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Little Fork, big smiles: Adventure on small river exceeds expectations

A four-day paddle on northern Minnesota's Little Fork River offered smile-inducing whitewater, abundant wildlife, solitude -- and some great fishing.

June 19, 2011 at 10:27PM

Tom Kalahar and Marv Boerboom head into Deadman's Rapids on the Little Fork River. Despite the ominous name, the pair successfully navigated the whitewater. (Star Tribune/The Minnesota Star Tribune)

ORR, MINN. - Even the name was ominous: Deadman's Rapids.

Then there was the intimidating roar from the Little Fork River slicing through the gash in the bedrock.

But there we were, paddling our heavily laden canoe toward the frothy abyss, strewn with jagged rocks. We entered the fast-moving water, stroking for all we were worth to avoid a huge boulder, then angling sharply into the main chute -- a churning caldron of brown water bubbling with white waves.

Several crashed over our bow, splashing partner Tim McMullen, 55, of Delano.

"Yeeehaaaa!" he hollered.

In an exhilarating instant the wet roller-coaster ride was done, and we edged into calm waters. Deadman's Rapids was a misnomer, at least on this day. We then cheered on our two companions, both novice whitewater paddlers, as they, too, slipped through the rapids dampened but upright.

"It was scary but fun," said Marv Boerboom, 60, of Olivia, Minn., his face splashed with a grin.

We were on a four-day, early June fishing/camping/paddling trip on a remote 45-mile stretch of the Little Fork River, which unfurls like a ribbon from near Lake Vermilion to the Rainy River just west of International Falls. How remote? We never saw another soul and rarely saw signs of civilization. No roads cross the river here. We saw deer, bald eagles, geese and wood ducks, along with wolf and moose tracks. Ovenbirds, white-throated sparrows and veeries sang incessantly in the woods.

It was only toward the end of our trip that we spotted a couple of houses and cabins, and paddled beneath a highway bridge.

Good fishin'

The wilderness was just part of the attraction. The fishing also was an allure. We hoped the Little Fork -- with walleyes, smallmouth bass, northern and muskies -- would offer an intimate angling experience.

It didn't disappoint.

While several rapids punctuated the trip with excitement, most of the stretch we paddled was placid. We drifted, using jigs with leeches or plastic twister tails, and caught numerous 15- to 18-inch walleyes, their bellies tinged yellow from the tannin-stained dark waters. Our best luck was in swirling currents below rapids.

At dinner, we fried our catch golden brown in hot oil, along with fresh potatoes seasoned with onions and red peppers. At one meal, we dipped the filets in a batter that included taco seasoning, an improvisation that proved heavenly.

"That is out of this world," said Tom Kalahar, 58, also of Olivia, savoring the meal while rapids roared behind him.

We also caught scads of feisty smallmouth bass, ranging up to 18 inches. Few northerns showed up for the party. But Kalahar, casting an 9-inch lure with 80-pound test line, hooked into to a toothy 3-foot muskie within the first hour of the trip.

It was the only one he caught. Later, he spotted a bigger one that followed his lure. And he and Boerboom literally bumped into a 40- to 45-inch monster lurking in shallow water.

"He splashed me and took off," Kalahar said. "Oh, he was a nice one."

Not the BWCA

For canoeists, Minnesota is nirvana. There's the incomparable Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, of course. But there's much more. The Little Fork is just one of 32 waterways totaling 4,400 miles that the Department of Natural Resources has designated as "water trails." They also include the Big Three - the Mississippi, Minnesota and St. Croix rivers -- but also many smaller, less-traveled rivers such as the Cloquet, Rum and Zumbro.

We chose a stretch of the Little Fork between Cook and the town of Littlefork. None of us had been there.

"It's an adventure," Kalahar said.

There was no mistaking the Little Fork for the BWCA. This isn't Canadian Shield country, so there are few rock outcrops. Instead, the river banks are a clay-sand mix that often stick to your boots like wet cement.

And rather than pines, the forest is mostly deciduous trees -- basswoods overhang the river, offering a partial canopy. Aspen, birch and maple are common, along with spruce and cedar.

Large stands of white and red pines were logged long ago, but a few towering giants remain. Ferns and dogwood blanket the river banks, emitting a unique, sweet aroma.

Campsites are difficult to find. There was only one DNR-designated site on our 45-mile stretch, and it hadn't been used this year. It was small, with flat spots for two tents beneath huge cedars, but it was a struggle to get up the 8-foot muddy riverbanks We found a better one the next night. Our third night, nine miles from our take-out point, we camped near a trail worn by ATVs, though we never saw or heard a machine.

Four thumbs up

The biggest surprise was what we didn't find: Bugs.

"I can't believe it -- we're in the 'Twilight Zone,'" Kalahar said one night while sitting bug-free around a campfire. We brought head nets, but only wore them occasionally.

The weather also was perfect. Temperatures dipped to the 40s at night, and hit mid-60s during the day. A constant breeze kept the bugs at bay.

The fishing, solitude and scenery all impressed us.

Our last night, we sat in the dark on a rock outcrop near a crackling campfire. The Little Fork danced, shimmering silver from the light of the moon. Kalahar summed up our thoughts:

"This whole trip has been perfect."

Doug Smith • dsmith@startribune.com