In the sunshine and backyard dew of morning, Anne and I pack up our tents with the neighbor’s dog barking loudly and madly looking over its shoulder. “Come on, hurry up,” the dog barks toward his people. It was clear he wanted his people to checkout what was going on. Desperation was upon him. I sensed he felt ‘these women smell much too old to be in tents playing on the ground.’ Something is wrong.
At 7:59 AM we stood outdoors next to Anne’s truck with the connected trailer and canoe. Our packed up gear was inside the truck. Three minutes pasted eight, Anne’s daughter, Rachel and Anne’s grandson, Johan, pulled next to our rig. The dog barked excitedly.
Too bad his people slept through this. It was a quickly orchestrated transition. Nine-year-old Johan is coming with us. His mom will return to St. Paul where they live.
So we had introductions, and more gear to fit into the packed truck. Rachel’s car stayed there until she returned in the evening when she exchanged vehicles again.
Soon we were headed for a tiny dot on the map which seemed to be a puddle. After all it was late in the season of perpetual drought. We headed toward an unknown entrance into the river.
We drove from a town of a couple of people to a bridge we weren’t supposed to enter. On the map in red it said: PADDLING IS NOT RECOMMENDED!
We moved from that area to farm roads. Our first mile was stopped by numerous private property signage adorned with handsome pictures pistols.
We drove up stream to more reasonable paddling on the Little Minnesota River. It, too, warned of private property on many fences throughout this farmland. But it was carefully navigated by Rachel bumping the trailer and canoe along the gravel roads.
Finally we found a tall gassy trail leading to an area about four feet above the water. Soon we floated and paddled in the water of the little Minnesota River. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Lots of shallow sandy traps. But strong women can push hard.
It was tedious work yet we were mostly moving. And then we entered Big Stone Lake a good size lake with South Dakota on the right and Minnesota on the left. A few minutes paddle and the sky exploded with birds. Hundreds of cormorants, pelicans, grebes, heron, gulls, shore birds and on and on for the rest of the trip. And no people.
Johan was a good paddler and interested in and knowledgeable about nature. Houses stared to come into view. Then, boats came to fish. Anne noticed a boat ramp on the SD side. We pulled up and found a campsite with two picnic tables.
All the new experience jitters disolved.
Mountain Peace 