by Paul D. Porter

I just couldn't help grinning as I contemplated our upcoming canoe trip. The entire family had grown to love these expeditions. As a Scoutmaster, I had first gained equipment access and then experience with canoes and camping. I learned myself, helped others, and grew to really appreciate nature out-of-doors. We decided to purchase first one canoe, liked it so much that later we purchased a second. My wife Sharon, one of those neat, Mrs. Clean, homemakers, who had initially rejected the idea of all that dirt and creepy crawly creatures, found the outdoor experience to be wonderful. She summed it up saying, "Well, all the dirt and creatures stay outdoors when you come back and clean up. It is beautiful." Canoeing turned out to be an ideal family activity. It is both economical and great family fun. Regardless of age, everyone gets to participate. We even encountered a couple with a woman nursing a new born on a BWCA portage trail. You are never too young or too old to sit and enjoy!

The family excitement surged as we planned another down river canoe trip. Gliding down river among nature's wonders is the easiest canoeing of all. Part of the fun was the planning around the kitchen table. This trip was to be a weekend two day trip; a day of paddling, an evening camp out sleeping under the stars, and a second day of down river canoeing. It could have been anywhere in the country, but we selected a new route, the rushing wild Wolf River in Eastern Wisconsin. The trip would take us through a mostly wild, sparsely populated, reservation. We puzzled over what turned out to be crude river maps. Marked with unfamiliar codes and ratings for the rapids the ratings said the Wolf was quite passable. It was a joint family decision. We would go! The canoe club maps were produced by highly experienced white water kayak and canoe experts. We did recognize that what may be a minor obstacle to a kayak or a highly skilled, physically fit canoeist, can be a major problem to our semi athletic family group with less accomplished skills. Still we were confident, we did have some experience on wild rivers. Unfortunately, these crude maps also left a few things out.

Disappointment! Our oldest daughter, Carol, my regular able bow paddler, a diabetic who grew up to be a nurse, mother of three boys and a pastor's wife, would be off at summer camp unable to go. We were not to be deterred from what had become a favorite family activity. I put one sturdy Alumacraft seventeen foot Quetico aluminum canoe on top of our car, the rest of the camping gear with only one tent inside and the family headed for the river.

It was a bright sunny day. Spirits were high. We elected to put in near Lillydale. I tied everything securely on board. Sharon took the bow, a major change! She normally paddled in the stern with Dan in the bow of our second canoe. Still, it seemed to make the most sense. The bow paddler has the best view and can take quick action to avoid hitting a rock or tree. Even to this day, she likes to have control over her own fate.

I took the stern where most of the course setting, cross river steering would be done. Dan, Jeanne and Joel sat on the bottom of the canoe for maximum balance and stability, nestled right down in the middle among the packs and spare paddles. Leaving the car locked and the roads behind, we paddled away down stream. One thing nice about down river canoeing, the current does most of the work. Of course there were low hanging limbs, jagged rocks and gripping sand bars to avoid, but that was half the fun. The Wolf is a beautiful, wild, yet hazard filled river. Downstream, white water championships are run. Upstream the river is narrow and congested with natural hazards. Where we paddled, a few strokes could usually pull us across to the other side of the stream. We did have some experience reading the river and its hazards. We could see the swirl in the water knowing it was just downstream from where the underwater hazard really was. We also knew that the shortest path is often not the best. It is always fun to see the fish dart away in the clear water. The children sang as we relaxed and paddled along.

