My fellow river paddler Zach was now a few days ahead of me.  No matter, he mentioned I should stop in to his family's business in Clearwater.  I only had a few miles to paddle downstream to get there so took my time getting out of camp in the morning and making coffee along the way on islands. The wind was picking up in preparation for an afternoon storm system that I knew was blowing in. 

 I made it to Clearwater around 3 and soon saw the sign on the right for Clearwater Outfitters.  I pulled up on the beach and was having a sup of water when Zach's mom and brother strolled down the stairs carrying a kayak.  I introduced myself and they welcomed me up to the shop.  The operation was quite large with a warehouse and a store/shop with many kinds of kayaks, canoes, fishing gear and camping equipment.  In addition to sales, they do rentals and day float trips where they drop off the boaters.  With the boat tucked in to a safe nook, I set out on foot to the nearest grocery store a few miles away.  The NW horizon was growing dark with a billowing cumulonimbus cloud.  Trees began to snap in the wind so I walked a bit faster.  I made it through the grocery store quickly then headed back down to the shop.  It was clear the storm was growing near.  Naturally, my wunderground app quit working about this time.  I'd later learn it had a tornado warning along with it and I was soon happy to be safe and sound in the shop.  Zach's dad and I chatted in the back room.  When I mentioned the Beaver Islands, he opened the fridge and pulled out a growler of Beaver Island Brewery lager and poured me a cup.  Neat!  I sat there with my beer and enjoyed the conversation with his family and the workers in the outfitter.  Great folks.  I dropped off a book I had finished and picked up a new one titled Canoeing with the Cree.  I'm looking forward to pulling this one out on a rainy day.  Before leaving, Zach's mom handed me a ziplock bag filled with the delicious M&M, Almond and Peanut butter granola bars that Zach so graciously had shared with me along the way. A note from Zach meant a lot.  These would be good down the river.

It was bittersweet leaving but the afternoon was still young.  The next few miles along the river were scenic and wild.  I drifted a bit and enjoyed the light and clouds that passed by on the breezes.  I could tell things were settling down a bit and it was easily 15 degrees cooler now but humid.

I made it to camp on an Island site with a gorgeous view of the river.  I think it was called Oak Island but I can't quite recall.  The skeeters were a bit of a nuisance so I quickly got in my tent and was soon fast asleep.

 The morning was cool and a fog swirled over the water.  I pushed off from camp and enjoyed the current helping me along.  Paddling through the islands near camp was a great way to start the day.

I got on the water early because I saw high winds in the forecast for the afternoon.  It would be nice if they were in my favor but they were blowing against me and made paddling difficult.  I was taking it easy though and stopped a few times for coffee or oatmeal.

By the time I had made it to Sartell, my mind was made up...I was getting a hamburger!  The portage was much longer than the advertised 600 yards and likely about 1/2 miles or more.  Along the way, I made a detour to the Riverboat Depot, a bar and restaurant with a dark interior and a crowd of Friday afternoon regulars enjoying beers and shooting the shit.  They all kind of stared as I walked in wearing my PFD.  Should have left that in the boat but it has all my small items in it.  The waitress was very nice and I ordered a California Burger, the thought of vegetables seeming so crunchy, crispy and healthy.  When it arrived, I was shocked at the size and enthusiastic about stuffing it down...so much so that my photo shows it half eaten.

I was 29 years old before I took my boat to the bar.

After the burger, I was feeling full of energy.  My stomach rumbled a few times as a result of the quantity of items inside but I didn't pay it no mind.  The remainder of the portage was along a sidewalk and wasn't too terrible.  It felt good to be back in the water again downstream of the big bridge.  Way up in the distance you can see the Sartel Dam that I portaged around.

