The Great River Trip
"Excuse me, I hate to bother you but what year is that?" "Oh, you're not bothering me, I can talk about my motor home anytime. This is a 1982." "It's sure in nice shape, I wouldn't of thought it was that old. I can't say I've ever seen an Airstream motor home, are they still in business?" And so goes the conversation repeated almost word for word in almost every park, and parking lot that we stop. Yes, I love to talk about Chummy and even more I love the compliments about Chummy. All the hours that Fran and I spent polishing, cleaning, and painting were well worth the effort when the stranger comes up and shouts out the compliment. Since joining the ranks of vintage Airstreaming I have developed a new understanding for those who restore old things to use again and keep history alive. I now notice that vintage motorcycle, will slow down to really appreciate the painted lady Victorian home, and don't question the money spent to restore an historical site. History belongs only to us if we do not preserve it who will?
One of the new found pleasures of the RV life is exploring history both in our back yard and farther away. When Fran and I planned this trip to the Duluth area for a vintage Airstream rally we decided not to waste the miles up there but to take our time and explore on our way home. The Northwest part of our state was settled far earlier than the rest of the state due to its location along the shores of lake Superior and it proximity to the fur trading outposts of the French and British settlers. The St. Croix river feeds into the Mississippi River which afforded navigation from the far Northern reaches of our country to the Gulf of Mexico. Today Duluth remains as the farthest inland international seaport in the world.
The city is built along the bluffs and is only a mile or so wide but very long. We entered the city limits and drove a good 15 miles before reaching the downtown area. The influence of Lake Superior is in evidence everywhere you look. Street names, shops, buildings, shopping centers all have nautical names. The downtown area is nestled around a large suspended bridge which is raised to allow the numerous boats to pass underneath to gain access to the inner harbor. Locals and tourist wear t-shirts bearing images of this bridge. The city has done well in restoring the old buildings and creating
museums of their heritage. Fran and I were pleasantly surprised with Duluth and we wished we had budgeted more time for the city. We did put it on list of must return when we can do it justice.
Our first stop was a few miles south of Duluth, or Superior, WI at Pattison State park. Pattison has the largest waterfall in the state, Big Manitou Falls, along with an impressive twin waterfall called Little Manitou Falls. We arrived there on Labor Day just after the 3:00 check out time. The ranger laughed when we asked if there was a space and said we could have our choice. We picked out a lovely double spot, heavily wooded somewhat secluded. I started to set up camp while Fran rode her bike back to the ranger station to register and pay. While setting up I heard the familiar, "excuse me,
I don't want to bother you, but what year is that?" A young couple were still packing up across the road and saw us pull in, he came over to talk about Chummy. By the time Fran came back his wife and little girls had joined him, Fran is as eager to show off Chummy as I am and she joined right in. After they left we changed into our swimsuits and walked down to the lake for a swim. This park has the unique benefit of a swimming beach in walking distance of the campgrounds. The water was cool but clear and refreshing, we both cooled off and enjoyed our swim. Later that night we walked down to Big Manitou Falls. The view is very impressive. The descriptive material stated that the Black River runs into Lake Superior on a short course of about 60 miles from its source. The gorge had
been chiseled out by the river over millions of years.
We returned to our campsite and built a big enough fire to keep the bugs away but small enough to be peaceful. Soon Fran and I were sort of dozing and sort of staring at the billions of stars out on this crystal clear night. We could hear the faint sound of the falls maybe a mile or so away, there was no wind just the sounds of the forest at night; nothing could have been more peaceful at that moment. In fact we were so absorbed in the moment we did not hear the ranger pull up in his truck and do not
know how he saw us in the dark. But he saw us and called out the window, "just want to let you know there are severe storm warnings out for tonight. Looks like it will be a bad one coming in from the northwest. They already have damage. I'll come back later if things get really bad. Watch for my flashing lights." We thanked him and expressed our surprise since the weather looked perfectly calm. Our serenity was broken so we went into storm mode and prepared the site for a storm. For some reason we did not put up our screen house until after we ate supper; we ate with the flies then put up
the screen house. Now I needed to tie it down so it would not blow away so we could have a fly-less breakfast. Fran took care of the bikes and cushions and we both took down the awning. After our scurry of activity we stopped and looked back at the cloudless sky and felt really foolish wondering if the ranger did that every night just to watch the people run around getting things put away. It was too late to get the chairs back out so we went to bed. I laid in my bed and watched the stars out thewindow feeling like I really got duped. Then I woke up wondering why Fran had turned on all the lights and why were they flashing plus just what were those explosions? It took a few moments to realize that the lights were lightning, the explosions, thunder and then the rain hit. I turned the
spotlight on to the screen house only ten feet from Chummy but it was raining too hard to see. The wind was shaking us and I was glad I had all four levelers down. The storm lasted about an hour then it cleared like it was before. We came through it with no damage, not even the screen house. The only remnant was water in the trailer.
