I'm a Mississippi River guy. I love most everything about it: its beauty, its history and its ties to our culture and commerce. I've been covering issues and activities along St. Paul's riverfront for several years and have come to understand that having one of the world's mightiest rivers in our backyard makes us a special city, or more aptly, a special river town.
Inspired by the book "Saint Croix Notes," which I purchased at a library book sale recently for 50¢, I thought I'd add a new twist to my coverage of the river. "Saint Croix Notes," written by Noah Adams, former host of National Public Radio's "All Things Considered" program, is a collection of essays that Adams penned about his life in the St. Croix River Valley. Many of us who live in the Mississippi River Valley share some type of affection for the river, or at least have an affiliation to it. For the next 12 months, I've decided to spend 30 minutes along the Mississippi riverfront at roughly the same time—12:30 p.m.—at the same place—a park bench in Harriet Island Regional Park—on the first Friday of each month to observe what happens around me and reflect on what it means to live in a river town.
The articles below appear in chronological order.
November 4, 2011 12:30 p.m. 53 degrees; sunny; cool breeze
As I sit in the warm confines of my truck in the parking lot at Harriet Island Regional Park, the day outside my windshield looks glorious. The sun is shining brightly in a cloudless sky, the wind is fluttering a nearby American Flag perched high on a pole, and the river is a sparkling blue. The baring trees and the swirling leaves are the only things that visibly differentiate this day from the more temperate days of weeks past, when summer ruled the land.
Once out of my truck, the cool breeze reminds me that it is indeed autumn. I pull the zipper of my jacket to my chin and walk briskly to a bench near the riverfront. There are over a dozen similar benches scattered throughout the park, all empty, so I have my pick. I choose one that is near the middle of the park, one that affords me a good view of the river and the surrounding area.
It’s not long before people begin to pass by. Some are young, some are old, and all are dressed for their activity. The runners and bikers wear light, breathable attire, while the walkers are covered in sweatshirts and polar fleece; some are even donned in heavy winter jackets and puffy ear muffs. They all pass by without looking directly at me. They are engaged in conversation, the exertion of their sport, or are deep in thought, as it should be along the river. An elderly couple walks by hand-in-hand, silent. A group of women follows them and I hear a fragmented three second conversation about a difficult workplace situation. Nearby, a couple stands on opposite sides of a massive cottonwood tree, hugs its girth and tries to clasp each other’s hands, unsuccessfully. They step back, eye-up the tree, smile broadly and continue on their way.
Upriver are the boats of the Padleford Riverboat Company, which this spring mourned the passing of its founder, Captain Bill Bowell. Downstream the boys at Upper River Services are busy moving barges around the harbor so a towboat can take them down river. Around Thanksgiving each year, the last of the barges is gone, and about nine million tons of commodities will have been shipped to distant ports. Some of the crew on the last trip south will ride the season all the way to New Orleans and experience the height of autumn in nine states. In New Orleans today it is not much warmer than here—64 degrees—but the forecast calls for upper 70s in the coming days. Ours calls for lower 40s.
This past weekend, while watching the Vikings squeak out a narrow victory in North Carolina and seeing the warm, sunny weather surrounding the stadium, my brother-in-law posed the question: "Why do we live in Minnesota?" It’s a fair question, especially from someone who grew up on the Iron Range and endured his share of brutal winter weather. It’s a question that occupies our conversations these days as we brace ourselves for the approaching season. Many are hustling to get outdoor chores done before the snow arrives, and I’m no different than the rest. This week I purchased firewood, cleaned our windows and garage, and am planning to spend the upcoming weekend mulching the many leaves that are blanketing my yard.
Although a busy time, the changing of the seasons is an exciting time, and it’s these days that keep many of us in this state, especially the six to eight weeks in the spring that make us forget about sub-zero temps, snow and wind chill, and the same amount of time in the fall that erase from our memories the long, hot, muggy days of summer. Winter is coming, and with it the festive holiday season. Across the river I can see the St. Paul Library on the skyline. On the other side of the library is Rice Park, which becomes a winter wonderland in December. It is home to St. Paul’s Christmas tree, thousands of holiday lights and other seasonal decorations. This year’s tree — a 65-foot tall, 25-foot wide, 50-year-old spruce — was donated by David and Therese Rice of St. Paul.
