The show documents the 2,300 mile journey of an intrepid team of “adventurers”: a professional fisherman, a former marine/scientist/anti-plastic crusader, and a filmmaker. We are told that they are on a journey to get to know the river: “its people, its history, its wildlife, its industry, and its future.” If only.

So what will you learn from this show? 1) The river is narrow and shallow in its upper reaches. 2) If you drive a jet boat at high speeds across this narrow, shallow river, you will probably fuck up the boat. 3) It can get cold in northern Minnesota—even in September!—and you won’t always have cell phone service. 4) Bill, the filmmaker, hasn’t caught a big fish in his life. 5) Marinas along the Upper Mississippi close before the end of October, which means your support crew has to carry gas cans to you from sources inland. 6) The Mississippi can flood, even in the fall. 7) If you drive a pontoon boat down the Mississippi River during high water, you will probably fuck up the boat. A floating refrigerator has remarkable buoyancy and can make for a really cool shot if you stick someone inside who pretends to paddle. 9) Bill finally caught a big fish.

After the first 20 minutes or so of the first episode, we really didn’t learn much of anything about the river’s people, history, wildlife, industry or future. It looks to me like they did very little research to prepare for the trip. They repeat without question the barge industry propaganda about the efficiency of shipping goods on the river. Other transportation industries could make the same case if they received a similar amount of welfare from the federal government. Near the end of the third and final episode, we get a token two-minute segment on the environmental consequences of our attempts to manage the lower Mississippi River, especially the degradation of the delta wetlands, which I’m glad they included. But, we get nothing about the economic cost and ecological impact of the lock and dam system on the upper river that exists solely to make the river navigable for very large boats.

I was also troubled by a series of perplexing continuity problems: in the first episode, we see some shots of the guys in kayaks and canoes and other times just in canoes and we never get an explanation; as the narrator talks about his amazement that they had not yet left Minnesota, we get a shot of the river at Pike’s Peak State Park, which is in Iowa; as the dudes experience high water along the upper river, we get a feature on the 1927 flood, which was along the lower river and not the 1993 flood that devastated the areas they were boating through. OK, maybe I notice those things because I’m a total geek for the Mississippi River, but they still bugged me.

In fairness, I didn’t hate everything. The team knows how to take a pretty picture, so the series is full of them, and the segment with Mike Valley (one of the few remaining commercial fishermen on the river) was very fun. I’d also say the guys seem likable enough; heck, I’d take a boat trip with them on the Mississippi River; at least one of us would know something about the people, history, wildlife, industry, and future of the river.

© Dean Klinkenberg, 2010

It looked like all 27,000 Winonans turned out for the parade, lining both sides of Broadway for a mile or more. The seemingly endless succession of floats takes more than two hours to complete its circuit, with the usual suspects like clowns and marching bands and Sadie’s Hair Salon, but this one also had a couple of surprises: an old steam calliope and a woman riding a bison. And you thought bison were only good for hamburgers. The parade is a fun celebration of Winona as it is today, with only a token nod to its past. And that is my only complaint. Winona Steamboat Days not only lacks a steamboat, it has almost nothing to do with the river anymore. A rescue boat pulled around on a trailer just isn’t enough for me. But, the parade is fun in its own right and you should go.

See pictures from the parade here.

Making old-timey music

The next weekend had great promise, too, with a period festival, an ethnic event, and another parade. Bay City is a small river town on the Wisconsin side of Lake Pepin. Each June they give visitors a taste of 19th century life with Pioneer Days, where locals dress in period attire and show off the 19th century way of making things: butter, cider, rugs, and music. Events like this often feel manufactured and hokey, but the folks in Bay City did a fine job of keeping it real. I just wish others would realize it too, so they could attract a bigger crowd. At least I can make my own butter now.

You probably wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Stockholm, Wisconsin was founded by a group of Swedish immigrants, so you shouldn’t be surprised to find out that they throw a big party in the summer to observe a Swedish High Holy Day: MidSommer’s Day. The festival celebrates the summer solstice and the long summer day with dancing, singing, and Ole and Lena jokes. Alas, my attempt to run around and squeeze in a bunch of festivals in one day worked against me here. There was a decent-sized crowd in town when I arrived, but most of them were just your typical Saturday daytrippers passing through and unaware of the solstice party they were missing. When the summer solstice pole arrived for decoration in mid-afternoon there were only a handful of us present to do the actual work of carefully placing flowers between the vines (something that should be done while wearing tie dye). In early evening, the pole would be raised with great fanfare, storytelling, music, dancing, and the ceremonial cutting of the lutefisk, but I didn’t have time to stick around for all that, so I missed out. They also had three Swedish bands scheduled to perform that evening, which I obviously missed out on, too. This is one event I probably need to go back for.

