, then 2, then we swept under the highway. The steps up to the public landing were tiny. Our van wasn't here yet, so we paddled the few hundred yards to Pulpit Rock Campground, run by Decorah Parks and Rec. 

Upper Iowa River 2a: C. Baker County Park to Decorah

The night was quiet but I woke with a start at around 2:00 AM. Obviously, some sort of a domestic disturbance was going on in the vicinity, fortunately not at our park. A woman was yelling at a Chester to come back and Chester was just as adamant about not having any intention to return (punctuated by both parties with four-lettered expletives that will not be repeated on this blog). I was just worried that Chester might be walking in our direction. The argument was punctuated by the mournful calls of a barred owl (Strix varia), and later by the yipping and yapping of a largish family of coyotes (Canis latrans). Fortunately, Chester must have been walking in the other direction and soon quiet reigned again. 


Tom preceded me out of the tent and around 5:45 I began wondering who he was talking to. The guest, who brought his own breakfast beer and invited himself turned out to be Larry "Campfire" Myer, itinerant musician on tour, planing to crash at our park after a gig in Mason City on the previous night and a gig at Whistle Binkies in Rochester this very evening. After a few cold ones and regaling us with stories from his life, Larry was ready for bed and departed.

After a good breakfast of oatmeal with various trimmings and my intensely strong Dunn Bros. coffee, we were ready to depart, too. Our neighbors had preceded us after a short, but loud argument and we had the landing to ourselves except for three young people having their family photo taken with the truly picturesque bridge as a backdrop.

We took off around 10:00 AM, after securing our gear with bungee cords, just in case...

The case would soon arise. We paddled past the Chimney Rock Camp Ground and came soon on a place where a narrow channel branched off behind a small island. While quite narrow, the current entering seemed swift and some fallen trees provided formidable obstacles. I made sure to give the entry a wide berth and yelled to the boys to NOT enter this estuary. Of course they decided to ignore my advice and swept into the branch. Tom and I rushed by the islet looking back to see our boys' canoe pinned sideways against one of the fallen trees. as they struggled to to free their craft, it capsized and they both went into the water. Fortunately, they did not get caught by the branches. The canoe and various attached bags and boxes began floating down, as were the boys and various lose odds and ends. Our initial worries were for Colin's and Mac's safety. Colin ha disregarded my mandate to wear a life jacked and was, in spite of his precarious situation, attempting to catch as many of the lose objects as he could. So did Mac, who was fortunately wearing his PFD. We stopped and let them catch up, made sure that Colin had proper flotation and began looking for a suitable landing spot. We also tried to reign in the lose canoe, but the current was too strong and the toppled canoe provided too much of an anchor to keep our own navigable.

We let the canoe go for now and stopped at a submerged sandbank, making sure that Colin was wearing his life jacket. We instructed the boys on the hazards of the river and told them to float, following us. Then, the chase was on. We soon caught up to and passed the submerged boat. We looked for a good spot to stage the rescue operation. Unfortunately, the banks were high on both sides and sandbanks were submerged, due to the recent rains. We finally found a place where the water was only shallowly sweeping over a weedy island. While Tom tied a rope to a tree, I changed into swim trunks. I tied Mellie's leash, sporting a quick release clip to the other end of the rope thinking that I would not have the time to properly tie the rope to the canoe.

Meanwhile we heard the boys catching up to us and saw the canoe coming around the bend. Of course it was following the opposite bank of the river. Time to get wet. I walked through the more than knee-deep water leaning into the current. Just as I had made it across, my quarry arrived. I jumped for the stern held on and attached the quick release to a loop of rope. Then I guided it as it swung towards the other shore at the end of the rope. Tom told me later that he was concerned that the rope would snap, such was the tension. but we made it across and I was immediately able to dump most of the water. I waited for Tom to help me empty out the remainder and together we moved the canoe, he pulling and I shoving, to where the other canoe and meanwhile the boys were waiting.

I figure that the pursuit, and the boys' swim was about a mile long. They did get a good talking to about the dangers of swift currents and listening to their elders. Amazingly, we only lost Tom's two lawn chairs and a water bottle of ours. Everything else was salvaged. Some lessons I am taking away from this misadventure:

• As parents, we have to insist that our children, even if they are almost adults, wear their life jackets. Everything turned out OK, but if Colin had lost consciousness it would have been a different story. 
• I am glad I tied down just about everything in the boat. The job was not done as well as in my own Woodsman III, which I recently equipped for that purpose but it still prevented us from losing several bags and the cooler. 
• I was glad that my canoe had lining ropes at either end. However, I need to upgrade my cheapo Menards ropes because they seemed close to the breaking point. 
• One rope needs to be equipped with a carbine hook or a similar quick-release device. 

Rescue Operation Successful!

We continued downriver, glad that no major losses and more importantly, no serious injury were to be reported.

Upper Iowa River 1: Kendallville to C. Baker County Park

On Friday morning I first checked the NOAA river gage for Bluffton and then called Hruska's again. Duane confirmed my readings of the gage, all systems were on "go." 