I glance at my watch and see that my time has expired. A brittle, heart-shaped cottonwood leaf is shaken from the tree overhead and gently spins its way into the cold river. It floats with others in the quiet water near the river’s edge. Waiting.
December 2, 2011 12:30 p.m. 31 degrees F Sunny, cold breeze
The scene at Harriet Island Regional Park today is much different than last month. The leaves have all disappeared, leaving the trees looking naked, twiggy and gnarled. Gone too are the hordes of people that walk, run or bike in the park. Today, there is virtually no one around. From the parking lot I notice that the great lawn is filled with over 150 Canada geese. One lone walker on the nearby trail veers off course to get close to the gaggle. They eye him suspiciously and waddle away en masse. As I make my way to my bench, I approach the geese as well and laugh as they squeak at me and warn each other that potential danger is near. I must seem non-threatening, however, because most of the geese merely scurry away. Only a few took flight, flying about a hundred yards or so before landing on the frigid river.
The river is still flowing freely and not even a hint of ice has formed at its edges. We had the second snowfall of the season this week — less than one inch — and the ground is crusted with its icy remains. It’s the same ice that has accumulated on my front steps. The first snowfalls of the season can be hazardous because they often melt quickly and turn to ice before the day is over. I’ve noticed that the “Minnesota Shuffle” has once again replaced our strong, confident gaits of warmer months.
Last year we received more than 89 inches of snow in the Twin Cities, which is the fourth highest amount since record keeping began in 1871. Michelle Margraf, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Chanhassen, says to brace for more of the same this year. Predictions call for above normal precipitation and below normal temperatures. This jibes with the forecast in the Old Farmers’ Almanac, which warns of another cold, snowy winter.
Snow is usually welcomed by most this time of year because it enhances our holiday spirit. Earlier this week I visited Rice Park to see the 65-foot tall Christmas tree. I had read about how the tree trunk was inserted into a hole and then was surrounded by wedges of lumber to hold it in place. I had to see it for myself and was amazed at how snuggly the lumber filled the hole and how securely it held the tree in place.
It’s my daughter’s birthday today and I think of her as she passes from her teens into her twenties. She is in college at the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse, and I find it strangely comforting that the same river I’m looking at flows by her adopted town. I toss a birthday wish into the river and hope it finds her happy.
To my right, I catch a glimpse of movement in the Pilot House suite of the Covington Inn, one of the few floating bed and breakfast establishments in the nation. I’m sure owner Liz Miller is thrilled to have a guest in the off-season. Last winter was challenging for her. Twice she awoke to frozen pipes and was forced to cancel reservations, resulting in a loss of income during her slowest time of the year. The Pilot House is surrounded by windows, and I’m sure its current resident is toasty warm. There is not a cloud in the sky to filter out the bright sunshine.
On my way to the park I passed by some maintenance men wrestling with a large sheet of plastic. They use the plastic to cover some of the 22 boats of the liveaboarders that stay at the St. Paul Yacht Club year-round. I wonder how those residents cope with winter living in such close quarters.
The shipping season on the Mississippi is now over. On Nov. 24, the MV Charlie G was the last commercial tow to pass through Lock and Dam 2, near Hastings. The river is now much quieter. Soon more snow will fall and frigid temps will form a cake of ice on the river. It’s interesting to think about how each snowflake that floats down becomes part of the river, and to ponder where it will end up. Will it wash ashore in Red Wing? St. Louis? Or will it make it all the way to the Gulf of Mexico where it will cool the toes of some tourist on a beach in Mexico? I’d like to think the latter will happen, but that’s because I’m cold now. My fingers are numb, as is my bottom from sitting on this hard metal bench.
