On Saturday, Jan 31, I saddled up with Kelly (the kayaking duck hunter), Todd (canoeing maniac) and a new initiate Curt (his third trip). We planned on running the Blue River from the Milltown public access point to Rothrock Mill; approximately 14 miles. The sun still had a little time before it was due to punch in and the clock on the bank said it was 3° as we left town.
The sun exploded over the horizon as we drove through the hills. The glass dipped trees shone with the pink reflection from the sunrise. We were driving through a glazed cotton candy valley. Reality of the week’s ice storms hit us as a line of bucket trucks from several different electric companies smoked on the side of the road. The crews were heading out to hopefully get power to the thousands trying to stay warm. We were lucky at our home, electricity flickered several times but we never lost it. My sister-in-law was in Madisonville, still days from power, huddling to keep warm.
We pulled into Milltown to check the water flow; I was afraid the gauges might have been frozen and wanted to make sure the water wasn’t dangerously high. The water looked great and we all agreed the temperature had gone up about a degree. A few locals drove past shaking their heads at us.
Preparing for the entry
Kayaks and canoes were loaded at the top of the ramp and then tobogganed down to the water in the 6 inches of snow. Things were settled quickly and we launched into the rolling stream of water coming over the dam.
The familiar river was now a black line cutting through a crystal kingdom. The icicles rang like small bells above us in the trees and the ice crackled on the banks of the river and all was covered in a powdering of snow. The rivers flow was steady and fast. We watched for trees that may have fallen from the weight of the ice and occasionally we heard the explosion of branches breaking overhead. One branch crashed into the water that Todd and Kurt had just passed through in the canoe.
Other than these falling branches all was peaceful and the river was running beautifully. We were reminded of the predicament of the storm struck area when the rumble of generators broke the silence. We were lucky to be enjoying this God-created landscape rather then battling it like many of those around us.
Its a winter wonderland
The temperature rose as the morning passed until we stopped for lunch on a bank that was separated from the main bank by a divergent stream of water. It was several hundred yards before the stream rejoined its parent waters. The narrows formed a long series of quick rapids and we ate lunch anticipating the exciting launch. The canoe was our hauler and Todd had brought some buckets full of kindling. So we sat around a small fire on our buckets, steaming and swapping stories.
Up to this point the trip had been only beauty and good talk with some whooping during a couple of good ripples, but we were in for some surprises. From our lunch spot to the end of our run we ran into rapid after rapid. At one point the waves created by the submerged boulders crested at three feet. None of the rapids could be classified more than a class II but on the Blue River this was more than we could normally expect, it was exciting but not overwhelming; just fun.
Up to this point the river had been virtually clear of strainers (trees that fall into the water creating choke points and dangerous currents) but our luck ran out. At the beginning of a 60-yard rapid we spied a tree lying across the river. Its large trunk was suspended over a narrow choke point, leaving about three feet of clearance between it in the water. We would have to duck to get through it and I didn’t see how the canoe could possibly get under it.
This was the only strainer we ran into on the river and the score went something like this: Kelly shot straight and made it under; Todd and Kurt in the canoe didn’t turn quick enough, got sideways against the tree and didn’t make it; I made it under the tree but missed the turn around some branches, got sideways and got wet.
My wife called after Todd got the rest of the wet kindling lit and we were steaming around the sputtering campfire. I told her three fourths of us were wet at that moment and I would have to call her back after my poly-underwear dried.
Drying my backside after the spill.
We got back on the river an hour later and enjoyed constant ripples and rapids until we pulled out at Rothrock. The air warmed and the only other danger we ran into were falling icicles from the branches above.
End of the trip