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!
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