On Thursday, I was overwhelmed by uncertainty. The Covid epidemic is seething in Wisconsin. This morning, I awoke again to the sound of a helicopter landing at the nearby hospital, taking a patient to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. The uncertainty stems, of course, from the fact that we have no idea when this will all end and when—or if—we can return to our normal lives. On top of that, the presidential election is still undecided three days after the fact. The counting continues in many states to ensure that every vote is tabulated, but more uncertainty is the only result we have at the moment.
So, beset by these uneasy feelings, I decided to go for a walk. It was a gloriously warm, November day, with bright sunshine and temperatures in the high sixties, and I thought I’d wander to the Kinnickinnic River downtown. After all, what could be more constant and assuring than nature. That little river has run through this area since the last ice age. It is something solid and consistent. Just what I need to settle my troubled mind. For those unfamiliar with the area, the river enters the town from the northeast, runs north-to-south through downtown, then turns west where it flows to the St. Croix River about seven miles away. In town, however, two dams interrupt that meandering path. Right at the edge of downtown, the Junction Dam blocks the river and forms Lake George. The runoff from that dam continues south where it is joined by the water from the South Branch of the Kinnickinnic until it is again blocked by the Powell Dam. Behind that dam is another man-made body of water called Lake Louise. Powell Dam was built in 1904 to facilitate a flour mill, and it was later adapted to generate electricity. Thus, for 116 years, the Kinnickinnic River and its two lakes have run through town, looking from the air like a giant boa constrictor that has swallowed two large animals.
I parked downtown and crossed the bridge to the bike path that follows the river. As I walked next to Lake George, hundreds of geese were honking as they rested in the shallow water on their annual pilgrimage to the south. Above me, other geese flew in perfect vee formations in an impressive aerial display. I paused to watch the water rush over the Junction Dam before crossing the swinging bridge into Glen Park. As I left the park, I entered the woods and followed the dirt footpath back down to the river. Deep in thought, I looked down through the trees to my right expecting to see the fifteen-acres of Lake Louise.
It was gone.
Having grown used to seeing a sizable body of water in that spot, it was remarkable to see instead an expanse of mudflats cut by a meandering stream as it ran toward Powell Dam. During the thousands of years in which the river ran down that channel, it had knifed its way through the bedrock and formed a miniature Grand Canyon right here in River Falls. Perhaps a “Petite Canyon” is more accurate, as it appeared, from my distant vantage point, to be only about ten or fifteen feet deep. To get a better view, I cautiously moved closer to the steep cliffs above the water, trying not to tumble over the edge into the muddy plains so recently exposed. Looking down, it was a bit like returning to a childhood home only to find that it had been torn down and replaced by a different house. It jars the system.
I researched this situation and discovered that the dam had been opened on October 1 in order to see if the June 29 flood had caused any damage to the concrete dam. Earlier, in April, 2019, the City Council had voted to take down the dams over time, with Powell Dam scheduled to be dismantled in 2026, and Junction Dam coming down ten or fifteen years later. So this is a preview of what things might look like in six years.
Until then, the current condition of Lake Louise presents a view of the river not seen since 1965, when heavy winter snowfalls led to spring floods that damaged Powell Dam. That was the only other time that the lake had been drained.
I’m not sure how long the river will remain in its present state. Those who long lobbied the city to dismantle the dams used the rallying cry of “Free the Kinni.” This is a rare opportunity to watch the river run free, as it once did in the past and will again in the future.