The Trip To LIttle Minnow

Just got off the phone with the Rev. He is on his way to the General's to pull the dock and work on deer stands for the November hunt. He is doing quite well, which is a good thing. One of the few regrets I have about living and growing up in Northern Minnesota is that I didn't get so see a lot of my relatives all that often. I really do miss many of my cousins that I'm close to, but with a wife and kids it is tough to find that oh so precious time to connect. With some luck we may be able to hook up some this fall and/or do somew hunting and fishing. But I digress...back to the story.





After retreiving the camera, we were on our way down the Bigfork, hungry for a wild adventure, or at least a little action. We had two sets of rapids to take on this day, Robb's and Hauk, neither of which the General or I had ever experienced. There is something wildly exciting about shooting rapids that have never been done before simply because one never knows what to expect. We had adjusted the equipment in the canoe to balance it out a touch better than we had it the day before. Although it was alright, it still felt like it leaned a tad to the left, which any canoeist worth their salt would tell ya it is a bad combination to have an unbalanced load while shooting through rapids. Even the smallest of rocks can easily swamp or tip a canoe that isn't ready for the challange. But like I said, we made the necessary corrections and was ready for whatever the Bigfork had to throw at us.





We only had 8 1/2 miles to go that day until we got to Little Minnow Campsite and only a mile and a half to the Robb's Rapids. The current, although not really strong, was doing a good jop at pulling us down the river so I thought in the back of my mind that the day's rapids would be an exhilirating time. Nevertheless, since the first set was coming up soon, the General and I discussed what we were going to do when we came to the first set. He wanted, if possible, to film the action on his video camera as we shot through Robb's since they're were only going to be about fifty feet long. I said I had no problem with that as long as there wasn't too much white water to where I would need my copiolit to help with the paddeling so we could keep the open end of the canoe up. He completley agreed.





It didn't take us long to reach the Robb Rapids. It was then that I knew the river was a lot lower than I had anticipated. Instead of white water all we had was a little bit faster current and a lot of rocks poking thier heads way above the water. The General took out the camera as I expertly weaved us in, out and between the wet, green scum coverd rocky obsticles. The only real action came when we neared the end and the General told me to go right, then left, then right again. If someone from the shore could have been standing there filming, it would have been like watching a ballet on water the way I manuvered the seventeen foot craft around like it was a toy boat in a bathtub. It was later when we watched the footage of that part that I realized the General has a few things to learn about shooting a movie. I thought I was going to witness some of my best canoeing skills at work turning out to be a jumpy, hard to follow view of the thirty feet of white water I brought us through. (General, if you read this I just have to say that you need to use the zoom less and focus on the wide angles more.)





Once through Robb's Rapids we had it pretty easy going. The cruised along the water taking consistant strokes with the paddle, at least I was, and meandered our way through the new territory. There was about a dozen places we passed by that I would have been proud to have called my home. I thought to myself, "I hope these people appreciate what they have here because few in our world, let alone our country, have something of such magnificent beauty to call home."





We continued like that for the next four miles as we took in the lush greenery of the trees, the golden rustle of the hey fields, the peaceful serenity of the landscape as we lazily drifted along. Once again I ended up doing a lot of the paddling, yet I didn't care; I was just happy to be on the river.



It wasn't until after the Hauk Rapids that we truly got away from the wild rice. It wasn't the fields and fields that we navigated during the first part of the river, but there was enough to feed a lot of people during a cold winter. Nevertheless, a mile or so before Hauk's, we came around a bend to a vast opening in the trees. There was a nice looking rambler with a couple of garages and some rag tag looking farm equipment in the yard. A scruffly looking white mutt of a dog began to bark and run towards us. He was doing what all good little dogs with a little man complex try to do, protect what is his. Before poochy could get halfway to the river a portly old fella stepped out on the deck and in the tradition of Minnesota Nice, gave us a kindly wave and hearty hello. I have always enjoyed meeting the people on the river because other than the year of the fire, we have always been welcomed with arms wide open. He asked us where we were headed and how long we planned to be on the river, commenting on how nice the level was for this time of year. The General in turn introduced us and gave the friendly stranger the low down along with the information that we do the river evey Memorial Weekend. He wished us well on our journey and said the Hauk Rapids should be little to nothing, even with the water at the level it was at.

