OVER THE BOW: THE OTTER TAIL RIVER

The first river you paddle runs through the rest of your life. It bubbles up in pools and eddies to remind you who you are. -- Lynn Noel

It has been a long time since I've got to paddle the Otter Tail River in Minnesota. I started thinking about that while packing up and getting ready to move. Something about moving makes us feel nostalgic about the place we're leaving behind. We think about the things we'll miss. A neighbor, a restaurant or bar, and if you're like me, a favorite paddling place.

The Otter Tail River was the first river where I got a taste of whitewater. It's Minnesota's eighth-longest river running through the western part of the state before dumping into the Red River. It starts out as a narrow crystal-clear stream as it meanders downhill through the countryside's lakes and marshes. It doesn't move particularly fast but offers canoeists plenty of opportunities for wildlife views along the tranquil river trail. However, east of Fergus Falls, the Otter Tail River picks up speed after making an abrupt turn toward the west, running through a valley filled with Class I and II rapids.
Whitewater is uncommon in western Minnesota. The gradient of the land just doesn't drop that fast. In California, the gradient for popular whitewater sections is measured in feet per mile; but in northwest Minnesota, the gradient is gauged in inches per mile. So don't look for big drops. It has been said that a second-hand pool table has more of a slant to it than a northwestern Minnesota river.

That said, the Broken Down Dam site on the river just east of Fergus Falls has been offering thrills and spills for canoeists and kayakers wanting to take a small bite of whitewater. The crumbling dam has been mostly forgotten since its collapse over a century ago. Busting through its center, the river tumbles, swirls, and drops between two massive concrete walls. During the spring runoff or after a good summer rain, the stream can rage into a fast-moving Class III rapid. Combined with a boulder garden stretch of class II waves before reaching the dam's remnants, it's a perfect place for a whitewater kayak in a place where rapids are hard to find.

About ten years ago, I was just getting into paddling, and of course, just as I do today, I wanted the thrill and challenge of paddling rapids. With Sigurd Olson's words echoing in my head, "I know this: as long as there are young men with the light of adventure in their eyes and a touch of wildness in their souls, rapids will be run."
My son Cole and I dove in headfirst. We bought two used whitewater boats at a Twin Cities kayak auction. Probably, not the best fit, but it got us on the water. We took turns running that foam-laced section of the river one afternoon, feeling a sense of triumph after bounding through the crashing waves.

This move will be shorter than my move to California from the Midwest and the Otter Tail River. My wife Debbie and I are leaving Fair Oaks and moving up into the foothills of the Sierra Mountains, where we all know the rivers do rush, tumble, and fall. I will miss the closeness of some of my favorite paddling spots in the valley, but, unlike Minnesota rivers, I'll still be able to visit them from time to time.

 

Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

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LIKE DAD

 BY OUTSIDE ADVENTURE TO THE MAX GUEST BLOGGER TAYLOR CARLSON

My siblings and I continue to have the same argument. Who is the most like Mom or Dad? While I can see a lot of our mother in my sisters, by having a passion for cooking and strong religious family values. I started to think, what makes me the most like my father? I agree that unlike my younger brother, Cole, I share more similar interests in pop-culture with my father.

From my enjoyment of old adventure movies like Indiana Jones to his taste in 70s folk music to even, yes, wearing the same out-of-style clothing I wore back in high school (apparently, Livestrong bracelets aren’t a thing anymore). Yes, as I’ve gotten older I’ve become more and more like my Dad. And while this may sound like a sigh of relief for my brother, there’s one thing that he, along with me and Dad, share a strong passion for The Great Outdoors.

One of the first camping trips I remember sharing with Dad was during the week of Father’s Day in 2002. Dad and I, along with my Boy Scout troop, took part in a father-son fishing trip to the Paint Lake Provincial Park near Thompson, Manitoba, a small nickel mining town near the Hudson Bay. Prior to this trip, Dad could only attend small, weekend outings to nearby Minnesota lakes due to his busy schedule.

