The author stands at the Montreal River Canyon put-in just below the three fingers of Saxon Falls.
Hotbed of whitewater paddling
The Montreal River Canyon keeps us coming back for more
by James Blaskowski
Green Bay, Wisconsin not exactly the hotbed of whitewater kayaking," said Bob Costas, studio host for NBC's coverage of the 2004 Summer Olympics. Costas made the comment while talking about where Olympian Rebecca Giddens grew up learning how to kayak. Giddens had just won a silver medal in the event.
Obviously Costas has never been to Wisconsin in the spring when the snow of the north melts and the rivers of Wisconsin bare their teeth and froth at the mouth. With Mother Nature on their side, rivers like the Pine, Popple, Pike, Wolf, Boise, Brule, Black, Root, Cedar, St. Croix, Menominee, Flambeau, Jump, Prairie, Eau Claire, Bad, Oconto, Peshtigo, Red and the Montreal become forces that put fear, excitement and trepidation into whitewater paddlers' hearts.
Spring is a time when Wisconsin truly becomes "a hotbed of whitewater kayaking."
Of all the spring whitewater runs to be had in Wisconsin, the Montreal River Canyon tops the list for our paddling club, the Little Lebowski River Runners. Donny, Walter, Dude and I love this spring run for a number of reasons: its sheer beauty, its roars a few weeks a year, and how it humbles us time and time again.
The Montreal River Canyon is located just northwest of Hurley, Wisconsin. The canyon begins just below Saxon Falls, a jaw-dropping, three-fingered waterfall that stands about 78 feet tall and ends 3.2 miles later at State Highway 122 just above the dam and the 90-plus-foot-high Superior Falls. This stretch of river is one of Wisconsin's most daunting. It is also one of the most spectacular and inspiring rivers I have paddled between the Pacific Northwest and the Great Smokey Mountains.
In the spring, when there are three fat fingers of water pouring over Saxon Falls, this river is a roller coaster ride through sheer cliffs and rock formations that reach heights of 200 feet. The price of admission to this roller coaster ride includes negotiating your boat down an arduous 146-step steel staircase to reach the river, and possibly long swims, long climbs, long walks, or worse if your paddling skills are not up to par.
This river has taught our paddling club a few lessons over the years, lessons that have left us with a greater appreciation for the power a river holds and the risk involved in whitewater paddling.
Whitewater paddling is inherently dangerous. When you combine whitewater paddling with high spring flows, air temperatures just above freezing, ice-cold water, floods, logjams, ice chunks, ice jams and
cumbersome cold weather gear, the variables have a synergistic effect on the level of danger.
Why return to a river that slapped you so hard you were completely ripped from your kayak and forced to swim in 45-degree water? Why return to a river that has chewed you up and spit you into the sky as if disgusted by the taste of you in its mouth? Why return to a river that yanks your paddle from you like a bully
on the playground who steals little kids' lunches, forcing you to finish the paddle with a stick? Why return to a river that places you in solitary confinement by stranding you on an island alone? Why return to a river that steals your brand-new kayak, only to return it looking as if Little Larry and his buddies took it for a joy ride?
These questions race through my head on every drive to the Montreal River Canyon.
When we arrive at the put in, off of County Trunk B, we all pile out of the van like kids on Christmas morning. Within seconds we are lined up at the fence that sits atop the 146-step steel staircase. We poke our noses through the chain-link fence like curious fans at Packers training camp, hoping to get a glimpse of the river far below. The velocity of the river coupled with the roar of Saxon Falls just out of sight paralyzes us.
All we can do is stare at the ferocious river below.
Donny breaks his gaze, turns to us and says, "Looks big."
We turn away from the fence, walk to the vehicle, unload our boats, don our gear, and make our way to the river.
Just as we are about to round the fence and trudge down the staircase, an RV pulling a trailer with eight kayaks pulls into the parking area. The occupants of the RV have just finished paddling the canyon. We
drop our boats, and move toward them in hopes that they can give us the skinny on how much fury the river is running with this year. Immediately our question is answered without a word exchanged. The bright red knot the size of a hockey puck protruding from one man's forehead tells the story.
Apparently the unforgiving river flipped this man's kayak and peeled back his helmet, leaving his forehead
exposed to the dangers underwater. Before this kayaker could set up his roll, his head slammed into a rock lurking below the surface of the swollen river. After a wet release and a long swim, his crew was able to get him to safety. The story, the injury and the river that caused both gave me butterflies.
Following a short conversation with the group of paddlers, we return to the top of the staircase. With each
step down the staircase, the river becomes bigger and more ferocious than it first appeared from the chain-link fence above.
The last step down on the treacherous stairway marks the bottom of Montreal River Canyon, and the beginning of what looks to be an exhilarating whitewater paddle. The roaring that paralyzed us above is now a constant thunderous boom. We look to our right and see the vehemence of the Montreal River releasing
spring melt over Saxon Falls. I get chills as the icy spray from the falls coats my exposed flesh. The magnificent falls affirms my belief that the Montreal River Canyon is unequivocally the finest spring whitewater run in Wisconsin. The question "why return" is now laid to rest. My focus is now on the raging river before me.
One of the most enchanting features of the Montreal Canyon is its sheer cliffs that rise some 200 feet above
the water. When the spring melt fills the canyon, the shoreline that separates the cliffs from the water disappears, along with most of the eddies. What this means is that once a paddler puts in below Saxon Falls, he or she is committed to either paddling or swimming the entire stretch. With this in mind, we shove away from the safety of the shoreline.
Immediately, the river socks us with its power. Large crashing wave trains smash us in the face, ripping our
eyelids wide open. We attempt to eddy out but none appear. Wave after wave slams us down the first half of the canyon, but we handle it like seasoned veterans should. Constant safety checks, keeping all boats in sight and signaling each other where to run or not run are part of the routine.
In the first half of the canyon, there aren't any holes to be overly concerned about. The goal is to keep our
boats upright and enjoy the ride. We attempt to try and catch as many waves to surf as we can because we are only blessed with these waves a few times a year. The waves in the first half of the canyon can provide some of the finest surfing in the Midwest.
About halfway into the run, we take note of a cave on river right. This cave is a signal that the river will soon take a hard right. We stay to the inside of this turn because we have seen Walter take the outside directly
down the tongue and into the mouth of "A World of Pain." I can honestly say, I have never seen a boat and boater swallowed, chewed and spit out like Walter and his kayak were on our previous spring run of the Montreal. Lesson learned.
Just below and to the right of A World of Pain is a great surf wave we like to call "Little Larry." We spend some time here because there is a nice large eddy and it is our first opportunity to stand on shore since the
put in. Following "Little Larry," the river narrows creating some whirlpool-type currents. This section is called "The Ringer." We never know what's in The Ringer because the currents are very unpredictable. We always have a lot of fun pulling "stern squirts" and "hero to zeroes" in this section. Following The Ringer, an island we call the "In and Out Burger" splits the river. Either side of the island can be paddled, but we prefer river right.
The rest of the paddle is filled with all kinds of action-packed waves created by ledges that staircase down the river. Following the ledges there is a short flat-water paddle to the State 122 bridge. Take out here, because below is the dam and Superior Falls. Be sure to check out the falls. You can drive up State 122 north to the parking area. If you walk the opposite way, you can see the cliffs that line Lake Superior.
The Montreal River Canyon is an inspiration. If anyone knows Bob Costas, invite him to paddle the Montreal River this spring. This way, when Giddens wins the gold in 2008, he can introduce her as being from Green Bay, Wisconsin, "the hotbed of whitewater paddling."
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