I’d planned a day-long float trip on the Wisconsin River a wide waterway known for its steady gentle current and sandy bottom.  I was taking the trip with a less-experienced paddler; but that was no problem because we knew there would be no rapids, no waterfalls, no boulders midstream and no need for helmets.  Having just returned to the heartland after several years in the mountains of western North Carolina, I was still adjusting to the terrain.  Flat land and slow moving water meant a relaxing afternoon cruise downstream with plenty of time for swims from sandy banks and a picnic on a mid-river island.  A day where I could put into practice some of the good advice I’d heard so often:  “Take it Easy, Go with the flow.  Remember, “Don’t push the River, It flows by itself.”   

            We drove to the outfitters, handed over the plastic and signed the release.  It was a short ride to the boat landing.  We loaded the canoe and strapped in our gear before I had a chance to look at the water.  The river (wide and shallow at this point) looked like a lake.  The wind had picked up.  The sky was cloudy.  The waves across the water were tipped with white caps.  I realized I couldn’t tell which direction was downstream so I turned to our guide who pointed into the breeze.  I looked into his eyes for a hint of laughter.  There wasn’t any.

            He gave us some good advice:  “Head straight across and once you get to the other side stick to the shoreline, stay out of the wind and you’ll be able to float with the current.”  I nodded my head too full of doubt to respond.  The refund policy on the rented canoe was limited to rain-outs.  I took a deep breath, grabbed hold of the gunnels, stepped in and shoved off.  It had been nearly a decade since I’d had a paddle in my hands, but with that first stroke I remembered how to lean forward and pull back from my waist to make up for the fact that I don’t have much strength in my arms.  I put as much reach into each stroke as I could manage and paddled even though I was certain we were being blown further upriver faster than we were getting across.  As we neared mid-stream, I noticed we were the only boat on the water and there was nothing but woods along both banks.

            We felt lucky.  In a little over two hours from home, we’d found what we felt was a beautiful, isolated, unspoiled section of the river.  The clouds cleared and the sun came out.  We’d chosen to go on a week-day because we wanted to avoid the crowds.  And we did.  On the ten mile trip, we met about the same number of people.  Being out there mostly alone was very relaxing.  Except, of course, we couldn’t just float down the river. We fought the headwind across the water and turned downstream before pulling up our paddles.  Then, we seemed to be standing still.  Our trip was supposed to last three hours.  With the wind in our face, it could easily take six.  At one point the battle against the wind was so intense I regretted not having a flashlight along – thinking we might still be on the water far from our resort destination until after the sun went down.  Long after my arms started to ache, the wind was still whipping up the water stirring up who knows what as well as old tunes.  “I’m older now, but I’m still running against the wind.”