Canoeing Crystal River-Part Two

More white water excitement began as we picked up speed at a narrow bend and sluiced through some more rapids. Pushing off from the rocks and yelling “Whoa!” or “Look out for that one!” we broke clear.

No sooner done when Ruthie warned, “Here come some falls!”

Though dropping only a foot at most, their approaching line looked ominous. Plus, by now we’d stowed our sweaty life jackets beneath the seats. Fat lot of good they’ll do us there--I thought.

Fighting not to tip, over we went and splashed down, the water flying everywhere! Right back to drifting easily again and grinning faces dripping, we high-fived like dare-devils who’d survived Niagara.

 Farther along we passed large boat piers and atop the bluffs stood some very impressive homes. Well-tended flower beds and lawns merged with borders of wild vegetation along the water’s edge. The owners obviously took care to keep landscaping and gardening from intruding on the river’s natural habitat. While considering how to better do this at our place, my thoughts were interrupted.

“Look at all these perch!”

As named, Crystal River clearly displayed the large school of dark-banded perch gliding over the   gravel bottom. Keeping company alongside, they ranged from eight inches to over a foot. No doubt, the homeowners often came down here to hook quick and easy meals.

The river next forked into a Y and we steered into the left branch. Rounding the bend, we sighted the stone bridge with its two arched tunnels. Drawing steadily closer, we obeyed Jake and aimed for the left one.

“Does the top of that tunnel look kind of low to you?”

“Yeah, we’ll have to duck our heads!”

“It’s dark under there, too!”

Too late to turn back, the sped-up current pulled us ever faster to the arch growing ever larger. Crouched down with paddles pulled in, we both yelled, “Hang on!”

We needn’t have ducked, there being at least two feet of headspace. Seconds later and no time to think about it, we came out and bounced over another waterfall! It was lower than our first one but after slowing down we traded more high fives anyway. We were now rapids-riding, waterfalls-plunging, tunnel-shooting river devils!

Grinning like happy idiots, we looked back with the same thought-Want to do it again?

Chickening out, I shook my head, “Better not push our luck!”

Ruthie nodded, “Besides, there’s the portage ahead.”

Rejoining the river after a short carry over the neck of land, we merely steered while cruising through a wooded residential area. Showing how quickly its mood could change, the river suddenly swept us into the closest thing to big time rapids we’d seen yet.

We got through okay, but I looked back. “Whew!  What’ll this river hit us with next?”

She laughed shakily, “Whatever it wants to, dear!”

And it did, switching us from slow parts to whirling us through boulder-filled turns, on and on, until finally emptying us out onto a wide glassy pond. Bordered with broad clusters of dark green lily pads topped with bright yellow flowers. It was a pretty sight. Even prettier on the far shore, a banner read; Ding’s Dock Landing. We’d made it!

When we called in it was Jake who answered. “OK, be there in a few!”

As we waited I bragged, “Sweetie, are we a couple of river devils or what!?”

Completely ignoring me, Ruthie saw Jake’s truck coming. “Good-here he is and I’m starved!” Facing me, she smiled, “Dear, the first restaurant we see, you’re treating us devils to dinner, right?”

 

Here’s one our most fun travel adventures. I’ll thrill you with Part II next week.

                                             Canoeing Crystal Creek River-Part One

               Feeding into our end of the lake, Roche A Cri Creek is handy for Ruthie and me to enjoy paddling our canoe. Thing is, it offers no special thrills like rapids to bounce through or little waterfalls to go splashing over-none of that. Looking for one that would and not also try to kill us, we found an ad for Ding’s Dock Canoe Rentals on Crystal River near Waupaca.

We got there Tuesday morning with no crowds and sunny skies promising great weather. Better, the manager said we'd be paddling downstream for the whole eleven mile course.

               Young Jake, our river guide, piloted us and the rental canoe on a pontoon ferry across Columbia Lake. Raised here and familiar with these waters, he shared some lake lore. “See how clear the water is? Our aquatic plants do the cleaning action and the lake is spring fed. The fishing is good, too, and you’ll see all kinds on the river.”

               Navigating us through a connector to the next lake, he pointed at the sizeable homes all around it. “We’re on Long Lake, the biggest on the chain and those places are plush. Even the winter fishing shanties are fancy.” Noting our lettered Wisconsin t-shirts, he laughed, “Not broke like us, they're mostly from Illinois!”

            Ankle deep beside our canoe at the launch site, we listened carefully as he instructed, “Just stay left-left-left all the way from here, on through the portage and to the landing site. Use the phone there to call us and we’ll come get you.” Looking up at a cloud, he shrugged, “If it rains you’ll like it, because you’ll be really sweaty from paddling. Oh, and when you get to a bridge with two tunnels, take the left one!”

               Leery of closed-in places, Ruthie said, “Tunnels? Uh-oh!”

               Jake reassured, “Avoid the right one and you’ll be fine. Probably.”

               As he motored away, we were already in the canoe, our paddles poised and…? There we sat-grounded on the shallow bottom. Grunting and lunging, we inched forward a bit.

I groaned, “We could be in for a long day!”

But more grunts and lunges broke us loose to be carried away. I crowed, “It’s a float trip! We just have to steer!” Suddenly speeding up, the river said otherwise.

Ruthie called from the bow, “We better do lots of it! Rapids are dead ahead!”

Like from a slingshot we were hurled into boulders and churning white water. While not like A-class rapids in deep canyons, these gave us all we could handle. Frantically fending off from rocks and digging deep, we surged through and slowed back down. Water was sloshing in the bottom of the canoe and we were dripping wet…but still upright.

Not bad and I said so. “We’re natural born rapids runners!” 

She shot back, “I hope so! Here come some more!”

Canoe bouncing and paddles flying, we made it through this stretch, too, but the next one wedged us between two boulders. Unable to push off, we climbed out and freed it by hand.

Totally delighted Ruthie grinned, “Jake was right! This cold water feels wonderful!”

Widening again, the river slowed to drift us along and leisurely take in what passed by. Onshore, wildflowers and reeds were overshadowed by tall pines and hardwoods. Mostly hidden were a few rooftops and we heard a train go by somewhere beyond. Civilization had vanished and other than bird calls it was peaceful and still as an uninhabited wilderness.

I was entering this very thought in my notebook for stories like this when Ruthie whispered, “Psst! Look at that!” She pointed at what seemed a gray-blue statue of a large bird perched on a branch off the bow. As she unobtrusively began snapping photos, I still hadn’t dawned it was real.

The Great Blue Heron craned its neck. Caught off guard I blurted, “Wow!” Startled as me, it took to the air with a Whoosh!-of its great wings and flew out of sight.

 

What will the river hit our intrepid pair with next? Find out in Part Two!