That morning we went for a short walk with Spot and met another couple in the campground who were not so fortunate in the storm. Their SOB (some other brand) had sprung leaks and lost power during the storm. He was curious about Chummy and asked the usual questions, we invited them over for a tour which they accepted. They came and we had a lovely visit during the morning with this couple. After lunch we planned our hike for the day.
Pattison State park is a long narrow park which runs along the Black River between the two water falls. The camp ground is in the middle. We wanted to see both falls so the choice was easy we would walk up one side of the river to Little Manitou Falls and then walk back the other side of the river to big Manitou Falls. The previous night a we met a couple who told us that there was a path which led below the big falls and we were determined to find that path when we got to those falls. With the help of a friendly ranger we found a little used path which led us from the camp grounds to the middle
of the route used to get down to the twin falls called Little Manitou. The walk was easy and very pretty; with the path following the river the entire distance. Along the way we encountered numerous small rapids protecting still ponds which were filled with shiny little fish. We were also lucky to see some long legged herons, a group of busy ducks and a not so timid deer. We were told that the woods had black bear and we kept our eyes open but saw none. After stumbling over a few false falls, which we thought were little falls we found the real Little Manitou Falls.
They were cut into a deep bowl with a large cave seen on the left side. The two streams of water fell into a crystal clear brown water pond. How can brown water be crystal clear? Take my word for it up here in these woods everything seems so clean and pure I am certain this water is crystal clear; the tannin from the bark of the trees turns the water naturally brown. Looking at all this water we got naturally thirsty and naturally we forgot to bring a water bottle. I suggested we clamber down to the bank of the river and slurp up the natural water natural style. Naturally Fran did not agree. Off we
went to search for a bubbler in the wilderness. There in the distance, on the top of a hill, in a park with mowed grass, I saw a sign that could have said: "water." We started for it. When we got closer we both realized that it indeed did say "water." When we reached the sign we realized that we were just part way there. After another twenty minutes or so of walking and convincing ourselves that this was not just a cruel joke, after all we had our come uppance last night with the storm when we doubted the ranger. We kept walking. We almost walked right by the pump which was the water. When I realized it was what it was I started to pump and offered Fran first drink. She shied away, there was no switch or opener; no label with ingredients- "no thank-you" she said, "I'll wait to we find the bubbler." I dove in and drank the most refreshing water I had ever tasted, bacteria and all. The gritty stuff added to the texture and flavor. I encouraged Fran to try some stating that maybe it would be several more miles before we found a bubbler. She finally relented and drank putting away several pints. I am not certain where this pump is other than it is by the top of Little Manitou Falls but I highly recommend it as one of the best places to stop for a drink in the state of Wisconsin, no in the world for that matter. That water rocked.
After filling my belly and every available cavity to capacity we grudgingly left the pump and went back to the falls. Finding a new path to the very top I was able to stand over the falls and watch the water fall from the top while straddling the stream on two rocks. What a great view. We began our decent and walk back to Big Manitou Falls on the other side of the Black River planning on taking a swim at the beach when we passed by. This side of the rive afforded us more bluffs and many more hills to climb. The views were beautiful and there were several overlooks that some intelligent far sighted person had installed a bench just for us to sit and enjoy the view. Eventually we found the
beach the only problem was that it was on the other side of the lake; somehow we had crossed over the river with out realizing we crossed. Maybe that was the bridge we walked on? We changed our plans for a swim to after we saw the big falls since we could already hear the roar of the water. Our intention, no our goal, no our quest was to find and conquer the path which led us under the Big Manitou Falls. This path was not on any of the maps plus the ranger did not mention it but we had not been disappointed yet this trip. When told there was to be a storm there was; when told there was to be water there was. We knew there was this trail because we were told it was there. So we followed the directions and the first time we got no where. The second time we started down a trail
which seemed to go the wrong way but we reasoned that it was a very steep gorge and had to make a wide circuitous route to get down. We kept walking mile after mile, faithfully thinking that at anytime the bottom of the falls would pop out in front of us. Suddenly there was a sign, a sign just like a sign we had seen earlier by the pump. The sign said: PARK BOUNDARY- PRIVATE PROPERTY. Well we had done it, started in the middle and walked all the way to the far end of both ends of Pattison State Park and now we had to walk back to the middle again. There was and is no path that leads to the bottom of the falls, we were hood winked! Fran and I walked back to the Chummy quietly forgetting about our swim. After supper we star gazed again, this time there were no storm warning, even though we would not have believed it.