Before long we were upon The Hauk Rapids and there were exactly what the old man had said, nothing to write home about. I weaved in and out of the rocks while the General made good on his filming. I thought these would be a lot of fun with some high water...maybe some year the River Runners will have to start our Memorial Weekend trip from Dora lake just to hit the rapids at their peak. Although I will be the first to admit that going through rapids scares the fuck out of me, I did miss the thrill of a good shoot. Guess I will have to wait until the spring of 2011 to get my fix.

It didn't take much more than an hour to make it to Little Minnow Campsite. We had marked so good spots to paddle back up stream the following day to do a little fishing. We came across some really nice rocky terrain that held a promise of the walleye, but that wasn't going to be until tomorrow. What we wanted was to get to Little Minnow, set up camp and sip a few cold ones next to a roaring fire while some classic rock tunes filled the cool summer air. But that tale will have to wait for another day...

Until then I will remain...Crazy Joe

The Next Morning 9/28/2010

Well as you can see The General is only human after all. I suppose playing the role of The General "I can go for almost 48 hours without sleep" Rich can only last so long. After I had finished munching on some grub and cleaned the place up a littlee to keep the bears away, even though I knew the chance of one showing up was slim to none, I roused the General with a good shout. He slowly looked up and half opened his eyes. "I'm crashing man, you sleeping under the stars tonight?" He inhaled deeply and said "Nope".
By the time I turned the last lantern off he was almost snuggled into the old fart sack, and sleeping before I finished zipping up the tent.

I awoke a little before 7:30 the following morning and thought a hot cup of coffee would go great after a good healthy piss. I glanced over at the General and he looked like he hadn't moved since the night before. I think he may have opened his eyes when I zipped the tent back up, but I'm not sure. I decided to let him sleep in as much as he wanted because there was no real hurry for the days adventure. We had all the time in the world to get to Little Minnow so rushing was not a priority.

After coming back from the tree line with an empty bladder and a strong hankering for a warm cup of java, I had to stop and take in the moment. A pair of ducks, I think mallards, was swimming down the river as a loon called from somewhere in the rice paddy. The sun was gently warming up the land and casting dancing sparkles on the river's surface as a soft breeze kissed my face. I stood in marvel of God's creations and thought that there was absolutely no place I would have rather grown up. I love Northern Minnesota.

It didn't take long to get the coffee going, but by then the wind had picked up and the river valley was tunneling it right into our campsite. With the coffee on I proceeded to stoke the fire a little so we had a place to burn the garbage. I only feed it small at first and then once I had a steady flame I added some larger pieces. I kept and eye on the coffee, but still wasn't seeing any steam. Then I heard a pickup.

I lit a smoke and watched as two dudes pulled up with a john-boat in the back of a maroon crew-cab Ford. They looked to be in a hurry too because before I knew it the boat was in the water and one of the dudes was parking the truck. He hoped out and literally ran to the boat which the other guy had already had fired up. They took off up river and as they got to where I had a good view of them, I was a bit shocked to see the guy in back standing, holding onto the tiller of the motor. The really weird part was that the prop shaft was long and looked like it was coming off the back of the motor at a 45 degree angle. I later found out from the General that that is what is called a beaver motor. The guys looked at me and waved, so I waved back. I watched them weave back and forth up the river through the big rice paddy until they reached the tree line and disappeared. I looked over at the coffee...still nothing so I stoked the fire with a little more wood.

I grabbed a bottle of lemon lime Gatorade, my notebook and a pen. I felt like doing a little writing at the time, so I did. It wasn't a lot, and I will probably share it here sometime, but not today. The Gatorade was ice cold, but still wasn't a good cup of coffee. I decided to investigate the problem. I always keep the top off until she just begins to boil so I can turn it down and prevent an overflow, however, as soon as I got to the table I realized what my problem was. The wind, although not bad at all, had picked up enough that most of the heat from the propane stove was being blown away. Unlike my good old Coleman stove that has a built in wind block, the General's collapsible stove dose not which meant I had to make one. It was more a pain in the ass than it was tough. Needless to say ten minutes later I was once again sitting in my chair toking on a smoke and sipping a cup of black silk coffee.



Around ten the General finally had to get up. With a solid eleven hours of sack time, he spent the first in his chair the night before, he was ready and able for another day on the river. By this time I had grub going and was working on my second cup of joe. The dudes when had gotten on the river earlier with the beaver motor had already returned and were long gone.

