Tomahawk River

Willow Flowage Dam to Prairie Rapids Road:
A wild-feeling and mostly isolated landscape dominated by hardwoods and conifers, marsh, meadows, sandy banks, and two sets of brief but fun Class II rapids, this “official” section on the Tomahawk is a real delight that doesn’t quite get the love it deserves. Timing this for an autumn paddle, this trip will dazzle in the wonder of explosive northwoods foliage.

Rating: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Trip Report Date: September 5-6, 2021

Skill Level: Beginner/Intermediate (if running Echo and Prairie Rapids.)
Class Difficulty: Two sets of Class II rapids, otherwise quietwater.

Gradient:
≈ 3.5′ per mile for Trip 1. ≈ 1.5′ per mile for Trip 2.

Gauge Recorded on this Trip:
N/A
Gauge note: There is no gauge for the Tomahawk, so your best bet is to eyeball it or to call for info at 715-848-2976 or 715-356-5211. If you eyeball it, there are two very tiny islands (more like mounds) at the put-in on the downstream side of the dam about 30 yards downriver, center-left. If they’re entirely exposed, the river is low. If they’re totally submerged, the river is high. If only their forehead and grassy hair show, the river is medium – which is a great level.

Recommended Levels:
We recommend this level. The level we paddled at was ideal.

Trip 1 Put-In:
Willow Flowage Dam, Hazelhurst, Wisconsin
GPS: 45.71185, -89.84426
Trip 1 Take-Out:
Swamp Lake Road*
GPS: 45.64566, -89.71644

Time: Put in at 11:20p. Out at 4:00p.
Total Time: 4h 40m
Miles Paddled: 12

Trip 2 Put-In:
Swamp Lake Road*
GPS: 45.64566, -89.71644
Trip 2 Take-Out:
Prairie Rapids Road, Tomahawk, Wisconsin
GPS: 45.58544, -89.74743

Time: Put in at 1:00p. Out at 3:40p.
Total Time: 2h 40m
Miles Paddled: 8.75

* Note: the access is not at the Swamp Lake Road bridge, but via a convenient parking area and access for “small watercrafts” some 600′ west of the bridge.

Wildlife:
Bald eagles, kingfishers galore, hawks, osprey, wood ducks, sandhill cranes, trumpeter swans, and deer.

Shuttle Information:
For the first section it’s 10.75 miles – long, uphill, and downright miserable against the wind on a bike. Watch for ATVers near the dam; they were everywhere. For the second section it’s an easier 6.25 miles.

Background:
There seems to be a consensus among the guides that the Tomahawk is an overlooked river, which makes for a curious riddle: how can a river that’s promoted in so many sources be considered obscure? Not only is it detailed in Paddling Northern Wisconsin and Whitewater; Quietwater before it, the Tomahawk is one of only twenty rivers in the entire state featured in the Wisconsin Trail Guide. So, what’s going on here?

Take a drive up I-39 past Point and Wausau and through Lincoln County, now Highway 51, and what comes to mind? Lots of trucks towing boats, as well as vehicles of all kinds sporting Illinois plates with no regard for speed limits or passing on the right. You’re in Lake Country, Oneida County, vacationland for FIBs seeking pine trees and water skis. To be sure, that’s not 100% circumspect, but associations are powerful blinders. When a menu features a “Polish,” but not a brat, it’s not catering to Wisconsinites.

The Tomahawk River begins up in the Minocqua-Woodruff area, but it’s mostly marshy with marginal access. It doubles up in volume where the zippy Squirrel River meets it, then receives a booster shot from Kaubashine Creek. But a dozen miles later this triumvirate of northwoods streams does a Texas-sized sprawl called the ginormous Willow Flowage (though not before tumbling down two Class III rapids at Cedar Falls).

It’s for that reason that recommended trips on the Tomahawk River begin below the dam that creates the backwater impoundment of the flowage. Similarly, the river “ends” at the inlet of so-called Lake Nokomis (created by another dam) about 20 miles downstream, after which the Tomahawk feeds the Wisconsin River – and according to Richard Durbin, author of The Wisconsin River: An Odyssey through Time and Space (a wonderful read for paddling nerds, by the way!), is the largest tributary of the Wisconsin River in terms of flow.

Thus, for all intents and purposes, there are two recommended paddling trips on the Tomahawk River: below Willow Dam to Swamp Lake Road and Swamp Lake Road to Prairie Rapids Road. Ambitious paddlers could do both segments in a single outing, but it would be a long day since the river saunters more than sprints. Besides, this is a river one doesn’t want to rush through, but rather feel absorbed by and lavish in its languor. See below for alternative accesses to tailor this trip.

