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!

Blackberries and Whales? (Part II)

Now we’ll get to do some whale-watching! What a thrill!

Ruthie took her turn with the binoculars. “I see something but it’s hard to make out.” She passed Rich our pair because Cec was using theirs. “You look, brother-dear.”            

Suddenly bouncing around, he yelled, “Yeah, I see them! Those are adults with their young ones! There, I see one rolling over!”

Born and raised here, Cec knew about the ocean and what swam through it. Lowering the glasses, she snickered to Ruthie, “I think our whale boys are hallucinating!”

Rich and I drew a crowd with our carrying on. Using their own field glasses, they too started hollering; “They’re right! I see them!”--”Yeah, there’s at least a dozen of them!”--“Wow, one came way up out of the water!” (Every word of this is true).

Eyes now used to the distance, I saw more clearly and lo, those whales were beginning to look suspiciously like low-lying rocks with waves breaking over them and shooting spray in the air.

The light also dawning on Rich, he muttered, “Hmm, on second thought…”

Meantime assuming we two clowns knew what we were talking about, everyone else was gathered around us.

I whispered, “Rich, we better sneak out of here.”

He whispered back, “And quick! They come to their senses, they’ll toss us in!”

The following week we were at Seattle’s airport and waiting to be checked through the security gate. We’d had a great time, especially the three days spent gobbling blackberries. Ruthie and Cecelia had made scrumptious cobblers and pies, we had heaped the lovely things on cereal and ice cream, and between meals we had scooped them from serving bowls to munch as is. By all rights we should have been heartily sick of them by now.

But no, as we stood in line for the security check, I carried a large storage box crammed full of them to keep enjoying once home. The box being transparent, I figured the NSA guard would see just berries inside and no problem.

When I stepped up to her, she was amiable at first. “Sorry, but I need to look inside that box before you bring it aboard.”

She didn’t sound all that serious. It having somehow slipped my mind that NSA people are never anything but with carry-on parcels, I kidded her by pulling it closer. “Nope, can’t have them-they’re mine! Ha-ha!”

Now feeding me a cold stare, she went curt. “What’s inside that’s so important?”

I thought-Me and my big stupid mouth! Now I’ve done it!

Having a lot more sense, Ruthie smiled, “We’ll be glad to open it if you want. They’re wild blackberries we’re hoping to take home to Wisconsin. During our visits here we go totally crazy over them!”

The guard broke into a wide smile. “I’m nuts for them too! I’ve lived here forever and still can’t eat enough of them! Don’t you have blackberries in Wisconsin?”

Laughing, Ruthie shook her head. “Not like these we don’t! Your wild ones are the biggest and tastiest we’ve ever had. We couldn’t resist bringing some home.”

Now all grins our new-found pal patted the box and jerked her thumb toward our gate. “Go on through, Wisconsin, you’re cleared!”            

 

 

Here’s the first half of a travel piece that asks a riddle; know what whales and blackberries have in common? Me, neither. If you figure it out, write in and tell me, okay?             

                        

                                Blackberries and Whales? (Part One)

After flying in to see son Craig in Seattle, Ruthie and I broke away and drove our rental car south to visit with her older brother, Rich, and wife Cecilia in Vancouver, WA. It was mid-August, the coast’s prime growing season, and lining both sides of the road were patches of wild blackberries so loaded with fruit the branches bent to the ground. Prior visits had made believers of us berry lovers that these kind were the tastiest we’d ever had. Now running more hog wild than ever, they were doubly enticing.

I burst out, “Look at them all! The highway department can’t keep up with cutting them back!” No sooner said when our tires scrunched a berry-covered creeper stretched onto the pavement. Gawking from side to side, I swerved a couple times.

Ruthie tapped my shoulder.  “Dear, zigzagging the whole way to my brother’s place is a no-no. Let’s just stop and pick some.”

We’d known enough to bring buckets and quicker than it takes to tell it we were snatching up blackberries with both hands.

Scratched from neck to ankles in a tangle of brambles and caring less, I held up my bucket and crowed, “Bet I’ve got a gallon already!”

At least this much in her own, she laughed, “Looks like they’re mostly on your face and t-shirt!”

Same as her, I had eaten one for every two I picked, just messier is all. But we were exactly alike in one thing, anyway; not being scared off by their prices in those little-bitty boxes at the store.

She frowned. “But we’re not showing up with you all stained, so change, okay?”

I probably sounded like a six year-old, “C’mon sweetie, they’re as nuts for these as we are! That huge patch in their back yard will have them stained when we get there!”

