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Paddling entire rivers A remarkable new source of information A central Illinoisan born and bred, I spent the majority of my weekends throughout the 1970s and '80s crossing state borders to find outstanding canoeing, kayaking and bicycling destinations, especially in Wisconsin (and to a lesser extent in Missouri). Thus it was that I fell under the spell of such treasures as the Bois Brule, Namekagon, Wolf, Peshtigo, Kickapoo, St. Francis and Seven Point rivers. Unfortunately, in 20-plus years of joyous forays into Wisconsin, I left unexplored much of the southern part of the state and developed a false impression of the Wisconsin River. Every time I crossed this long waterway, usually on an interstate, it struck me as wide and boring, and it never occurred to me that I would one day experience so much pleasure on its waters. It wasn't until the mid-1990s that the writing of my paddling guidebooks obliged me to better familiarize myself with the 430 miles of the Wisconsin River. What a revelation it was. Yes, there were many wide, often windy stretches, and the 26 power dams along its course were a trial, to say nothing of the impoundments behind them. But most of the river still flows through scenic, often wild countryside that is wonderfully varied and incredibly rich historically. In my usual overkill fashion, I read everything about the river that I could get my hands on. Particularly helpful and captivating were books by August Derleth (The Wisconsin: River of a Thousand Isles), Michael J. Goc (Stewards of the Wisconsin), William F. Stark (Wisconsin: River of History), and, especially, Richard D. Durbin (The Wisconsin River: An Odyssey). Not until I had completed my many trips on the river and had finished the write-ups and maps for 18 sections, however, did I come upon the most enjoyable of all the sources I've encountered. Online journals worthyof a series of books During one of my visits to the offices of the Wisconsin Valley Improvement Company in Wausau, one of the staff generously passed along to me a photocopy of a booklet called Lac Vieux Desert to Prairie du Chien: A Canoe Voyage Down the Dammed Wisconsin published in 2002. Later that night, sitting in a restaurant in Medford, I drank way too much coffee as I read the document from cover to cover before heading for my campground tent. Written in a refreshingly personal fashion by John F. Sullivan, a DNR employee who lives in La Crosse, the work recounts in detail Sullivan's 13-day canoe trip down the entire river in June 2001 accompanied by a nice selection of photos. I recently discovered that Sullivan had distributed only a few copies to friends, family and other DNR staff, so it was a stroke of good luck that brought me a copy. The good news is that the booklet is now available online at www.irishvoy ageur.com, complete with some excellent pictures. The bad news is that the website includes only every other day of Sullivan's Wisconsin River voyage, together with an introduction. The material that is included is so well done, however, that it constitutes an important resource for paddlers. It is not only informative, but fun to read. Since his solo adventure on the Wisconsin, Sullivan has undertaken similar trips down the full length of major state name tributaries to the Mississippi: the Minnesota in 2002, the Ohio in 2003, the Iowa in 2004, and the Illinois in 2005. He's also traversed all of the historic Fox-Wisconsin waterway (in 1998), the entire Rock River (1999), and the Bois Brule-St. Croix waterway (2000). Fortunately for paddlers, his journals of all of these trips, except for the Illinois, are available at the irishvoyageur website in the same every-other-day fashion. Hopefully, at some point in the future, John will publish the complete journals of these trips, either as individual booklets on specific river systems or as a comprehensive volume with a title along the lines of Midwest Adventures: Paddling Rivers From Source to Mouth. Such a book or books would be a welcome addition to the shelves at Rutabaga, Midwest Mountaineering and elsewhere, and be an invaluable addition to the average paddler's library, too. Until then, I'm grateful for the website. Sullivan brings to the journals not only a passion for wild places and a lot of canoeing experience, but also considerable technical expertise. For 30 years he has worked for the DNR as a water quality specialist and this background enhances his writing tremendously. Frequently in the course of his journals he comments on water transparency tests he conducted along the way, water temperature and turbidity fluctuations that he observed when he passed shoreline inflows (such as the discharge from