A story about paddles, pedals, puppies, and people.

What About Jezzy?

About paddles, pedals, puppies, and people.

by Jim Schoemer

We had talked about it often. Now we finally had the “stuff” to support our idea. All we had to do was think through the logistical details.

“The idea” was our solution to the ongoing dilemma my significant other, Joan, and I face whenever we engage in our favorite recreational activity: river canoeing. We both consider spending precious one-on-one time together paddling through the quiet and solitude of Wisconsin’s North Woods a true gift. The problem with solitude and rivers, however, is that you still have to get from point A to point B and back again. This is known as shuttling.

Sure we could each drive our own vehicles the three to eight hours typical of our excursions, which also include several nights of camping. But where’s the togetherness in that, not to mention double the environmental impact? Of course, shuttle service can be purchased in some areas, but our pioneer spirit and self-determination make that option seem like a cop-out.

No, we’re gonna do it, and we’re gonna do it by ourselves.

Back to the idea. Our second love, after river running, is bicycling. So, we reasoned, why not marry the two into one big outdoor experience? Yes, the idea was to self-shuttle. We would simply need the stuff to mount two bikes and one canoe, and a vehicle large enough to mount them on.

The necessary stuff turned out to be my Dodge Caravan with a bike rack on the back and a set of pads and ropes to top-mount the canoe. Our 16-foot Dagger Legend was just the right size to securely tie down and still independently mount/unmount the bikes without the ropes interfering.

Now for the logistical details mentioned at the outset. We sat at dusk on the deck of the Loon Saloon, facing East on Namekagon Lake’s Anderson Island, which is really more like a peninsula or isthmus, with the narrowest of channels between the large lake and the smaller body of water to its East. As we sipped our cocktails and listened to the distant loons, we worked out the details for tomorrow’s day trip on the Namekagon River.

Let’s see. We drive to the put-in in Hayward and drop the canoe, paddles, PFDs, and cooler. We drive to our take-out spot, North Springbrook Landing. We unmount the bikes, lock the van, and pedal back to Hayward. We lock the bikes, launch the canoe, and leisurely paddle the approximately 12 miles downstream to the take-out. We load up the canoe and gear, drive the van back to pick up the bikes, and return to camp. Done.

So there we sat at the Loon Saloon, full of ourselves, not only for having the nerve to attempt self-shuttling, but for having the considerable intellectual resources to unlock the logistical mysteries of how to do it. Then, suddenly, I paused and gave Joan a look that probably made her think I was having a stroke. “What’s wrong?!” she implored. Still holding that look, I replied, “What about Jezzy?”

“Jezzy” is short for “Jezebel,” Joan’s yellow Labrador, unfortunately not with us anymore. She was a lover of anything outdoors and, in particular, of anything outdoors involving water. Needless to say, she loves canoeing, too. Yet, in our selfish enthusiasm of figuring out the self-shuttle, we had shamefully forgotten to include our favorite paddling companion. While we never risked taking her on more adventurous rivers, the gentle Namekagon provided swimming and sniffing opportunities for Jezzy that—once we remembered we had a dog with us—we couldn’t bear to not include her in. But how could we work her into the shuttle equation?

Ten years old at the time, (although we still refer to her and her memory as “the puppy”), she wasn’t capable of trotting alongside us on our bikes for the hour or so it would take to pedal from the take-out to the put-in. The only apparent alternative: leave her tied up with the canoe and gear while we went to drop the van at the take-out and pedal back. Could we or couldn’t we? Should we or shouldn’t we? After much consternation and more than a little guilt, we agreed that she should be safe for that amount of time. The reward of a canoe trip would earn us Jezzy’s forgiveness for leaving her alone.

Imagine tying up your puppy in unfamiliar surroundings and watching her sad face as she sees you drive off without her. Neither of us admitted to each other the second-guessing that was tormenting both our consciences as we drove to the take-out. Conversely, the thought of Jez all by herself prompted us to bike that much faster on the return trip. The long-awaited reunion predictably included wags and kisses of epic proportions, displacing Jezzy’s earlier disappointment with the impatience to get the hell in the water.

So Jezzy was fine and everyone had a grand time. We’ve used self-shuttling many times since, allowing us to explore and experience many beautiful and wild rivers of Northern Wisconsin, including the Pine, Wolf, Brule, Black, Bois Brule, Flambeau, and Peshtigo Rivers. On some, Jezzy was able to come along, with the unfortunate drawback of leaving her alone for a while. Joan always said she was going to make a “Beware of Dog” sign to put up by Jezzy when we had to leave her alone like that. Knowing her sad eyes, sparky ears, and smiley tail, I could only respond, “Yeah, that’ll be convincing.” A guard dog she was not.

We’ve learned a few more things about self-shuttling over the years:

Since the biking over the hilly terrain common in river valleys is the most strenuous leg of the day, we’ve found that getting it out of the way early in the day is very desirable at the end of the day.
We like to try to avoid the highways and stick to the back roads — more rustic, less traffic. And driving the route first on the way to the take-out gives you an idea of how to get where you’re going and about how long of a bike ride to expect on the way back to the put-in.
Carry a self-protection device such as pepper spray in case you encounter any unfriendly dogs (or other critters) while biking.
I’ve devised a “paddle lock” (not “padlock!”) to secure the paddles as well as the canoe when kept at the put-in.
The back and forth of self-shuttling requires a lot of time. Start the day early.

It should be acknowledged that Joan and I are neither extreme sportspeople nor fitness buffs. Granted, there is something to be said for the sense of accomplishment felt after each and every trip. But our willingness to put forth the extra effort required to self-shuttle is really driven by our passion to appreciate the many gifts of nature in ways that river canoeing uniquely offers, and to do so one-on-one with each other. The experience has never been without adventure of some sort, and it has never failed to enrich our relationship. And, as long as Jezzy was able, we wanted her to be able to share the experience as well.

ADDENDUM, added 9/14/01

A business associate, Connie Schachel, read this article and offered me the idea of using a bike trailer for kids (e.g., a Burley) to tote a dog, as she had done with her dog in the past. Sounds like a great idea to me. Unfortunately, Connie shared this idea with me just days after we had to put Jez to sleep this past August.

Connie is owner of Web Results, a Web site development firm in Sheboygan. I can recommend her highly, but blame me, not her, for the marginal design of this site.

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