My secondary purpose was to get some stand-up fishing time in with my new Sage 9-foot, 8-weight, 4-piece fly rod. So far, it’s been used on a couple canoe trips on the St. Croix. The water on the Croix has been particularly high all summer and those canoe trips haven’t presented many opportunities to get out and wade fish. You can only get so much of an idea of a new rod while casting it from a canoe.

In addition to the rod, I loaded the car up with a small kit of smallmouth bass fishing gear, and a cooler with three beers and a bottle of ice water in it. I left the house about 1 p.m.

Then I drove to a tributary of the St. Croix about an hour north of the Twin Cities. About the same time you cross into Pine County, you notice that there are more pines in the landscape. And it is no wonder that the spot I would be fishing at is in a state forest named after the Ojibwe word for white pine.

There was a big white pine on the bank next to the riffle above which I started fishing. There was a fair bit of water coming down the river, but it was wade-able. I thought I would wait to get in the water until I got rigged up, but while I put a new leader on and tied on some tippet material, the mosquitoes started to attack, focusing on my legs. The water suddenly looked a lot more inviting. I stepped into it and walked out to knee-depth.

It’s worth noting two pieces of apparel at this point: the bugs were really attacking my bare legs, but did leave my torso alone, which happened to be clothed in a Columbia long-sleeved shirt I got this spring. It’s treated with some of that anti-bug stuff that seemed to work. It also has a couple Velcro chest pockets which held a small fly box and my forceps and nippers no problem. It has a back vent and is very light and breathable and has become my favorite summer paddling and fishing shirt. Katie says it looks nice on me, too. The river, like most of them in these parts, is very rocky, with its bottom being made up of a lot of rocks six inches to 24-inches in diameter. Death for toes and ankles. But as I scrambled in, fleeing the biting insects, my toes were protected by my Keen Newport H2′s rubber toes, and my feet felt sure on the tricky river bottom. Smallmouth like this kind of rocky river and these shoes have proven perfect for the environment. I actually find them to be a little hot and uncomfortable when my feet are not regularly being submerged, but for canoeing and fishing, perfect.

So there I was standing in the river, all by myself even though I had parked in the state forest campground and climbed down the banks from there. The campground was all but empty on this Sunday afternoon. Around a bend upstream, four kayakers came into sight, two men and two women. As the guy in the lead reached me, he asked how far to the campground landing and I assured him it couldn’t be far at all and he shouted back to the rest of his party that they were almost there. I asked if they’d had a good trip and he said yes but they were ready to be done.

I fished unsuccessfully for a while. The trick about wade fishing for smallmouth is that you want to keep moving, covering new water. The fish generally live solitary lives, and if you don’t entice one out on the first cast to a spot, you’re probably not going to get one on subsequent casts. But, not being in a canoe, and the river being fairly large, it was a bit of work to move around. After covering every piece of water I could from where I was standing, I walked down to the little rapids below me and then out to a big flat rock I thought I’d stand on while I tied on a new fly.

Standing on the dry rock meant my legs were exposed. The mosquitoes and flies renewed their attack. My legs were pulverized. I am not ashamed to admit I didn’t quite know what to do and didn’t have a good feeling about the fishing here either so I fled back to my car.

Safety.

Wear pants next time. Hot when not submerged, yes, but worth it for protection from poison ivy, nettles and other flora when hiking the banks, and protection from those little biting bastards. And besides, the point is to be submerged as much as possible.

I left the campground and drove a mile down to the St. Croix River landing here. There is no bridge, but directly across the river on the Wisconsin side is another landing. You can imagine the ferry that ran across the river back in the 1920s and 30s. The ferry’s first passengers on opening were a circus, a sign at the landing informed me.

My thought had been maybe I would walk up from this landing 100 yards or so to where the river I had been fishing joined the St. Croix. But the water was high and the beach almost nonexistent and thus not enticing for the walk. And there were lots of other folks around, some young guys sitting on folding chairs with lines out in the water, fishing for catfish. This was not my scene, so I went back to the campground.

At the campground, the four kayakers were just finishing loading the boats into a trailer. The two guys were, I should say. I asked them how it had been and they said it was good. One guy went to get into his white Mercedes sedan and his wife opened her door to tell me “except for all the rocks we hit our butts on.” I laughed and said at least the water is still up relatively high so it was probably less rocks and she said “I guess” and closed the door. The other guy said “well, I had a ball” and then muttered something about the damn bugs and got in his vehicle.