Back on the water, the wind had died down a bit but was still making some chop on long straight sections.  I paddled on renewed by the big meal and the lowering sun angle as the afternoon progressed.  Soon I arrived in Sauk Rapids, so named for the river feature on the right side where a number of boulders and a bend in the river can make for a terrible crossing.  Fortunately I had information from Zach to take a path to the left side of the bridge, left of the island then to cut right and avoid the boulders before taking a path to river left.  This was a lifesaver as I passed through Sauk without much difficulty.  Nope...nobody saw me hang up on a boulder and get spun backwards... All a fun time as I had the boat under control (mostly).  After Sauk Rapids, it was a windy paddle through St. Cloud.  There were a few motorboats about and one guy in a sport boat that kept doing laps up and down the river.  I stopped counting after the fourth lap past.  I imagined the girl riding in the passenger seat was getting bored of it too.  The wake would toss me around a bit but there wasn't much else to do but keep paddling.  I figured I could count it as training for upcoming barge wakes and whatnot.  The canoe handled well and the St. Cloud dam quickly loomed into sight.  It wasn't a very hard portage since it was mostly paved...that is until I came to the end of the portage where a steep flight of stairs greeted me.  After a long day of paddling, that is not exactly what I had in mind.  I removed my two bags and carried them down the 50 or more stairs then headed back up to the canoe. This would take a few trips.  Rounding the top of the stairs, I notice a guy about 20 feet from my boat.  When he sees me, he quickly stoops down and starts inspecting a flower.  Something is suspicious about this. "If it looks like a duck..."  Rather than assuming that he was going to steal something from my canoe, I give him an overwhelmingly hearty "Howdy! How's it going friend?"  to which he sort of stammers "I...I was following the PORTAGE signs and wanted to see where they went."  The thought occurred to me.  "Say, I'm paddling the river and I just came to this steep flight of stairs.  Could you help me carry my canoe down? I'd be most obliged."  A smile graced his face and he jumped at the change to help.  "Oh yes my brother. I'd be happy to help. Happy."  He grabbed the stern handle and I the front and we both started on down the steep wood stairs.  What luck!?   I went slow and he was a good sport about the whole thing.  I kept thanking him as we neared the water and were soon on the downstream beach.  We were both dripping sweat now in the later afternoon sunlight.  I told him I'd give him some granola bars or something as a thank you but he politely declined.    He said it was one of the holy days of Ramadan and that he was fasting.  I asked if that meant he could eat after sunset and he seemed surprised that I knew that. I asked him what he liked to eat when he could and we talked about small samosas his wife would make, fried fish and many other dishes he struggled to find the English names for.  He asked how old I was and we were both 29.  His life is much different than my own but I'd like to think after talking to him for a little bit, he may not have been the thief I had suspected.  I gave him my website and he said he would look me up.  He accepted my request to take his picture.  As I paddled away, I called that he only had about an hour left until sunset, to which he nodded and waved.  Everything is not always as it seems.

Immediately after the St. Cloud dam are the Beaver Islands, a selection of sandy islands with shallow rocky channels in between them.  I had heard there was camping here and figured I'd find a spot with some evidence of human use.  Sure enough, I round a bend and spot a stick straight into a sandy island, a marker of some sort.  I paddle nearer into the narrow channel and come to a small campfire and a few rock chairs.  This is the neatest little island campsite I've seen.  The scent of woodsmoke drifts from the smoldering remains of a recent and very hot fire.  The ashes are white and there remains no wood left to burn...likely burning drift wood.  I set up my tent on the flat sand and stuck a cup on the fire for some tea.  The sun set quickly and the sound of birds filled the air over the undercurrent of the babbling stream.  This river has so many faces to show.

It was an enjoyably and relaxing paddle down 7 miles or so to camp at Baxter. The landing was nice and the site part of a county park. There were a few joggers and cyclists that came through and I chatted with most who were at the halfway point of the workout. Honestly I just didn't want to seem strange for sleeping at 730pm on the longest day of the year. Knowing that rest would continue to heal me outweighed the need to be up or celebrate. Made some noodles and went to bed. A thumping sound echoed over the water and I thought it some strange hydraulic or a tree root stuck in the water. Thump, thump thump. Silence.

After a passing shower acted as nature's snooze button, I loaded up the boat and pointed downstream. The banks grew narrow for a way before turning south toward the Crow Wing State Park. The forest had changed too and there were fewer of the larger Red Pine stands I'd seen before Brainerd. The river was picturesque in this region, most notably at the confluence of the Crow Wing where there was once a thriving trading village.


Leaving the park, the right bank is a State Game Refuge. I spot many deer along the way, turtles, bald eagle, heron, striking bass and a beaver. The US Army Camp Ripley is adjacent to the river here and let's it's presence be known with the barrage of small arms fire and concussion of explosives. The tell-tale clack of a .50 cal startles me as it seems to explode just though the trees. Paddle on. In the distance I can make out the sound of a helicopter and know it is a Blackhawk by the time it rounds the river bend. I have a good video but no WiFi to post. My first thought was of Apocalypse Now but I wanted to say "Charlie don't Canoe". This would be the first of many fly-by's as there was continual training for about 15 miles. It was entertaining but also made for a whole bank I could not land at or explore much.

By 3, I had made it to Fletcher Landing Campsite yet decided it best to spend the afternoon taking a bath and doing laundry while I recovered from a slight sun headache. Feeling refreshed after my evening dip, I fixed some grub, turned on the radio and listened to the forecast. Passing thunderstorms, some severe. Good thing to be off the water early then. At 6, the first bout of storms rolled through and passed me. The second set billowed just north and south of me yet I was left dry in the middle.

