Long Story Short: We Fought Rapids and Lost, In Three Acts

Act I: Portage

The difficult portage yesterday had us quite prepared for the two portages we had left today. The river was quiet and calm as we paddled into the town of Sartell. The damn was not as imposing as Blanchard dam, but the paper plant next to the plant made up for that. However, it seemed as if a bomb went off in the plant. The entire center was demolished, jagged heaps of steel supports, metal pipes and falling walls of brick made it look like war zone. We paddling to shore and scouted our portage. The official portage was around 300 yards away, down a steep grassy hill, around 8 feet of jagged boulders, the water. The water itself was raging and turbulent. “ No way”, both of us muttered, quite frustrated we would have to travel down the road more to find a better put in. This mean more distance we would have to carry our supplies and canoe.

                We strolled leisurely down the road, hearing people talking but not sure where, a police car was parked on the bridge, but we were not sure why. As we rounded the corner, we got our answer. There was a Memorial Day ceremony going on at the war memorial. The sidewalk took us right past them. We awkwardly walked past a crowd of silent and stoic people, having the same feeling you get when having to walk out of church during the sermon.  We talked to a police woman who was directing traffic and she informed us of a better put in, about a half mile more down the road. It was much easier so we decided to bite the bullet and haul our canoe and stuff a mile down the road. We hoped by the time we would pass the ceremony, it would be over. What better way to distract a sentimental moment than dragging a canoe on wheels through it. We loaded our backs and arms with whatever we could, put the canoe on its portage wheels and down the street we walked. People stared at us like they’ve never seen a canoe pushed down the road before. I guess they were justified.

                The ceremony thankfully ended before we walked by, although the crowds lingering all turned their heads.  We arrived at the put in sweating profusely, intensely thirsty and read to go down the river. We got a great deal on hot dogs at the gas station and sat around joking that rest of river can’t get any harder than yesterday ( Add foreboding music hear).

Act II: Rapids

                We set off, the river had great currant, and the sun was sweltering. Hot enough that I slipped off my boots and socks and enjoyed the weather. We knew about the possible rapids, but everything we have read and been told had been that they were negligible. Class 1 at the most, and unless you actually tried, you couldn’t even tip a canoe on it. Even the Minnesota department of resources claims that this section of river has known rapids. We also assumed that since the river was quite high from recent rain, even the minor rapids would be somewhat inundated enough to be rendered passive. We rounded a bend and heard constant and loud drone. Ahead about 1000 feet were the rapids, the looked much more aggressive then we assumed, but not so aggressive that would make us think they would be impassable.

                We aimed our canoe for what appeared to be the easiet section to pass, and prepared to paddle hard.  Entering them we soon realized this was far more complicated than any waves we encountered.  It very techiniqal, requiring us to coordinate eachothers movements switching paddle strokes, left to right, right to left, quickly and perfectly. We were actually having a lot of fun, waves breaking against the bow, water splashing in the boat, but we were near the end, and still glad. Then it happened. We both saw it at the same time, a wall of water shooting almost straight up, about 4 times the height are canoe is actually out of the water.  We couldn’t paddle out of its way, and knew we had to go through, straight through. We shouted before we hit, “Go straight! Go Straight!, I tried to steer in the rear, but our luck ran out, the currant pushed our canoe parallel to the wave 3 second before we reached it. Toby and I instinctively through our weight into the side of the wave as we hit it, hoping we could get lucky once more and not tip.

                As the wall of water pushed the side of our canoe up, and my body far beyond any point of recovery, I could only think “ Oh wow, we are actually tipping…”. I was still in my seat as we plunged into the turbulent water, my adrenaline pumping so much I don’t even remember the temperature. All I remember is having the same feeling as being in a blender.  I immediately thought what important things I need to grab, an instant split second checklist. My phone was in a water proof bag tied around my neck tucked in my vest, a bag I just bought yesterday luckily.  I came up from a wave and glimpsed everything we had violently floating all around me. I finally spotted toby clinging to the boat, and then my blue plastic dry bag. I grabbed the canoe, the bag and held on,  I saw the paddle float by and grabbed that too. I spotted Toby’s paddle but only had two arms, so I let it all go. I was absolutely sure all was lost, our trip over, and that this was the beginning of a sad journey home.  We asked each other if we had our phones and wallets. I didn’t know where my wallet was, so I assumed swimming downstream. Toby unfortunately lost his new phone. 

                Since my provider is awful outside urban centers, we relied on Toby’s phone for navigation and internet access to post on this blog.  He had it in a water proof, shock proof and dust proof case. Unfortunately, it was not sink proof.   I was lucky I had taken off my shoes just moments earlier. I could swim much better as we moved further down river. The current slowed and we kicked hard to get to shore, me holding the last of our possessions: The canoe, my paddle, my lap top bag.  Trying to stop a sinking canoe, I put my bare feet on the river bottom, something cut my foot, but we managed to stop. We flipped the canoe as fast as we could, bailed out the water, and got back in. I paddled hard to get to our stuff.

           The river looked like debris filled, floating bags, a cooler, a couple portage wheels and much more of our precious equipment.  We spent the better part of a half hour paddling up and down the river retrieving what we can. It’s actually quite funny seeing your floating soaks, a bunch of bananas and a bag of oatmeal going for a swim. You find out what you value the most when you have to go fishing for it, for me, I saw my captains hat, grabbing that before even my sleeping bag.  As we zigzagged around the river, in the city of St Cloud, I saw that the hospital on the bank, whose windows faced the river, had crowds of people looking out at us. I waved to them and got many waves back, from almost every floor. I hope we provided some comic relief to some sick people.

We managed to salvage 90% of our gear, losing most of our food various equipment. The canoe was very low, the water logged men and equipment weighing it down. We pulled into a park nearby to dry out and process what happened.  We managed to capture the aftermath on video.

Act III: Licking our wounds: Coming Tomorrow