My time is up. I’m off to find a bowl of soup.
Jan. 6, 2012 12:30 p.m. 41 degrees F, sunny
I must admit, when I embarked on this project a few months ago one of the first images that came to mind was a cold bench in the middle of a wind-swept park blanketed with snow. At that time I already envisioned what I would be wearing on this visit: long underwear, layers of clothing under a thick winter jacket, heavy socks and winter boots, a possibly a fleece facemask to protect my cheeks from the icy wind. Today serves as a reminder of why I shouldn’t worry about things I have no control over, and to expect the unexpected. It is 44 degrees and sunny, weather more reminiscent of a fall day rather than one in the heart of winter. It brings to mind the classic scene in “White Christmas” when Bing and Danny step off the trainin Vermont, bundled from head to toe, and are greeted by warm, sunny weather and a brown landscape. Most people, however, aren’t complaining about the weather. The only people that are undoubtedly frustrated are the folks that are organizing the Winter Carnival, which takes place Jan. 26-Feb. 5. It’s hard to motivate people to celebrate our ability to embrace winter when we’re running around without coats, and it’s difficult to thumb our nose at people like that New York reporter from 126 years ago who called St. Paul “another Siberia, unfit for human habitation in the winter.” The river is still open and flowing freely. There are a few gulls soaring overhead, which is an odd sight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen sea gulls here in January. I’m sitting near the site where ferries used to transport people and product across the river before bridges. I can’t imagine the amount of patience they had in those days to wait for a ferry to cross from the West Side into downtown St. Paul. Now, we have four bridges along a mile-and-a-half of St. Paul riverfront and we get frustrated if we have to wait for a red light. The river means many things to many people. To some, it’s a barrier that separates people and neighborhoods. To others, it’s a ribbon of highway that leads to the sea. It also defines communities. For example, the people who live on the West Side have a tradition of living with the river, especially in the pre-floodwall days when it encroached on their homes in the springtime. It’s a close-knit community and many of its residents refer to themselves as being “from St. Paul” only when they are outside of the Twin Cities. If they are in the shadow of St. Paul’s skyline, they proudly call themselves West Siders. To my left, the riverfront trail through Harriet Island is paved with bricks, many of which have names and messages inscribed on them. They were installed during the renovation of the park that began in the late 1990s. I get up and look more closely at the line of bricks near my bench. They speak of community—one brick memorializes early settlers of St. Paul, another one a local congregation, and yet another one a St. Paul cop. Many bricks contain family names of mixed ancestry. The one from Kristi and Dennis is stamped with a special date, undoubtedly something monumental like the day of their first date, their wedding day or the birth of a child. Another brick has seven sets of initials, all ending with the letter W; a big, close family, no doubt. Bob and Linda’s paver pledges “Now and Forever,” while Ginny and Bill remind us that “Life is a Dance.” I read recently that a “not-to-be-missed Metro Mississippi adventure” is to walk over the Smith Avenue High Bridge. As I left the park, I decided to do just that. I’ve driven across the bridge hundreds of times but have never walked across it. I exited the park on Water Street, snaked my way up the bluff on Ohio Street, and turned right on Cherokee Avenue to reach a small park at the foot of the bridge. There is a group of people from the Cherokee Garden Club who recognize the importance of this place and they help beautify it each year by planting a flower garden here. Near the park is a sign that shows a sketch of the former High Bridge, which was imploded on Feb. 25, 1985, and a sketch of the current bridge, which was completed in 1987. The sign is cracked and faded from withstanding 25 years of weather atop the bluff. The bridge is named after Robert Smith, a longtime St. Paul mayor who served in the late 1800s and early 1900s. On the walkway, the view of the river and the skyline is stunning, and iconic St. Paul. In one sweeping view you can see the First National Bank sign, the domes of the Cathedral and the Capitol, the mansions on the bluff and the Landmark Brewery sign. I peer over the railing and see a hubcap in the weeds below some power lines. It reminds me of a remarkable accident that happened here on Jan. 22, 1962. According to a newspaper article, a car veered off the High Bridge, landed upside down on a telephone line, sprung back up into the air, and landed upright with no passenger injuries. If the account is true, can you imagine the experience? What a ride! Halfway across the bridge I stop and look over the edge to get a full view of the river, some 160 feet below. It’s a majestic site to behold. Standing there with a gusty wind at my back, I couldn’t help but think of the distraught people who have used this bridge to end their lives. The thought saddened me so I said a quick prayer for those of us who struggle that way that they can find hope. Once across the bridge I saw the huge, green chair that welcomes people to the West Seventh neighborhood, or Uptown. I smiled when I saw it because I immediately knew what I had to do to complete this urban adventure. I walked through a sandy area around the chair and crawled under the chair’s large arm to climb aboard. The seat was filled with sand, so I am not the first in recent days to be on it. I brushed away the sand from the middle plank and sat down and took in the view of the High Bridge and a small portion of the river. Sitting there I laughed at myself. I felt small, like a child. In the park near the chair is a pole that is inscribed in four languages: “May Peace Prevail on Earth.” Yes, may it be so.
