By Johnny “Boats”
Kendrick
Paddle Sports Expert
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| Boom Site Landing |
Recognizing the singularity of the moment, a lone goose called out on the river. I haeartily agreed; the first paddle of the year is a singular event. I had chosen the St. Croix Boomsite, and the Wilderness Systems Tsunami 120, for this first occasion. Despite its popularity with motorboats, the lower St. Croix is a close-to-home gem of a paddle spot, with steep banks, sand rock cliffs and abundant waterfowl. In contrast to Wilderness’ Pungo series kayak, the Tsunami is a smaller boat for my six-foot frame. To get in I need to prop myself up and slide my legs down together. The Tsunami 120 has a performance fit with my legs extended as far as the footpegs go and thighs snugly engaged in the braces. The Wilderness kayak seat is truly the industry standard in comfort, and I felt one with my boat as I slipped out of the bay.
The river was alive in the rising sun. A colony of egrets was congregated in the trees on a submerged island, their snowy silhouettes contrasting the darkened nests. A few pairs of ducks flushed out in front of me; mostly woodies rising noisily and sharply into the air, often circling back to have a look at me, and a few mergansers, murmuring softly, just inches above the water. Herons emerged like pterodactyls from the flooded trees, a bald eagle, geese, and even a pair of cormorants graced the sky, and the air was full of birdsong with swamp sparrows being the most prominent.
The
peninsula that separated the Boomsite Landing from the marina and wayside was
under water, but the flooded trees slowed the flow of the river. As I neared the tip of the peninsula, I could
see the current, swollen with the melt-off from the winter that just didn't want to die. Carefully I nosed my bow
into the channel and paddled vigorously.
But the Tsunami is a very efficient boat. Even in my twelve-footer, I was soon slipping
upstream with a consistent and manageable tempo, tracking with a very subtle
swing in the bow as I paddled. I was
soon in the zone and at one with my boat, the river, and the beautiful spring
morning.
About
a mile upstream, a small slough on the Minnesota shoreline led into flooded
woods. I don’t like to enter sloughs
from the downstream side. They’re often
blocked on top-but a deep green color from the otherwise brown shore caught my
eye and I paddled over, hoping for marsh marigolds. There were none blooming yet so I continued
up the shoreline into the woods; evading trees and passing under a goose
perched in a tree (not a common sight). As I brushed through the limb of a
submerged silver maple, I surprised a couple of beavers, one of them just off
my bow. His fur was glistening red in
the morning sun. With a quick slap of
his tail and they both disappeared.
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| Ok, ya caught me, this is Lake Superior. It is from the deck of the Tsunami 120 though |
Emerging
from a rather surreal paddle through the woods, I found the river changed. The sun was high in the eastern sky, bathing
the steep Minnesota shore in warm, soft light and there I saw the rich green
and yellow of marsh marigolds, stretching on to the next bend in the
river. The Wisconsin shore featured the reddish
brown cliffs that marked the Boy Scout camp and I followed the line of conifers
down to the old bridge pillars. With
both shores beckoning the way upstream, I set my bow in the current and soon
rediscovered the joy of a fast boat on a wild river. If one would really understand a boat and a
river, the nuances of each and the music they can make together, one should paddle
upstream. What upstream travel demands
is not so much hard work but consistent exertion My favorite sidearm is the Bending Branches
Sunrise, a fiberglass paddle with a slightly smaller blade. This paddle enables me to establish a good
rhythm and I soon passed the pillars following the bend in the river and
arrived at the High Bridge where a sign forbids upstream travel.
Dutifully,
with shoulders beginning to complain anyway, I swung the bow around and started
my descent. Half an hour later, I was
back at the landing where, perhaps appropriately, it had clouded up and two
motorboats were preparing to go out. But
I did take the time for two short detours on the return trip. I saw a bald eagle on the way up, so I wanted
to check out the nest. I was happy to
see the white head of an adult peaking out of the nest and I hope to return to
see eaglets later in the year. My other
errand was to search the shady recesses of the Wisconsin shore for any
remaining snow. May 5th is a
late first paddle for me. With the late
snows that delighted the skiers, it frustrated the paddlers. I was happy to find several large pockets of
snow hiding in the shady cliffs. So
though it was late, my first paddle of the year was
amid the remnants of snow.
