Today I took my seven-year-old son on a “secret mission” into Wisconsin and on the way home we made a brief stop at the spot where hwy. 35 crosses the St. Croix. We quietly waded out into the channel and marveled at the beauty of the place. “Where does this river go?” he asked. I told him exactly where and watched as his glance slowly moved from the opposite shore to downstream. I could almost hear his little gears turning.- Commenter eric regarding the St. Croix and my recent misadventures at its source
It goes to a place where it is wider and deeper by a magnitude of a hundred than it is in those boulder-filled headwaters. Where on the weekends it is not a river of water rushing over rock but of speedboats navigating amongst water skiers and jet skis on choppy, windy water. Of cold beer and chips and swimming on sandbars.
The shores here are home to a few pines like they are there, but mostly they are thick with leafy trees. There are houses, cabins, docks and beaches; not as many as some would have it, but far more than in those wild and lonesome upper reaches.
This place is not far from where it gives its waters, which rise in the low bogs of that northern land, to the Mississippi. Many call it a lake here, as it broadens and slows before joining the Father of Waters. But, though this river might here have much in common with a lake, there is still one important difference: it is going somewhere.
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Yep, on the river the water is going somewhere, and on the lake it is going nowhere. But on either we always seem to be going someplace else. Our time spent on either type of water is too short.
I think that our memories move through the water much like sunlight does. Isn’t it kind of interesting when you revisit a particular stretch of water some time after a significant visit? It’s kind of like going home again. For though from out our born of time and place the flood may bear us far, so on and so forth.
Thanks for continuing to put your brain on tap for the rest of us.
I know that technically, all water is going somewhere. Namely, downhill. Even in a lake, that water came from somewhere and will go somewhere, be it by evaporation or an outlet or whatever. But I was just getting at how rivers always have another bend to make you wonder what’s around it, they’re always growing and changing and, yes, going somewhere. Anyway, just wanted to clarify that. Cuz lakes are wonderful in their own way.
Great observation about memories and water and being attached to it. It does seem magical sometimes, the power with which time spent on or in water can bring back memories. There’s a reason that some of my strongest, best, most poignant memories are of time spent canoeing or fly fishing or whatever. And that’s why it’s good to spend time on or in water with the people most important to you.
Thank you for continuing to read and react to my ramblings and digressions!
True, water doesn’t like to sit in one place for long. Even the water found in lakes are susceptible to wind, isn’t it? Some of my favorite lakes have rivers running through them, slowly pulling the water along. You’re right when you say that there isn’t quite any other type of water like a river.
Back some time ago I spent a couple of summers floating a particular stretch of the Rum river, pitching spinnerbaits under the banks for smallies. I made that float many times, with many different people and in many different mindsets - back in my days of better living through chemistry. After a while the entire stretch became one congruous memory. I could think of a story or a snippet for every rock or tree it seemed, almost as if it was all just one big trip.
I have partaken in the Christmas morning excitement of hitting a set of rapids at a different flood stage than ever before, and I’ve been through the pandemonium of pinning a rock & turning broadside into the current. I’ve waded on sand bars and lost hats to sweepers. But best of all I too understand the allure of the next bend. The next bend is not unlike the next cast - it’s a chance to clear the slate and be born again.
Loved this comment, Terry, sorry it took me a while to respond. It is sooooo good to get know all the different pieces of a river in all its different moods, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve only begun to get to know the St. Croix. I keep doing this one same stretch over and over, three times this year already, and keep expecting to be a little bored by it, and keep finding that I see and experience more that is entirely new than that which is predictable. I’d love to hear some more stories about your times on the Rum.
Nicely said. It is indeed a beautiful river.
I always pass over it on the way through the midwest towards the Rockies, and I’m always impressed with it’s beauty.
I’m obviously biased toward the St. Croix just because it’s my home river and I know there’s lots of beautiful rivers in this country, which brings me a certain degree of peace. I once drove along the Ohio River with my mom (you’re in Ohio) right? We stopped for lunch at a place on the river and watched the barges go up and down, it reminded me of the St. Croix quite a bit actually. Can’t quite recall where exactly we were…
Where you cross the St. Croix on your way west is probably the I-94 bridge, right? That’s about 10 miles upstream from the picture in this post and maybe 15-20 from where it joins the Mississippi… the heart of Lake St. Croix. I’ve always savored the view crossing that bridge, which is, coincidentally, the same bridge I cross heading east to get to the trout streams of western Wisconsin!
Thanks for commenting!