Ice-out on the St. Croix

Managing risk has always been of interest to me. The risk of starting a new business enterprise in my mid-fifties, probably tops my own personal risk list, but various other adventures compete for the title. I spent many years teaching young men how to avoid dangerous conditions, like freezing water, thin ice and strong currents. They are not the place to practice new-found skills. There are ways however, to cope with these conditions. Every now and then it's good to practice one's risk-management skills. This was one such event. 

My new super-tough Fast-Track inflatable kayak. We had hoped to get underway with a bit more daylight. Even though it was dark, we were happy to have snow instead of rain.

 Bill and Scott Keig and I had planned a spring trip on the St.Croix for over a month. We were psyched, and even though a late spring had been delivering cold, unstable weather - we were excited to go. The 90 percent chance of rain/snow in the forecast had no effect on us. Every outdoor adventure carries some small weather-related risk, but when you know how to dress and prepare, bad weather just becomes a new and interesting way to see the world. All three of us are experienced, all-weather campers.

This is what the river looked like at Sand Rock Cliffs where we originally intended to end our trip. Foxes Landing, where we eventually came out, looked pretty much the same.

       I drove up a few hours early to check out ice conditions. Things were pretty grim. Most of the river above Grantsburg was choked with ice. Huge slabs of ice were rearing up and sliding on top of one another. There were only occasional, patches of open water. We hoped to find ice-free landings where we could start and end. What was in between? We had no way to know.  Foxes Landing, where we eventually decided to end our trip, was totally choked. We gambled that by the time we got there it might have moved on. We finally found a landing about ten miles north with open water. We put on our wetsuits and warm clothing and strapped everything in. We trusted we could be resourceful enough to make it through, somehow.

10 PM. A couple miles downriver we found ourselves locked in a huge flow that we could not penetrate. With a strong current running we knew that with one mistake a body could easily be pulled under the ice flow. We called it a night.

 
     We had only gone a couple miles when we ran into a huge ice jam. It was totally dark and snowing occasionally so we couldn't even see how far it went. We found our way to shore and set up camp. We had hoped to go a few more miles to a favorite island with a nice campsite, but we ended up on a very skinny 'island' just off-shore on the Wisconsin side. 

We set up camp and cooked dinner. We were so buzzed we sat around the fire and talked until one AM.

 That night we were serenaded by the thousands of waterfowl that  use the St. Croix flyway. The Trumpeter Swans and Bufflehead ducks were my favorites. About midnight we heard a strange tinkling sound coming from the river. We looked - and the ice jam was gone! 

Morning on our skinny island. Much of the ice jam had cleared from the river overnight. (On the left)

Breakfast. The only flat ground we could find on our little island. 

We all carried complete extra sets of clothing in waterproof bags.

Fortunately, we floated most of the time. Dragging rubber boats on ice wasn't too bad, though. We were constantly probing the ice with our paddles to test it's strength. In the background is the island we originally wanted to get to.

 

Bird watching was one of the best parts when we weren't ice watching. Trumpeter Swans and Bald Eagle.

Another jam up. Pulling around these on thin ice was always... ah... exhilarating. I usually let Bill or Scott go first.  

We were urging Scott to take the picture fast - before the crack got any bigger and we floated away. Many years ago Britta and I sat under the pine trees in the background and looked out at the island behind (right.) This is the top end of about a mile of class 2-3 whitewater.

Pinch point. I pried at the log (underwater) with my paddle. I only had to move it a foot or so and the whole flow broke loose. All the ice around fractured and we went sliding through with a whoosh. Exciting.

Just above Foxes Landing we got caught in a tricky jam with very swift current. Big slabs that floated along just barely underwater kept piling in from behind, forcing us up onto the ice sheet. The exciting part was when they would suddenly tip up at a forty-five degree angle and, hopefully, break. This was a situation where inflatable boats were the safest things to be in. I can't imagine doing this with a tippy canoe or hard-shell kayak.

Just above Foxes Landing.

All in all this was a wonderful adventure. We were able to safely manage our way through miles of icy river at near flood-stage. Our gear worked. Our intuition worked. My camera worked. It was a thrill. BTW, when we got to Foxes landing the huge ice pile from the day before had cleared to the point where we only had to drag the last fifty yards. Perfecto!