The water was deep, yet slow at the muddy river landing when we started out. The air was hot and muggy. A storm was approaching that we failed to notice. Frogs jumped while water lilies flowered. Canoes are always the most unstable with one pointed end on the shore and we were loaded. To avoid tipping I balanced my hands on both sides, steadying the canoe as each family member climbed safely in. I pushed us free of the muddy bank. We were away! It had rained hard the day before providing plenty of water to float over the rocks. The canoe glided smoothly in the pool of ripple free water. A short distance down stream, a two foot drop was clearly marked. Formed by rocks, downed trees or beavers, the barrier backed up the river into a deeper pool. The map said it was runable. It was. We easily floated the canoe over where the water was rushing two feet deep. Canoes draw very little water and will go almost anywhere. The stream, still about five feet deep, was faster now. It took constant attention to read the bubbling swirling river, swinging past the rocks and anticipating our next move. What fun. Sharon and I kept a keen eye out for the black water line that could mean another sharp river drop. The rushing water is constantly creating new hazards. Paddling near the left shore, we found ourselves approaching an unmarked rapids! A short but rough, rocky rapids with major boulders lay just ahead. At first I thought, No problem, speed and strong strokes should carry us over to the right side river bank. Wrong! Sharon with her clear view from the bow could deliver those quick draw strokes designed to avoid a specific obstacle. Now trying to miss the smaller rocks, she was shouting out commands. I strained to hear. The rushing river was making too much noise. Her voice was drowned out, carried away with the water's white foaming roar.

Paddle, Paddle Sharon, Paddle! I called.

We aren't going to make it! she shouted.

There was a confused command, followed by a moments' hesitation. The huge rocks appeared to be swimming, moving up stream much too fast. We strained to dig water and paddle hard. We were being swept sideways onto the stream's center barrier of rocks. We could not make it! There was no reverse. The narrow safe deeper channel next to the far bank was denied. Later, I realized we should have started that traverse earlier or at least straightened our downstream path. The canoe was swept sideways smashing directly against two huge midstream boulders.

The metal canoe hit the rocks with a grinding crunch. We were immediately swept up on to the rocks. As the hull continued to move under the river's force, our bodies lurched left, then dramatically to the right. The canoe turned like a well-oiled door hinge to the river's powerful hand. The right side gunwale quickly dropped below the water line. Helplessly we watched as the river water rushing downstream, poured in, rapidly filling our open canoe. Everyone hold on! Good kids! Foam seat cushions and spare paddles floated off. Let them go! The children and packs stayed squarely in the water filled boat.

We surveyed the situation. The entire family was now sitting or standing knee deep in water on what had been the right side of the canoe. I jumped into the river to push the canoe free. Surprise! My six foot plus frame could not touch the bottom. When I did find a slippery underwater rock to stand on, I took a firm grip on the canoe, pushed, hard and tried to lift. The canoe would not budge. A medium size underwater rock on the upstream side held the canoe firmly in place. Sharon with smaller frame and less strength had even less success and you don't move river rocks that have withstood the river's force for centuries. Later, the rush of the river's current was calculated to be applying about a ton, well over 2,800 to 3,200 pounds of water pressure! Smaller rocks up stream and the larger ones below wouldn't allow even a minute bit of movement. In deep churning midstream water, we were truly stuck!

In the past, the whole family had practiced dumping. We had always been able to walk on the river bottom and inch by inch work one end of the canoe free. Not this time. Thankfully, the family stayed relatively calm. The water was clear but cold. Thunder. The sun disappeared under a threatening rain cloud. For just a moment, at least one of the youngest children whimpered. Sharon and I looked at each other. The children were getting cold. Something had to be done. This was getting serious!

I always carry extra long nylon stern and bow lines. You can always use more rope and they double as tie downs when the canoe is on top of the car. The stern line being used to tie down our packs could not be used without releasing more valuables to the rivers cold wet grasp. I worked my way over to Sharon's end of the canoe. Using the bow line tied with a larkspur a knot that will not slip through the canoe's metal bow link, I stepped back into the water, let the rope out slowly, lowering myself down through the rapids. To avoid injury, I used my feet to bounce off the rocks. My legs were acting as springs, my head would not. As the long bow line was just about played out, I reached quieter water. Hanging onto the rope, I made my way to the western shore. I worked my way back up through the rocks and trees until I was again parallel to the stricken canoe. With the other end still fastened to the canoe, I tied my end of the line securely to a tree.

Now at least we had a lifeline. The thunder crackled again. A few raindrops fell pattering down onto the tree leaves, but graciously, what could have been a heavy gushing rain held off. Using the lifeline for support I worked my way back into the river and out to the canoe. In our worry and concern for the children, a brief discussion ensued. Sharon did not want to leave the children. Someone had to go to shore first. Ordering everyone else to stay where they were, I helped our oldest across. Then back to the boat again. One by one each child was transported with my loving arms firmly around them. Finally, the children were safe on the heavily forested shore. Once more I went back to the canoe. I untied the tent and packs. One by one, using my best accuracy to avoid losing more to the river, I tossed the packs to the small patch of ground where the children now waited on the shore. We tried one last futile attempt to move the canoe and failed. Even lightened by the absence of two large packs, the tent and three bodies, plus the gear that had floated off, the canoe would not budge. The water pressure was relentless.

I could feel the strength draining from my body. Maybe if I was fresh, I could do more, but not right now. It was hard enough to follow Sharon and make it safely back to the shore.

Time to do something. The children were cold and hungry. So were mom and dad! The canoe was not going anywhere. The family was safe on shore, but I knew there were no roads anywhere near this western shore. We were on the wrong side! Even the roads on the Eastern side were across wooded country, at least a mile or two away. Surrounded by dark heavy unknown woods, it was time to open our packs. The lessons we learned from scouting and previous trips again proved invaluable. Inside each pack was a large plastic trash bag as a liner. Food items were tightly packed again inside more clear plastic bags. We didn't pack extra air or weight. All of the contents were safe inside the outer wet pack and inner water proof plastic barriers.

Dry food! Dry clothes! A quick change and cold bodies were warming. Cookies and high energy camp food went down fast and easy. Ahhhhh it was good to see those smiles. We were on an adventure again!

Re-tying the packs, we headed down stream on foot. There was no easy path here. Only trees and river rocks waited to be navigated in a tricky foot slipping journey. The pool of water where I had first come ashore was too deep to cross. We made our way past another longer rapids to a second larger pool, The water was wide and quiet. The forest and flying insects grew even thicker ahead. Trees and brush formed a solid barrier. We reasoned that the slow wide pool had to be shallower. I walked well out into the stream and concluded, yes, we could ford the river here. The bottom here was mostly soft sand. But, if we got wet, there would be no more dry clothes!

I carried each child across in turn on my shoulders. Sharon decided she could walk. Now at least we were relatively dry and safe on the left side of the river. We continued our trek through the woods paralleling the stream. After what seemed like hours, We finally arrived at a point where a county gravel road ended at the riverbank. No people, buildings or improvements were anywhere in sight.

After setting up the tent for shelter by the dirt road, I started my long hike back to the car. An important last minute decision was made. Jeanne, our youngest daughter would accompany me. We walked about a mile on the deserted gravel road and finally turned north onto the higher speed, yet still rarely traveled black top. I was wet, dirty, tired and now a hot sweaty mess. Jeanne was tired too. Her hair wilted. Still it was young Jeanne's presence and her long dark hair that elicited the sympathy of a kind solitary passing motorist. Kind strangers gave us a ride!

With relief upstream, we unlocked our car and turned the ignition. On came the air conditioner. Did that feel good!. We drove back in comfort to spend the night with the family back together.

In the morning a few canoes glided swiftly past on their way downstream. Calling out, one paddler responded, Yes, we did see a canoe stuck in the middle of the river. It is still there!

We were still trying to scheme out what to do when a car made its way down our dusty dead end dirt road. Two tall husky fishermen from a local insurance company appeared. They had come for the streams excellent trout fishing. Equipped with waders, fresh, strong and prepared for a day fishing in the river, they volunteered, Sure, glad to help.

I tramped along with them back through the woods. There it was! The canoe was still mid-stream, held securely in place by the rushing torrents. One man picked up a long downed pine log to use as a pry bar. The log appeared to be about 12 foot long, tapered and at least 6 inches thick. He quickly stripped off the few remaining branches and floated it out to the stuck canoe. Jamming it under one end, using all of our force to pry, the canoe finally came up with a great sucking sound into the air. A lever can move most anything. It came free. Water gushed out.