Zumbro River I

County Road 7 to Zumbro Falls:
Practically a primer for the more fabulous features found downstream, this trip is a very pleasant paddle nonetheless, featuring good wildlife opportunities, the beginning of bluff lands, some fun riffles, gravel bars and sandy outwash beaches, and pretty hillsides.

Rating: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Trip Report Date: November 4, 2023

Skill Level: Beginner
Class Difficulty: Class I

Gradient:
≈ 3′ per mile

Gauge Recorded on this Trip:
Zumbro Falls: ht/ft: 5.5 | cfs: n/a

Recommended Levels:
This is the lowest recommended level. Another great resource for correlating water levels is Minnesota’s DNR Water Level page. The data is different but much more user-friendly. Using this map for reference, 12′ is high. 7-9′ is recommended.

Put-In:
County Highway 7/21 aka “the Green Bridge,” Mazeppa Township, Minnesota
GPS: 44.2337, -92.48249
Take-Out:
Highway 63, Zumbro Falls, Minnesota
GPS: 44.27982, -92.42342

Time: Put in at 12:00p Out at 2:45p.
Total Time: 2h 45m
Miles Paddled: 9.5

Wildlife:
Bald eagles, sleeping deer along the banks, three total beavers, and a feral/barn cat on the prowl.

Shuttle Information:
6.75 miles – essentially the same route for bicycles or motor vehicles, with a steep ascent right away followed by a flat plateau at the top and then a fun descent down. Typical Driftless logistics. Note: Highway 63 is paved but busy, with a generous shoulder, while Highway 7 is lightly-trafficked but a dirt-gravel road. Also, it’s worth noting that while the bridge over the river is Highway 7, the landing itself is off Highway 21, adjacent to Highway 7.

Background:
The Zumbro is a behemoth. Fanning out over six counties in southeastern Minnesota and draining more than 900,000 acres, or 1400 square miles, its watershed is almost monstrous. To put that staggering figure in context, that’s as big as the Baraboo and Kickapoo Rivers combined – and that’s crazy.

There are three forks of the river: South, Middle, and North. And for good measure, one of these (the Middle) has two separate “tines” of its own, such that there’s actually a North Fork of the Middle Branch of the Zumbro River as well as a South Fork of the Middle Branch of the Zumbro River. It’s déjà vu Root River all over again in southeastern Minnesota, except more absurd on the Zumbro.

The South and North Forks both are approximately 58 miles long, while the Middle Fork, given all its components, comprises some 53 miles. Finally, it’s an additional 65 miles from the kitchen-drawer confluence of forks (now called just the Zumbro River) to the Mississippi. In other words, that’s a lot of water! (It is basically three separate rivers, after all.) Each of the so-called forks originates west of the mainstream:

• The South Fork starts southwest of Rochester but then runs north through Minnesota’s third largest city, where it is awfully pretty but held back by several flood-control dams, several of which have no established portage trail;

• The Middle Fork starts a nibble northwest of Rochester and runs through the quaint towns of Mantorville, Oronoco, and Pine Island, offering many miles on multiple segments when there’s enough water;

• The North Fork holds the most food for bite and paddling palate through the toothsome-named towns of Zumbrota and Mazeppa, though low water levels and obstructions will be issues to be aware of.

It is said the river becomes “the Zumbro” on this trip, where the north and south forks converge a mile or so east of Highway 7*, southwest of Zumbro Falls. That’s all good and well, but when you’re on the river the effect of this is rather subtle, a kind of abracadabra for which your imagination must do a lot of heavy lifting to pull off. (But isn’t that true for all magic?) This is because our trip here begins on the South Fork, where the river is well over 100’ wide and has drained an impressive swath of countryside already. (For instance, the Middle Fork has already joined the South Fork by this point.) By contrast, the North Fork is a skinny 50′ wide, a dinky little tributary whose confluence is so inconspicuous, even I almost missed it (and I was watchful).

* Speaking of watchful, I’d be remiss not to point out that there are two bridges at Highway 7 – both over stretches called Zumbro River. Right, ‘cause that’s not confusing. (Also, the bridge on Highway 7 over the South Fork goes by the name “the Green Bridge,” though it was formerly known as “the Black Bridge.” Cause, yeah.) Follow the road from this trip’s starting point not even two miles and you’ll pass over the North Fork of the Zumbro.

It’s also worth noting that only two miles upriver from this trip’s starting point at Highway 7 is the last dam on any of the Zumbro’s cutlery. That shouldn’t affect the width of the stream downriver, but it could affect water levels, fyi. It is for all these reasons that the excellent guidebook Paddling Southern Minnesota begins its first of four trips on the mainstream of the Zumbro here, which we followed diligently and with due reverence.