However, that was not the case with embarking on a 700-mile trip through the Canadian wilderness to spend one week in a wooden lodge, only eating nothing, but what we caught (or what the resort diner was serving across the lake).

At the time, I was at that age where I was not that impressed with being in the middle of nowhere. Instead, I just wanted to do teenager stuff like run around in the woods with my friends or simply stay inside my cabin and read some paperback book that I took along. But my father was excited and woke me up every morning at 4 AM to watch the sunrise as we cast our fishing poles off the dock. By the end of the week, I ended up catching the biggest walleye out of the troop.

Since that trip, every summer, to this day, I long for spending time in nature. The wide open lakes, the sound of the loons, the smell of a campfire, and the sight of the northern lights. But nothing reminds me more of that than of the great state of Minnesota. In June 2006, as I was coming to end of my journey on the Boy Scout trail and advancing towards the lifetime rank of Eagle Scout, my father had this grand idea for me to continue my career in Scouting by encouraging me to apply for my first ever job as a camp counselor at Camp Wilderness, a Boy Scout camp in northern Minnesota.

His reasoning was he wanted me to have a “life experience” and not work the boring, in-town job at a local McDonald's like other teens. Despite being against the idea at first, in retrospect, the summer of 2006 was one of the best summers of my life due to my time spent as a counselor.

In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I continued going for seven more summers, even becoming a counselor at my sisters’ Camp Fire Girls summer camp. Dad and the family did visit me often on weekends. While Mother took us to cute nearby towns to enjoy an ice cream cone, Dad took me on even more camping trips like to Bemidji State Park or to Lake Itasca, the source of the Mississippi River.
> It was during these trips that I picked up another trait from my father: becoming that annoying know-it-all guy on a vacation who points out historical landmarks only to give a history lesson to those who listen. In repeated trips to Bemidji, I don’t know how many people I have told people that the local Dairy Queen is built on the sight of tribal huts of Chief Bemidji.

As me and my siblings became older, our days spent as counselors became numbered. Gone were the days of long summer camping trips with the Boy Scouts. Instead, the focus became on smaller, trips to go kayaking. It was time for us to spend as a family, reminiscing with stories around the campfire about previous camping trips. During the kayaking trips, Dad chose to go to places that we had never been before, mostly so that he could buy a new T-shirt from the gift shop.

On one-Fourth of July trip, we were kayaking through the Old Broken Down Dam on the river as I calmly paddle down river, texting some girl on my phone, as Cole and Dad excitedly awaited upcoming rapids. Dad warned me to put away my phone as the current will become stronger and that I might drop it. While I insisted that he was wrong that I won’t drop my phone, I didn’t predict that I was going to fall out of my kayak and into the water.

While I survived just fine, my phone did not. I was upset, but Dad knew how to help… by taking us all to our traditional last stop: Pizza Ranch Buffet!  Looking back, out of all the camping trips I have taken part of with the Boy Scouts or as a counselor, nothing has been more fun than giving me lifelong memories attending these trips with my father.

Happy Father's Day
Taylor Carlson
June 2017

Taylor Carlson is the oldest son of Outside Adventure to Max blogger Nick Carlson. He grew up in Fargo, North Dakota and spent many summers in camping, hiking, and boating in Minnesota. He now resides in Omaha, Nebraska. 

OVER THE BOW: OTTER TAIL RIVER

The River is magical. It's full of wonder and mystery.  For thousands of year, The River has been carving its way through the Earth. As the water pours over the landscape, crashes against the banks, and cascades over the rocks, everything changes in its path. The terrain, the trees, even the wildlife is shaped by The River. Everything in the canyon is at the mercy of The River. --Michael Neale

Whitewater is uncommon in western Minnesota. The gradient of the land just doesn't drop that fast. On the eastern edge of the state, the gradient for some whitewater sections is measured in feet per mile, while towards the northwest end of the state it's gauged in mere inches per mile. The Red River of the North meanders some 550 miles between Minnesota and North Dakota and into Manitoba only falling about 230 feet along the way before flowing into Lake Winnipeg. A second-hand pool table will have more of a slant to it than a northwestern Minnesota river.
"This exceedingly twisty river is the ‘Red Lake River’; it is forty miles to travel through the distance is only twelve from point to point." In her diary, Lady Dufferin, wrote her experience while traveling on board the steamboat Minnesota in 1877. She and her husband Lord Dufferin, on their way to visit Winnipeg. "When we reach the Red River itself, we found the stream wide enough for us to go straight down it, less sinuous. but quite as muddy and uninteresting. Trees come down to the water’s edge and one can see nothing beyond them; behind stretches out the prairie, and every now and then we were just able to see how thin the screen of trees really is between the river and the plains."