Twenty miles of viable river-paddling is pretty skimpy for such a prominent body of water. Compare that to the Kickapoo or Baraboo Rivers – also tributaries of the Wisconsin River – that offer more than 100 miles of viable paddling. This may well be why the Tomahawk, in Mike Svob’s opening salvo, is “one of the least paddled but most attractive canoeing streams in the state.” But the same can be said about the Manitowish River in neighboring Vilas County or even the Yahara River down here in Dane-Rock Counties: lots of lakes and folks from out of town.

Regardless, I think the more incisive question is not why a wonderful river is overlooked, but rather why stupid things are super popular – to wit, cheap domestic beer and commercial radio, especially in this golden age of microbreweries, podcasts, Sirius XM, and Spotify. (Let’s not even touch politics or politicians.) But as they say, there’s no accounting for taste.

I’d wanted to paddle the Tomahawk for as many years as I have fingers to count, but it’s too far away for a day trip and in a part of the state I’m at best driving through, not spending time in (i.e., in between Merrill and Minocqua). But a last-minute, unexpected invite to stay at a lake cabin near Rhinelander over Labor Day weekend in 2021 had me come running.

Allow me to iron out a wrinkle with the following disclaimer: yes, I paddled this trip three years ago, but am only getting around to it now. What – you don’t think we like archives here at Miles Paddled? We love archives (and archivists especially)! Besides, we’d crash the site if we posted every paddle we do – and not just the return trips.

The Tomahawk is not a wild river in the designated sense, but it feels “wilder” than many streams due to its undeveloped surroundings. However, the two prominent guides don’t directly contradict one another, but they are outdated. Paddling Northern Wisconsin states that “most of the shoreline is privately owned,” while the Wisconsin Trail Guide stipulates that “Even though large portions of the surrounding land is [sic] privately owned, most of the shoreline below Willow Dam is wild and undeveloped.” According to this map from the DNR – which is more current than the guides published several years ago – the vast majority of the shoreline from the flowage to Prairie Rapids Road is public.

Either way, what little development you’ll see is quite modest. The overall effect is that of a pretty northwoods river lined by a lovely mix of hardwoods and conifers (though mostly the latter) through a variegated landscape of meadows, marsh, bogs, and sandy banks. For tree lovers especially, the Tomahawk River can’t be beat.

The river is mainly quietwater – with two notable exceptions: Echo Rapids* in the first section and Prairie Rapids at the very end of the second, both solid Class II with reputable waves, some tricky spots with boulders to dodge, each about 200 yards long. Both rapids come out of nowhere, with no real gradual gradient increase to foreshadow what’s to come. Echo has a well-marked and muddled portage path, whereas I saw no signs – literal or figurative – for Prairie. But they are the exceptions to the rule; otherwise, the river is gentle and quiet.

* “Echo”? Come again? Formerly dubbed “Halfbreed,” these rapids are now named Echo. All the old maps will label these as “Halfbreed,” for the record, a bizarre and distasteful name that’s probably racist and awful, so good ridden.

Overview:
Before you find the river, you’ll see the big water. It’s a weird thing: on one side of the bridge/dam is what looks like a huge lake, while on the other is a skinny river. Willow Flowage comprises 73 miles of shoreline (95% of which are undeveloped) within which are over 100 islands. For reference’s sake, Lake Mendota here in Madison has a waist size of 22 miles (virtually all of which is developed) and zero islands. Lake Koshkonong’s shoreline is only marginally larger, at 27 miles. All that water is the result of a concrete wall… Said the fish who hit its head: dam!

There are two parking areas here, but one is for the flowage, the other the river. The flowage parking area is four times larger and located on the north side of the bridge. Obviously, you want the one on the south side of the bridge. There are no facilities here, but there’s plenty of room for parking. A wooden stairway leads to a launching spot well away from the dam’s thunderous discharge. You can’t help from noticing that the river is at the bottom of a berm 25′ high; that’s a heluva lotta water! Similarly, the serial houses and docks for the first three-quarters of a mile, all on the right, will not escape notice.

But then there’s sweet nothing for the next three miles! And by “nothing” I mean nothing but protected public land by way of the Willow Flowage Scenic Waters Area (WFSWA). While subsumed under the category of flowage, this designation includes almost every single mile among these two trips at least on one side of the river, sometimes both. In fact, in these three miles you’ll have a primer of the Tomahawk’s 20-odd miles on this trip – except for the rapids. Undeveloped meadows, marshes, sandy banks, and a sense of genuine isolation prevail.

Did I mention the trees? There are lots and lots of trees on this trip. Twenty miles of trees.

Here, as elsewhere, the river is approximately 90′ wide – kind of the Goldilocks size that’s perfect for a twosome or a group, but not too big for a solo paddler to feel awash in width. Considering the occasional cluster of downed trees, there should always be easy circumventing past tall grass and shrubby banks.

An old oxbow will be found on the left at the two-mile mark, about 1000’ past which a primitive access on the right will be found – a good starting point as long as your vehicle can access the unpaved path off of Willow Dam Road. Alternatively, just past the mouth of Bear Creek, a mile downriver, on the left is another possible access off of River Road, which dead-ends at the water’s edge. Both of these are marked on the map. A right-left meander leads you to a private pier and the first bridge, at County Highway Y, immediately after which lies a small but RV-lined private campground. There’s river access here, but you’ll need to ask permission to use it. (I don’t know if there’s a fee involved, but all bets are off post-pandemic.) Half a dozen houses will line the river on the right for another quarter-mile.

A straightaway then yields to a couple tight loops where deadfall will tend to accumulate, followed by another straightaway. Occasionally, you’ll be rewarded with big, wide vistas of the undeveloped landscape looking like a Midwest Serengeti. As always, mind the direction of the wind (re: know thine enemy), as the paddling can be unforgiving when going against it in these open areas.

After a left-hand bend, after six sluggish miles through gentle meadows and marsh, you’ll finally hear the iconic rustle of moving water, feint at first, then definitive. The opposite of lightning-thunder, the fomented rapids will appear before your eyes next. So will a green sign on the right bank that reads “Public Portage.” Allow me to repeat that: the portage path is on the right bank. I feel obliged to reiterate that because both guides mentioned above state that the portage is on the left. It’s not. Maybe it was way back when, or maybe it’s a coincidental typo. I don’t know. But you’ll be trespassing on private land if you bushwhack via the left bank.

Echo Rapids will get you wet if you’re in a kayak without a skirt or open-decked canoe, especially in the first pitch. This is followed by a football field-long stretch of strong current but no rapids. But then a crescent shaped series of right-hand bends correspond to roughly 600′ of rapids with some big boulders to keep a wide berth from. All in all, paddlers with solid boat control and experience in “lightwater” should have no difficulty here. Inexperienced paddlers would do well to portage, unless there’s someone there to assist with a potential rescue or gear-gather. Towards the tail-end of the rapids there’s an island that splits the river in two channels. There’s no wrong choice, but choose one and commit to it; don’t wait til it’s too late.

The river will quiet down shortly after this and resume its placid pace until the next set of rapids – twelve miles downstream. For the next 1.5 miles you’ll pass a swath of houses on the left, none ostentatious or gaudy. The landscape will subtly shift from its soggy bogs and squishy marsh to dry hardwoods and piney forests. This will account for an occasional set of riffles in the next few miles, a welcome hello-there, but no real rapids. And the big-sky, wide-vista feeling will appear now and again, too; there are no monolithic set-changes on the river or definitive transition zones from one thing to another with no going back. When the river is wide and dominated by marsh and bogs, the universe feels huge. When the river narrows, the firmament disappears under a canopy of conifers. Either way, you’ll feel like the gods have singled you out to be spoiled silly!

Wonderfully named Rocky Run Road runs parallel to the river on the left after Echo Rapids for about a mile. Two small creeks will feed the Tomahawk also on the left, Swan and Rocky Run. Both guides indicate a landing on the left in between the two creeks. Svob says “Paddlers occasionally put in at the Swan Creek Bridge on Rocky Run Road, then float into the Tomahawk (but this is on private land” (circa 1998), whereas the author(s) of WTG  stated in 2015, “The access is marked with a sign. A steep path leads from the road down to the river, be careful of your footing. You may need to rope your canoe or kayak down the slope (30 feet). A trail from the landing leads to a small shaded picnic area with a table (no fire pit). Hand carry access, roadside parking, rustic picnic area.”

I’d tried to find this spot after dropping my bike off at Swamp Lake Road, before launching below the dam. (Even though this was three years ago, I can tell you not only the album I was listening to at the time –Sleep Well Beast by The National – but the specific song, “Guilty Party”). For the record, I couldn’t find hide nor hair of this access. If it exists anymore, I missed it. Moreover, no such access is mentioned in the more current map for the WFSWA. Nothing escapes change on rivers or their surroundings. But the WFSWA map does indicate an access off of Running Bear Lane just past the mouth of Rocky Run Creek. I wasn’t looking for that while driving and didn’t see anything while paddling, but that was three years ago.

Moving on, the next four miles are simply blissful! While there is technically a game farm nearly as large as the Willow Flowage itself, the only sign of that I saw via the river is a deer stand. This being Wisconsin, that could be anywhere (and often is). From the paddler’s perspective, the appearance is one of zero development for miles on end, just pretty trees (tamaracks and spruce especially), cool sandy banks giving rise to pines, islands creating side channels, and intermittent riffles. It’s truly splendid.

But houses and docks will reappear (pier?) on the right. After a fair amount of straightaways, a meandering left-right-left will precede a gentler left-right curve. You might hear the road in the distance, but you won’t see it before the established access at Swamp Lake Road, on river-right. As long as you’re looking for it – or marked a tree branch ahead of time with something flashy or fetching – it’s easy to find. But it could be easily missed, too, if you’re not looking for it. At the time of my paddle, wooden steps led up a sloped bank. Depending on how high the river is, getting out at the stairs could be challenging for kayakers, but a cinch for canoeists. It’s been about 12 miles at this point, whereas the next section is just shy of nine, FYI.

The river meanders a bit below the Swamp Lake Road bridge. Houses will be found for the next two miles, all on river-left, but again they’re none too obtrusive – some won’t even be visible due to the shoreline. Meanwhile, the news from river-right is as delightful as ever: steep sandy banks, hardwoods, and conifers in a narrower-than-normal segment that is as pretty as it is intimate. Disturbingly named “Bearskin” Creek appears on the left, followed by a snowmobile bridge. About 900′ upstream the creek there’s a wayside parking area that could be used as a launching point for this second section of the Tomahawk. Also worth noting is the very cool and beautiful Bearskin State Trail that connects Minocqua and Tomahawk. Alas, it’s not accessible from the wayside, as it’s on the opposite bank, but it’s just a hop, skip, and jump nearby.

County Highway L runs parallel to the river for a mile or so, until the Tomahawk sways to the west in a straightaway. Here, you’ll be back in the flats (aka lowland marsh), but only for a spell; characteristically, the river will bend again into a cozy nook of pine-lined sandy banks bespeaking of the northwoods. In many ways, the Tomahawk River feels and looks like the child of two parents – woods and marsh, featuring characteristics of and alternating between both.

Another long straightaway follows a couple meanders, southwest by south (so to speak), where the river slowly passes through the Lower Tomahawk River Pines SNA, a relict of a larger pine barrens back in the day, home today to evocative species like pipsissewa, bunchberry, trailing arbutus, shining clubmoss, princess pine, and bracken fern, as well as golden-crowned kinglets, yellow-bellied sapsuckers, and yellow-rumped warblers – none of which could I ever identify if my or your life depended on it, just to be clear. But princess pine and yellow-rumped warblers?!? Those are reasons enough to paddle this river!

Just past the modest mouth (not mouse) of evocative Swamp Creek on the right you’ll see a small clearing also on the right that provides a convenient access to the river – perfect for paddlers wanting to get off the water before the next rapids three miles downstream from here OR wanting to start here for a splashy dash of rapids after work or before heading back to the campsite. (To get here by dry land take Prairie Lake Road in between Swamp Lake Road and Prairie Rapids Road.) Svob states that this landing is private, and presumably that was the case when the script went to the printer way back when, but today – or at least at the time of this writing – it falls under the domain of the Board of Commissioners of Public Lands Property.

Arguably the prettiest, most dramatic sand banks appear on the right bank after the river finally bends to the right then left. Not as steep or dazzling as say the Eau Claire River or Lower Black, they look exclamatory after so much marsh. The river gets super-kinky in this trip’s final two miles (and not least because its unusual meandering follows a phallic outline where it briefly nudges in all cardinal directions in only ¾ of a mile). Here, both banks will be sandy and steep, and the river narrows some. Where the Tomahawk makes an abrupt bend to the left, then right, you’ll hear the sound of rapids before you see them.

As before, there are two pitches here, approximately 400′ apart from one another. The first is a straight shot through the middle, but watch for some big boulders also in the middle, not to mention any strainers. Catch an eddy to catch your breath in the brief pool in between. The second pitch is more complicated, but not too complex. The muscular current sweeps along a subtle S curve where the boulders are bigger and standing waves can be swampy. Again, expect water to break over the bough of whatever boat you’re in. Given the erratic boulders and possibility of big, nasty strainers, these rapids are not for novices. I didn’t see a discernible portage trail – and I was looking for one – but even bushwhacking along private property (if that’s the case) in the name of safety is better than taking a risk, especially if paddling alone.