I went down to the river. Here the river slid down a little incline, the water quickening into little standing waves. I positioned myself near the tail of the fast water and started casting to what was probably a good place if it had been a trout stream. I’m still trying to figure out where the bass hang out. But then as I retrieved my fly across the surface, a fishy form appeared underneath it and I pulled up on the rod but there was no resistance and no fish. The lack of any resistance meant the fish probably hadn’t felt the sting of the hook, so I casted to the same spot again and did the same retrieve and just like deja vu the fish struck again. This time I felt a brief tug as I struck back, but then it was gone again.

This time the fish had felt the hook. Any smart fish would use reasonable caution and forget about eating for an hour or two.

I casted back to the same spot. The fish struck. So did I. And it was on.

Boy can those smallmouth fight. It zigged and zagged around the pool. And it wasn’t like sometimes fishing in a river where the fish runs downstream and you’re fighting it back up the current. No, this fish stayed in front of me if not upstream. And just when it seemed to be slackening, it renewed the fight. My rod bent well against it.

I failed to mention that as I had started fishing, two tubes had drifted around the bend upstream and were slowly approaching. I pictured a contingent of the Swedish bikini team. Not long after I caught and released the bass–which was as dark as I’ve ever seen, deserving the name “black bass” which is sometimes applied–the tubes descended the little rapids, their occupants paddling weakly with their hands. The occupants were two men in their mid-fifties, sneakers and t-shirts. The first to go by had a head-rest on his tube and a beer in his hand. He asked how I was doing and he said they sometimes brought fishing rods along on a float.

As they continued on down the river, I casted again. My fly was a yellow popper tied up special by Gabe for my birthday. It’s curved foam body caused the most ridiculous wiggling motion as I retrieved it across the water surface. Apparently the fish loved it. Another one slashed at it, I struck too eagerly and not only missed the fish but my entire line went flying back behind my head. Fearing a tangle with streamside vegetation, my reflexes caused me to snap the rod forward again. I heard a tell-tale little snap from back where my fly should be and knew I had just snapped it off.

I spent the next hour trying other flies to no avail, not even a sniff by a fish, and wandering around the bank behind me trying to find the missing yellow wiggler. Also to no avail.

My day at the river ended with a very cold Miller High Life consumed on the banks. Again, not in the water, my legs were exposed and were viciously assaulted. For the first 30 minutes of my drive home, it felt like someone had taken a bag of hot embers and sprayed my legs with them. Little bastards.

I took backroads south through Pine and Chisago counties before finally rejoining the Interstate at Forest Lake. I listened to Dawes’ “North Hills.” Often there wasn’t a car in front of or behind me for a half-mile or more. Not bad compared to the angry Sunday evening southbound traffic heading home on the freeway from “up north.” A bruiser of a thunderstorm was rolling through and I caught the ragged back edge of it once I was on I-35.

Related posts:

1. Paddling and fishing the trout rivers of western Wisconsin
2. Trip Report: Camping, canoeing, and fly-fishing at St. Croix State Park
3. Seize the carp

I returned to a favorite stretch of the upper St. Croix last Sunday for a short paddle with our friends Kristin and Andy and their Boston Terrier, Bender. The trip was their idea, as they’re planning to take Bender to the Boundary Waters in a couple weeks and wanted to see how he would do in a canoe. He did fine. He and Lola played hard at the first island we stopped at, and then they both struggled to stay awake for the rest of the float.

The river was still up very high. Really weird for the first day of August. The water was much clearer than when Wade and I paddled near Wild River State Park on July 18, but just as high. It makes for challenging fishing, and it also hides most beaches and other good landing spots. But, we were paddling a stretch where I remember walking the canoes a few times on our last trip, this time we floated right over the riffles.

We got on the water about 10 a.m. Radar had shown a line of storms heading almost right for us, but I theorized that as the morning warmed, they would come to nothing. It sounded logical enough to get us on the water, anyway. That and we’d already driven an hour to be there.

The storms never did materialize. But the skies stayed moody and every mile or so as we proceeded downriver, we’d get hit with a few raindrops.