Overview:
As is the case with many landings on the Zumbro River (as well as other nearby rivers in southeastern Minnesota – the Root and Cannon, for example), the access at the so-called “Green Bridge” is excellent. It features a generous parking area complete with trailer pull-around and a mud-free, concrete-lined launching area. As mentioned above, once you’re on the river, you’d be forgiven for assuming that you’re on the “official” Zumbro River since this is technically still the South Branch (or “Fork” or whatever the hell it’s called), as there’s well over 100′ from bank to bank here. At first the water is glass-flat and calm, an immediate sense of its quintessential pool-riffle-pool nature. Houses will line the left bank, behind which (or technically in front) is Highway 7 – all of which is to say that the first mile is a bit mundane. That said, the occasional riffle and bend lend a little excitement, and the views of willows and cottonwoods adds a touch of sweetness.

As the river veers east a hair and away from Highway 7 a small ridge appears before you, superseded by a taller one on river-right downstream a smidge. Otherwise, long, broad straightaways follow. Other than two notable jogs to the east, this trip runs northward for the most part, so do yourself a favor and paddle this when the wind is from the south or west. About two miles downriver and following an atypical bend to the left, the North Fork of the Zumbro comes in on river left, a rather inconspicuous incident in and of itself other than noting that from here on the river you are already on is now called THE Zumbro. Mazel tov.

While that’s all incidental nomenclature, the river environs do get prettier and livelier after the confluence. While there are cops and pastures here and there, none are truly obtrusive. Besides, the views of hills and bluffs in the backdrop are near-constant. As are gravel bars and frisky riffles, including one engaging stretch of slick Class I rapids for about 100 yards. There are the signature snags for which the Zumbro is known and named (see below) – moored trees jutting above the water line – but generally speaking the river is so wide that circumnavigating these obstructions is none too, um, difficult.

About two miles downstream from the North Fork lies what I think is the prettiest single feature on this trip: a steep-angled 200′-tall ridgeline that comprises a few trees but is by no means “wooded.” (There’s gotta be a joke here about geologists calling another’s bluff…) While not strictly speaking barren, it doesn’t appear butchered by farming or logging either. The river heads directly towards it, then caroms to the left before arcing to the right – the first of two huge horseshoe loops. This time, the river flows before a wooded ridge that is more typical of what one has come to expect in the blufflands of southeastern Minnesota. Sit back, relax, and let the Zumbro whisk you past this elegant ridgeline on your left for half a mile.

But, as happens with any successive run – beautiful weather, the New England Patriots, the Chicago Bulls, electoral democracy – this pretty sweep is soon eclipsed by a gaudy private campground where it’s nothing but one long-ass RV after another for a full mile, all on the left. Perhaps it’s a good wakeup anyway, as the takeout is only 1.5 miles downriver from here. In other words, it’s last call, folks. The physical landscape on river-right is plenty pretty, although even in November the views of rock outcrops were all but indiscernible. But there is one final physiological feature still waiting as the river makes its second huge horseshoe bend: cool and unique sandbanks on the right at least 50’ tall.

In short succession, an attractive cold-water trout stream will enter on the left and then the bridge at Main St spans the river. Note: it’s the next bridge you want to look out for, at Highway 63. In between are some riffle-strewn gravel bars and steep banks with a handful of buildings in “downtown” Zumbro Falls. On the upstream side of the takeout bridge is a huge sand and gravel quarry, on river-right. The access is on the downstream side of the Highway 63 bridge, on river-left. Again, there’s a convenient concrete apron that connects the water to the wayside area parking (which is even more generous than at Highway 7). It’s an excellent access and tidy way to end a splendid trip.

What we liked:
First off, words that begin with the last letter of the alphabet are irresistibly fun. Think about it… Zucchini, zany, zephyr, zeal, ziggurat, zygote – I defy you not to smile. Need more examples? Probably not, but leave overkill to me.

Zydeco… I mean, I kinda can’t stand all that repetitive accordion and washboard hypnotics, but the word alone – Zydeco! – and suddenly it’s laissez les bons temps rouler!

Dude after whom Pike’s Peak is named? Zebulon. John Pike? Paul Pike? Terrence Pike? Boring. Zebulon? Cool as shit.

