Wapsipinicon River

Wapsipinicon State Park to Newport Mills Access:
A truly rewarding, picturesque trip that can be extended overnight via sandbar camping – a rarity in Iowa – this segment of the “Wapsi” begins at a handsome, historical state park and treats paddlers to riffles, clear water, and plentiful bluffs with many remarkable limestone outcrops.

Rating: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Trip Report Date: February 26, 2024

Skill Level: Beginner
Class Difficulty: Quietwater with some riffles

Gradient:
≈ 2′ per mile

Gauge Recorded on this Trip:
Anamosa: ht/ft: 4.77 | cfs: 400

Recommended Levels:
This is the lowest recommended level. It was low, but doable, but not recommended below this. Below this will frequent a whole lot of scraping. 5-5.25 would be ideal.

Put-In:
Wapsipinicon State Park boat launch, Anamosa, Iowa
GPS: 42.09819, -91.28755
Take-Out:
Newport Mills Access, Newport Road
GPS: 42.04515, -91.20014

Time: Put in at 12:00p. Out at 2:45p.
Total Time: 2h 45m
Miles Paddled: 9

Wildlife:
Bald eagles, geese, turkey vultures, deer, pheasant, beaver

Shuttle Information:
11.5 miles for vehicles. 9.75 miles for bicycles (one-third of which is on unpaved dirt-gravel roads and also involves hopping on the shoulder of Highway 151 for 0.4 mile.)

Background:
The “Wapsi,” as it’s called, is unusual in all sorts of endearing ways. Beginning in southeastern Minnesota – only one watershed ridge away from the origins of the Upper Iowa River – the Wapsi flows for nearly 300 miles across nine Hawkeye counties to the Mississippi River in between Clinton and the Quad Cities. Along the way it unites two notable American artists: Frank Lloyd Wright, who designed a house called Cedar Rock seated atop a bluff above the river, and Grant Wood, who was born in Anamosa and ran an artist colony in Stone City.

For me personally, the Wapsi has been on my radar for over a decade, even though I’d never laid eyes on it or driven over it. So, then, why? Because I’ve been obsessed with Driftless Area rivers for over ten years, especially those in Iowa and Minnesota, where I don’t live, don’t work, and don’t know many people – so don’t have a normal reason to visit and get a natural sense of. In the absence of that casual familiarity, the imagination ferments with wonder… As British explorers sought a Northwest Passage, I thought about what marks the southwest boundary of the Driftless Area. Is it the Maquoketa River? Or is it the Wapsi, which follows a similar, albeit longer, southeast direction en route to the Mississippi?* (Spoiler alert: it’s the Maquoketa, if there is a boundary at all; such lines are illusory at best.)

* I’m hardly a hydrologist, but I can’t help from wondering about the general uniformity of many Iowa rivers. Take a look at a map – here’s one. Now narrow on the northeast. See the Turkey > Maquoketa > Wapsipinicon > Cedar. Each is parallel to the other, practically like row crops. It is Iowa… And since the Wapsi is a virtual through-line from Minnesota to the Mississippi River, it makes a case for being a natural boundary. After all, that line, however relative (and yes, illusory), must be somewhere. Given the wooded hills and beaucoup rock outcrops of the Wapsi, why not there? Plus Anamosa is plumb in the middle of the Minnesota and Missouri state lines. It seemed like a solid reckoning.

But being such a long river and, depending on the segment, 2.5 to 4 hours away from my home, with many more alluring prospects in between, it would take awhile to get there. First off, I figured I could rule out the first 100 miles, as they’re not even mentioned in Nate Hoogeveen’s Paddling Iowa, the seminal guidebook to which we owe virtually everything for, you guessed it, paddling in Iowa. Let’s not just gloss over that: the river’s initial one-hundred miles are not even mentioned in his book. Neither are the final 60+ milesthrough a seemingly never-ending sprawl of silver maple bottomlands where it’s slow, wide, flat, and shallow. That’s a whole lot of river that’s just written off, more than 50% of it.

Hoogeveen rightly concentrates on a meaty mid-section from the fantastically/sci-fi named Quasqueton to Anamosa, comprising some 50ish miles laid out in half a dozen recommended trips (not to mention as many dams). Still, I was a little wary and in no hurry to head out that way. That is, until a freak warm spell in late February last year. Having no day job to go to and eager to begin anew the research and recon for an eventual guidebook, my diem said “carpe” and I made like a baby to head out to Iowa… in winter…to paddle.