I fell in love with the river all over again as we drifted down it. I guess I do every time I visit. It was humid, buggy weather and there must have been some sort of bug hatching because we were frequently accompanied by swallows maneuvering the skies 20 feet above our heads, furiously gobbling up whatever was being served for breakfast. There were many islands to navigate amongst, but they were generally smaller than the long, skinny ones downstream and the water in all the channels moved rapidly past the banks.

There was not another person on the river. And we didn’t see a single structure until about a mile before the take-out. Then we passed what looked like a very old cabin on the Wisconsin bank. It looked old, but kept-up. It had green wood siding and seemed as much a part of the lush shoreline as the basswood trees and the white pines. I wish I would have taken some photos.

A short way downstream, we spotted a campsite and decided to have lunch. Strangely, we noticed a van driving up along the top of the bank. As we got ready to eat, he came back by and stopped for a moment to tell us the last people to visit the site had left garbage everywhere and he had spent 20 minutes cleaning it up. Fish guts and food scraps in the weeds right by the picnic table. We found a plastic shopping bag of garbage down by the water. He also told us that the cabin was his, that it had been his grandfather’s. He looked about 60 himself, and mighty proud of that place.

Related posts:

1. Seize the carp
2. Introducing “Esker: Tales of Woods and Water”
3. Paddling and fishing the trout rivers of western Wisconsin

From its twisting and turning headwaters in northwestern Wisconsin to the surprisingly wild channels less than an hour’s drive from the Twin Cities, a paddler could spend a lifetime exploring the St. Croix River and still find surprise without even seeing all of its 150 miles.

It is my goal to acquaint myself with this beautiful river as best as I can. I go to it in spring, summer, autumn and winter; I believe you must explore a river in all seasons to fully appreciate its essential character.

I always go for a paddle shortly after the ice breaks up, eager for the sights and sounds of migrating birds returning home, uncounted numbers singing from every bank, the faint green haze of fresh buds on the trees, and the first delicate wildflowers amongst the detritus on the forest floor.

One year, I paddled the river with my mom for Mother’s Day. Fortunately, the current moved us along at a good pace, because we were frequently distracted from paddling by ornithological observation. For a while, a Bald Eagle led us downriver, flying out of trees overhead as we approached, then disappearing around the next bend, only to repeat the act once we caught up.

Summer is high season on the St. Croix, when the rental canoe businesses send flotillas downriver in jubilant cacophony. It’s not hard to get away from the crowds, though, with just a little effort and adventure.

When you do find a quiet piece of the river, there is no better place to be on a hot, sunny day. My wife, the dog and I slowly drift downstream, stopping to swim where spring-fed creeks enter the river. At these points, where the cold creek water mingles with the warmer water of the river, you can find the temperature that is just right for you.

Our last paddle of the year is usually in October, when the summer crowds are difficult to imagine. The bold greens of White Pines and cedars stand in stark contrast to a brilliant palette of autumn colors on the bluffs. You might see duck hunters in flat-bottomed boats with a happy dog in the bow, or some late-season anglers, but on a warm, sunny fall day you might also have the river all to yourself.

Yet, the solitude of October is no match for that of January. Then, the river’s life demands an observant eye and an appreciative spirit; if you look, your reward might be a hawk seen soaring above the trees.

Even in the deepest cold of winter, springs seep from the bluffs and spill into the river. One winter day, I snowshoed with friends through deep snow along a spring-fed creek just above where it entered the river. We marveled at the abundant green of watercress growing in a few inches of water, even though temperatures the week before had been 20 degrees below zero.

The creek ran through a campsite I knew only from warmer seasons. I had often camped or stopped there for lunch, like I reckoned people had been doing for a long time. Standing there in snowshoes and winter layers, my mind drifted to memories of muggy summer afternoons when I had dunked my head in a pool of cold, clear creek water right next to the site’s picnic table.

Today, I didn’t dunk my head. We sat on snowy logs and ate sandwiches as the water went on tumbling over rocks toward the frozen river.

Related posts:

1. Middle March
2. Twitter Weekly Updates for 2009-10-09
3. Legacy Amendment money at work in St. Croix watershed

The view from the bow

St. Croix River Awareness Week is almost here! As I first posted about in April, the St. Croix River Association and its partners are organizing a week of events to enjoy and help protect the river. They’ve recently announced the schedule, which I’ve included below. The week will feature clean-up canoe trips, family-friendly seminars, film showings, and lots more.

I’ve included R.S.V.P. links for Facebook for some of the events. These are not official registration pages, but are an easy way to share with  your friends that you’re planning on attending one of the events. You can see the full list of events on Facebook here.

Whereas…

It’s also worth noting that several communities along the river have officially proclaimed the week St. Croix River Awareness and Clean-Up Week. Kudos to St. Croix County, WI, Marine-on-St.-Croix and Afton, MN, and Hudson and St. Croix Falls, WI.

In that vein, I too have unanimously passed my own resolution. As editor and administrator of the 14,000+ fan St. Croix River Facebook page, and editor of this website, with full jurisdiction over both virtual properties, I hereby proclaim July 17-25, St. Croix River Awareness and Cleanup Week (PDF proclamation) and encourage everyone to celebrate and to engage in voluntary clean-up of river bank litter.

Personally, I hope to be able to get out for one of the clean-up canoe trips this weekend. But I may be too busy putting the finishing touches on my own project for the river: a new community journalism and advocacy website focused right on the St. Croix River watershed… Stay tuned!

Events Schedule

Saturday, July 17

• Kid’s fishing at Willow River State Park, Hudson
  • 9:00 am to 12:00 pm
  • Equipment, worms and mentors supplied. Prizes by age category for largest, smallest and most fish. State park pass required. Kids 4-12. No license required under 16.
• Canoe Trip on the St. Croix River and River Cleanup
  • 9:00 am to 4:00 pm
  • Sunrise Landing to the main boat landing in Wild River State Park
  • Meeting Location: Main Boat Landing, Wild River State Park
  • This is a rain or shine event, but not if an electrical storm is imminent. Bring your own lunch, water, gloves, insect repellant, and sunscreen. WRSP will provide bags for collecting your junk, river interpretation during the canoe trip, and disposal of our trash. Kia Donais, will be rewarding all participants with watermelon at one of our stops! Canoes will be available for rent at WRSP from Eric’s Canoe Rental 651-270-1561. $40/canoe which includes a shuttle to the Sunrise Landing area. Walking and cleaning the river at entry and exit points would be very helpful too. For the latest information. More information »
  • R.S.V.P. on Facebook and invite your friends
• Boomsite clean up
  • 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m., Boomsite (just north of Stillwater)
  • Sponsors: River Market in Stillwater and Friends of the Boomsite
  • R.S.V.P. on Facebook
• Nature Lab: Wolves
  • 1:00 to 4:00 p.m., Cable Natural History Museum
  • How big is a wolf track? What is the difference between a wolf and a coyote? What do wolves sound like? Are there packs along the Namekagon River? Stop in the Cable Natural History Museum to talk with a National Park Service Ranger and get answers to these questions and more. Plus make plaster wolf tracks to take home with you. For information, call (715) 635-8346.

Sunday, July 18

• St. Croix River Clean Up Canoe
  • Kayak from Osceola to William O’Brien State Park
  • 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.
  • Meeting Location: Osceola Landing
  • Back up rain date July 25th. Lunch stop below the swing bridge. After shuttling back to pick up cars at Osceola, plan to gather at William O’Brien for a pot luck social. Bring lunch, water, gloves, sunscreen, hat, and canoes/kayaks. Clean-up bags provided.
  • Contact: Sally Leider 651-433-4286 or sallystcroix@mac.com
  • R.S.V.P. on Facebook
• Canoe and Annual Meeting Apple River Association
  • 11 a.m., Meet at the parking lot of Parker Creek DNR Property on 35th Avenue, Polk County
  • Boat up this cold water fishery and back to the Apple River. Not strenuous. Canoe on the Apple as well, through Little Falls, Rapids Class 1, maybe 1.5. Annual Meeting nearby at 410 125th Street. Signs Grillables and beer provided. Bring a dish to pass. Peter Henry 715-268-6893

Tuesday, July 20

• Youth Action Hudson clean-up
  • 10 a.m. to 1 p.m.
  • Meet at the bandshell with a BBQ lunch to follow.
  • Contact: Amy Nowicki, amy.nowicki@youthactionhudson.org
• Clean Boats, Clean Water
  • 2 p.m., Lakefront Park, Hudson, WI
  • Come and learn about cleaning boats before launching and after taking them out of the water to help prevent the spread of aquatic invasive species.This program is intended for school-age children and their parents. Program includes stories, songs, activities, an optional craft project and an opportunity for participants to demonstrate what they’ve learned by examining and pointing out why the boat on site is not ready to go into the water.