It grew windy overnight and I was concerned my canoe my blow away. I had it tied up with two lines and hauled as close in to the small alcove at camp but half of the boat was still in the water. HATE doing that. I probably got up 3 times overnight to check on the boat. It did let me notice that someone had installed a miniature lighthouse on their bend in the river that spins every few seconds. Too cool.


The morning was comfortable and warm. I packed up and hit the water with renewed education or paddle stroke and technique from some online tutorials I had downloaded and never read until last night. The sore lower back muscles but most importantly, numb left forearm are typical of too tight a grip and using the arm muscles more than rotation of the torso for power. I actively think and try to use my torso but the seat on the NEXT isn't the best for allowing a full range of upright motion. It's kind of like stretching in a bucket seat. I've found what works for me and feel a bit better today trying different things out.

There were a few more island sets today and each felt like a mini oasis, teeming with deer and the cry of songbirds. A gurgle from beyond a tree may signal a rock hazard beyond or incoming tributary. Many were too small to even show on the Water Trail Maps. I planned to stop for coffee at the first park I'd pass but never saw the boat ramp. I then notice a bridge ahead and realize I'd paddled the 7 MI to Little Falls and it wasn't even 730am. Cool!

My first thought had been to walk 2mi round trip to the Walmart here for a spare bottle of camp fuel but Google let me know there is one right on the water two days ahead. Nifty. The 325yd portage at Little Falls Dam was mostly concrete pathway along a well manicured park. I portaged halfway where I took a breakfast break for oatmeal at the dam view.


Down at the put-in, a local fisherman was casting in for his breakfast. No luck yet. The concrete block wall was awful and had a 3ft drop to boulders below and steep mud bank dropping 5 ft. I managed to completely unload the canoe and lift it down gently then reload in knee deep muck. I was soon on my way waving at the fisherman. A truck passed on a bridge and I gave the honking symbol. three or four loud toots emitted from the horn but I imagine they've done away with the old fashioned pull chord handle.


The wind was at my back today which explained the morning speed! If I kept pointed downriver, I could catch the trough of a wave and ride it in that direction while paddling. Worked great and soon I was at the Blanchard Dam. I had been warned this one would be a doozy and the pdf I keep shows it going up and over two old railroad crossings on stairs!?

Knowing my best option was to double carry, I brought most my heavy gear and water first. The steep grassy hill had barely enough traction to climb up let alone descend. Man this will be fun with the boat. It then goes through a deep woody area and back up to a road to another steep train trestle that has a paved bike path up top. As you can see in the picture, this was quite a haul up the grass. Every break I'd take would result in my holding the grass with my left hand and the boat with my right to keep it from rolling downhill. Crazy portage!

Finally reunited with the river, I took a nice rest and snack under the shade on a beach. What a pleasant day even if the sun is a bit extreme. This section of river is particularly prime fishing habitat for walleye, muskies and smallmouth. I dug my pole out and cast four times. Two of the casts hooked big fish. The first one dragged the line for a bit until it snapped. The second one, a smallmouth, hurdled from the water and splashed. I let it slowly drift then hand by hand reeled in the line softly. Just as it neared the bank, I felt the line go slack and knew I lost dinner. Darn. Time to invest in some heavier gauge line at the next stop.


Zach had mentioned Seven Islands Campsite as being particularly beautiful and I made sure to mark it on the map. It did not disappoint. The signs are easily spotted and the landing wide and grassy. It was only 4pm but I felt I had put in a good day considering the two portage and 22 miles. Could have gone farther but meh. It's gorgeous here. Going fishin'

I'm feeling much better today. By the time I went to bed last night I wasn't sure. Took two advil then woke up a few hours later drenched with sweat but feeling much better? Must have been the fever working itself out. It was windy enough so I changed and dried my clothes then fell back asleep. When I awoke this morning, I knew I could keep going. I'm still taking my time and gently moving downstream now. Lots of break beneath bridges and such. Wind is much better today (even had a brief tailwind).This morning was nice and quiet on the water and I saw the usual bald eagle, herons and deer. I stopped in Brainerd for food resupply and water after a 600 ft portage at the Potlatch Dam. Now that the dam is behind me, the flow has picked up and I don't have to paddle as much. At Hardees, they wanted $3 for a small hamburger so I made myself a potato and egg burrito down by the boat.​

I awoke at Scott's Rapids knowing I had a big day ahead of me. 44 miles of river lay between me and my destination, the greatest distance I have yet to paddle. Although the flow is approximately 2mph now, it is still a constant act of paddling to keep pointed downstream. I enjoyed the quiet morning and knew that it would be a hot one when I was sweating by 9am. I stopped at Wold's Ferry to make coffee then paddled on to the town of Palisade by noon. That was approximately 20 miles and an average day. The thought of an ice cream bar had been on my mind for some time so I walked into town to pick one up. The Mississippi Mud Bar had my name on it and hit the spot on the walk back to the landing. Two other canoeists had arrived and we're taking part in a Corps of Engineers relay paddle to celebrate the 150th an anniversary of the district(?). Before leaving, one of them gave me a 6inch sub and Peanut Roll!