It’s only a quarter-mile to the take-out at Prairie Rapids Road, although there’s a new(ish) access at the base of the actual rapids on river-right via Peaceful Lane, a tiny town road. Had I known of this access at the time of my paddle, I’d have used it. Instead, I took out on the upstream side of the bridge at Prairie Rapids Road, river-left, even though Svob’s good word is to do so downstream-right “at the grassy area near the tavern (ask permission).”

The reason I did so was twofold. This was Labor Day, and the so-called “tavern” (re: biker bar) was like a block party, and the burly crowd was congregated on river-right. As amusing as I find juxtaposing my bicycle with choppers, is there anything more opposite motorcycle gangs/clubs in chrome and leather than the profile of a silent sports canoe, water-repelling synthetic fiber pants and button-down shirt, and Subaru? I think not. There are places and times when I mind my place and time.

(Although I did just paddle Class II rapids in a 15′ canoe with panache and aplomb the likes of threading a needle, and now was to hop on a bicycle and pedal a six-mile ride through the country. Just saying)

Besides, the banks on upstream-left are easy-peasy – sandy and grassy, with a low slope to a dead-end road barricaded by guardrail. But let me be perfectly clear: YOU CANNOT LEAVE A VEHICLE HERE, as it’s a fire lane with a hydrant. It was fine for me because I’d left only a bicycle and once I returned with my liberal-elite-latte Subaru listening to The National, I’d just be there momentarily to strap the canoe down to the car and head back to my friend’s cabin. So, only use this access if you leave your vehicle elsewhere.

What we liked:
For those who champion the unsung, the Tomahawk is an especially appealing river. I really enjoyed all the diversity and solitude these two trips offer.

Many streams (or at least sections of them) are strictly one kind of environment or another – a classic prairie paddle or oak savannah, forests or floodplains. These 20 miles on the Tomahawk are a wonderful mix of several environment types – mainly wooded shoreline, meadows, and marsh. Considering there are no significant hills or bluffs here, no rock outcrops or rocks in general but for the two short-lived adrenaline spikes through Class II boulder beds, the mix of sandy-banked woods and big-sky flatlands is welcome and engaging.

The State of Wisconsin purchased some 8,700 acres nearly 30 years ago in anticipation of the Willow Flowage. I don’t like fake lakes anymore than anyone, but the intentions here were sound. It may sound paradoxical on the face of it, drowning a landscape by way of damming a river in order to protect its surroundings from development. But as Todd Snider sings, “I’m so turned around I could calm up a riot. Fighting for peace? That’s like screaming for quiet.” Sometimes you gotta have faith and trust the process.

Also, today there are no fewer than four so-called “remote” campsites along the river, accessible only from the river (see the WFSWA map). That was not the case even 10 years ago. These are in addition to the 30 sites along the shore of the flowage itself (plus several group sites). A river with rapids might not be synonymous with paddle-camping for some, but a must-do for others.

What we didn’t like:
The slow flow and long straightaways can wear on you after awhile – but, honestly, they’re small potatoes in the final analysis, and definitely worth the supreme prettiness of the landscape overall. That said, be aware of the wind, especially in the second section, where the river is slower, wider, and less meandering.

If we did this trip again:
I’d do either of these trips again, though I’d be more inclined to redo the first section, if I had to choose between the two. Both trips are intimate and isolated, but the proximity of County L in the second and potential access issues at Prairie Rapids Road might argue a case for the first. And there’s something about waiting all day for a Class II set of rapids at the very end of a trip that’s a hair unnerving, as is the case for the second section. (And when you’re alone, with a lot on your mind, and it’s cold, cloudy, and windy, as it was for me, then the feeling can border dread.)

Ideally, however, I’d try something far more alluring and paddle-camp a night on the flowage, then portage around the dam, launch downstream, and camp another night along the river, and have the best of all worlds.

Paddlers whose druthers for mileage outings are in the single digits would do well to begin at the campground (after seeking permission, of course) or other alternative accesses. For instance, one could sample both sections of the river by using accesses in between the dam and Prairie Rapids Road without breaking the mileage bank. Indeed, for paddlers averse to Class II rapids, one could begin at Running Bear Lane and take out at Prairie Lake Road for a gentle 9-mile trip.

Either way, I’d wait til autumn to bask in the golden glow of colorful foliage.

***************
Related Information:
Camp: Northern Highland American Legion State Forest
Camp: Willow Flowage
General: Wisconsin Trail Guide
Wikipedia: Tomahawk River

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