Wednesday, July 21

• Paddle to Seattle
  • Festival Theater, St. Croix Falls
  • Taylors Falls native J.J. Kelley is a filmmaker who lives in Washington, D.C. and works for National Geographic. He produced an independent film last year picked up by PBS Wisconsin. It’s a fun and gorgeous adventure film where J.J. and a friend build two wooden kayaks and paddle from Seward, Alaska to Seattle, Washington. See a trailer at the movie’s website.
  • Being broadcast on PBS July 22nd.
• Putting the Pieces Together; From the River’s Point of View
  • 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., Hudson waterfront
  • $15 pre-registration required
  • Fifth in a series of DNR and partner sponsored workshops designed to help communities better understand their role and options in protecting the St. Croix’s scenic and natural values. This workshop will offer a “view from the river” session where local communities will have an opportunity to showcase practices they have implemented to restore ecologic functions of riparian corridors and tributary streams, protect scenic qualities and recreational values as well as to improve water quality. The session will include discussion about the challenges, barriers and strategies developed by communities in rural, suburban, and urban areas. The workshop will also offer breakout sessions that begin to answer the questions that local community leaders continue to ask about their role in protection the river valley: Why is it so important? What should we do? How do we begin? Register here.
• Guided Boat Tour: Still Waters
  • 7 to 8:30 p.m., Stillwater Boomsite Wayside
  • The St. Croix River north of Stillwater, Minnesota, is a place where people and water merge with time. It is a historic and fragile area, laced with long, narrow, tree-covered sand islands and lined by steep limestone bluffs. Join a National Park Ranger aboard a park boat to explore this special place during a 1½ hour guided tour. Life jackets provided must be worn. Space limited.
  • Registration required. (715) 483-2274.

Thursday, July 22

• Junior Ranger Program: Bald Eagles
  • 10 to 11 a.m., Weiss Community Library, Hayward
  • Paddlers on the St. Croix and Namekagon rivers sometimes glide right under this magnificent national symbol. Learn about the life history of bald eagles by acting out their behaviors. This fun program, along with other activities developed for children ages 8 – 12, will help you to earn a National Park Junior Ranger badge and certificate. (715) 635-8346.

Friday, July 23

• Native Landscapes
  • 7:45 to 8:30 p.m., St. Croix River Visitor Center, St. Croix Falls
  • The restoration of native plant species brings benefits to land and water resources, wildlife, and people, while also helping create healthier lakes and rivers. Join a National Park Ranger to learn more about these benefits and see what is currently blooming in the native landscape area at the St. Croix River Visitor Center. (715) 483-2274.

Saturday, July 24

• Wet ‘n Wild St. Croix River Day
  • 11 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., Minnesota Interstate State Park
  • Prepare to get wet and wild as you fish with MinnAqua, paddle the St. Croix in a voyageur canoe, search for mussels with area researchers, get an up-close look at fish in a 100-gallon aquarium, dive into the history of logging the river, and more!
  • R.S.V.P. on Facebook
• Budd Access Grand Opening Celebration
  • Kinnickinnic River Land Trust.
  • See www.kinniriver.org/field-trips

Sunday, July 25

• Twilight Paddle: Full Thunder Moon
  • 5 to 8 p.m.
  • St. Croix River, Wisconsin and Minnesota Interstate State Parks to Osceola Landing
  • Meet a National Park Ranger at the Wisconsin Interstate St. Croix River landing at 5:00 p.m. or the main river landing at Minnesota Interstate State Park at 5:15 p.m., then embark on a 6 ½ mile paddle to observe the river at twilight and learn about the special nature of this protected area. Participants must provide their own canoe/ kayak and other gear, including a personal floatation device. Shuttle service is not provided as part of this program: canoe and kayak rentals and shuttle services are available through area outfitters licensed by the National Park Service. This program will be cancelled in event of inclement weather. There is no charge for the program, but an annual vehicle sticker or daily pass is required to enter the state parks. For information or a list of outfitters (715) 483-2274.
  • R.S.V.P. on Facebook and share with your friends!