I was super stoked on my new dinner and pushed off from the bank despite an approaching storm. It'll just pass in an hour or two and I can stop then. Radar was wrong. Within a mile of the shelter, the sky opened up and wind gusts of 25-30 sent the canoe all over the place. Not safe. I found a muddy pocket in the bank and holed up here for what I thought would be 20 minutes. After an hour, conditions were only deteriorating and I considered paddling back to the shelter if it wasn't for the Crack of lightning above. My upper half was dry but my lower was soaked. 5 inches of water had collected in the stern where I recalled learning my tennis shoes float.

Following the rain, I paddled steadily throughout the evening stopping only a handful of times to rest. Upon finally arriving at Willow River camp, I had logged 44 miles and the sun had just set. I could barely get camp setup, so spent were my energy reserves. Without thinking I made some Ramen and forced it down. Whatever, at least I'm here finally.

I knew today was going to be a challenge. It began when I pulled a tick from my belly button that had nestled in for the night. Ouch. I only had 17 miles to go so at least I thought it would be a relatively easy paddle. WRONG. Around 9:30, the wind picked up from the SE steady at 10-15 with gusts to 25. It just so happened that was my direction of travel all day long. To top it off, the mercury crept up to 90 and few clouds were around to provide relief. I was cooking. A wet bandana would dry in 10 minutes. Yah it was hot. A front was moving in and although it wouldn't arrive until 6pm, the pressure was making itself known. I cannot recall how many mile long straightaways I paddled directly into the building waves. Ceasing paddling meant the wind would push me back upriver and turn my canoe perpendicular to the waves, a dangerous situation. My only option was to paddle and drink water. I only had one gallon and a bottle left but knew now was not the time to be stingy. If only I had some fruit as I could tell the electrolytes in my body were low, energy spent. I would stop for 5 minutes holding on to grasses beneath the shade of a maple before paddling another mile, stop to rest and repeat. Not an easy day. I bean to ache in my neck and back along with the persistent headache that surfaced. Drink water, paddle, rest.

When I finally arrived at Half Moon, I couldn't find the campsite and paddled into a weedy bay twice in search of it. Eventually I found it nestled on a hill with the landing inside it's own lagoon. Sliding up to bank, I just sat there for a minute completely exhausted. I sincerely dislike putting my body into these fixes and realized I should have possibly stopped earlier for an hour or more. Live and learn. When I touched my forearms,I they were both completely numb. Those muscles have had a workout over the Last two days of nearly 60 miles. Oof.


I set up camp and checked the radar. Sure enough a small but powerful storm was moving east of Brainerd and I was directly in the path. I turned on my weather radio and heard the familiar squelch of the hazardous warning. That small storm was tornadic with spotted funnel activity and approaching at 50 mph. Wow. I built up the fire and had the wherewithal to start cooking my rice and beans to supply energy for this most arduous day. The wind grew more ferocious and I decided to erect the tarp to stay dry and keep cooking while the storm passed. Jugs were positioned at the end of the tarp to collect rainwater for cooking. What happened next was the most frightening and powerful storm I've experienced outdoors. The telltale freight train roar overhead signaled it was finally here. A 50 mph gust came in from the south unexpectedly and nearly blew my tent away despite the stakes. Shit. This wasn't just some summer storm. Above me trees bent and cracked in the onslaught and rain flew sideways beneath the tarp. I kept moving the jugs to keep then filled. Eventually, I realized I was likely to lose the tent if I wasn't in it so I dashed through the wall of water and falling debris to my tent door where Murphy kicked in and the zipper got stuck. I slid underneath and was soon inside soaking wet. I consolidated camping gear into dry bags in case the rainfly blew off, a real concern as corners of the tent lifted off the ground. The flapping of my tarp signaled I had busted a grommet but at least I was two gallons richer. Trees snapped throughout camp and the wind made dramatic changes in direction guiding me from one corner of the tent to the other. After about 20 minutes, the system had passed and sunshine illuminated my yellow tent. It felt like a ray of positivity after such a tough day.