Just a few weeks ago I had the pleasure of seeing six boys come alive on
a trip down the river. As we launched from the Cable Wayside Landing, I could
sense in them the thrill of adventure. The braided stream channels of the
Namekagon River wove their magic around the boys. Every experience, from
catching crayfish, to casting with fly rods, to exploring the campsite seemed
to draw out the spark in them, just as they drew sparks with flint and steel.
This morning at that same landing,
I launched those same red canoes with a new group of people. As the sun climbed
in a cloudless sky, grandparents, parents and kids pushed off on a new
adventure. Sigurd Olson believed that canoes are “the open door to waterways of
ages past,” and Jean Schaeppi, a historian with the Saint Croix National Scenic
Riverway, prepared us to go through that door.
As Jean spread out the old
explorers’ and surveyors’ maps at the landing, a story unfolded, too. First
were the sparse, hand-drawn accounts of early explorers with oddly-shaped lakes
and blank spots enough to satisfy Aldo Leopold. Next came the neatly divided
surveyors’ maps showing a checkerboard of ownership between logging companies
and railroads. Finally, there were sketches from old-timers, remembering for
posterity the neighbors, farms, and towns of their youth. The final map that
Jean handed out was the official National Park Service map of the river, with
river mileage, campsites, landings and roads all accurately marked.
The river has gone through many changes
over its lifespan. Nature is reclaiming the last traces of railroad trestles,
home sites, and logging dams. Majestic pines, once seedlings in extensive clear
cuts, tower along the riverbanks once more. The cultural history of this river
continues to evolve, and now includes the legacy of visionary politicians who
protected it as a National Scenic Riverway. Now the beauty of this place
belongs to us all.
With a ten-year old as my bow
paddler, and her younger brother as “wildlife spotter” in the middle of the
canoe, we enjoyed the freedom of a day spent in nature. Ebony jewelwing
damselflies fluttered around the canoe and along the shores. The exquisite
beauty of their solid black wings and iridescence green bodies adds a spark of
wonder to the landscape. Their adult form, twinkling in the bright sunlight, is
in stark contrast to their immature nymph stage.
Looking for the whole story, the
kids and I picked up rocks in the river’s riffles. Clinging to the dark
undersides were alien-like creatures with six sprawling legs, two antennae, and
three tails. These mossy brown damselfly nymphs will feed in the water for
several months before climbing up a blade of grass, splitting their
exoskeletons down their backs, and flying away as shimmering adults. The magic
of metamorphosis is not rare in nature.
The spin of life cycles, the march
of time, even the flow of a river, all remind us that change is constant. Still,
we remain connected to the past. On the Namekagon, this includes early peoples,
explorers, loggers, residents and recreationists, all with their own stories. Sigurd
Olson believed that “When a man is part of his canoe, he is part of all that
canoes have ever known.” To me, that is part of the magic of the river.
Alan Craig, curator at the
Wisconsin Canoe Heritage Museum in Spooner will be sharing more about the
history of canoeing in this region on Wednesday, July 25. at 7:00 p.m. at the
Cable Community Centre.
“The movement of a canoe is like a reed in the
wind. Silence is part of it, and the sounds of lapping water, bird songs, and
wind in the trees. It is part of the medium through which it floats, the sky,
the water, the shores....There is magic in the feel of a paddle and the
movement of a canoe, a magic compounded of distance, adventure, solitude, and
peace. The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness, and of a freedom almost
forgotten. It is an antidote to insecurity, the open door to waterways of ages
past and a way of life with profound and abiding satisfactions. When a man is
part of his canoe, he is part of all that canoes have ever known.” – Sigurd
Olson
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