All Week:

• Taylors Falls Scenic Boat Tours, narrated history, wildlife and geology, some dinner cruises. More information »
• Taylors Falls Canoe & Kayak Rental celebrating 100 years this season.  Book online & save $3.
• Canoes and Kayaks, narrated history, wildlife and geology. More information »

More info:

• The full and still-being-updated list of events is available on the St. Croix River Association’s website.

Related posts:

1. St. Croix River parks launch family event summer series
2. St. Croix River Week coming this July
3. High water

Dawes, who I wrote about seeing last Friday at Taste of Minnesota, has been featured by music website Daytrotter. The four live tunes are unsurprisingly excellent, but the stream-of-consciousness essay about the band, its music, and life by Sean Moeller that accompanies the music is worth the visit alone:

“Since we first met the four men in Dawes a year and a half ago, we’ve spent a lot of time with them. We’ve spent days with them in barns, freezing all of our asses off, drinking lots of whiskey, hot apple cider and hot chocolate. We’ve seen them hop out into the yard and chase around barnyard animals, squawking and fussing to get out of the way. We’ve seen them get very little sleep and spend every waking hour singing and playing, just spilling with what they have running through them. We’ve spent a 4th of July with them, standing beneath a menacing purple-black sky full of storm clouds, rain and a couple hundred dollars worth of illegal fireworks. There have been babies in our families named after them. We’ve talked to them for hours until our throats were raw with the task and the effort, turned husky but still happy to have done it. We’ve come to love them as brothers and yet, through all of it, what still remains untouched is their ability to make us gasp with the purity of what they do and who they are as a group of musicians. Even a close friendship doesn’t dull one’s sense of awe when it comes to their debut album “North Hills,” a live show that’s absolutely a religious experience and new songs that are just as good and scarily meaningful. They never cease to make us stop and account for our own deficiencies – not in a destructive way, but in a way that forces us to be closer to ourselves and those that we tell ourselves we loved and are told that we’re loved by…”

Keep reading: Dawes: Daytrotter Session recorded Jul 8, 2010.

Related posts:

1. Peace in the valley

About the same time Gabe arrived at the house to go fishing on Monday, the rain came back in a big way. A strong storm had come through earlier in the afternoon, but was followed by sun breaking through clouds. Now, though, it was falling again, seemingly harder than gravity could be responsible for, perhaps somehow projected down from the heavens.

Gabe dashed in the front door from his car and we stared out at where the canoe was sitting on the grass of the front lawn, just needing 10 minutes of work to get it on top of my car. We finally went to look at the weather radar on the computer–which told us it was raining and would be for a while–and when we returned to the front door, it had subsided.

We donned rain jackets and went out to strap the Wenonah on the car. The theory was that the showers would be sporadic and, on a warm day like this, not worth discouraging a fishing trip.

Driving east on Highway 36 the skies really let loose and we laughed a little bit about the fact that we were driving through such weather with a canoe on the car and fish swimming in our minds. But, we figured we’d get near the river and wait for it to let up. If it didn’t? Well… it had to.

The skies weren’t giving up any helpful information as we approached the landing and when we pulled up to the river it was still coming down good, but by that time we’d driven all the way out there so what the heck, let’s go. We paddled away from shore with our hoods up and our hats pulled down and some rocky shoreline on the opposite bank in our sights.

I should say that perhaps only I had the rocky shoreline in my sights. Rocks generally mean smallmouth bass, which I was itching to target with a new Sage 8-weight fly rod. My paddling and fishing partner, on the other hand, has recently been smitten with fly fishing for carp (of all things!) and wanted to return to a mud flat upriver where a big one had snapped him off the day before. But first we casted at the rocky shoreline.

It was good we didn’t venture far from the landing, because almost imperceptibly, the rain stopped, the skies brightened, and I realized I had forgotten my sunglasses in the car. The oversight was understandable, considering the weather we had launched in.

After stopping to pick up the sunglasses, we struck off upstream. The water was high from a wet series of weeks, but the current was manageable. We dug in a bit and made it up to the first bend, where on the outside a bunch of snags against the bank usually hold some fish.

