Rainbow Flowage Dam to Bridge Road:
A mix of northwoods, lowlands, and home lawns, this long-feeling, slightly monotonous day trip on the Upper Wisconsin River does have a few moments of fun, pop, and pretty, but not enough to sustain a paddler’s interest for all the broad straightaways, slow current, and mundane scenery.
Rating: ☆ ☆ ☆
Trip Report Date: September 4, 2021
Skill Level: Beginner/Intermediate
Class Difficulty: Riffles and one set of minor Class I rapids, but otherwise quietwater.
Gradient:
≈ 2′ per mile.
Correlative Gauge Recorded on this Trip:
Rainbow Flowage: ht/ft: 2.1 | cfs: 600
Recommended Levels:
We recommend this level. But there should always be enough water to do this trip.
Put-In:
Rainbow Flowage dam, County Road D
GPS: 45.83348, -89.54626
Take-Out:
Bridge Road, McNaughton, Wisconsin
GPS: 45.73308, -89.51388
Time: Put in at 1:00p. Out at 4:00p.
Total Time: 3h
Miles Paddled: 11.5
Wildlife:
Mergansers, eagles, hawks, ducks, and geese.
Shuttle Information:
11 miles on four wheels or two, although bicyclists would do well to keep off busy Highway 47 (west side of the river) and keep to the dog-leg back roads (east side of the river), some of which will be unpaved. See map.
Also – and I don’t know where else to put this, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it – if you’re a carnivore, then do yourself a favor (flavor?) and visit the Lake Tomahawk Meat Market after your paddle. You’ll step back in time after you step through the door. The only thing better than the variety and prices are the staff who work there. Where else will you find smoked kipper alongside spicy linguica, both bundled up in newspaper?
Background:
There are two kinds of paddler-traveler: those whose destinations are determined by where they want to paddle, and those who paddle where they happen to be staying near. Nine and a half out of ten times I’m the former, but even my agenda-laden druthers can yield to the open-minded serendipity of circumstances and roll with what’s practical. In this case, a last-minute plot twist had me changing trajectory from a county forest campsite outside of Eau Claire to a friend’s cabin in Sugar Camp, two days before Labor Day weekend.
Regardless of intention, there’s something about driving x-amount of hours from home to one’s home away from home (cabin, campsite, sandbar, etc), but then driving only minutes from there to a primo paddling spot. In this case, a dozen miles (and not even enough time to hear all the way through “You Enjoy Myself” by Phish) from cabin driveway to boat launch below the Rainbow Flowage dam. It’s so easy, it’s almost embarrassing.
Speaking of easy, this trip is straight out of Mike Svob’s Paddling Northern Wisconsin, although a few things have changed (mostly accesses) since it first came out in 1998.
Whether you’re coming from the west or east, you’ll see the enormous sprawl of the Rainbow Flowage first. While considerably smaller than other flowages in northern Wisconsin, and a humble puddle compared to other impoundments on the Wisconsin River itself (like Petenwell and Castle Rock), it’s still rather vast (2000+ acres). Created by the third of 26 total dams along the 430ish miles of the Wisconsin River from the U.P. border to the Mississippi River, what may be most notable about the Rainbow Flowage is it is the only reservoir engineered not for hydroelectricity. It’s just a huge pool, a natural/unnatural savings account for rainy day expenditure. No comment.
The next dam, in Rhinelander, is 11 miles downstream from this trip’s takeout is, but that’s misleading in the following sense: the effect of the dam will be felt only two miles below this trip’s take-out. Hence why the recommended trip in between Rainbow and Rhinelander Flowages (aka “Rain-Rhine”), a distance of 21 miles, is the 11.5 miles written about by Svob and recapped here.
Overview:
The access below the dam is nearly manicured. With plentiful parking and an easy carry to a sand-gravel launch that is flat and mudless, it’s pretty sweet (like an unincorporated part of the state named Sugar Camp). In the beginning, pines will line the right bank, whereas deciduous trees call the shot on the left. That said, conifers will be the exception to this trip’s rule; it’s decidedly deciduous. Small submerged boulders and light riffles will appear right away. All in all, it’s an auspicious start!
But only a quarter-mile later twin culverts discharging water from Gilmore Creek will quickly dispel any notion of truly being away from it all – an unwelcome specter that will hector this trip all day long.
A small nondescript landing appears on the right shortly after the culverts. Not even a half-mile below the dam, it does little to change the trajectory of the trip, but it’s a viable option for those seeking less pomp and circumstance and a more modest commencement ceremony. A half-mile long straightaway follows, where the river is flanked by deciduous trees on both banks and a row of houses on the right.
A view of the county road is visible for a minute on the right, but then the big river, 130’ wide here, swings to the left and into a welcome thicket of mile-long non-development. Spruce trees will rise like spires on the left, and small boulders begin to dot the river. Arguably the prettiest stretch on this trip, this is what paddling through a state forest – the vaunted Northern-Highland American Legion State Forest – should feel like.
