Locks, Cities, and Meloncholy

We were quite excited for Coon Rapids to be our last portage. The last week had us loading, unloading, losing and restocking our supplies and gear more times than we ever wanted or expected.  Minneapolis was in reach after close to three weeks on the river.  It was actually somewhat depressing thinking how long we spent just getting to our first major metropolitan area.  We sat under the shade of a tree for a half hour to have lunch. A brave, but stupid Canadian goose crept up close trying to see what we would give him. I’m not fond of giving handouts, especially to foreigners, I chased him away back to the water.

 As we pushed our canoe through a park near the dam, a man in an electric wheel chair asked us the usual, “where ya going?”, we replied with the usual “New Orleans”, I thought I was about to witness a real miracle as he almost stood up out of his chair. He wished us good luck and we walked away to the end of our portage. If luck had monetary value, Toby and I would be very rich, judging by all the luck we have been wished.  We pushed off the opposite side of the dam and were quite relieved to never have to haul our canoe overland again, within a few hours; we will go through our first locks.  Before we left the park area, we saw our mechanical mobile friend again, him in his electric chair sitting prominently on wooden porch over looking the river. I couldn’t help but be jealous that he and his chair could move twice as fast our canoe with two very able bodied young men. We kept paddling under the hot and unrelenting sun.

For the past couple days, the banks had been lined with houses, most of these being quite large and affluent, private docks and boats docked near large and well landscaped lawns. Toby and I passed the time by guessing the home values and judging the quality of the landscaping, Toby being horrified that one homeowner chose to use “rough cut timbers” as a retaining wall instead of stone. “Welp, I that’s gonna be rotten in 10 years”, toby said disgusted. I took a quick mental note for any future walls near rivers I will build.  The affluent homes became sparse and as we paddled on, the bank became more a more industrial, the water more dirty and at times, quite foul smelling.  The sound of traffic echoed through the woods and buildings surrounding the bank.  As we rounded a bend, I saw between the trees the very top of skyscraper. Minneapolis was in sight, but I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, we should have been here days ago.

Minneapolis is truly a city that the river built. It was named as such when a school teacher combined the native word for water “ Minea” with the greek word for city, “polis.”  For years it was known as Mill City, home of numerous industries that required the power of a river, sawmills and grain mills.  These industries used the river to not only power themselves, but also transport their products to a ever growing and ever hungry America. One secondary industry that sprung up due to the prevalence of milling was the prosthetic limbs industry. Since milling accidents tend to take limbs, at least 8 separate companies competed for business providing the unlocking mill laborers replacements for what they lost trying to make a buck.

The Mississippi cuts through the center of city. The eons of flow carving out the steep stone and rock cliffs that line its banks.  We navigate through this urban maze, passing under graffiti decorated bridges, rusty old train bridges,  between the concrete jungles of skyscrapers and  constantly hearing the urban cacophony of traffic, sirens and jets flying overhead. The environment stood in stark contrast most of what we experienced in the past few weeks. Gone were the bald eagle and seemingly endless expanse of forest.

St Anthony falls used to be the largest waterfall on the river, creating a headache for not only canoes and boaters, but also the expansion of commerce up and down river. The system of locks and dams is quite an extraordinary feat of engineering, essentially taming the river. River traffic now does not have to worry about such silly dangers as rapids ( we missed the memo), waterfalls, and unpredictable water levels.  We approached our fist look with some apprehension.  We had read what the protocol is but regardless,  we were cautious . essentially this is the process. Canoes  would paddle to a rope, pulling it would signal the lock masters that you wanted to proceed through.  They usually talked in a robotic tone through a set of speakers telling us to wait until the green lights go on. As they open the locks, the current begins to flow toward the lock, we are holding onto a rope extended from the top rail letting us stay in place. The doors open and we paddle into the lock.  The massive steel doors begin to close behind us, slowly, but I can’t help but feel somewhat awestruck. A horn blows and like a bathtub, the water begins to train.  5, feet, 10, feet, 20, 30, 40, 50, the water stained concrete walls now tower all around us. I know how a rubber duck feels when you pull the plug in the bath.  The steel doors, impressive even above water now looked like the gates to Poseidon’s temple, water spewing from top and sides, making me feel nervous about the consequences if they wouldn’t hold.

Before too long, the front lock doors open and we were level with the river, back again into the urban jungle of bridges and buildings. The river meanders through the city, hiking and cycling trails following its path.  We stopped at a park and decided to make camp in a little grove of trees beside the river. Although it was partially hidden, we hoped people would assume we were bums and leave us alone.  Although, the mosquitoes didn’t care if we were bums or not, blood must taste just as good despite socio-economic status.

We woke up later than what we wanted, and saw the first tow boat and barges of our trip. Although these behemoths move slowly, they displace so much water with their thrust that it looks like white water rapids behind them. We noted that we should stay far away from the rear of these floating hulks.  We pushed of after cold breakfast and continued through an urban river. I was amazed about how much industry still relies on the river, barges filled with raw materials, metal, sand, wood, and a white powder which Toby claimed was cocaine were being pushed, loaded, scooped and heaped all along the river.  We passed through Minneapolis’s twin city, St. Paul, dodging more barges, one bridge was being repaired and as we passed, one worker must have recognized the authority of my captains hat and saluted him. I guess I should have saluted back, but I was mid paddle. All I could offer was a very awkward wave and a smile.

The river has changed immensely. It has doubled in width.  Large islands and log jams dot its surface, and now, instead of seeing what we will be paddling into 3 minutes before we get there, we know what we will be paddling for the next hour.  We also have to keep a keen awareness of barges, carefully planning our route long before they even pass us. The heat and sun are nice to have, when compared to the cold, but they are taxing.  Toby said they we will have completed week 3 on Sunday, “ So how far have we gone?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the number. Toby looked at the map, did a quick calculation, “520 miles by the end of the day.” My jaw proverbially dropped. “that’s nothing!”.  I could do that in one day in a car, 5 days on a bike, but 20 days on a canoe and that’s all we have? We paddled more, in silence, somewhat melancholy at the situation. We had thousands of more miles ahead of us. Most who do this trip have a open ended time limit, allowing themselves at least three months to enjoy the river, as well as a budget that fits that time limit. We so far, have exceeded no only our budget, but also the budgeted time for x amount of miles. The plan is still to shoot for new Orleans, but we are realizing that it might take more pain and frustration then planned. We decided to stop in the small town of Hastings, MN. Tomorrow we have to concur the skinny, but 23 miles long lake of Pepin. We both hope to feel better about our adventure after some rest.  The Wisconsin border will be our right shore tomorrow, but our goal is to leave Minnesota as soon as possible.