We took turns casting toward shore and the fish were willing if not enthusiastic. I was in the stern and, as much as I love the pull of a smallmouth on the line, I was enjoying just as much maneuvering the canoe while Gabe casted. I’ve been sitting in the stern of that boat for about five years now and I really love it. At seventeen feet, with 1 1/2″ of rocker and a nice wide beam, it’s proven itself as a great St. Croix craft. It turns sharply but it tracks well enough, and it’s stable enough for steady Gabe to stand in the bow and cast, or for our oblivious dog to shift her weight suddenly without putting all of us in the water.

The river was absolutely calm. The water was like glass, and white mist was rising, seeming to get held up on the white pines which towered over the other trees on the bluffs. It was evening now after a long and busy holiday weekend. Occasional canoes, kayaks, and pontoon boats passed by quietly, the stragglers of what had surely been a steady stream of people enjoying this gorgeous river all weekend long.

I continued seeing what I could do with my paddle. A draw there, a stroke here, and a canoe can move and turn all at once, in any possible direction. When you start to know how the paddle and the boat interact, it seems like you can move across the water on the power of thought. If you’re targeting spooky fish, or slipping through a narrow, twisting channel, a cooperative canoe becomes your dear friend and ally.

Carp were still on Gabe’s mind, so we headed up a back channel that entered the river here. Ahead were broad, shallow silt flats ringed by grasses and other water plants.

As we eased the canoe up the channel, big swirls started to appear at the edges of the open areas. Reeds and grasses were sent swinging back and forth as unseen creatures below the surface rooted around at their bases.

I gently pushed the canoe along while Gabe stood in the bow and looked for fish. If not the nudging of weeds, they would be revealed by a steady line of little bubbles on the surface that were sent up by feeding fish. When he spotted a target, he would send long, precise casts across the water to a spot just a few feet away from the target. Slowly he would twitch it a few times. Nothing happened.

We continued on exploring the backwater. Red-winged blackbirds perched swaying on tall grasses; a mature and immature bald eagle screeched back and forth at each other as we approached, stopped crying when we stopped approaching, and then flew off in separate directions. A tiny bird dive-bombed the immature bird its whole way across to the next stand of trees.

My carp-targeting friend continued to stalk the fish; he even got two brief takes. But the fish seemed to sense our very presence as we approached. I was taken again with how quiet a canoe can move through calm water. There seemed to be no resistance to our passage.

The day began to dwindle and in the morning it would be time to return to work after four days away. We set off up the channel, seeking its upstream connection to the main river. We found it but of course the entrance was blocked by a big snag. We precariously pulled the canoe over the big trees and then paddled out into the main channel, where we headed back down toward the landing.

Related posts:

1. Fishseasonrivertime
2. Twenty-three paragraphs about fishing
3. Paddling and fishing the trout rivers of western Wisconsin

There’s a river running through the city
Gently reminding me what’s what.

- Dawes, When You Call My Name

I’m heading out fishing in a short while, whenever Gabe gets here. The river is up high from a wet stretch of weeks and in fact the tornado sirens reportedly went off briefly out in Stillwater an hour ago when a fierce line of storms blew across eastern Minnesota. I swam in the St. Croix yesterday, no better way to beat the heat on such a muggy day. I want to get back in it today, though I’m afraid I may be confined to the canoe with the good beaches all underwater.

This is the first weekend in perhaps a month in which obligations have been outnumbered by unplanned hours. It was a busy June and I just need to accept it and acknowledge that the commitments were positive: a wedding in Portland, my mom’s retirement party, a successful canoe trip with journalists for work.

Katie and I took Friday afternoon off work to go to the Taste of Minnesota where we saw Retribution Gospel Choir and Dawes play. We wanted to stick around for the evening when Minneapolis hip-hop stars Atmosphere and P.O.S. were playing, but we had a sick dog that we didn’t want to leave at home too long.

The two bands we did see were worth the vacation time, the ticket price, and any effort of getting ourselves to Harriet Island. Retribution Gospel Choir (featuring Alan Sparhawk [and Steve Garrington] of Duluth band Low) was typically face-melting, as the kids say. Melody climbing out from under noise, masterful guitar work, chaos coalescing into harmony. It was an atypical venue, a tent at a family-friendly event on a Friday afternoon before a holiday weekend. When we arrived, folk-country singer Justin Townes Earle (son of Steve Earle, named after Townes van Zandt) had recently finished, and the seats were full of middle-aged couples and others who didn’t look much like the crowd the last time we saw RGC at the Triple Rock Social Club on Minneapolis’s West Bank.