Feb. 3, 2012 12:30 p.m. 32 degrees F Overcast
The first thing I notice as I head to my bench is a puddle. That’s right, a puddle in early February. It’s a rare sight for this time of year, but not unusual for this winter given the near-record warm temps. This week it topped forty at least twice, resulting in only a few patches of snow left in the park, moving water in the river, and puddles. Last weekend was colder, though. I took a hike in a park downriver where the Mississippi was mostly iced-over. I have kayaked this area several times and know that it’s extremely shallow by the riverbank so I stepped out onto the ice and walked a hundred yards or so until I came near an area with open water. My mind raced with thoughts of crashing through. It was a little scary, a little adventurous. Being out on the ice made me wish that it were colder and that I could walk all the way across the river, something I’ve never done before. I’d like to do that in St. Paul. Start near my bench at Harriet Island and walk directly across the river to the Upper Landing. I add that activity to my to-do list but know it won’t happen until we have an extremely long, cold winter. I can wait. Early February is when I begin to get the itch for warmer weather and for being outdoors. It’s also when I start dreaming of my next Mississippi River adventure. At night I find myself poring over maps and navigational charts to plan where I will take my next kayak trip, discover which island I will camp on. These plans and dreams help me wile away the time until I can be out on the river again.
Dreaming Big St. Paul, thankfully, has a number of dreamers of its own. Many of those dreamers helped create the Great River Passage Plan, which is completed and looking for a final stamp of approval. It’s an ambitious strategy to further develop the 17 miles of Mississippi riverfront in St. Paul. The goal is to link 16 parks and 25 miles of trails and add other amenities to make the riverfront “more natural, more urban and more connected.” It’s a vision of what the riverfront will look like in the next 30 years. I’m glad there are people who can dream big dreams. Although funding is always an issue, they are able to look past that obstacle and chart a course for making improvements for the common good. Our country has a grand history of doing that. One of our legacies is the National Park system. These beautiful national treasures would not exist today were it not for the foresight of people who dared to dream big dreams. One of my favorite aspects of the Great River Passage Plan is the River Promenade. From my bench I can see the proposed area for it on the downtown riverfront near the Wabasha Street Bridge. The promenade would include restaurants, retail shops and small entertainment venues. The signature piece is a large public balcony overlooking the river and Harriet Island. The plan also calls for a riverwalk on the West Side, a pedestrian walkway that would link the park to new retail, office space and housing near the levee. It’s exciting to think about such possibilities and what they would mean for the city of St. Paul and the riverfront. You may view the plan at www.greatriverpassage.org.