The Svedish Invasion

The summer solstice pole before decoration

Needs to do this wearing tai dye

Flowers, flowers everywhere

I got in on the action

I finished my festival tour with another small town parade, this one at Waterski Days in Lake City, Minnesota. Waterskiing was invented by18-year old Ralph Samuelson of Lake City when he strapped two pine boards (8 feet long by 9 inches wide) to his feet and held on to a rope as his brother hit the throttle of a boat on adjacent Lake Pepin. I have to give credit to Lake City for truth in advertising: they have an actual waterskiing demonstration on Sunday (but I really think it should be every day) and the parade included a couple of guys on rollerskates being pulled behind a boat like they were actually waterskiing. Plus, it was raining while they were doing this, so they were actually wet!

The most bizarre part of the parade for me was the fairly large contingent of campaigning politicians (and other clowns). I confess to being both perplexed and annoyed by the sight of one of the politico’s supporters carrying a sign complaining that ACORN registered felons. I’m sorry, but with two wars in progress, an economic crisis, immigration controversies, and health care costs skyrocketing out of control, if it’s ACORN you are most worked up about, you need help.

One of the food vendors was selling something called an Uff Da Taco. I’m sure that picking on the Boy Scouts who were selling the tacos makes me insensitive and unpatriotic, but this turned out to be a poorly named product. What would you expect from an Uff Da Taco? Would it be the standard seasoned ground beef and shredded cheese that is thrown on top of fried bread instead of inside a taco shell? That’s what I got. In fact, it was basically the Navajo taco I had last year in Arizona and, last time I checked, no Navajos express dismay by saying “Uff da.” When I asked if the taco included lutefisk, they wearily answered “no” as if every smartass who ever passed the booth had asked the same damn question, which they probably did. Hey; it’s your own fault. You need to add some lefse or adopt a different name.

To see Lake City parade pics, go here.

Bad Decision of the Day: Kwik Trip breakfast. You know you’re desperate for food when you are hoping to get to Kwik Trip in time to grab one of their breakfast sandwiches. After a late night with friends, I slept in, then rushed to Kwik Trip for something to eat because there just weren’t any other options in town. I opted for egg, ham, and cheese on an English muffin, which mostly tasted like salt and paired it with fried potato logs that tasted mostly like sugar. The food sat heavy in my tummy, yet predictably, I was hungry again in about an hour. Sadly, I’ll probably do it again anyway.

© Dean Klinkenberg, 2010

On Saturday, June 5, I will be signing books at The Paper Moon in McGregor, Iowa. McGregor is one of my favorite places along the river. Below is an excerpt from my Lansing to LeClaire travel guide that explains part of the reason.

Impressions
McGregor is a rare 21st century river town, one in which the past feels connected to the present. Don’t rush yourself here. Take time to stroll Main Street, chat with locals, eat a meal, hike at Pikes Peak State Park, and grab some z’s at one of the cozy guesthouses in town.

History
The future town of McGregor began in 1837 when Alexander MacGregor, born in New York to Scottish immigrants, started ferry service to Prairie du Chien. For the next 20 years, few Europeans lived here, even after Alexander’s brother, James, bought land in the same vicinity. Steamboat commerce ignited a population explosion in the mid-1850s, sending the town’s population from 280 in 1856 to 5,500 just ten years later. The village of McGregor incorporated in 1857 without the “a” in the name found in the town’s namesake (but with Alexander’s approval for the spelling change). Many early businesses grew in response to the abundant supply of wood coming downriver—a sawmill, steam planing mill, a door and sash factory—as well as many businesses catering to the transient worker population: seven hotels, six restaurants, seven taverns.

Further development in McGregor was hampered by an unfortunate feud between the MacGregor brothers. For 20 years beginning in 1853, the MacGregor brothers and their heirs fought in court over land ownership, and, in the process, obscured titles for many properties in town. At one point, Alexander’s corpse had to be removed from his grave when the property where he was buried was awarded to James; Alexander now rests in Prairie du Chien. To this day, many parcels do not have a clear title, although, if the ownership can be traced back to a MacGregor, the titles are honored.

McGregor has been home to more than its share of people who attained fame. The Ringling family lived in McGregor for a few years in the 1860s. The brothers who went on to found one of the world’s best known circuses apparently saw their first circus while living in McGregor. (Their former house still stands, but it is a private residence.) Diamond Jo Reynolds, one of the most successful river men of the 19th century, lived in McGregor in the building across from Triangle Park.

One of the more colorful residents in more contemporary times was Mildred Quimby, creator of Quimby’s Harbor Guide (now Quimby’s Cruising Guide), the bible for thousands of pleasure boaters in the Midwest. A journalist by training, Ms. Quimby lived in a trailer near the Mississippi River just north of town from 1962 until her death in 1983. She personally researched every navigable inch of the Mississippi River in producing her guide. I can respect that.

You can read more about McGregor here.

Bad Decision of the Day: Buying a digital picture frame for booking signings without checking if it had a battery. So I bought this very cool digital picture frame that was marked down 60%, thinking it would be a great prop for book signings. Then I got to my first event with it and realized that I was a long way from an electrical outlet and the darn thing doesn’t have the option of running on batteries. Doh! Lucky for me, I have more events coming up soon, so I’ll get to try this thing out, yet.

© Dean Klinkenberg, 2010