It felt strange to sit down and take in a show by a rock band like them, but I honestly couldn’t complain. We scored a couple chairs at a table and I drank my Summit EPA and enjoyed the craftsmanship–even though I’m not sure everyone else did; several folks found it not to their liking and excused themselves from the tent.

We went right up to the front for Dawes and I don’t think many people stayed sitting. The band from Los Angeles’s Laurel Canyon then proceeded to defy my expectations. As most good electric alt-country-folk-rock acts do, they turned up the volume from their album recording (“North Hills”) and really put on a show. The crowd returned the favor.

The guys in the band seemed genuinely blown away by the audience reception–wild cheering and big smiles. They even played an obviously unplanned encore, which is really the only good kind of encore. We got our hands on a vinyl copy of the record afterward and shook hands with the lead singer, who enthusiastically autographed it.

If I don’t find peace in the valley
I’ve got no place else to look.

- Dawes, Peace in the Valley

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The wildness, beauty and joy of the upper St. Croix River really shines through in this piece from the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel by Paul Smith, the paper’s outdoors editor.

We push off and begin a leisurely trip down the river. The banks are lined with alders, white cedar and an occasional white pine; the water is pocked with gray boulders.

The river here is Class 1, meaning “no worries.” Bartz paddles solo, Zeug and I share a canoe. We dwell around the deeper holes, casting with floating crank baits and soft plastics.

When the canoe scrapes bottom, we get out and pull. The water is 70 degrees Fahrenheit, a near match for the air.

“I think I’ll just stand here for a while,” says Zeug, standing calf-deep in a gurgling, natural Jacuzzi.

He wouldn’t have to move because of river traffic or bank-side voyeurs: over five hours, we don’t see another human being.

The description of their stop for lunch, which closes the article, is alone worth the read.

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An astute commenter on the interview points out that the idea that most modern literature is about wrongness (not to mention Shakespeare, Greek tragedies, and the Old Testatment) is not a new one.

Nonetheless, Ira Glass breathes life into the matter like no one else.

Do you consciously think about wrongness as a narrative device?

I don’t go looking for stories with the idea of wrongness in my head, no. But the fact is, a lot of great stories hinge on people being wrong. In fact, we’ve talked as a staff about how the crypto-theme of every one of our shows is: “I thought it would work out this way, but then it worked out that way.”

Sometimes that wrongness exists in really small ways. We did a story this week about a man who saves people on a bridge in China. It was kind of a radio cover version of a magazine piece by a guy named Mike Paterniti, who started out thinking the man was going to be this inspirational Gandhi-like figure. And then Mike gets there and the guy turns out to be totally gruff and barely talks to him. That’s a small wrongness, but it’s the pleasure of the story. If you just showed up at the bridge without the setup of thinking he’s going to be a great guy—if he just starts off as a grump—it’s less pleasurable. It’s less fun. The collision of reality against expectation is what makes it work.

Why is there such a big payoff for the listener in stories about wrongness? What makes it so pleasurable?

Well, if the story works, you become the character, right? You agree with their early point of view, and then when it gets shattered, you are shattered with it. So in the storytelling, you want to manipulate the evidence and the feelings so that the audience is right there agreeing with the person who’s about to be proven wrong. When that happens, if it’s done right, you as the audience get flipped upside down.

Later, the interview explores the subject of Glass being wrong in his own work and life. Glass talks about going into a story thinking it will be great and finding out it doesn’t work (which seems to happen more often than not), and dismissing story ideas that later make award-winning radio. He also recalls committing a lewd act as a junior high boy that is so embarrassing to even think about that he can barely force himself to share it.

But he does share it. The successful and ground-breaking radioman doesn’t try to make himself look better, but rather seems to find interest and joy in his own wrongness, just like he does when producing a radio story. Which makes sense in the context of another excerpt from the piece:

There are definitely lots of things that I don’t want to be wrong about and will fight to the death over, and I’m totally obnoxious about it all the time. But I also feel like there’s a kind of discovery that you’re wrong that, in a safe situation, can be a real pleasure. Do you know what I mean? Like when you’re arguing with someone you love and you realize, “I’m wrong, you’re right,” and you come together in that moment. It’s such a relief. To me it’s so obvious that some kinds of being wrong are OK.

Read the whole thing, it’s worth it.

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