Rolling north through Northfield and Carleton’s Cowling Arboretum is the Cannon River. Although often enjoyed by sunbathers and fishermen along its banks, many people don’t think of the Cannon as a means of transportation. This spring, three friends and I canoed the Cannon from downtown Northfield—and on to Red Wing, Minnesota, where it joins the mighty Mississippi River. The journey lasted 13 hours and covered an ever-changing tableau of landscapes and wildlife.
Our journey actually began the day before, when my friends and I drove down to Red Wing and parked a car and canoe trailer at the town’s marina. We then biked back to Northfield, a surprisingly beautiful ride of about two hours. There is a bike path that runs along the Cannon from Red Wing to Cannon Falls. This path gives a different perspective on the river, allowing us to see from above peeks of the next day’s paddle. Once off the bike path we rode along county highways and roads back to Northfield, reaching a peak (on-the-flat) speed of over 25 mph for a stretch when we were chased by a particularly energetic dog!
The next morning, the four of us portaged our canoes and impedimenta from campus to a put-in off the Second Street bridge in downtown Northfield and shoved off at about 7:30 a.m. The first stretch of river, down to the historic Iron Bridge, was a familiar paddle for those of us who have already enjoyed short trips down the river or runs in the Cowling Arboretum. On this trip, the dilapidated Iron Bridge’s recent replacement was a surprising concrete monolith whose modernity stood out in comparison to the sleepy dirt road that crossed it.
Passing the Iron Bridge created a sense of leaving Northfield like nothing a car can give. It would be the last sign of human construction we would see for a while.
Canoeing, by its nature, limits what you can see. Your world becomes a miles-long column that is only about 100 yards wide, with two walls of trees sealing you in. Yet there is no lack of views. From the very start of our trip we were surrounded by birds, ranging from small shore birds hunting for insects to mighty bald eagles fishing for carp. That one can see multiple eagles only 15 or 20 minutes from downtown Northfield is astounding. Often we would come upon an eagle perched atop a dead or not-yet leafy tree (bare trees, we surmised, were easiest to land on and take off from) and as we approached it would fly off, down the river, to a new perch. We would again approach it—as the river only flows one way—and it would again fly downriver a bit. We would travel this way, with an eagle as vanguard, for perhaps a quarter mile before the eagle figured out that we meant it no harm and were going to continue downriver no matter what.
As we entered Lake Byllesby in Cannon Falls, via its huge delta, we came upon vast flocks of pelicans. There were hundreds, perhaps almost a thousand, of them. I’d never thought of pelicans living in Minnesota—to me, they seem much more likely in Florida or along the Gulf of Mexico—but there they were.
Crossing the lake, now unaided by the current, took almost an hour, and portaging the Lake Byllesby dam was a bit of a challenge. The descent was steep and the path narrow and winding, clearly not designed with a canoe in mind. The fishermen we met at the bottom of the dam must have thought we were crazy.
About an hour below the dam we stopped at Cannon Falls for lunch. No packed lunch for us! We treated ourselves to a meal at a pizza parlor in beautiful downtown Cannon Falls.
From Cannon Falls down was a long stretch with little exposure to towns. We saw a lot of people fishing, both from the shore and from canoes, and a number of road and rail overpasses, but no signs of civilization like Cannon Falls. We took the opportunity to enjoy this isolation by occasionally simply drifting down river, snacking and sipping on water to fend off the effects of the sun. Some hours down the river, we entered a stretch surrounded by high bluffs on either side, giving the impression that we were almost paddling through the Minnesota equivalent of a canyon. The bluffs were the first sign that we were nearing the Cannon’s confluence with the Mississippi. The river became more consistently deep, with more pronounced meanders. Cut banks and point bars sent our canoes wandering the width of the river as we tried to stay in the swift water of the channel.
As the sun was starting to set in the sky we entered the final stretch of our journey. The woods closed in around us and the river’s natural levees became very pronounced. It appeared that outside the levees there were in fact some patches of swamp below river level. We saw signs informing us that the land around the river was now a bird sanctuary. As the river fragments into a number of channels, each trying to find its way to the Mississippi, an expanse of marsh and reeds opens up, giving shelter and food to innumerable birds. We entered the Cannon’s extensive delta with the Mississippi and experienced the bird sanctuary in its full glory. I saw three eagles sitting on one tree. Smaller birds played in the reeds along the shore, perhaps looking for insects. All of this was tinted with the late afternoon glow of the sun behind us.
We got lucky and picked an easy channel out of the delta, popping out onto the mighty Mississippi. Turning south, we paddled down river about two miles to the Red Wing marina. Along the way, we saw surprisingly few boats, considering the size of the river and the amount of canoe traffic we’d seen on stretches of the Cannon, but the navigational signs gave testament to the fact that at times this part of the Mississippi got busy and even played host to some relatively deeper draft boats.
Upon pulling in to the marina, we were relieved to see that the canoe trailer was still in place. After quickly packing up, we hit the road back to Northfield.
Despite the beauty of the Cannon and the incredible wildlife it supports, our trip to the Mississippi also highlighted how polluted it is. Most egregiously, we saw an entire porta-potty half submerged in the river, but this was hardly the only thing, and perhaps not even the worst for the environment. General trash and detritus could be seen all along the river, some of it hanging improbably from low tree branches, placed there by spring high water. Fishing line could be found at popular fishing spots, and below the Lake Byllesby dam was particularly trash-ridden. There, fishing line and tackle mingled with plastic bags full of some rotting material. The least visible pollutant may be the worst, however: agricultural runoff from its entire drainage ends up in the Cannon. This causes blooms of microorganisms that deplete the water of oxygen (potentially harming fish and other animals) and turns it murky. Farmland goes right up to the edge of the river, and in one spot it looked like high water would have put the river over some bits of a field.
While the Cannon preserves some of the primitive beauty of Minnesota, it is not immune to the effects of human development. It is important for us to keep this in mind as we live our lives, to make sure we properly dispose of our waste and use low-impact farming practices.
I encourage you to check out the river for yourself—I think it’s the best route to Red Wing!