An afternoon on the North Shore Channel

It’s June 24th, my 39th birthday. After running a minor errand I’m now on the road with a kayak in the trunk of my car on my way to the Skokie Lagoons. The kayak is an Advanced Elements AdvancedFrame Expedition touring kayak. The kayak is an inflatable, which is why it’s able to be in the trunk versus strapped to the roof of my car. This is no rubber ducky pool toy. At 13 feet long and made out of heavy duty PVC with a 1000 denier polyester covering, this boat is stable and tough enough for Class III whitewater. The Expedition is a birthday present of sorts to myself, an upgrade from a smaller, less-tough inflatable kayak that began leaking air along a seam the third time it was pumped up.

The Skokie Lagoons are a favorite paddling spot for me. Northwest of Chicago they offer calm waters, no motorboats, and lots of wildlife to be seen. However, heavy traffic due to construction on the Edens Expressway going north causes me to consider Plan B. Instead of Skokie Lagoons, I’ll paddle the North Shore Channel of the Chicago River. My put-in will be at River West Park, just off of Argyle Street and a mere 400 feet south of where the North Branch of the Chicago River jogs southward towards downtown. The North Shore Channel flows south from Lake Michigan several miles north and joins up with the North Branch of the Chicago River right here next to River West Park. If you were to follow the North Shore Channel its entire length you’d paddle northwards until finally you passed the landmark B’hai Temple with Lake Michigan a stones throw away through a system of small locks. It’s wrong to say the North Shore Channel runs northwards though, in fact the current flows from Lake Michigan south where it joins the North Branch of the Chicago River at River West Park.

I finally arrive at the park and mercifully find a parking space close to the put-in. Thankfully it’s a Tuesday, which means no Vikings soccer games at the nearby field, thus I get a primo spot right on the end next to the path going down to the waters edge. It takes a few minutes longer to inflate the kayak today. Knowing I’d be paddling today, I didn’t bother to remove about a half gallon of Lake Michigan that ended up inside the cockpit during some impromptu kayak surfing which occurred at the end of yesterday afternoons shakedown cruise. That’s a story for a later time. Thankfully my REI microfiber towel does in fact hold up to eight times it’s weight in water and continues to suck up the dregs after repeated wringing out.

Finally the kayak is inflated and I carry it the couple hundred feet down to the put-in. A guy named Tom stops to chat for a few minutes. He asks if my kayak is a folding model, never having seen a folding kayak or an inflatable up close. I tell him it’s an inflatable and begin to extol the virtues of its construction and design. He tells me about his experiences growing up in the Chicago area and paddling its many waterways in all different manner of canoes. We talk for 15 minutes about tracking and new canoe materials and the merits of old aluminum Grumman canoes that looked like barges but tracked straighter than newer composite material canoes built without keels. We shake hands and Tom wishes me a good day and good paddle and I wish him a good day too.

I climb into the cockpit and paddle away from the dock. My plan is to simply paddle northwards against the current for an hour then turn around and simply paddle back south to where I put in. The weather is a pleasing 80 degrees and sunny with light wispy clouds and gentle breezes. It’s definitely a good day to paddle. The first thing I notice is there are fluffy Cottonwood seeds scattered all over the surface of the water. I very quickly see my first of many signs cautioning that the waterway may become polluted with untreated sewage during storms and that it is deemed unsuitable for skin contact. No wading or swimming, and certainly no Eskimo rolls. Even if I knew how to perform an Eskimo roll, this is the last place I’d willingly do it.

I consult an EPA document on waterway water quality in the Chicago area when I get home and find that in fact the Illinois EPA rates the North Shore Channel water quality as “Good” on a scale of Good, Fair, and Poor. Interestingly, the North Branch of the Chicago River rates only Fair in water quality. I’m actually paddling one of the cleanest stretches of inland water in the Chicago area. As I paddle further north the first signs of wildlife I see are groups of Mallard Ducks. I pass a quartet of Mallards. It’s an adult male and female along with two male youngsters, distinguished by the mottled green feathers just beginning to grow in on their heads. I pass underneath the first of several bridges where streets cross over the channel. I resolve next time I’ll bring a Google map printout of the route so I know what streets I’m passing under. Not being a native Chicagoan I don’t know what these streets are and nobody thought to label them for the benefit of kayakers passing underneath.

I begin to pay more attention to my surroundings now that I’ve settled into a steady paddling rhythm. My passage startles a couple Black Crowned Night Herons from their perches. One perches in a tree 30 feet above the water but it’s still close enough for me to make out its ruby red eyes as I pass underneath. I hope it won’t be disturbed but it takes to flight again and heads upstream. Over the next 45 minutes or so, I’ll encounter these birds several more times. It’s possible the passage of my large yellow kayak is disturbing other Black Crowned Night Herons, but I keep wondering if these are the same ones I keep seeing. I’m apologetic for disturbing them, but even keeping to the center of the channel they still don’t trust this interloper in the large, oblong, yellow thing that lazily splashes upriver beneath them. One of the Herons finally flies far ahead and veers westward into trees far up the bank above the channel.

Looking to my right I see a Red-eared Slider Turtle basking on a log at the waters edge. My approaching bulk startles it. The turtle plunges off the log with a splash. A few minutes later I see a small dark-colored waterfowl swimming low in the water. I’m intrigued but I find myself cursing the lack of binoculars. “Next time,” I tell myself. I hope that I can get close enough to ID the bird before it flies away. The way it’s swimming, only the slender neck and dart-like head above the water tells me it’s a Double-crested Cormorant. I’ve seen Cormorants before at the Skokie Lagoons but I remember them being larger. Perhaps this is a younger bird. It dives beneath the surface and vanishes. I look for it to pop up nearby but it isn’t until a couple minutes later that I spy it a hundred feet downstream from me. I turn around and let the current slowly carry me back towards the Cormorant, hoping to get a better look. I observe it dive under a couple more times, popping up further downstream each time. Content with this brief glimpse I turn around and head north again.

