My Kayak Trip turned Into a Kayak Adventure

My son’s kayak has hung on two hooks in the garage next door ever since he moved to Salt Lake City in April of 2021 and chose to leave the craft with me. I didn’t use it at all in 2021 and this summer I can hear its exasperation every time I go into that building and leave with it still hanging there.

Yesterday was different. I answered its call and decided to paddle up Rocky Run Creek from my house. My plan was done quickly and in much the same way as a hungry person goes to eat at an all-you-can-eat-buffet.

Getting the craft down from the trusses was easy because I left the extra step ladder in that building when I hung the boat up there in late April, 2021. I smartly unloaded all the cargo pockets in my shorts, grabbed the cord on the bow of the kayak then dragged it down to the edge of the creek.

I chose not wear the life vest because the water is extremely low and the chances of needing it were pretty slim. Still, I laid it on the flat part of the kayak behind the paddler’s seat just in case 1) I might meet up with a DNR field person or two maybe I would need it if I were to tip over in any one of several very deep holes in this small creek. However, my thought was that it really was silly to take it along. After all, If I was not going to wear it and then need it, I’d never be able to reach it. I took it along anyway (mostly for reason #1.

The water is really low. It’s lower than I have ever seen it but I thought there was enough to float the boat even with a 180 pound person in it. I shoved the craft across the rocks at the edge of the stream and stepped into the water next to it. I was wearing my Crocs sandals to protect the bottoms of my feet. They play into this adventure many times in the part still to come.

As I attempted to get into the boat it slid across the water a bit at the exact same time I lifted my left foot off the bottom of the creek. It doesn’t take long for a boat like that to dump the paddler. I was instantly the receiver of a cool, but hilarious and welcomed dip into the stream. I was the only person there that could laugh at me, so I did. After trying to dump the water from the gunwales of the boat I decided that not all of that water needed to be emptied out. I managed to get in and grabbed the kayak paddle.

The first pull on the left blade sent me upstream and every other stroke kept me going. I had to maneuver through and around the rocks that the Ho-Chunk warriors stood behind when they gave this place its name – Whoa-Shock-ah-tay. The American settlers pronounced it and spelled it Oshaukuta or Oshaukata. According to my Ho-Chunk fastpitch friend Frank LaMere who lives in Winnebago, Nebraska Whoa-Schock-ahh-Tay means either “a great place to spear fish” or “to use a big spear for fish.”

Once past the assembly of rocks that I often wonder whether those same native Americans might have dragged them out into the stream to make this a great place to spear fish, I got into some water that was just a little bit deeper and the paddling was easy. Not long thereafter, however I was into a wide, flat area and had to actually push-pole the boat upstream. That was very hard.

About 75 yards upstream from my park bench that sits in my yard next to the stream there begins a series of tight bends and deeper holes. The problem yesterday was that nobody has been pruning the overhanging brush or removing the fallen trees sticking out into the stream. My Oshaukuta Outdoors hat was soon floating away from me after being knocked off by overhanging brush. A backward sweep with the kayak paddle retrieved it.

The trip was getting tougher and tougher to maneuver. Between overhanging brush and really shallow water on the other side of the narrow stream I found myself having to pole myself upstream more often. About 200 yards from my take off spot the flow of water was so low that I couldn’t even pole myself forward. I had to get out of the boat. When I put my left foot down on the sand bottom that quick-sand like bottom sucked me right out of the boat and was stuck there with the boat upside down and floating away.

IF you’ve ever been stuck in the muck in a stream like this, you well understand what I was experiencing. My left Croc came off as I tried to yank my leg free. The leg stayed stuck but the Croc was down in that soft sand somewhere. I didn’t want to stick my other leg into that mess for fear of not being able to get out but I wanted that left Crock back badly. With my right leg out to my side and my left side straight the only thing keeping me from sinking in further was my crotch. I shoved my left hand down into that sandy muck next to my leg and moved the muck around violently in an attempt to find my missing footwear. Suddenly it popped to the shallow surface like a bobber.

The trip went that way several more times before I chose to turnaround and head back home. The return trip still required me to pole myself forward and the sweepers along the stream bank kept knocking my hat off.

Upon returning to the takeoff spot I got out and noticed that the life vest I should have left here to beginning with was missing. There was no way I was going to paddle that kayak back upstream to look for it so I started wading. Even with low water, the flow of Rocky Run is strong and when I added in all the soft spots it was a tough water hike. It really was. I found the life vest hiding under a thick bush along the stream bank and decided I was not going to walk back in the creek.

I found one of my creek crossings I always used while wearing hip boots while deer hunting and chose to get out and walk home under the power line. That is when the painful part of this kayak adventure began. I only had the Crock sandals on. They are not the ordinary Croc but instead are sandals where the toes are not covered.

Have you ever hiked through ground briars with sandals on and not wearing socks? If you haven’t, take my advice and don’t do it. Between the pesky ground briars and the razor sharp edges of the marsh grass that is as tall as I am my feet felt like they were on fire in no time. I trudged on though ,but by the time I reached the mowed lawn I had dozens of tiny, paper-cut slits on my toes and the front of my ankles. My feet felt like they were on fire and still do.

My son and I joke that we have taken the canoe trip from our house to the Dekorra boat landing, “Twice and the Same Time — meaning first and last. After yesterdays experience I can say the same thing about the trip I took with his kayak.

I hung that boat back up from the trusses today. As I departed the garage I turned to look at that boat hanging there and under my breath said,

“I hope you’re happy!”

Have a great day.

Bob

I

Two Men In A Boat

The rain in the morning meant we had to hold off on our departure time for a Wisconsin River Adventure;

Davy and I had planned a morning or more of fishing on a stretch of the Wisconsin River between Portage and the historic Dekorra landing.

It was a light rain but getting wet while fishing on Friday was not the type of adventure we were looking for. After checking the hourly forecast we figure on meeting her at Oshaukuta at about half past noon.

Davy arrived at 12:30 and since I had the boat trailer attached to the truck and parked in the driveway it didn’t take us long to get on with the day. We headed for the Dekorra landing where only one vehicle with an empty boat trailer was parked. We launched the boat and while Davy drove the truck up to the parking lot I got things organized so we would be able to head upstream as soon as he got back down to the landing.

Before he got back another truck towing a boat similar in size to mine but with 10 fewer horses pushing it arrived. I asked the gentleman if he and his young so were heading upstream or down. He pointed upstream. We took off and I decided to get up to Duck Creek before they could get there.

As we pulled into the mouth of Duck Creek I tapped the kill switch and got the trolling motor ready. As we moved into the slow but steady current Davy send a cast behind us. A few turns on the power handle of the Ambassadeur 6000 C and a pike or bass took a poke at the perch colored Whopper Plopper he was offering. Alas, there was not a hook set and Davy could not coax another strike from that fish.

Soon thereafter the fishing trip presented the first interesting adventure. Davy failed to press his thumb against the free-spooling arbor covered with fishing line in time to keep that Whopper Plopper from getting caught in the branch of soft maple handing over the creek. It was easy to see that it would take us us a few minutes to solve the problem. The branch that ate the Whopper Plopper was out of reach for both of us. Battling the current and the trolling motor, I fumbled around and missed getting the boat on “spotlock” directly under the lure. After some shifty boat manipulation Dave got a hold of the tip of that branch and was able to pull it down low enough to break it off and save the $16 lure I had purchased just a week prior.

We fished on and at the first bend a pretty good sized fish took a poke at my chatter bait but didn’t get a hook caught in its jaw so we were now 0 for 2 on hook sets. We fished along for a while before deciding to change our targeted species. We chose to go after some panfish using the nightcrawlers I had purchased in the morning.

We fished our way up the creek until we reached a log jam or two that looked promising. The first one was tough to get an offering down into but Davy hoist up one that was nearly the size of a fish you’d think about putting into an aquarium. We moved on. The next pile of rubble produced the same results so we pushed on even further.

It was the third log jam that kept us occupied for about 2 1/2 hours. I got us situated perfectly on the upstream side of the rubble and we caught and released a few small rock bass and bluegills. Davy was a having a good time so I just sat down and watched him catch fish after fish. He was having a great time.

After a while I tied on a mini-mite of my own and attached small chunk of a nightcrawler that I had used a scissors on to turn it into six or seven offerings instead of one or two. I took started catching fish. Our technique was “fool proof.” We were catching a fish every time we tossed out an offering.

A guy’s gotta love fishing with somebody who just enjoys being out there catching fish. Davy is that kind of guy. Before we were finished I’m sure we’d caught and released between 80 and 100 fish. Davy caught six different species which included rock bass, bluegills, perch, smallmouth bass, largemouth bass and fresh water drum (sheephead). I caught just two species with those being bluegills and rock bass. The rock bass were fierce fighters for their size. We caught many that were in the 9 to 10 inch size. They were hefty fish as well.

One of the amazing aspects of our trip is that Davy never lost a jig while I lost just one.

At 3:55 pm I Davy how long he wanted to keep fishing. His answer was, “I should be back home around 4.”

I quickly told him to pack it up because we were going go be later than 4 pm. We packed it in and headed down river.

We’ll be back on the river soon looking for another spot like the one we found on this trip or we’ll return to it because every fish we caught was still there when we left. That’s how catch and release works.

Have a great day!

Bob