Signs of Spring Even though Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow earlier this week suggesting six more weeks of winter, there are some signs that spring is on its way. For example, tomorrow the Vulcan Krewe will predictably overthrow King Boreas during the closing ceremonies of the St. Paul Winter Carivnal, signaling the release of the grip of winter on the land. I see a small fishing boat slowly heading upstream and it reminds me that March is the month that commercial navigation returns to the river. It typically happens around March 20, the first day of spring, but this year I assume it will begin earlier. On the light pole near my bench is a metal hanger used to support two hanging baskets of flowers that will beautify the park all summer long. City staff will soon be planting the seeds for those flowers in the city’s new greenhouse, located on Water Street on the West Side. A crew of 400 volunteers in the Blooming St. Paul program takes care of the flowers at this site and several others around the city. It won’t be long until the city is in bloom again. Around me I can hear the bustling sound of traffic. Muffled within that noise are the bells ringing at the Cathedral of Saint Paul. According to spokesperson Caroyln Will, the bells sound every fifteen minutes daily, with the full peal at the top of the hour. It’s a peaceful, comforting sound that reminds us to stop, pause and consider.
March 3, 2012
12:30 p.m.
31 degrees F
Overcast
Today, I’m looking for signs of spring but they are difficult to find, thanks to a recent snowstorm. The first thing I noticed after sitting down on my bench was a black speck in the sky moving swiftly downriver. I watched as it grew larger and was transformed into a bird with large wings and a distinctive white head and tail feathers. Before long this bald eagle was directly above the Science Museum. He took four or five powerful strokes and then angled his wings to begin an aerial maneuver of gliding in a large, lazy circle in the sky. I was amazed that he had enough momentum to complete the circle not once, but twice. Maybe he was looking for food or maybe he was showing off for me. Nonetheless, it was a wonderful sight to behold.
As he flew off, I saw a small flock of birds silhouetted against the tan brick exterior of the Science Museum. I couldn’t tell what species they were, but their presence reminded me that the spring migration has begun. The Mississippi River is one of the most significant migratory flyways in North America because it offers a large supply of food, water and shelter for the millions of waterfoul and birds that use the flyway each spring. By mid-February, one can spot mergansers, goldeneyes and other waterfoul. By mid-March, colorful birds begin to reappear, such as the territorial Red Wing Blackbird and the pastel colored bluebird. Finally, in April the songbirds return to join the dawn chorus.
I remember as a child looking for robins in the spring. Once we saw them, we knew that spring had finally arrived and that soon we would be running barefoot in the grass. Robins are a common bird in the city, but I was surprised to learn that they actually spend the winter in northern cedar bogs, wetlands and riverside thickets that are close to their nesting areas.
According to the National Park Service, some shorebirds that can be found in Minnesota travel thousands of miles from South America to the Arctic Circle. For example, a white-rumped sandpiper in Minnesota will have logged nearly 8,000 miles by the time it flies from Argentina to its Arctic breeding grounds. To identify common birds in our area by sight and song, visit http://www.nps.gov/miss/naturescience/birds.htm.
March Madness
An intangible sign that spring is near is the start of the high school state tournament season in St. Paul. This week my family and I were part of March Madness. On Thursday we joined 14,000 other fans at the State wrestling tournament. By the time the day was over we had dropped a c-note on tickets, parking and food. Now I know why they call it madness. According to Adam Johnson of the St. Paul Convention and Visitors Bureau, last year the state tournaments attracted nearly 168,000 to the Capital City. That’s a lot of people, and a lot of money infused into the local economy.
Minnesota Nice
Another thing I noticed from my time on my bench is that people using Harriet Island Regional Park today were much friendlier. It’s likely that being cooped up all winter has us longing for more interaction with others. In the past, hardly anyone would even glance my way as they walked, ran or biked by me. Today, however, one young woman smiled at me and said hello, and a man looked my way and nodded his head as a salutation. And then came along Mary and Dianne, two residents at one of the condos at the Upper Landing. They walked from their condo, across the Wabasha Bridge and to Harriet Island just to say hello. They are older ladies, but both had youthful eyes and infectious personalities. They paused to tell me how much they love St. Paul and the Mississippi River. Having lived on the waterfront for nearly six years, they have become walking and talking ambassadors of the city and the riverfront. When some friends were considering moving to Minneapolis recently Mary offered a tour of her home, combined with a tour of the city. They were hooked and signed a purchase agreement to become her neighbor. It is people like Mary and Dianne that reinforce my belief that St. Paul is just one big small town. We spoke briefly and shared things we had in common, in particular a love of the river. At one point, Mary eyed me up and picked at the knee of my trousers.