We shot the shit while I finished cooking up the grub. We ate a meal of sausage, scrambled eggs and toast...wait a minute. We didn't have toast...the General had forgotten to bring it, a fact I never let him forget. I don't think I'm ever going to let him live that down, even though it was something kind of minor. The big kicker was that he said he thought I was going to bring it until I had him check his list and eat his words.

It wasn't long after breakfast that we got into gear and decided to get the show on the river. It wasn't that we were in a hurry, but I think we were both a little excited to get back on the Bigfork because this was all new turf with things to see we have never saw before. It was a touch amazing on how quickly things went back into their designated spots and homes when one does really downsize. Like I said we only brought what we really needed to have a comfortable trip. Within a half hour all was packed and we were working on securing the tarp to the top of the canoe.

We had decided to film our launch and then pull over at the landing so the General could run back and get video camera. Sad to say that we hung the camera in a tree and as we were launching a gust of wind shook the tree and knocked the camera shot off the mark. We got some, but not all. Next the Trail to Little Minnow.

Until then I will remain Crazy Joe...

Crazy and The General

Time gets away from a person, so much so that a man can find it hard to find time to attend to his legacy, which is something the river trip is to me, that adding stories and updates to this site can be a downright challenge. For the first time since I was a pup in elementary school I was able to make it onto the majestic Bigfork more than once this year. Of course there was the normal Memorial Weekend trip with the Bigfork River Runner crew that was a blast to say the least. Well, what I remember about it anyways. It seems that the Jag and I no longer can be companions on any journey of any sort. Seems like when we get together there are long spans of time where I keep going but my memory takes a nap. Scary to say the least. This kind of leads me into this time's entry.
For many years now The General and I have I have discussed hitting the river sometime later in the year if we have a substantial amount of rain to bring or keep the river's water level up, and this year turned out to be a year in which the plan finally came to light. I guess we had decided early on in the summer we would go no matter how much rain, but we were blessed with more rain than we have had in as long as I can remember. Rain came in droves and kept the level up that we decided sometime in late June that in August we would put our canoe in Dora Lake, the Bigfork's source, and canoe to the first crossing on Highway 6. As the summer sped by we decided that the last weekend in August, before I had to go back to work at the school, would be when we would take four days to enjoy a passion we both share, the simplicty of a Bigfork River trip.
It started out spectacularly, the weather was a dream,lots of sun and a touch of a breeze, something we were grateful for since the first leg of the journey consisted of us having to paddle our way across the main part of Dora lake to the headwaters. We loaded my Core Craft canoe with the bare essentials, barring the padded cots we had for sack time. There was also a slight change on the dynamics of this journey. For the first time in his life, The General choose to play the role of the navigator while I stayed with my roles as the stern-man. Needless to say I did a majority of the paddling.
Once across Dora Lake, we came to the river entrance and noticed a great big gob of dead rushes that blocked our entrances. We built up some speed before we hit the mess and lost a lot of it on our initial contact. To sum up the experience it was like trying to paddle through a patch of wet cement. However, being the pro's that we are, it was little more than a minor speed bump. From there we continued to a tremendous amount of low lying country that was nothing but wild rice fields. So much so that we really didn't come to their end until the first camp site...Harrelson. There isn't a lot to comment on for this part of the trip because the scenery didn't change a lot and there was a little more work in the stroking that I would have liked, but nothing we couldn't handle. The most excitment came when we were forced to choose one of three paths and ended up choosing a dead end to where we had to break new trail through the rice field to refind the river. That a a point when we were using pop cans to relieve ourselves and a great gust of wind came up and almost barrel rolled us. I swear the water was a mere inch from coming in wher the wind tipped us to the left. Being experts our bodies instinctivley shifted weight to compensate for the loss of balance. After our hearts slowed we had a good chuckle, another beer and headed on down the river to find our first campsite of the trip.
Within a few hours we were where we wanted to be...Harrelson Campsite. The site was a true gem with a generous chunck of soft green grass and plenty of space for a large group of canoeists to camp. The only real downfall was that the landing and the campsite were a good 100 yards apart. The General, however, took it upon himself to break through the rushes to land the canoe closer to the camp ground.
We made camp and tipped a few cold ones before having a meal of brats and chips. Then since the General had been up for almost 48 hours, we crashed and got a good nights rest for the second leg of the trip.

Till then I will remain...Crazy Joe

New Storys coming soon

Hey everyone, sorry it's been so long. There are many new storys and adventures we have done in the last year. Will be back soon to start the tails of the river. Till then I remain Crazy Joe