The Otter Tail River is a Minnesota's eighth longest river, running through the western part of the state before pouring into the Red River.  It starts as crystal clear water while moving downhill as a narrow stream through several lakes and marshes. The oak woods through the hills offer opportunities for plenty of wildlife viewing along a tranquil river-way.  However,  just east of Fergus Falls,  the Otter Tail River picks up speed as it makes an abrupt turn towards the west, running through a valley filled with Class I and II rapids.
The earliest record of navigation was chronicled by United States geologist David Dale Owen, who traveled on what is now the Otter Tail River with his Metis companions in 1848. As stated in History of Otter Tail County, Minnesota, a two-volume county history published in 1916, "He told us in his report that he was proceeding leisurely on river, all unconscious of any rapids or any falls, a sudden bend in the river (Where the dam and Upper Bridge is now in downtown Fergus Falls) brought them so near the falls that they could not gain the shore, but were drawn over the rapids by the swift current." Their boat capsized and their provisions and scientific equipment were water-soaked. They dried out and camped in what would later become the town of Fergus Falls.

There is no chance to run those same falls today. In 1870, George B. Wright purchased the land for just over $100.00 with a vision of creating regional trade center. He built a dam on the river to power his sawmill. Having said that, another dam site east of Fergus Falls is still providing thrills of whitewater paddling along the river trail. Broken Down Dam has been crumbling into the Otter Tail River ever since it collapses over a century ago.  The dam and hydroelectric station that provided electricity to the town was improperly constructed over a spring. About a year after it was built, on a September night in 1909, something went seriously wrong. Dam workers fled the powerhouse as the lights dimmed and water seeped in from under the floor. Moments later, the riverbed gave way to the foundation of the dam causing it to crumble and break apart. As the waters rushed downstream, officials warned the town of the breach as the lights went out. Four dams further downstream were washed out and farms and homes were flooded. Miraculously no one was killed.

The dam is mostly forgotten now, except by area paddlers who challenge its rapids. There is a boulder garden stretch of class II waves before reaching the dam remnants. The dam is broken right through its center and the river tumbles and drops between its two massive concrete walls. During the spring runoff or after a good summer rain the stream rages into a fast-moving Class III rapid. It's a perfect place for a whitewater kayak, in a place where rapids are hard to find.

Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

Otter Tail River Memories

  The Otter Tail River is Minnesota's eighth-longest river, running through the western part of the state before pouring into the Red River.  It starts as crystal clear water while moving downhill as a narrow stream through several lakes and marshes. After Fergus Falls the river flattens out, as it runs through prairie grasslands and farmland on its way to Breckenridge.
  Rapids are not common in western Minnesota.  The gradient of the land just doesn't drop that fast. A second-hand pool table might have more of a slant than a western Minnesota river.  However,  just east of Fergus Falls,  the Otter Tail makes an abrupt turn toward the west running through a wooded valley filled with Class I and II rapids along the way. The turmoil continues all the way toward Broken Down Dam.
  Broken Down Dam has been crumbling into the Otter Tail ever since it's collapse 1909.  The dam was improperly built over a spring the year before. The riverbed quickly gave way at the foundation of the dam causing a major flood at its time. The dam broke right through its center leaving two huge concrete walls in which the river flows in between.  A boulder garden of debris was left behind.
  During the spring runoff or after a good summer rain the stream rages to fast-moving Class III rapids. It is perfect for practice for white water kayaks. It is also a treat to get my son Cole out on the water.