"I know this is personal, but are you wearing underwear?"
I smiled. I knew she was referring to long underwear, and I assured her I was.Having read my past columns, she understands that spending a half-hour on a metal bench in the wintertime can be a chilling experience. She was happy to see that I was properly dressed for the weather. It was a conversation that would occur between friends. A conversation I was happy to have.
April 6, 2012 12:30 p.m. 61 degrees F Sunny
The color green has returned to Harriet Island Regional Park. The Great Lawn is lush once again and is already in need of a trim. The stately cottonwoods that grace the park are bursting forth with foliage. Tiny heart-shaped leaves have sprouted from their buds and their stringy seeds are dangling like fuzzy caterpillars next to them. Children have also returned to the park. Several are swinging and sliding at the sandy playground, a few are kicking a soccer ball, and a boy is trying to fly a kite. He’s struggling to get it to take flight, even though it should be easy on a breezy day like today. Finally, a friend gives him some advice and he lets the string slip quickly through his fingers until the kite is sky-bound. It’s a peaceful image to see a colorful kite soaring overhead, and a funny sight when one dive-bombs toward the earth, which this one did several times. The trail through the park is also filled with walkers, bikers and joggers, many of whom are breathing quite heavily as they pass me by. It’s evident that their winter lacked much physical activity. Exercising along the riverfront holds many advantages over an indoor gym.
Music fest More than a dozen members of the St. Paul Police Department’s Bike Patrol are in the park practicing maneuvers. I assume they are gearing up for the busy summer season when they will patrol area streets and parks on their mountain bikes. I’m sure they will be present during the inaugural River’s Edge Music Festival, held June 23-24 at Harriet Island. This event is expected to attract nearly 40,000 people each day to enjoy the music of at least 28 bands on four stages, including headliners the Dave Matthews Band and TOOL. At a recent press conference, Mark Campana, spokesman for the promoter, Live Nation, praised the venue and the welcome his company received from the city of St. Paul. “It was so obvious that the city of St. Paul wanted us to come here with this event,” he said. “Harriet Island has the natural beauty, the skyline. When we looked at it we knew it was a natural for us. The embrace we received by the city of St. Paul is why we are here today.” To show its appreciation, Live Nation is underwriting the cost of the Fourth of July fireworks display at Harriet Island and is also making a donation to the Children’s Cancer Research Fund. For more information on the event, visit www.riversedgemusicfestival.com. Keeping Harriet Island and other parks in the city clean and beautiful is made possible each year thanks to a small army of volunteers. Approximately 1,000 people spend a few hours on a day in April — this year April 14 — picking up trash and debris so the rest of the community can enjoy clean parks during the spring and summer.
‘Life on the Mississippi’ Just to my right is the Minnesota Centennial Showboat, a floating theater moored on the Mississippi. I’ve never been inside the showboat and am excited to do so soon to see “Mark Twain’s Mississippi,” a new musical based on Twain’s classic book, “Life on the Mississippi.” The show is being presented through May 20. It follows young Samuel Clemens as he leaves home in 1858 to learn steamboat piloting and start the most colorful time of his life that transformed him from boy to man, and from Samuel Clemens to Mark Twain. Tickets are $24-$28, with discounts for students and seniors. For more information, visit www.riverrides.com. The showboat is a unique riverfront amenity. It features an ornate 225-seat theater and two Victorian reception rooms. Each summer the University of Minnesota Department of Theater Arts and Dance hosts 80 stage performances. The Showboat is also available for private rental from September through May. If you haven’t yet visited it, this month is a great time to check it out.
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