Picture this: a horse. OK, now imagine this: a horse with stripes. You heard right? A horse with stripes? I know – it sounds crazy. But unlike all that unicorn and Pegasus crap, this animal actually exists! And it’s called a zebra. Far out, man. Or how about this: the concept of quantifiable nothingness? Zero. Or to add a little slang, zilch. The twelve constellations in the sky and their corresponding months comprising a calendar year (and for the true believers, predestined personality traits)? Zodiac. Then you have a word whose sound is as cool as its concept: zeitgeist (or, the collective spirit of a people in a place at a time). Bad ass. Or how about the school of chemistry that delves in fermentation – y’know, the folks who brought us chocolate, cheese, coffee, and alcohol – yeah, zymurgy. What’s that? The ice rink’s gone too crusty and coarse? No sweat, let’s break out the Zamboni machine. Zamboni!?! Or, take your pick: the coolest-ever alter-ego or guitar riff in all rock ‘n’ roll – Stardust, Ziggy.

Still not convinced? Seriously? Did you just have a lobotomy? Very well. The godhead of all gods? Athena? Minerva? Ganesh? Shiva? Persephone? Nope, it’s Zeus. Zeus! And the man leading an impossible campaign against f-ing Russia? I’m referring, of course, to the president of Ukraine: Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Zelenskyy!

Boom. Done. Mic drop, exit stage left.

Zumbro is no different; indeed, it’s why my girlfriend and I just named one of our three adopted kittens Zumbro. He’s totally a Zumbro. So now you know why one of my cats is named what he is, but how did the river itself come by this unusual name? Good question. It’s an Anglicized corruption of the French. The latter christened it “La riviere des embarras,” which more or less phonetically sounds like lah riv-ee-air day zambarah. Obviously, it’s the latter inflection that caught the ears of the English like the very objects the French named the river for: river of difficulties (embrarras).

Zambarah > Zambarah > Zambarah > Zambrah > Zambrah > Zambrah > Zumbro. All good? Cool.

The riffles are fun, and there are lots of gravel bars/ small islands to get out and take a break on. The bluffs are pretty, and the heady notion that on this trip the last individual links of the Zumbro converge such that now and from here on down to the Mississippi River you are on The Zumbro River is pretty cool. Also, at least for me on this individual trip, I saw three separate beavers (unprecedented), a deer sleeping along the banks, and then right before the takeout a cute feral or barn cat on the prowl. In other words, the wildlife was awesome.

What we didn’t like:
First and foremost, one of those aforementioned beavers had a steel trap in its mouth. When I passed this poor soul I was too far away to see the specifics and just happy that I was able to take its picture before it dove off a log (which it did, steel trap notwithstanding). But afterward, zooming in, I saw the trap. Unless I’m missing something here, what the hell, gophers?

Perhaps it’s parochial or merely un-neighborly for us in Wisconsin to kvetch about the inexplicable ambiguity of another state’s naming system, but why not assign unique names to all these individual streams instead of stamping them as Zumbro-esque? Name them after Swedes. Name them after Norwegians. Here’s a crazy idea: honor the original name of the Native Americans. But the up or down branch of the left or right fork of the odd day river in an even month watershed? Please. It would be like calling Badfish Creek relative the Yahara River “the Middle Fork of the North Branch of the Rock River.” Yeah, no.

Of all the segments of the Zumbro – and from this trip starting at Highway 7 to the wayside landing in Kruger, I’ve paddled every mile – this trip has the most development. Not that it’s a lot of development (it isn’t, all things considered), but relative all things Zumbro, it’s worth mentioning. The private campground with its chockablock RVs spoils what would otherwise be a very pretty sweep around a steep valley. To be sure, it’s for this very reason why the campground is located where it is – I get that – but the whole RV scene juxtaposed with the natural beauty felt like an eyesore.

If we did this trip again:
By and by, there are no alternative accesses to this trip, so you’re essentially stuck with starting and ending at Highways 7 and 63, respectively. (That said, you could begin on the other Zumbro branch/ other Highway 7 bridge, which would shave off 1.5 miles of paddling, but low water levels and obstructions would be probable.) Given how gorgeous the next section is – Highway 63 to the Hammond landing, arguably the best of the Zumbro – doing this trip would be a questionable choice. But it’s definitely worth doing if you’ve never done it.

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Related Information:
Zumbro River II: Zumbro Falls to Millville
Zumbro River III: Millville to Theilman
Zumbro River IV: Theilman to Kruger
Zumbro River V: Kruger to Mississippi River
Zumbro River: South Fork: 90th Street to Zumbro River County Park
Article: PostBulletin
Outfitter: Zumbro River Ratz
Outfitter: Zumbro Valley Canoe Rental
Overview: Minnesota Department of Natural Resources
Wikipedia: Zumbro River

Photo Gallery: