Paddle starts with Portage

By David Horst  sandhill7@gmail.com

I loaded up my kayak and pointed the truck south toward the headwaters of the Fox River.

That’s the way it is with the Fox. You have to go south to get to the Upper Fox and north for the Lower Fox. Counter­intuitive but driven by gravity, which we know is the law.

The launch point was the Indian Agency House, one of several impressive historic sites in Portage. This is where government Indian agents meted out federal policy. Native Americans might see it more as the scene of the crime.

It is not the very beginning of the Fox, which is off beyond Pardeeville.

About 30 kayaks and a few canoes took part in this second of the North East Wisconsin Paddlers series for this year, this one in partnership with the Fox­Wisconsin Heritage Parkway. The first drew 79 boats for a current­-aided sprint down the Wolf River from New London to Hortonville.



We dropped our gear at the Agency House and shuttled the vehicles up County F to the landing at the County O bridge. The route passes the site of John Muir’s boyhood homestead, now a county park.
Driving by I marveled again that the guy who caused the creation of so many of our national parks probably laid down in the grass and looked up at the clouds, right over there.

We dropped vehicles at the landing and hauled the drivers back to the put­-in. Paddle veterans steadied boats and assisted the less experienced, or no longer so flexible, into their boats.

The forecast told us we would see rain, and maybe even thunderstorms. But, as has been the history of nearly all of these paddles, we felt not a drop. This narrow channel of slowly moving water hardly resembles the factory­-lined banks and roaring dam races of the Fox in the Fox Cities.

Slow­-moving marshes, unambitious farm fields or fishing getaways line the channel down (or up) here. Our most numerous companions along the route were not fishermen, but rather turtles. Painted turtles and a few Blanding’s balanced on the ends of sundrenched sticks poking up from the current.

Turtles normally plop into the water as a kayak passes, no matter how unobtrusive you try to be. These amphibian tough guys just stared us down.

Cardinals, orioles and king birds flew in and out of treetop hiding spots along the banks. Two turkey vultures soared overhead, checking out the stragglers at about mile 7.

We ended with the same number of paddlers that launched, no carrion left behind.

One by one, the kayaks of plastic, Fiberglas or wood glided under the wooden substructure of the bridge at County O and turned hard left to the sand and muck landing.

Gear stowed and boats back on car tops, it was time to check out the local preferences for soothing a thirst and restoring spent calories. And to revel in a day on the water.