When we did they weren’t, but Rich laughed, “Gibber, once back from where we’re taking you guys, I’ll look worse than you. There’s patches coming and going!”          They wanted to show us this incredible lighthouse they had been to last month. Next eyeing my shirt, Cec wagged a finger at me a half second before Ruthie did. “But Berry Boy we’re not going anyplace ‘til you change that thing!”

Before long we were at Cape Disappointment, famous for its lighthouse high atop a rock promontory above the mouth of the Columbia River. After climbing the lighthouse stairs to the top, we were met by guide Barbara.

She told us, “The winter winds can get up to 160 mph. here and have caused lots of shipwrecks.” She pointed to where the mighty Columbia spread out even wider into the Pacific. “Many of them are still down there from years ago. Even a ways inland the winds are strong enough to make it the wind-surfing capitol of the world.”

After coming down, we went to the overlook. Rich said, “When we were here last month she said that whales are out there pretty often. We didn’t see any that time, but stay ready with the binoculars.” 

Fascinated by these great, intelligent creatures, I had never seen any except on the Discovery channel. Eagerly scanning our little corner of the Pacific, I jerked up. “I think I see some-maybe a whole pod!” My so-called pod was quite a ways out and obscured by large, choppy waves. Still, whatever-they-were sure looked like humpbacks spouting and diving out there.  

                       

                   “No, people, open your eyes! They're way bigger than porpoises!”  

(Wow, how exciting! Find out more with Part 2!)

Many thanks to those of you who've signed up so far. As Ruthie said in her PR e-mails, getting followers for this blog is a big step in the right direction for publishing our book. Also, the more comments made after each piece the better, whether you liked them-were bored-or whatever, so keep them coming. Within the next week I'll be posting another of our two-part travel tales. Enjoy. 

You're right, I've been away too long. So, here's one of my "This and That" pieces which I'm also sending to the Rapids Tribune. Enjoy.

                                    Is It Spring Yet?

            Someone, a poet I think, once wrote, “Oh springtime, such blessed renewal!” It seems to have sprung here in Adams County and lots of us feel the same way.

            Ruthie does, like yesterday when dancing around her newly sprouted tulips. An avid bird lover, she even chirped like one while putting up feeders for her hummers.

            On a roll with this springtime renewal stuff, she found a bunch of other things around here that could use it. With me watching, she walked back and forth over a section of our boardwalk in front. Stopping, she shifted from side to side.

             “See, dear? The wood runners are rotted under these boards. They wiggle and sag when I walk on them and it drives me crazy!”

            I admitted, “Yeah, they’ve done that lately with me too.”

            She gave me that look. “Gilbert, what exactly do you call lately!?”

            Any who’ve read this column know what “Gilbert” instead of “dear” means. I’d soon be sweating and straining to replace the boardwalk. Cleverly-to throw her off balance-I shot back, “Okay, a bit longer (a couple years) but we can still walk on it!”

            You might also know where my protests get me. An hour later I had two eight-foot 4x4 replacement runners in the garage. Soon as all this rain takes a break from renewing everything I’ll put them in.

            Our car had also made her renewal list, she telling me, “Dear, it was used when we bought it eight years ago. Now there’s almost two-hundred thousand miles on it. You’re the astronomer. Isn’t that the same as from here to the Moon?”

            New car prices are scary and I hate having to buy them. Very cautiously I said, “It’s 240,000 give or take.”

            Eyes wide, she gasped, “Nearly a quarter of a million? We need to go car shopping ASAP!”

            She threw in that “million” to make it seem even more, I bet. But there was the upside; a newer car would let me off the hook with repairs. Better yet, there’d be no more of her renewal schemes to duck and hide from, not for awhile, anyway.

            Except nuts, I forgot last week when she was frowning at the walls and trim in the living room. “Dear, when was the last time we re-painted in here, six years ago?”

            It had been longer. Dreading what was coming next, I mumbled the number in a bare whisper so she couldn’t possibly understand or even hear it.  

            “You’re right, it was eight! But by putting a fresh coat in here…” She paused- “…and all the other rooms, we’d renew the whole inside!” She waited for my answer.

            This time I just grunted and shuffled my feet.

            She nodded enthusiastically, “Right again, dear, you’re a genius! A new-looking inside would only make the outside look worn and old! So, we’d also have to .etc.-etc.”

            Meantime, I scratched my head-I said all that? Maybe I should renew my brain!

            By now you’ve had it up to here with my renewal of this and renewing that, and me-too. Let’s end it by saying that Ruthie and I, along with our friends really do have fun seeing my babblings appear here in the Rapids Tribune. So, a reminder; be sure to…renew your subscriptions when due, okay? (Sorry-couldn’t resist). And finally (if it makes up its mind to arrive)-Happy Springtime!