Mississippi Noodling
by Shirley Kysilko

For many summers, I have paddled the Mississippi River from St. Paul to Lake Pepin for the Annual Boatbuilders’ Messabout. The twelve miles from Prescott to Diamond Bluff, Wisconsin has long been one of my favorite stretches of the Mississippi, with wooded bluffs, sandy beaches, and lots of connecting back channels. Plus, I have never failed to see eagles along the way. I have often thought I would like to spend some time exploring this area, so when I had the chance to take four days off in October, I loaded up my solo kayak and headed on down.

On a gorgeous balmy fall Thursday, I parked my car at the public access in Diamond Bluff and stuffed my gear into the kayak. The clothes bags were pretty full, since I wanted to be prepared for anything from hot sun to snow or sleet. I also packed a blaze hat and vest, since hunting season was well underway. My plan was to nip across the main channel and explore Sturgeon Lake, Buffalo Slough, and North Lake, then meander back into the main channel and continue on up to Prescott. My goal was to have no set plan or destination, just noodle around and follow my nose. After all, I had no shuttle to meet since I’d be coming back downriver to my car.

Although the lakes and sloughs were quite shallow in places, I was able to find deep enough water to work my way up the eastern shores. There were lots of pelicans, gulls, wood ducks, herons, and mallards to watch, plus one cooper’s hawk, so the hunters hadn’t scared everything away. Back out on the main channel, I stopped at wide sandy beaches to climb on huge driftwood logs and lie in the warm sun. I followed one creek bed up into the bluffs and a pine woods, where I was treated to a spectacular view of the wide river valley. Camp that evening was on a big sandy island where I found a semi-permanent campsite with a stone fire ring, wide plank bench, and a folding lawn chair. Watching a flock of blackbirds come down to the water to drink, I was surprised by the loud roar of wingbeats when they all took flight at once.

Friday was a leisurely morning in camp, watching downbound barges, paddling up to Prescott, exploring islands and inlets, then heading up into the St. Croix River. On Douglas Point Beach, a gull was fishing, flying upwind along the shore, watching the shallows intently, occasionally diving, then turning, shaking the water off its tail feathers, and coming back for another and another and another pass. Farther upriver, an osprey and two red tailed hawks soared along the colorful bluffs. After a brief hike at Carpenter Nature Center, I paddled for a while with a couple rowing a beautiful lapstrake skiff. Camp that evening was on a tiny sandy spot under a gnarled juniper with barely enough space for my little solo tent. Between three big rocks, I found just enough space for a teeny campfire of juniper sticks where I could lean back and dry my socks.

During the night, a steady gentle rain fell and continued all Saturday morning. I paddled back down to Prescott, then up to Hastings to check out the Vermillion River and get a glimpse of the attractive blue Highway 61 bridge. Camp that evening was back at my luxurious island site with the folding lawn chair. The sky cleared at sunset just long enough to light up the eastern bluffs like fire. By the campfire, I reflected on what a totally different trip this was from my usual long distance trips—this time about eight miles per day with lots of side trips, hiking, sleeping, and birding.

Sunday blew in cold and windy. I was up early for a change, so I got to watch the beavers working near my camp. On my way downriver, I floated while watching a couple of eagles. The first was on a sandy beach eating a fish. A second eagle flew by and landed in a tree a little distance away. When a train came by, it flew up and circled, then landed on the beach about twenty feet from the first, who would duck for a bite of fish, then raise its head to look around. Each time the first eagle took a bite, the second eagle took a step closer. When a powerboat sped by, both eagles flew up, circled, then landed back at the carcass. By that time, I had lost track of which eagle was which and had drifted farther away, but it looked like they were both beginning to feed on the same fish. I suppose protocol has to be very carefully observed when each is capable of ripping the other to shreds!

With the wind picking up and the air getting colder, I hustled the rest of the way down to Diamond Bluff. After I got my boat and gear loaded, I headed up to the Gem Bar and Grill for a hot lunch and a coke. I had lucked out with beautiful weather for noodling around in the back channels and managed to get in just before the weather got more blustery. And I still would like to go back and explore more of the channels I only glimpsed along the way.