And then the fun starts. Riffles precede Class I rapids in a right-hand bend, and a veritable boulder garden appears – featuring some impressively large rocks. One of two dedicated campsites that are accessible only by water (or wing) on this trip will be found on the left, easy to miss given the scenery and lively stream. A gradual S-curve leads to a half-mile of lawns on the right (yes, lawns – so long state forest!) plus additional houses on the right. The current disappears altogether as well. It was fun while it lasted…
The bridge at River Road appears, where there is a dedicated access on the downstream side, river-left. At the time of Svob’s writing, he cautioned that “clearance can be a problem in high water” because it is a “relatively low wooden bridge on wooden pilings.” Not anymore. Today, it’s a lovely structure whose pilings are made of decorative boulders cobbled together. From the dam, it’s been 3.5 miles. From here to the next access is a long and sluggish 8 miles.
After a handful of additional houses on the left below the bridge, the river begins a broad course – mostly straight with a few wide bends – for several miles through a subtle mix of uplands and lowlands with small grassy islands. What drama there is on this trip is behind you. Instead, here it’s more about quiet solitude and melding with the meadowy environment. As is said about psychedelic experiences, it’s all about set and setting. If you’re looking for action or aesthetics, you will be bored outright and have a bad “trip.” If you simply want simplicity, a feeling of escape and a soft, slow float, this might be for you. Also, should you be paddle-camping, another site will be found downstream from where Horsehead Creek comes in, on river-right, before the big river swings east after its southward flutter. Don’t look a gift horse in (or at) the mouth – these sites are first-come, first-serve, and free.
A house or two with or without lawns will pop up now and again, but generally there’s little development. That is, until the river does something kind of odd and sudden: meander like a wayward hound with a stuffy snout on the scent going here, going there, backtracking left to right, right to left, zigzag, crisscross, north, east, south, west. As I wrote in my notebook, there’s a “dizzying array of unending meanders at the end.” This goes on for two miles past an attractive environment with occasional sandy banks hosting pines through a floodplain environment of oxbows. At the very least, it’s not monotonous. And it is pretty and peaceful – unless you get swamped by motor boats (see below). But you will pass houses and hear sounds of the road.
A quarter-mile long straightaway leads to guardrail and riprap on the right before one final meander of tight bends left-right-right leads you to a steel bridge and modern concrete one that are parallel to one another. Svob says to take out upstream-left of the steel bridge, but a better option lies only 300’ downstream from the modern bridge (re: Bridge Road), where there’s a dedicated boat ramp on the right with modern parking stalls and all.
What we liked:
The opening act is great, from the dam to the River Road bridge. The conifers, boulders, and rapids are fun and beautiful. And it always feels cool to paddle the mighty Wisconsin River A) so far away from the lower 90ish miles, down here in the south, and B) so close to its headwaters in the boreal north.
What we didn’t like:
Get your rotten tomatoes ready – no, I’m not gonna give away the ending to The Crying Game or Where the Crawdads Sing, but I will blurt something that’s borderline blasphemous: this trip felt more like suburban paddling than a northwoods getaway experience. OK, one throw at a time, please.
I was hardly under an illusion that I’d be surrounded by wilderness, or even wilder-ness. Not as congested as the Dells or Door County, the “Northwoods Triangle” between Eagle River, Minocqua, and Rhinelander has to be the third-most tourist-lured part of Wisconsin, an area where hundreds of lakes are chockablock with supper clubs and taverns, fried fish and Old Fashioned’s, and miles of sweet resin-y pine trees. That’s just a given. But this trip is smack-dab northwoods – hell, parts of this trip lie within the boundaries of the Northern-Highland American Legion State Forest and its recommended paddling routes.
To be fair, I didn’t encounter tourists. (Also, for the sake of a reality-check, what was I but also a tourist – coming from Madison with my little Subaru, canoe, and bike?) No, to my surprise, what detracted from the novelty of an upper Wisconsin River/ northwoods paddle experience for me was the imprint of residents, not transients. Let me be clear: this is not a criticism against folks who own homes along the river. No. It’s simply a commentary on this stretch of the river itself and how desirable it is to paddle it. The last thing I expect to hear while paddling through a state forest is a gas-powered leaf blower – a leaf blower on Labor Day weekend, no less. Seriously?
“Mundane & mediocre” is what I wrote in my notebook. Not the takeaway I’d hoped for.
Even where its belt is cinched tightest, the river here is still 100′ wide; at other times it’s a double-wide twice that. As you get closer to the Bridge Road take-out, you might also encounter motorboats. I did, twice. For their sake, I’m glad they were on the river and hope they had a grand time. But for us silent sports enthusiasts seeking solitude on a river, not a lake, then this is a bit of a balloon pin.
For bike shuttling, the distance is only half a mile shorter than the paddling itself. Now, that’s a given when paddling through forests; the roads are literally few and usually far between. But to get that distance without the palpable sense of getting away from it all feels like a raw deal.
If we did this trip again:
I’d revisit the 3.5 miles from the dam to River Road for a “movie trailer” of northwoods paddling, boulders, and light rapids. The eight miles from River Road to Bridge Road, while offering a peaceful float featuring a primer of state forest paddling with interesting twists toward the end, wasn’t my cup of tea.
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Related Information:
Wisconsin River XX: Otter Rapids Dam to County Road O
Camp: Canoe + Kayak Camping Wisconsin – Upper Wisconsin River
Outfitter: Hawk’s Nest Outfitters
Wikipedia: Wisconsin River
Photo Gallery:
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