No sir, no climate change here, sir. Nope.

I had a “sixth sense” about the Wapsi, which is to say I reckoned that Hoogeveen’s Trip 6 would be my bellwether as to the rest of the river in terms of “how Driftless is it?” Beginning in a historic state park is hard to beat, and there’d be no dams to contend with. I was also impressed and inspired by this short video on YouTube. Thus, to Anamosa I went.

Incidentally, the name “Wapsipinicon” is likely a corruption of waubessa pinneac or wapizipinka or waabiziipiniikaan, all meaning a white potato-like tuber that is edible, aka arrowhead. The whiteness is interesting, as it invoked swans. This might resonate with Madison-area paddlers, as one of our four lakes, Waubesa, is the Ho-Chunk word for swan, itself derived/corrupted from the Ojibwe wabisi.

Overview:
The state park boat launch is located 0.25-mile from the Anamosa dam. Like every Iowan state park I’ve been to, there is no entrance fee. The scenery is magnificent right off the bat: big rock outcrops are found along bluffs everywhere you look, as a park road wraps alongside them. Just downstream, more outcrops are featured on the left. The thrice-arced Hale Bridge appears next, briefly followed by fun riffles; it’s a pedestrian bridge that connects hiking trails in the park. The topography tapers off for a minute, and you’ll see the greens of a golf course that’s part of the state park on the right. Yes: golf course, state park. Sigh… But a quick scoot to the left around a bluff finds the landscape undulating again as you pass under the twin bridges of Highway 151. Northbound takes you to the steps of the state Capitol in Madison, which is funny to think about for those of us who live here and call the same road “East Wash.”

Occasional riffles lead to and away from former bridge pylons, ugly concrete-slab riprap, and some big ag buildings. Strewn boulders and a rock quarry also catch your eye for a brief moment. It’s not the most pleasant segment, but all this changes (for the better) after a tight right-hand bend, after which wavy wooded bluffs appear along both banks, together with limestone outcrops protruding with almost brutalist intentions. Rarely taller than 40ish feet, their outward character is raw, rough-hewn, and haggard – very cool from the paddler’s perspective! Alas, the floating revelry will be interrupted by a ginormous house on the right about 1000′ upstream from the quaint and attractive truss bridge at Landis Road.

The scenery is beachy but flat for a little bit. We’ve discussed this elsewhere, but Iowa’s rivers are divided into “meandered” (very few) and “non-meandered” (virtually all). In this sense, “meandered” has nothing to do with sinuosity, but instead is synonymous with navigable vis a vis the 19^th Century. The technical parlance is anachronistic (and ambiguous). The relevance, however, is “meandered” means the state owns the whole river to the ordinary high-water mark, which in turn means that such streams are well within the public’s right to camp on. Needless to say, reasonable deference and discretion still apply.

The flatness is relative and fleeting. Soon enough, the rolling hills return, and the limestone outcrops appear one after another as though in a portrait gallery. I realize this will sound a bit macabre, even gruesome, but if one were to imagine that “drift” – the debris that glaciers left behind – were a kind of earthen skin, then all these outcrops are like exposed bones. Think outside of the skin-and-muscle box and see sexy skeletons instead; pelvis, shoulders, kneecaps, elbows, skulls, jaws… These are the salient features found on this trip, and this trip is arguably the prettiest outing on the Wapsi. It is wooded and secluded and just wonderful!

Hoogeveen’s description is spot-on: “cliffs pockmarked with crevices and caves hang over the river where it has worn undercuts in the base[.]” With echoes of Jericho, the ancient walled city, the limestone outcrops here are at times sheer-faced, other times irregularly textured, but always imposing – and very impressive. These are not the smooth alabaster limestone palisades of the Upper Iowa. If those are to Michelangelo, then the outcrops of the Wapsi are like city graffiti, Bansky or Basquiat.

Eventually, alas, this trip hits the skids, with comic effect at first – a totally random toilet sitting atop a grassy knoll – and then a makeshift hamlet called Hogs Den Hollow (again, Iowa…), marked by a shack and other countryside decorations. The takeout is on river-right, below some power lines, at the end of a turn-around. In other words, there is no bridge here, but the landing is conspicuous just the same.

What we liked:
Other than occasional eyesores near the beginning and end, this trip is a splendor of geology. I knew I’d encounter outcrops, but they surpassed my expectations. Big time. Cliffs, outcrops, conifers, and hollers – my wool socks were knocked off!