A little further on, I see another pair of Sliders basking on a log to my right. The smaller of the two dives off the log in a splash. The larger one, probably a female judging by her 10 plus inch carapace, stays put. Her carapace has a peculiar tented quality to it rather than the typical gentle curve. The biologist in me wonders if she experienced nutritional deficiencies in her earlier life resulting in this vaguely peculiar shape. As soon as that thought is formed I’m also reminded of how many Red-eared Sliders are sold in local pet stores only to be turned loose in local ponds and rivers when their owners get tired of them. She could’ve been an unfortunate pet kept in a tank too small for her. Perhaps her domed carapace is the result of a poor diet in captivity. At any rate she looks at home on her log here in this river. I pass on by and she maintains her basking spot soaking up the suns rays unperturbed the passage of my kayak. Maybe she’s been out here on this stretch of river long enough to be accustomed to kayaks and canoes. Wondering where I am, I hail cyclist walking her bike along the street above. “What street is this?” I call out. “Peterson,” she answers. I find when I get home and consult a map that I’ve paddled nearly one and a half miles at this point.

I continue northwards. Up ahead, a family of Canada Geese with five goslings makes their way across the channel. These goslings are old enough to have lost their striped feathers but are not quite old enough to fly. I give them a wide berth paddling to the other side of the channel so as not to startle them. They reach the shallow bank on the either side and I pause to watch them. As the parents look on the kids begin to frolic. They dive into the water and burst out flapping their as yet ineffectual wings. Beating their feet and wings they rise up out of the water and splash back and forth with their mouths open in playful abandon. I’m happy to have witnessed this moment. I move on, careful not to overstay my welcome. I startle more Black Crowned Night Herons. I’m still wondering if these are the same two I’ve been seeing all along. Up ahead I can see what looks like a miniature Class I rapid spanning the channel. I wonder if there are rocks or some other obstruction in the channel causing the water to roil.

As I get closer I see more of the steel embankment reinforcements common to many sections of the channel. Now the whole channel is roiling with whitewater for a hundred feet in front of me. I read a large sign on the embankment that tells me this is the Devon Avenue aeration station and that when it is in operation there is a danger of sinking if you enter the channel when aeration is taking place. Not wanting to take any chances I look at my watch and see that I’ve been paddling over 45 minutes. I figure that’s close enough to my target of one hour of northward paddling so I reverse course and head south, flowing with the current. Perversely, the wind is blowing from the south so although the current is carrying me downstream I’m paddling with the same amount of force I used to overcome the current heading upstream.

I approach the bank where the adult Canada Geese are still watching over their frolicsome children. A couple human kids who look to be 10 or so ride their skateboards down a concrete ramp towards where the geese are. The kids are excitedly calling to another friend and pointing to me as I come closer. I have a feeling they’re not going to be respectful of the goose family’s personal space so I paddle to the opposite side of the channel to give the geese room to escape. Sure enough one of the kids runs towards the geese near the bank. The birds, probably used to meddlesome humans paddle out to safety midstream. I shake my head and wonder how kids can be so disrespectful to wildlife. I guess it all depends on how you were raised. Further down I pass the same female slider with the funny shell, still sitting on her log. A new bird catches my eye. Larger than a Robin it appears to be a slate blue-gray color with white stripes on either side of its head and a white breast. Again I curse the lack of binoculars to get a good look but I think I know what I’m seeing. A quick look in my Peterson guide when I get home confirms that I’ve seen a Belted Kingfisher. The day has just gotten 1000 percent better. I haven’t seen a wild Kingfisher since a family trip to Florida over 20 years ago.

The kingfisher never lets me get closer than 75 feet or so before it breaks and flies further downstream. I try to paddle more cautiously, even drifting, hoping that the lack of splashing from my paddling will allow me to get a closer look. I do eventually get close enough to be nearly sure of my identification. Finally the bird takes off one last time chattering its displeasure. Further on I startle some Black-Crowned Night Herons again. I wonder if it’s my friends from earlier. Flying ahead of me one bird eventually alights in the top of a tree high above the channel. I’m able to gaze up at it as I drift slowly beneath. Its ruby red gaze follows me as I pass beneath. The other Heron, perhaps more irritated at my repeated intrusion, takes to flight with a scolding, rattling “quork!”

I’m getting close to where I originally put in. I pass a pair of large sliders basking among tree roots on a gently sloping mud embankment. One plunges into the water but the other remains undisturbed, hind legs splayed out behind it. I’m just thinking about how basking turtles always seem to look supremely relaxed with their legs often stretched far out behind them, when I pass a rusty corrugated pipe with another slider basking, hind legs stretched far out behind it. “Now that’s relaxing!” I think aloud. I come upon the small damn where the North Branch of the Chicago River turns southward away from the North Shore Channel. A couple course corrections and I gently ground on the gravelly mud where I put in. I step out into the shallow water and hoist my kayak onto the concrete landing. I shoulder my boat and with my paddle in hand walk up the path to my car. The words to describe my trip are already forming in my mind as I recall the sights and sounds of my afternoon exploration of the North Shore Channel.