We left St. Paul at 11:00 AM, heading south on Hwy 52. We seemed to be surrounded by thunderstorm systems but never saw as much as a drop of rain on the windshield. We had a quick stop at Chipotle's in Rochester after we couldn't find Jimmy John's) and were in Kendallville at 2:45 pm. Kendallville is just a couple of houses and a park with the canoe landing. I called Hruska's and Duane said he'd be there in about 15 minutes. I joined the gang readying the canoes for departure and brought the van back to Hruska's. It took about 10 minutes to deal with formalities and have Duane explain to me the map on the back of the contract: little graphics described all bridges as modern concrete, low profile, span bridges, etc. There were 14 in total on the 30-mile stretch to Decorah. 

I felt a few raindrops on my walk back to the park. If anything, the sky was getting darker. The canoes were all ready, we pushed off into the swift current, Tom, Mellie and I in my Gallyans/Bell Woodsman III and Mac and Colin in Tom's Old Town Discovery. Our first nature observation were the cliff swallow (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota) nests sticking to the Kendallville bridge (and pretty much every concrete bridge thereafter) like gum under a diner table. 

The current carried us along the meandering stream, making it often difficult to tell what direction of the compass rose we were following. It seemed like we were heading straight into a thunderstorm, but the end of the front seemed always always just within reach. The high limestone bluffs were immediately in evidence, some at least 20 m (60 ft.) tall.

At one point we all took our rain gear out because it appeared to start raining in earnest. Cloud-to-cloud lightening lit up the sky and we started to be a little worried to be caught by a big storm in the open. But there was really nowhere to escape to and the rear end of the system, a sharp yellow line between dark gray and light blue kept getting closer and closer.  Even the rain never amounted to anything that would have warranted the wearing of a raincoat.

We arrived at C. Baker County Park well before dusk and were able to set up camp without any trouble. Only one other party was present, a father-son team, the boy quite a bit younger than Colin and Mac. Mosquitoes were a nuisance but only until we put on repellent. Our only concern was that at least 50 cars drove by, all in the same direction. We were worried that they would come back in the middle of the night. It appears that (the private) Chimney Rock Camp Ground was at the end of the road. Away from the road, and towards the river, the park was surrounded by a a chest-high sea of Himalayan balsam (Impatiens glandulifera) an invasive species. Despite being a nuisance, I found this plant entertaining because its ripe seedpods explode and fling the seeds up to 7 m.

I fixed the steak that had been marinating in a concoction of pureed onions (thank you, Claudia Borden!), lemon juice and steak seasoning for the last 24 hrs and served them one by one on a kaiser bun, with tomato slices. Since there was no grill on top of the fire pit I had to use the Coleman stove and a frying pan. The bonus of this was the onion/meat broth which was great to coat the buns. On the downside, there were dishes to wash ... No complaints from the eaters, the adults washing down the food with a few Stellas.

Meanwhile, in the dusk the most amazing display of fireflies was underway. I do not recall that I have ever seen as many. Colin and Mac went on an exploratory trip to see if they could crash a party with live music underway in the vicinity. They returned not too much later saying that they got pretty close, but unable to cross some pretty thick forest. Exercise, fresh air, food and drink are strangely soporific and we soon turned in. 

Upper Iowa River Preparations

Tom and I had planned this outing with our eldest sons for quite some time. Initially, we had decided to paddle the Namekagon River, but while monitoring the water levels of Namekagon and Upper St. Croix it became clear that the water levels would be tenuous at best, because of drought conditions. Since my friend Joel had mentioned and praised the Upper Iowa River just a week ago, I discussed this as an alternative. Tom was immediately enthusiastic, as he, like me had done the Namekagon before. We decided immediately to switch plans and head south instead of north. I kept monitoring both rivers, due to the recent rain the water levels on the Namekagon were still low, but at least they were not dropping while those of the Upper Iowa were above average.

On Thursday, June 17, the day after our return from Portland, OR, I called Hruska's, a Bluffton, IA based outfitter. Duane Hruska, the owner of the campground and canoe livery service indicated serious concerns about the high water levels. He also said that it would all depend on whether they would get any more significant rain tonight, as the levels were decreasing. He also said that it would depend on our skill level but that he was not renting out any canoes this Thursday.

I alerted Tom of this fact and he thought we should still move forward with our plans.

Portland, OR, Rose Festival Grand Floral Parade

Morning jog to Washington Park.

Breakfast at Embassy Suites. Very good selection of breakfast foods. Decent coffee, too.

At 9:45, lined up outside for the Grand Floral Parade.

At around 11:00 parade arrived. Indianapolis PD Motorcycle Drill Team was a highlight.

Ambled to Director's Plaza for soccer World Cup match US-England. Five minutes after our arrival the US scored for a tie.

Siesta at hotel followed by happy hour drinks at Kincaid's

Trip to Portland, OR: Portland Area

I enjoyed a few jogs through Portland parks and along the Willamette River. Wile I did not have much time to look at native fauna and flora, here are some impressions.

I ran several times in Washington Park, which is home to the Hoyt Arboretum and the Portland Zoo. I was impressed with the old-growth spruce and cedars. Walls and bluffs are thickly covered with English ivy (Hedera helix). The latter is an invasive species, listed by USDA and Oregon Department of Agriculture (ODA). While the ivy cover looks pretty it should not be forgotten that the plant is as destructive as Kudzu in the US South.

I did notice at least three varieties of wild geranium.

Willamette River is a large river, seemingly larger than my point of reference, the Mississippi at St. Paul, MN. But that is just by appearance, maybe because of its width: the record discharge for the Mississippi was 170 kcfs while that of the Willamette was 39 kcfs.