Hesitant to disturb the otherwise silent morning, we tiptoe around the deserted landing with hushed voices, quietly readying our gear for a weekend float on the northern reaches of the Brule River.
Settling into the cockpits of our kayaks, I join my dad and brother on a slide into the river’s mellow current, meeting the water with a barely audible swish. It’s like gliding through a velvet blanket. Lazy paddle strokes are interrupted to eavesdrop on the awakening forest around us—squirrel chatter from one side of the river, irritated at our intrusion, and a woodpecker perforating a tree from somewhere in the woods on the other.
The section of river on our itinerary today, from Stones Bridge to Winneboujou, is the most popular for paddlers (kayakers and canoeists), but on this early morning we have it all to ourselves. Ahead are long stretches of flat water, a handful of playful rapids, and 12 miles of postcard scenery around every bend.
The Bois Brule is a revered and storied waterway, with hundreds of years of tales to tell. The ancestors of the birch trees along the riverbanks provided inspiration—and the raw materials—for the earliest canoes of the Chippewa. The intrepid voyageurs followed during the heady days of the fur trade. Close behind were headstrong miners and tireless lumbermen, plying the waters and surrounding forests in their trades. Today, though, there is little sign of any of this activity and the sense of wilderness and wanderlust prevail.
The Brule is both spring-fed and creek-fed, with dozens of small side channels along its 44-mile journey to Lake Superior—tributaries of mystery from the forest, and we linger at nearly every one. Ahead, we steer along a row of tussocks bearded with soft green moss reaching out over the water. Over time, the river has undermined most of these, forming small, earthen caves, and the heavy morning dew tinking into the water sounds like liquid piano keys.
The river flows through the Brule River State Forest (which celebrated its 100th birthday in 2007), and there are still a few colossal white pines soaring skyward, providing ideal perch and nesting sites for bald eagles. Following the script I had in my head for the day, a brilliant eagle drifts over our heads and sets down on a gnarly branch, looking every bit the part of our nation’s symbol.
The eagle’s choice of trees is particularly fitting, as we round a bend to Cedar Island, once a summer hideaway for a handful of U.S. presidents. I can almost see Calvin Coolidge fly-fishing in the pool off my port side. Hungry Run Rapids whisk us beneath rustic bridges and the river picks up speed again just below Wheaton’s Landing, with Big and Little Twin rapids livening up the day just before spilling into Big Lake, an 1/8 mile-wide swell in the river.
We enjoy the river’s slow water for a while, and whoop it up on the fun chute under Castle Bridge. A few more bends lead to our destination, Winneboujou bridge at County B, and a reluctant take-out. The challenging rapids just downstream are tempting. Perhaps next time we’ll make it a whitewater day.
Wisconsin native Steve Johnson writes about all things outdoors in books like Loop Hikes Colorado, and is a frequent contributor to Backpacker, Wisconsin Trails, and other regional publications.
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