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
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