Rivers, Respect and Reverence
Coming of Age on the Namekagon
In the last post I mentioned my introduction to Y.M.C.A Camp thanks to my mother Mary Alice’s decision to get us out of town and into the “out-of-doors.” In 1964, I decided to try “Adventure Camp,” a rigorous 10-day canoe camping experience navigating the Namekagon River which flows from North central Wisconsin southwest to St. Croix National Scenic Riverway near Trego Lake, Wis.
The river’s name (Namekaagong-Ziibi in the Ojibwe language) means “river at the place abundant with sturgeons." (1)
Now, a 10-day stay in a cabin [with 6-7 other guys where you were fed well three times a day by a great staff] was a much different experience than pitching your own camp, patching your leaky canoe and puncturing the water blisters on your hands after a day of paddling.
Speaking of patching, our then-leader Bob Shreck reminds me via email: “Most of our canoes were wooden ones which had been recovered with woven fiberglass cloth, painted red and they were very heavy. This was before the advent of modern materials (Kevlar, etc.) and even aluminum canoes were unusual. We had one canoe at camp much larger than the others--named Big Bertha, it carried three canoeists comfortably while the others carried two and I believe this was part of my flotilla.
For this reason I think there were six or seven-at-most people in each flotilla which would leave five or six campers each. We had canvas tents with a rectangular floor that could sleep three people but required we find two poles at least ten feet long to cross over the top and support the pointed roof--we would place these poles in the bottom of the canoe with equipment on top and carry them from campsite to campsite.”
We both remembered “Big Bertha” and as Bob tells it: “I recall several significant linear leaks in the Big Bertha canoe caused by rocks cracking the external fiberglass sheathing and large enough to require frequent dumping or continuous bailing. I approached a farmhouse to see if I could get some tar or pitch and the lady handed me the first role of "duct" tape I had ever seen--worked like a charm!”
For the record, it was out there on the river that I discovered my ‘squeamish’ side. Especially when it came time clean a fish, dig the kybo* or do almost anything that involved getting my hands dirty….while camping and canoeing on a muddy river. =-/
Something about paddling, portaging, setting up and striking campsites every day for 10 days changed me from an urban whiner to someone with a growing appreciation for the mysteries of what we might find around next bend in the river. The splash of our paddles, breaking the water, propelling canoes forward while an unseen whippoorwill sent its distinctive three-part song through the trees crowding the river banks.
It was usually pretty hot and sunny. It was at that time though that I really came to appreciate my dark skin. No sunburn for me. The nature-channel aspect of this experience combined with the wisdom and guidance of our camp leader Robert Shreck kept us in our canoes and aesthetically on a “straight and narrow” path.
Prime takeaways:
=Taking care of our gear and each other was a fundamental part of the experience.
=Time spent in reverence for the planet that God created.
=Striving to leave a camp site cleaner then we found it.
A heartfelt high-five to Dr. Robert Schreck our camp leader (and member of our substack community today). Besides being a ‘critical friend’ Bob daily demonstrated a way of living in harmony with our environment that still rings true to this day.
One last thing…It was startling to me (even at 14) to see how significantly cleaner the Namekagon River was than the Des Moines River. I really never considered swimming in the muddy Des Moines but you could see all the way to the bottom of the Wisconsin River.
I wonder if I would want to swim the Namekagon today?
Iowa Writers’ Collaborative
Below is a list of the members of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. Please support their work by sharing and subscribing. Paid subscribers are invited to attend real-time events and occasional Zoom calls among our writers. Your support keeps this reader-only supported service going.
Nicole Baart: This Stays Here, Sioux Center
Ray Young Bear: From Red Earth Drive, Meskwaki Settlement
Laura Belin: Iowa Politics with Laura Belin, Windsor Heights
Tory Brecht: Brecht’s Beat, Quad Cities
Doug Burns: The Iowa Mercury, Carroll
Dave Busiek: Dave Busiek on Media, Des Moines
Iowa Writers’ Collaborative, Roundup
Steph Copley: It Was Never a Dress, Johnston
Art Cullen: Art Cullen’s Notebook, Storm Lake
Suzanna de Baca: Dispatches from the Heartland, Huxley
Debra Engle: A Whole New World, Madison County
Arnold Garson: Second Thoughts, Okoboji and Sioux Falls
Julie Gammack: Julie Gammack’s Iowa Potluck, Des Moines and Okoboji
Joe Geha: Fern and Joe, Ames
Jody Gifford: Benign Inspiration, West Des Moines
Rob Gray: Rob Gray’s Area, Ankeny
Nik Heftman: The Seven Times, Los Angeles and Iowa
Beth Hoffman: In the Dirt, Lovilia
Chris Jones, Chris’s Substack, Des Moines
Pat Kinney: View from Cedar Valley, Waterloo
Fern Kupfer: Fern and Joe, Ames
Robert Leonard: Deep Midwest: Politics and Culture, Bussey
Letters from Iowans, Iowa
Darcy Maulsby: Keepin’ It Rural, Calhoun County
Tar Macias: Hola Iowa, Iowa
Alison McGaughey, The Inquisitive Quad Citizen, Quad Cities
Kurt Meyer: Showing Up, St. Ansgar
Vicki Minor, Relatively Minor, Winterset
Wini Moranville: Wini’s Food Stories, Des Moines
Jeff Morrison: Between Two Rivers, Cedar Rapids
Kyle Munson: Kyle Munson’s Main Street, Des Moines
Jane Nguyen: The Asian Iowan, West Des Moines
John Naughton: My Life, in Color, Des Moines
Chuck Offenburger: Iowa Boy Chuck Offenburger, Jefferson and Des Moines
Barry Piatt: Piatt on Politics Behind the Curtain, Washington, D.C.
Dave Price: Dave Price’s Perspective, Des Moines
Macey Shofroth: The Midwest Creative, Norwalk
Larry Stone: Listening to the Land, Elkader
Mary Swander: Mary Swander’s Buggy Land, Kalona
Mary Swander: Mary Swander’s Emerging Voices, Kalona
Cheryl Tevis: Unfinished Business, Boone County
Ed Tibbetts: Along the Mississippi, Davenport
Kali White VanBaale, 988: Mental Healthcare in Iowa, Bondurant
Teresa Zilk: Talking Good, Des Moines
*KYBO was camp-speak for a latrine, get it? “keep your bowels open”
It’s a big lesson to learn that there are places that simply have to be protected if we want our grandchildren and their grandchildren to have clean air and water. Holing up in Farrago-sur-Mer ain’t gonna help Drumpf and friends after they’ve dirtied all the rivers and polluted the air.
Thanks for this, young Dart.
I had a similar experience in high school. We borrowed canoes from a friend who had been a Boy Scout at a much younger age. His canoes had been stored upside down for many years. As we turned over the canoes we were greeted by a swarm of wasps who have made the canoes their home since the spring of that year! The canoes had wooden frames but canvas like sides. Near the end of our trip, the canoe I was in turned abruptly toward the shore, we heard a cracking sound as the canoe basically broke in half. Needless to say our trip ended sooner than originally planned.
And I also will not go near Iowa’s filthy water with the exception of some streams/rivers in NE Iowa. Fun article Dart!