A trip to Elkader is a ‘secret’ gem

ELKADER — This was my third and final fishing spot of the afternoon and I had no expectations of a bite here at the kayak feature.

The Turkey River runs free from the Mississippi River near Guttenberg up to Elkader. At 16 feet, the Mill Dam is an absolute barrier for migrating fish from the big river. The U.S. Geologic Survey said the Turkey River was about 148 miles. But for fish and mussels, only Elkader and downstream count.

A trio came jogging down the trail on the opposite bank. Clearly friends, the three matched running rhythm and strided downstream. Did we have a common destination in mind? If we did, then I would see the group again.

I’d come to Elkader to give the spring sucker run a go. The Mill Dam is so effective at stopping the upstream migration that Elkader has an annual tournament.

The Highway 13 bypass is effective at diverting people from experiencing Elkader. My jealous side would keep Elkader a secret, but if you can keep a secret, then I’ll share it with you.

The weather was forecast to be ugly, but I was obsessed with going. One other angler shared the bank of the river at the Highway 13 roadside park, not a good sign. I soaked worms beneath a split shot, the river was oddly low and clear. But the spring had been oddly dry.

Six species of redhorse suckers swim Iowa waters. The golden redhorse is a common species in northeast Iowa; its name is beautiful and noble despite conflating colors. It’s too bad the common name for these fish is “sucker.” The fans of the flaky flesh probably prefer it that way, less competition.

The worms did their jobs without complaint, but they didn’t do it very well. There was neither a bite nor even a nibble. To be fair, I was giving the orders. I stood guard through a couple of rain showers and one bout of sleet. The value of a wool shirt underneath a duck hunters jacket was proven once again.

I moved the car and fished again just a little upstream. The results were the same, although the weather started to improve. An Eagle perched opposite my bank looked unimpressed. Maybe he wasn't catching fish either.

I had a Plan B ready. Thankfully Elkader makes it easy for Plan Bs. It’s a town for all seasons, nestled in a high-sided wooded bowl. Nineteenth century stone buildings with a right-sized river coursing through the middle can almost take my mind to images of Garmisch or Trysil. But alas, Elkader’s hills weren’t mountains and the pickup truck with the stovepipe exhaust reminded me I wasn’t in Europe.

Today’s Plan B was a run on a nature trail new to me. I moved the car one last time, to a spot opposite the courthouse. My running get-up was underneath my fishing clothes so I stripped on the street and then took the trail downriver.

Did you know there was a pedestrian path under Highway 13 at Elkader? Neither did I. (Another secret maybe we should keep?). And then the highway’s noise was behind me and quickly forgotten. The Turkey River was my running partner, her pace was unhurried like mine. A website said the trail was four miles round trip. Good. That, plus the in-town leg meant a perfect distance for today.

I bid farewell to the Turkey and took up with the cheery Roberts Creek. He was running at me on his way to join the Turkey. We’d be companions all the way to the turn around.

There were interpretive signs along the trail. They weren’t everywhere and they didn’t muck up the scenery. I learned of the labor that built the old railroad. The peacefulness of this run betrayed the violence to man, mule and rock it took to blast, hammer and haul a level line from the hard jumbled land.

The aforementioned trio met me deep into this leg. With a hail and a question I found out the trail was 4 miles — one way. Oh no. Since I was committed, I thanked them and carried on. My 40-minute jog was going to go long.

The fence at the turn around parking lot got a hearty slap and back I went. Now running with Roberts Creek, his mood subdued. I think he was happy to meet people but he wasn’t interested in a partner.

Trailside were steep hills with ancient castle-like ruins, battlements of time: limestone outcroppings from which the rest of the hill eroded away over millions of years. The process was something like Devils Tower.

I rejoined the Turkey River, the sun was behind the ridge, the temp was dropping. Re-entry to civilization was gentle. Highway 13 was calm and Elkader gave me no shock to the system.

A last push up the pedestrian bridge to the Mill Dam and I was done — 1 hour, 19 minutes and 50 seconds. The courthouse clock confirmed my time with less precision but far more charm than the iPhone.

My Plan B was a worthy trip in its own right. Elkader is a small town with great capacity for Plan A, B or otherwise. But we’ll just keep that our secret.

Looking up, looking ahead, and keeping my pencil sharp.

John Lawrence Hanson, Ed.D., of Marion teaches U.S. history with an emphasis on environmental issues at Linn-Mar High School and sits on the Linn County Conservation Board.