But Driftless it is not. To be sure, purists wishing to tsk-tsk that nowhere in Iowa is, strictly speaking, “driftless,” as even the northeastern part of the state was glaciated at some point…millions of years ago, not tens of thousands of years ago. But it looks, walks, and quacks like the actually never-glaciated Driftless Area of southwestern Wisconsin and northwestern Illinois. More important, it looks nothing like the rest of Iowa. Genesis was still Genesis, whether in the art-house days of Peter Gabriel or the more commercial 1980s of Phil Collins.

I would reveal only how little I understand about geology if I were to suggest that the Wapsi were a Driftless Area river. And while many rivers in the Driftless Area do begin outside of it, only to slip into its domain en route to the Mississippi River, it would be fatuous to suggest that one starts outside of it, enters it, and then leaves it again. Geological forces the likes of continental glaciation are not like picky eaters at an a la carte lunch. There are many Driftless-esque features found along the Wapsi, and while the boundaries are certainly blurry, one does need to draw a line somewhere. Regardless, there’s some mincing of words here. This trip, wherever it’s located, is just gorgeous. And really, that’s what matters most.

What we didn’t like:
Ordinarily, the soft spot in my heart for rivers over 100’ wide is small and selective. Wide rivers are prone to wind, flow more broadly (with less meandering), generally flow more slowly, and are prone to being shallow (more surface area thins out the water volume, as opposed to a narrower stream that “cinches” it together). But wide rivers allow for more social paddling, since there’s no need to proceed single-file, not to mention sandbar camping (where allowed). Alas, a solo day trip on a 200’-wide river is not my cup of tea.

A windy day is no different than a rainy one when it comes to paddling, so it wouldn’t be fair to cite the wind on my circumstantial experience. But you don’t get a 60-degree day in February without formidable wind from the south. Fortunately, this segment of the Wapsi flows more east than south, and the bluffs do help sock you in some. Still though, I don’t like A) getting screamed at by air, B) going backwards if I’m not actively paddling, C) mistaking little whitecaps for riffles, or D) knowing that it’s 62 degrees outside but feeling like it’s 46.

Per usual, the bike shuttle is mostly miserable, being Iowa, but most paddlers are likely to have two vehicles.

The main thing I didn’t like about this trip (which, now that I think about it, also has nothing to do with the river itself, FYI) is that someone stole my fancy and newish cooler at the take-out while I was shuttling. I do not want to come off as self-pitying, but I do want to underscore the absurdity and improbability of this. So, let me reiterate that: someone stole my expensive RTIC cooler hidden in the cockpit of my upside-down kayak locked to a fence at a dead-end turnaround in the middle of nowhere, Iowa, on a Monday afternoon in February. Who does that? Mind you, I was gone for an hour at best (the length of time it took to ride my bike to the state park, then hop in my car and drive back to my kayak). The cooler alone was $80. Inside was a slick YETI coozie ($25), my “can-panion” beverage holder ($8), and an unopened can of beer (priceless). Incidentally, that’s how I knew I wasn’t in Wisconsin, anymore: the thief would’ve at least left me the can of beer.

We make our own choices, and this trip was already costing me $100/night in an Airbnb rental, plus gas, food, etc. – none of which is reimbursed; this is all voluntary. But to have over $100 of personal items stolen?!? Let’s just say You Owe Me, I-O-WA.

Perhaps it’s my fault, being an out-of-town yokel to the locals. After all, the prettiest hike in the state park is called “Horse Thief Cave.” Moreover, the park itself was practically built by prisoners from the Anamosa State Penitentiary. Joke’s on me, I guess.

If we did this trip again:
I’d definitely do this trip again, but with the following caveats:

– Slightly higher water
– Less wind
– September or October
– Not leaving my new cooler behind.

I’d also make a weekend of it and paddle the preceding stretch(es) of river from Central City to Stone City. It’s a rare thing to be legally allowed to camp along a river in Iowa, after all. Also, nearby Buffalo Creek looks quite enticing, too. Just keep in mind that Cedar Rapids, Iowa’s second largest city, is only 20ish miles away. It stands to reason that the Wapsi draws crowds on summer weekends.

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Related Information:
Camp: Wapsipinicon State Park
General: Jones County, Iowa
Map: Clinton + Scott Counties
Map + Brochure: Wapsipinicon River Trail
Video: Kayaking the Wapsipinicon River
Wikipedia: Wapsipinicon River

Photo Gallery: