2004-07-05 Zumbro River Solo Rock Hunt

The new 3-inch foam seat in my Jensen designed SSS-180 (Speed, Steering, and Stability) worked better than I hoped with cloudy skies threatened rain any minute.  The Zumbro River had dropped back closer to it’s normal levels after the flooding June rains. My paddle blade crunched on gravel fighting upstream in the shallows from Bluff Valley Campground’s gullied inner-tuber takeout “beach”.   Clumps of high-water straw hung like fake bird nests from branches several feet above the water.  Hugging high mud banks to stay out of the main current, I paddled with no sense of urgency.

“Have fun!” yelled one of the last of the holiday weekend campers and I hollered back “Thanks!” as I slid smoothly upstream.  Five sharp-tailed swallows, looking like they were wearing fancy tuxedos, chirped and flew up ahead from the tree branch above me.  A tan damsel fly fluttered like a helicopter next to a tall blade of grass.  Deep water was hard to find.  Usually only half a blade length before hitting bottom;  I fought against the temptation to pole with the blade.  It doesn’t take long to wear out a paddle.  Brett Arenz and Cal Stenso-Velo say a paddle is only good for about 300 hours.  A lot less if you paddle upstream on shallow rocky bottom rivers.  The paddle I was using was a wooden bent shaft paddle purchase in 1994 and repaired for free by the vendor in 1996.  It had cost $85, half as much as a carbon fiber paddle and twice as heavy, but still lighter than any other wooden paddle.  

The first big sandbar covered in 4 foot tall willow tree shoots drew me in with the promise of newly exposed rocks.  Shoving the point of my canoe on some partially submerged willow branches, I climbed out and pulled the back far enough on the gravel to make sure it didn’t drift off.  On what had recently been the back channel, a young fawn had fed both predators and scavengers.  It lay with legs bent awkwardly on the sand; chewed rib bones jutting from under the dried fur.  It’s shriveled face had an oddly calm expression after what must have been a violent death.  This was the wilderness with beauty side-by-side with cruelty.  Enjoy every breath.

Four interesting volleyball sized rocks and a tennis-ball sized agate was the treasure gleaned from this fifteen minutes stop.  I pointed back upstream and concentrated on exaggerating the twisting of my torso with each stroke trying to program the longer reach over the top of almost twenty years of J and C strokes.  Old patterns are extremely hard to erase, especially in the heat of a canoe race when adrenaline was flowing.  These solo paddles were my chance to build a new stroke that would eventually be second-nature.  Paddling tandem and practicing with other racing canoe wakes doesn’t allow me time to think about each stroke.

Dodging in and out of hanging tree branches, cutting within inches of submerged logs into the oncoming faster current from the slower backwaters, I practiced my steering with the solo racer.  It was skinnier than any canoe I had before. I was still reluctant to lean far enough for efficient turns because I was used to tandem hulls without the wings of a solo C1 racer.  Normally the wings are just above the surface when paddling straight, but for drastic turns against strong current, it was necessary to roll the inside wing underwater and paddle on the outside of the desired turn while shoving water under the canoe behind me.  It will take me a lot more hours before I’ll be confident enough to enter a race with this canoe.

A few more small groups of chirping swallows and damsel flies and a glimpse of a huge osprey flying ahead around the bend brought me to a small sandbar that I could paddle around.  It was difficult to turn back, but I had to get back to the trailer because we had a date to play cards with another couple from the campground.  Two more rock hunting stops on sandbars netted six more volleyball sized rocks and made the canoe extremely stable and much less responsive.   I was back to the sandy gully way before I wanted to be, but I took solace in the knowledge that I would be back.