At 8:00 am Anne’s daughter and her 9 year old son, Johan, who is traveling with us, arrived. Anne’s daughter is taking over the driving of the Ford Maverick that pulls the long trailer with the Canoe. After the six hour drive down to our put-in, the daughter will drive the trailer back to her car. Anne’s logistics are crazy and amazing.
We’re headed to that first section of the paddle that sounded impossible, and it was. All of it was labeled Private Property with pictures of angry guns. So we had to skip ahead of the low water and fallen trees.
Well it wasn’t exactly easy looking for the next put-in. The farms here have similar KEEP OUT signs. But we found a route where signs had been forgotten. And we bumped over dirt paths and waded in knee high grass with our huge impossibly heavy gear and canoe to the muddy (it all seemed so impossible) cliff. We threw our gear down and tumbled down with the canoe. Off we were on the free flowing Little Minnesota River narrow, muddy and glorious.
Johan this rather small, precocious darling kid was strong and fun. After an hour of paddling we broke into Big Stone Lake by disturbing hundreds of pelicans and other species into ruckus flight. A fine harbinger of travel. The lake was free of other people until our final destination four hours later. The banks were mostly high with large houses perched over the lake. The water was less then inviting. Luckily we found a nice spot cleared for picnickers. But with a big mowed section and no others, we pitched our tents.
Just following our bedding down the crickets were over powered by a million or so mosquitoes as one massive hum. Then cracks of gun shots and booms of fireworks rung. The mosquitoes pinned us in our tents. So we couldn’t verify anything.
Anne and Johan
Mountain Peace 