the Byron nuclear plant on the Rock), as well as the beneficial and sometimes problematical growth of plants and algae in the water (like the blue-green algae that can cause large fish kills on Lake Pepin in the Mississippi). Obviously, Sullivan is also a lover of history, as reflected in his penchant for alternating his own text with fascinating and relevant quotations from river explorers, travelers, environmental writers and many others. Included are a number of quotes from one of my favorite authors, the 19th-century historian Reuben G. Thwaites, whose Down Historic Waterways (1887) still makes wonderful reading. Thwaites, says Sullivan, helped inspire the long paddling trips described on the website. Anecdotes galore As you might expect, the journals are filled with entertaining anecdotes that run the spectrum from hilarious to scary. There are the occasional episodes, for instance, where boorish Jet Skiers and motorboaters test Sullivan's patience, especially on the very last day of his 13-day trip on the Bois Brule, St. Croix and Mississippi when a flotilla of drunken revelers ruined his homecoming to La Crosse. There are exhilarating but harrowing passages across wind-swept bodies of water like Lake Winnebago on the Fox, campsites (such as the one on the Rock below Hustisford) with millions of mosquitoes, end-of-the-day exhaustion after paddling as much as 35 miles, or laboriously poling upstream through rapids on the Bois Brule, an aggressive raccoon interrupting his sleep, a number of extremely difficult dam portages (in St. Croix Falls/Taylors Falls), and an assortment of hazards, such as the terrifyingly wide, low, tunnel-like bridge/parking lot in Janesville, supported by myriads of debris-catching steel posts. But for every tribulation there are many joys described in the journals. Take, for example, Sullivan's countless wildlife sightings of loons, eagles, osprey, ducks, herons and even rails at the St. Croix Flowage inlet. There is the relative luxury of a private shelter at Noyes Landing on the Bois Brule, the thrill of occasional rapids on various rivers, and even surprising acts of courtesy by powerboaters (such as the fleet of water-skiing boats in Rockford that stopped to let him pass). Twice in the journals he comes out ahead in impromptu canoe races, once on the Wisconsin in Arena and again on the Mississippi (in a lock chamber in Trempealeau). Even on the often-dammed, commercially navigated Ohio River, he writes, "there are reaches that are still quite attractive, especially as the early morning sun casts shimmering light over forested hillsides onto a lightly fog-covered surface of the river." Although he was forewarned that the Iowa was not a good paddling choice, he ended up being struck by the rich variety of wildlife "etched on my memory" and the "rebirth of natural floodplain habitat by riparian landowners that have provided easements or sold their lands to conservation agencies." It's a rewarding website, one that is especially valuable for anyone contemplating a trip on part or all of the river systems that are included. My hard copy of the website text is marked copiously with yellow highlighter, but of all the highlighted passages, my favorite is the conclusion to his Wisconsin River section: "I had gained a better appreciation of the Wisconsin, the river with beaver dams, hazardous rapids, countless islands, paper mill wood lots, wastewater discharges, friendly riverside communities, numerous bridges, immense impoundments, hydropower plants, massive dams, long portages, sandstone palisades, dangerous boat-driven waves, strong eddies, broad sandbars, flowered banks, towering hills and a nude swimming beach. It was a memorable trip." That pretty well sums it up, doesn't it? Sullivan welcomes e-mailed comments and suggestions at IrishVoyageur@aol.com. Next month My March column will include, verbatim, Sullivan's detailed description of all 26 dam portages on the Wisconsin River. Most readers will find Sullivan's observations interesting (some of the portages are doozies), but paddlers contemplating a trip down the entire river will find his observations downright essential. Many thanks in advance to Sullivan for allowing me to share this important information with the paddling community in our region. Mike Svob is a native Illinoisan and longtime northwoods devotee. He has canoed and kayaked for more than 30 years in 18 states and several foreign countries but regards Wisconsin as paddling paradise and home. He now spends a majority of the year in Tucson, Arizona. He is the author of Paddling Illinois, Paddling Northern Wisconsin and Paddling Southern Wisconsin, all published by Trails Books.
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