The Galena River is a quintessential Driftless stream that is a viable paddling opportunity for kayakers and canoeists alike, yet it is somewhat unsung. Originating in southwestern Wisconsin near Belmont and Benton, the river gurgles, then gallops, and finally oozes languidly to the Mississippi River after the charming little city of Galena in northwestern Illinois, a total distance of some 50 miles (although its first half is a hiccup of a trickle much too too shallow and narrow to paddle, and often surrounded by cattle-prone pastures and/or strung with wires). Since this part of the Upper Midwest was never glaciated, the landscape is spectacular – and dramatically distinct from its surrounding areas (especially Illinois). Steep ridges and deep ravines define the river, often with astonishing rock outcrops and giant boulders that have calved off the bluffs. That is, at least on one side of the river; as often as not, the other side will be relatively flat and dictated by agriculture. Except for its final nine miles, the river has a steep gradient that results in swift current and riffles together with beautiful, clear water. As such, the river runs low most of the time. Paddlers will have a long and frustrating go at it when the gauge near the border reads below 3′.
Depending on which side of the state line you’re on, the same stream goes by two very different names: “Fever” in Wisconsin, “Galena” in Illinois. So, what’s with the ambiguity?
In the 19th Century, European settlers (aka invaders) were first drawn to this countryside on account of its robust lead deposits. “Galena” is simply the name for lead sulfide, the most important ore of lead. This region of the country led the nation in lead production in the 1800s, and the river itself was a major shipping route since it is a tributary of the Mississippi River. During the mining and smelting bonanza, Wisconsin would become a state, and the City of Galena became a more bustling port than Chicago. Hence the town names of Mineral Point, New Diggings, and Lead Mine (pulled no punches on that one) in Wisconsin, and the fabulous mansions in Galena, Illinois (including the home of Ulysses Grant). I don’t know which came first – the river being named after the city or the city after the river – but both are named after the natural mineral.
Before this, however, the French voyageurs’ name for the river was Riviere aux Feves, which means “River of Beans,” alluding to wild beans that used to grow along the river. It’s likely that English translation corrupted the French from “feves” to “fever.” (Perhaps it’s helpful to remember that the name “Wisconsin” itself morphed from “Meskousing” to “Mescousin” to “Ouisconsin” before it became what we know it as today.) Whether white folks thought the association between fever and disease to be distasteful is debatable, but there’s another side to this story that complicates matters and implies that this was no mere typo or faulty translation.
This same river was called the “Maucaubee” by Native Americans (Fox and Sauk tribes), an Algonquin word that translates as “fever” or even “fever that blisters,” which was their term for smallpox. The story goes that after crossing the stream in what is now the City of Galena, the Indians contracted and brought back with them smallpox infections. Thank you, white people! Now please steal all our land and then name your dumb sport teams after us, just to add insult to literal injury. Many died because they had no prior exposure to smallpox and thus no resistance to it. As such, they named the stream “Smallpox River” – why mince words? Tell it like it is – a tragedy.
If that sounds a little too “woke” for some, consider the following. Due east of the Galena River is a small stream still named “Smallpox Creek.” This veritable jump-the-brook is dammed to create fake Lake Galena, “a cherished amenity” of the ostentatious and super-pretentious Galena Territory, “a semi-private, 6800-acre private recreational and residential lake community” outside of downtown Galena. Not only will you find pickleball courts by the fake lake, but also an unnatural spillway called “Thunder Bay Falls.” But don’t forget about the posh resort and spa, the Shenandoah Riding Center (horse trails), the 63 holes of championship golf, or the one-room schoolhouse where white kids dress up like European immigrants from 200 years ago and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I just think it’s funny that all that wealth is predicated on a little stream still called Smallpox Creek, a tragic historical footnote to what happened to the Native Americans two centuries ago who’d lived here for several thousand years.
Interestingly, and apparently with no ironic foreshadowing of the D.E. I.-phobia that would later beset the Wisconsin State Legislature, in 1992 Governor Tommy Thompson signed into law Act 284 decreeing that the Galena River in Wisconsin would be called the Fever River. I’m pretty sure this had more to do with bucolic parochialism than a state-recognized mea culpa for a horrific historical wrong. Old habits die hard, more so in rural areas where sleeping dogs are let to lie and no one dares stir the pot. Nonetheless, on most maps (even in Wisconsin) the stream is called the Galena River. (Once in Illinois it’s unequivocally called the Galena River.) After all, it’s pretty fatuous that a single river would change names simply by crossing a state line.
I’m torn, however, whether it’s whitewashing to ignore the appellation Fever River; there’s a back-story and a backstabbing history here, which demands consideration. But to eliminate the confusing ambiguity, I think it’s best to call it the Galena River. Let’s move on, shall we?
