Happy Days on the Chippewa

Happy Days on the Chippewa

I started canoeing the West Fork of the Chippewa River in Northern Wisconsin when I was so young that my parents had to place me in a wicker basket, which rested, in an old inner tube in the middle of the canoe. As I grew, my father taught me where the fish were hiding in the steep cuts of the riverbanks and how they waited at the bottom of the rapids for food to drift through. He also taught me about the flora and fauna of the Upper Chippewa River basin (which includes both the West and East Forks of the Chippewa rivers) and most importantly about how to respect nature and its beauty. I grew up there in a log home that was on the shoreline of one the many lakes that the Chippewa River created after the retreat of the glaciers. I was fortunate to canoe with my father on his last river trip some two years before he passed away. During his last two years, I was pleased to see how much enjoyment he received when he was briefed on my experiences on the river that he could no longer physically negotiate. In my later years, I’m slowly beginning to realize how important these briefings were to my father as I can now realize that someday I, too, would need those briefings from my family members to relive those days on the river.

I no longer think about how many times I’ve fished the West and East forks of the Chippewa. Its trees and rocks and pools and bends have weathered the years much better than I. My yesterdays now outnumber my tomorrows, and time has claimed too many friends. But in May, when the Chippewa overflows its banks with might, I can still believe I may live forever.

I will canoe and fish that river and the rivers that flow into it until I am no longer able. Then I will physically leave the river, but hopefully continue to live the experiences through the eyes of and descriptions from my children and grand children who have earlier shared with me the roar of its rapids, the thrills of an occasional fish, and the pristine beauty of its flora, fauna and silent peacefulness. The fancy word describing such a phenomenon is vicarious. Living experiences vicariously can and sometimes are better than the actual living experience. I can hope so.

My days on the Chippewa have been exceptionally happy ones thanks to my loving and caring wife and my children. They all love and respect the north woods where I was born and raised. I have been blessed in many ways, and one of these is the way my wife has accepted my childhood place and has grown to love it as much as I. Because of her love and understanding, our three children have grown up to also love the north woods and because of this, their selected spouses and follow-on children (my grandchildren) have also adopted a place in their hearts for this remote wilderness location with its lakes, rivers and streams. Luckily for our family and everyone, both these upper river basins, for the most part, lie in the Chequamagon National Forest and as such will never be developed and are open to the public for fishing, hunting, hiking, biking and other general recreational purposes. It is with that background, I can, one day, depart this world, with the peace of knowing that my children and their children and hopefully a continuing trail of our family will enjoy the peace and quiet of the north woods while navigating these pristine river basins.