November on the Black River

We had been planning this trip for a month or so, envisioning a circular (i.e. no car shuttle) trip in northern lower Michigan. Our original plan was to paddle down the Sturgeon River, and up the Pigeon River. These are said to be the two steepest (and quickest) rivers in lower Michigan, so it was a challenging plan. Naturally, it was Jack's idea to paddle up the steepest river in lower Michigan. We put the word out to Team Kruger Canoes, and the comments rolled in describing the challenges of the river, identifying potential for camping, and building a roster for the event. We were all expecting a cold, wet adventure filled with poling, wading, and dragging. Leave it to the Krugerheads to be lured by a trip up the fastest river in Michigan in November. 

The morning started out with high winds rattling the windows of Jack's house, and dark, rainy preparations as we loaded up our gear in his truck. A big storm had passed through the night before. Wind whipped the trees and blew rain against the windows all night while I was trying to sleep. 

We drove north with Jack, where we were to meet the gang at the Trowbridge Road put-in on the Sturgeon River, Friday November 1 at 11 am.  We took a wrong turn south of Wolverine. I navigated us back on the iphone, but the road looked much better on the screen that it did in the real world! Jack "The Hammer" didn't let a little overgrown two-track slow us down.

We drove along a swollen tributary to the Sturgeon River. It had been raining for 24 hours. The water was over its banks, running under low bridges with no clearance, and surging around logs and fallen trees. 

We were excited to finally be at the put-in. The water didn't look so bad right there, but we remembered what we had seen earlier. With the river raging and still rising, and the temperatures low, our original plan didn't seem like such a good idea.

Note the peak in the hydrograph below on November 1, about as high as any event over the past year.

The rest of the crew arrived, and we quickly came to the consensus that we should not put in on the Sturgeon. We had to come up with a plan B quickly; daylight doesn't last long this time of year.

While planning the trip, I had seen the Black River on the map. I was intrigued by a major river with a large watershed (for Michigan) that I had never seen before. No one else had paddled it either. We decided to put in on Indian River, paddle through Black Lake, and up the Black River. This seemed to be a good compromise between "hardcore" paddling (i.e. we still would have to paddle upstream) and safe (i.e. not the fastest river in Michigan during a high flow event).

All the route  planning we had done earlier became irrelevant. We did not know anything about the Black River, other than what we could see on the map. There were about 14 miles of river above Black Lake that appeared to wind through a swamp, then two dams and ponds for about 4 miles, then more winding river above that. It seemed safe to assume that the swampy looking areas would at least be less swift than the raging Sturgeon.

We found a place to put in at the Black River Marina on Indian River. 

Everyone was excited to get on the water, so we packed our boats quickly.

Lynn came from her nearby cabin to see us off. It was great to have some local cheer as we headed off into the great unknown.

Jack and Kurt were the first ones on the water, at 2 pm. The temperature was in the 50s, and it had just stopped raining. The wind was decreasing from the previous night's storm, but it was still strong from the west, a tailwind for us as we headed across Black Lake toward the Black River mouth.

 

Wind and waves were building as we ran downwind two miles to the Black River mouth. The river was flat and smooth, but with appreciable current. It wound through wet bottom-land forest for the first several miles.

There were many logs and trees in the river that we had to maneuver around, but we never had to get out of the boat to pull over or around. We all enjoyed the challenge of winding our way upriver through the labyrinth of deadfalls.

As the land rose, the wetland forest gave way to big white pines. The river grew steeper and faster.

Lauren and I paddled alone for two hours. We knew we would find Jack sooner or later, but around each bend we saw only logs.

Finally, Jack decided to take a break and we caught him.

 

The river got steeper, and we traded our paddles for push-poles. There were a few small rapids. We had to drag the boats through the woods to get around one big drop.

Daylight faded, and we found a place to camp in a cedar swamp. The land was a few feet higher than the river at the bank, but slumped down into wetness further back into the woods. Many small fir trees were growing up in the light from the open cedar canopy. We had come about 13 miles.

We wondered if we would see the others coming up the river, but instead of white canoes we only saw piles of white river foam. Maybe a portent of whitewater ahead.

November nights are long in the north woods. We got more than enough sleep, but still did not hit the water until 9:20, on the chance that our friends would catch up to us.

 

 We pushed up more fast riffles in the morning. Jack was concerned that the river would be too tame, but he was growing to like it. We soon came to the first dam.

There was a marked portage path around the dam on the right side (heading upstream)

The first pond was three miles long. It was a relief to be on flat water after the steep upriver poling below the first dam. The gray clouds got thinner, and we even saw a little blue sky and sun. The temperature was in the 40s.

 

The river split into two channels at the second dam. We first explored the right channel, then the left, but we saw no indication of a portage trail. On the right side rapids prevented us from approaching the dam.

On the left bank (heading upstream) we saw a faint indication of a steep path just outside the fenced area. We used a rope to pull the canoes up the damp, slippery slope. Jack looked up from pushing the Cruiser to see me taking a picture, rather than pulling, and exclaimed, "you've GOT to be kidding me!" But, hey, this blog isn't going to write itself.

Big fluffy snowflakes began to fall as we put in on the second pond. That's when we saw the path for the marked portage on the other side of the river. It led down to a put-in above the rapids. We could not get up to it from below with the river running high. I guess most people approach it from above. 

 Dark gray snow clouds contrasted with blue sky and sun.

The second pond was only a mile long. It was a tight squeeze under the highway 33/68 bridge. It's a good thing the water wasn't any higher.

The sun shone on yellow tamarack trees.

 

 The pond gradually narrowed into a river again and the current picked up, as more snow flurries filled the air.

At 2pm, we decided to turn around and head back downstream. Things went much faster heading downhill.

As we approached the dam, we realized something was missing. The orange floats that keep boats away from the dam had disappeared. They were piled along the bank. There were other people in the world after all! In two days on the river, we didn't see another person.

As we paddled away from our cedar swamp camp earlier in the morning, we had seen a much better spot just a few bends up the river. That's where we camped the second night. We cooked over stoves and left no trace of our campsite behind.

 

Before bed, Lauren and I hiked up the hill to watch the sun set. We startled two grouse out of the brush. The forest floor was carpeted with wintergreen.  The sky was clearing, which warned us to prepare for a long cold night. 

 

The morning was cold. Our aluminum tent poles were frozen in their sockets. We warmed our frosty hands over the stove as we drank our coffee.

The air over the river was frigid; it must have drained down off the slopes of the valley. Our fingers were throbbing with painful cold as we paddled fast downstream to warm up.

In the bottom-land the air was warmer, and my fingers finally regained some feeling with the help of handwarmers in my neoprene gloves.

 We had fun twisting and turning between the logs, moving fast downstream.

 There was a good breeze blowing again on Black Lake, but we were blessed with a tailwind both ways.

The waves continued to build as we approached Indian River.

 

 We made it back to the Black River Marina at noon.

It wasn't the trip we planned, but we explored a new river that we knew nothing about, and it was a beautiful river.

Stats from the GPS

38.5 mi

3.3 mph moving avg

11.5 hr moving time

283 ft elevation gain

The plot below is of elevation and speed. Google Earth made the plot from our GPS data. You can see the river steepen, and our speed slow, as we approached the steps of the dams. The place where we are going 40 mph at around 25 miles is some bogus data from when I forgot to turn on the GPS until we had already started on the second day.