But before we hit the water there’s one other matter to clear up – and that’s the law. In the Land of Lincoln, there’s an “ill annoyance” concerning public access to its bodies of water. Illinois is almost dead last in land area set aside for public access (46th in the country). As absurd as this might sound, landowners’ property rights take for granted the river that flows past or through their land – which is to say the ground underneath the water itself up to the midway point of the stream, or the whole body of water if the land on both banks is possessed by the same property. Unless a given river is on the “public waters” list, then technically speaking one is trespassing simply by dint of floating on water.
At the time of this writing, the majority of Illinois waterways are governed by a state law that is as archaic as it is draconian. The Rivers, Lakes, and Streams Act, signed into law a few years before World War I broke out, stipulates that even the land underneath waterways is considered private property, with few exceptions. Indeed, of the 87,000 miles of streams in Illinois, only 32 rivers are classified as “navigable,” and thus public. Allow me to point out that “navigable” has nothing to do with paddling and everything to do with commerce. In other words, is a stream deep enough and wide enough to float a commercial barge or ship – at least in the 19thCentury sense? Thus, rivers as big and burly as Honest Abe’s hands were considered navigable and thus public – think the Mississippi and Ohio rivers.
Or, relevantly, the Galena River from the City of Galena to its mouth, thanks to the halcyon days of getting the lead out.
On the surface, this seems to fly in the face of the Northwest Ordinance that Illinois abided by first as a territory and later a state, which stipulated that all waterways are “forever free” and thus belong to the people. But citing this as your defense in the 21stCentury will likely get you bupkis with a cranky property owner whose brother-in-law could well be the sheriff. You’d be better off calling Saul, lest the pitchforks and torches come out. (That said, I can’t help from wondering if I could sell a Chicago hot dog from my canoe with a can of pop and thus render the river “navigable”?)
While Illinois law has been modified somewhat over the last century to reflect the cultural and economic changes in society, the law is still on the books – and recreational paddlers have little recourse. Ignorance excuses no one and all that. However, at least two justices on the Illinois Supreme Court have recently weighed in on this anachronistic fiat and urged the State Legislature “to realize that there is an increasing social and economic need that riparian rights be restricted for public recreational purposes.” In other words, “Landowners, chill. Some ding-dong in a Sun Dolphin floating past your property in flip flops but never setting foot on it is not trespassing.” I’m pleased to report that House Bill 1568 was first introduced in January 2023 and received an additional sponsor as recently as January 2024. (Who said that government is dysfunctional?) It proposes to amend the 1911 law in such a manner “that any segment of a lake, river, or stream that is capable of supporting use by commercial or recreational watercraft for a substantial part of the year…shall be deemed navigable, and shall be open to public access and use.” Neoprene glove fingers crossed! How many bribes it will take, is all that’s unsettled. It’s Illinois, after all.
Map:
Twin Bridge Road to Bean Street Road
Miles: 5 | 2016 Trip Report
A delightful little clip of a trip on the upper river through bottomlands with sedimentary-rock bluffs on one side, fields/pastures on the other, and steep ridges in the distance. Water levels will be fickle, and there are some wires strung across the river that paddlers will need to pass under or over with delicate care.
Horseshoe Bend Road to Buncombe Road
Miles: 11.25 | 2014 Trip Report
A veritable pool-riffle-pool paddle trip, the river meanders around cow pastures, wooded hills and attractive rock formations. Highlights also include two abandoned railroad tunnels, both of which can be explored on foot. The burned out bulbs are several strands of barbed and electric wires strung across the river, not to mention potential cattle encounters. Paddlers can/should abbreviate this trip by launching from the excellent landing at County Highway W, which would shave five miles off, some wires, but still include the railroad tunnels. Water levels should read at 3′ or above.
Ensche Road to Buckhill Road
Miles: 9.25 | 2013 Trip Report
An enjoyably bubbly stretch of the river that swerves around bluffs and boulders, hills and cliffs, this trip treats the paddler also with the novelty of beginning in Wisconsin and ending in Illinois. While there are no more railroad tunnels, the surrounding landscape here is truly stunning. Look for a small cave and the ruins of a building upstream of Buckhill Road. Water levels should read at 3′ or above.
West Council Hill Road to Galena
Miles: 9.25 | 2024 Trip Report
The transition segment where the clear and bubbly Galena initially cozies up alongside steep bluffs and gorgeous rock outcrops, but then slows down to a crawl through steep banks and strips of row crops on its way to the quaint and stately little city of Galena. The first half of this trip is fast and fun, the second half slow and monotonous. Again, water levels should read at 3′ or above.
Galena to Mississippi River
Miles: 5.5 | 2024 Trip Report
The last leg of the Galena River starts in its historic namesake city and ends in a side channel of the Mississippi River. On both streams the current is next to nonexistent and the water clarity is like brewed beer, but there’s virtually no development in between both access points, which are excellent. In between are steep hillsides and ragged bluffs, not to mention the novelty of paddling into the Mississippi River. Low water levels should never be an issue for this trip.
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