The time came to leave this wonderful park but we will be back. I chose to drive down route 35, Wisconsin's great river road. The topography for the first 40 or 50 miles had us steadily climbing out of the basin that feeds into Lake Superior. Afterwards we crossed the great divide which starts the flow towards the Mississippi River. The magnitude of that river is difficult to imagine but when you think of the size of Lake Superior and then drive only 50 miles in its basin then enter into the Mississippi River basin it is impressive. Route 35 took us through the towns of Moose Junction, Dairyland, Siren, Milltown, and Luck. Several years ago Fran had gotten me a book on Wisconsin Place names and she now keeps it by her seat and looks up each town as we go through. I highly
encourage this practice as a way to get to know the area better and help the time pass in an entertaining way. On purpose I left 35 to take a straight looking state road and avoid about 60 miles of very crooked road. If my road was straight I would hate to see what the crooked road was like.
The road was scenic and we did enjoy the many small villages we wound our way through. Eventually we found ourselves in Prescott, how I do not know. Prescott is on the Mississippi River and about 60 miles away from where I wanted to be at that time. However it was a good place for lunch and a walk; we enjoyed both in a nice quaint little river town. We also found a vegetable stand and directions to a cheese co-op. Without the directions we never would have found the cheese co-op but what a find it was. Fresh cheese at wholesale prices and I stocked up. We now were making good time on route 10 and soon found ourselves back on 35 along the Mississippi River it was getting late and we knew we would never make it to Trempealeau tonight so we decided to stop at a closer state park for the night.
Merrick State park is on the bayous of the Mississippi and is a draw for fisher people who can literally fish right from their campsites. There are also egrets and herons and an abundance of wildlife. Fran and I took a walk after dinner and found a lovely backwater area where you could sit and just imagine that you were down south and maybe an alligator would pop up out of the water. The sun was setting and we got some wonderful sunset pictures. This park also had a rare sight- another Airstream motor home! We walked over to introduce ourselves only to discover he was smoking a big smelly cigar. Not even talking Airstreams can get me past that disgusting stench so we just stayed down wind and said hi.
The next morning we stopped at the ranger station for info on the park and got the ususal question about Chummy and ended up giving the ranger a tour. We enjoyed Merrick but think it would be better if we did fish. Our next stop was Trempealeau and Perrot State Park. We have been to Trempealeau before but never camped at Perrot; now it is one of our favorites. We chose a secluded spot but next to one of the many walking paths. This is a very large camp ground with hundreds of spots and even at this time of the year was filling up quickly. That night we took a walk around the camp ground and got an idea of just how large it really is. Since we were next to a walking path I had no shortage of people asking the usual questions about Chummy and again never tired of chatting about my favorite motor home.
We woke up to a beautiful morning and decided to hike up to the highest point in the park. Checking the park map we found a looped trail which would take us past some Indian burial mounds, along the Mississippi River and the bluffs. We would also climb a 575' bluff. But I took high school physics and remembered the laws of Newton that what ever goes up must come down so I knew we would make it. The walk to the bluff was very pretty and well maintained. Most of the way it was handicapped accessible which I think is very nice for the state to do, even a look out area was wheel chair accessible. We were lulled to this easy style of walking then it hit. Vertical path # 1. This path allowed you to become accustomed to what the underneath side of your partner looks like. Then we hit vertical path #2. Have you studied the soles of your spouses shoes? If not I would recommend this path. At the zenith of this test is an overlook which allows you to see what the tops of trees look like close up. You can also look up at the remainder of the path above you! But then you hear someone say that there are steps the rest of the way to the top; yes there are steps the rest of the way. Steps cut into the rocks, steps, made out of logs, steps, tightly turning in a narrow gorge, steps 247 steps to be exact. Finally you are at the top, realizing that you forgot the flag but grateful for the oxygen. Not quite Mt. Everest but the view is worth the walk up.
From the top of this bluff you can see the Trempealeau river flow into the Mississippi. You can watch the barges ply up and down and navigate an upper and lower lock and dam. Winona, MN is in the distance as well as the flat fields of Minnesota. Lacrosse, WI is down river and there does not appear to be any bluff higher than the one you are standing on. Once again I am taken by the immensity of this river. It is just so huge you have to take it in by little hunks and pieces at a time.
Newton's law caught up to us and it was time to start down. We had met a really fat guy smoking a cigarette walking down the other side who had come up the way we were now going down and he said it was an easy walk. Well I figured that was a reliable recommendation and we set off with that comforting thought. The path was much more gradual and heavily wooded. This forest was different than what we were used to around our home. There were a lot more hardwoods and fewer pines, very pretty and we enjoyed the walk. The path eventually led to the campground and when we got back we figured we walked about ten miles total. This was one of the most diverse walks we had taken in a Wisconsin park and one of the most beautiful.
We feasted that night on all the left overs in the refrigerator since this was our last night out. After dinner we took a nice walk around the camp grounds and got thoroughly lost. We saw Chummy several time but could not figure out how to get to him. Eventually we got our bearings and found our way back. After a week of exploring we get lost in a campground. Maybe that was our clue that the trip was over, time to pack up and drive home.
