A Lesson From the River

A few years ago, I feel in love with the Wisconsin River. A former partner took me on several paddling and camping adventures on the islands, and I felt a sense of wild freedom, though so close to home. 

Though our relationship ended, it didn't feel like my connection with the land had. I felt the waters and hills calling me. I was determined to find a way to get back out there.

I had learned a lot from him by watching him read the river, and plan the trips. While I had hoped to find a fellow adventurer to paddle with, I was resolute that I would not allow the lack of one to keep me from getting out there. I would take extra precautions, just in case, because I respect the power of water! 

Following some scheming, collecting dry bags, and roping in a co-conspirator to shuttle me from my car to the starting point, I had a date for my first ever solo paddling river adventure. 

We had several big rains in the week before my trip, and the waters were high. I wasn't sure how many sandbars I might find. If nothing else, I determined this would be a trip to gather intel and get to know the river better. If I didn't find a sufficient place to camp, I could paddle through to my car, and it would just be a fun day trip. 

I disembarked from shore with a quiet exhilaration. I passed pelicans congregating, but no fellow paddlers. Water was up into the trees in most places, and areas that had sandbars the week prior were flooded. I paddled on. I came across a few areas of high ground, but they were early on in my paddle, very exposed, or had a lot of TP. (Come on people! Leave no trace!) I decided to take my chances and carry on. 

As I was ventured on, it was clear I wasn't going to have a ton of options, so I ardently paddled up to and assessed any seeming patch of clear, dry land for its potential as a camping spot. There were times I I paddled around little islands or against the current on this already windy day so as not to miss a viable option. The spots of dry land I found were either very exposed and therefore didn't really feel like an enjoyable place to set up camp, barely had any clearance from the water so if it fluctuated overnight I could be in trouble, or were teaming with poison ivy.  

I checked my GPS, and it didn't seem like there were going to be any more suitable islands between me and the boat landing. I accepted that this would just be a day trip, and I would return again when water levels were lower. I found the easy flow of the river, relaxed, and let the current carry me while took in the views of the hills.

Then! Over yonder, at my 9:00! I spied a sandy bit of shoreline about a foot above the water. It could just be erosion, OR there might be a possible campsite there. Odds were low, but this was my last chance. I was nearly at the landing. I debated for a flash second, and ultimately decided to go for it. 

I turned my kayak a hard 90 degrees left and started paddling hard. The current was still pushing me downstream, so I was having to fight the current and make the distance. I got about 75% of the way across this football field width of the river. I battled the current, but it was slowly taking me backwards downstream. I kept trying to push through, but it became clear to me that there was no way I was going to overpower this water.

I resigned, once again. 

I turned around. I looked over to the right, and immediately, on the opposite side of the bank—the side I had just come from—there was a beautiful, and definitively viable campsite that was *literally glimmering in the sunlight.* It had a significant stretch of sand that was at least a couple feet above the water level, and behind it a grassy clearing surrounded by trees. Little white flowers were swaying and reflecting the light. The heavens were shining upon this site!

This spot was tucked just beyond a bend in the river, hence why I hadn't seen it earlier, when I was in that nice smooth flow.

This really was my last chance! And it looked perfect! I paddled hard again. But because of that bend in the river, now I was fighting the fastest part of the water I had encountered all day. I was getting closer though! Determined, though I was being pushed downstream, I still made progress. I engaged my whole body, grunting and growling as I cut through the powerful current. It must have been the sound effects that did it. I found the refuge of an eddy, just in front of the shoreline. That little bit of relief from the current was enough that I was able to successfully land my vessel. It also must have also been what created such ideal conditions for this site.

I made it. 

I took a sec, thanked my body, my kayak, and the river, and set up camp. Amusingly, I realized there were a few fishermen sitting on the opposite shore. They had probably seen this whole ordeal, and given the way sound carries on water, heard my grunting and growling too. Got to laugh at yourself sometimes. 

As I settled in for the night, I reflected on that experience. I worked so hard to try to find a site that might work for me. Then, in my anxiety of seeing what I thought would be my last possible option, I left the peaceful, smooth flow to try to get to a spot that the current was never going to let me get to. In reality, it probably wouldn't have been a feasible site anyway. In my hasty neediness I nearly missed this beautiful, ideal campsite that was literally glimmering in the sunlight. If I had stayed in that current, and not gone after a slim-chance-but-I'll-take-what-I-can-get possibility, I would have been better set up to get the ideal spot. Still probably would have had to work a bit, given the bend in the river, and needing to break into the eddy, but not nearly as hard as getting there from the opposite side all tired already. 

This was a message I needed to hear from the Universe at the time. It reinforced the rightness of me walking away from a situation that was exhausting and not good for me, and gave hopes of those dreams being fulfilled after choosing to turn around.

Float on my friends,
Sarah