Urban Kayaking

The Chicago River links the Great Lakes with the Mississippi. The Great Lakes are linked, via the Saint Lawrence Seaway, with the Atlantic. The Mississippi flows into the Gulf of Mexico. So one can circumnavigate the eastern U.S. via Chicago.

We put our kayaks in at a little dock on the Chicago River Turning Basin, a square, dredged out lake where large barges can turn. The river isn't a very active commercial waterway (we never see any large cargo vessels, either on kayaks or as we wander downtown), but it has the potential.

The river is an active tourism space. There are at least three kayak rental facilities along its banks, and we encountered seven different tour boats (some of them more than once) plying their way through the city.

The turning basin is north of the city center. The two branches of the river surrounding Goose Island reconvene in the basin, and the river flows north from there as the North Branch. South, the way we paddled, one encounters residential, industrial, and commercial districts before the confluence at Wolf Point. We, as the smallest traffic on the water, were advised to give way at all times (though, as non-powered vessels, traditional maritime traffic rules gave us right-of-way). The confluence was the most dangerous point, a T intersection with no stop signs.

We passed through the confluence with no other traffic, paddling well ahead of the couple in the tandem boat that had left the rental dock at the same time. Our adventure occurred further down the river's main branch, just past the downtown private yacht garage and amidst the riverside cafes and bars. We paddled east, towards Lake Michigan, passing under streets and near landmarks that we see whenever we go downtown.

At Clark Street, we decided to turn back. We waited for two tour boats to go by, and then nodded at each other. We faced our boats into the channel, across the wake of a pleasure boat, and paddled hard. A bright yellow water taxi bearing down the channel. Using our paddles like whitewater kayakers, we dug into the waves that crashed over the bows of our kayaks, pulling towards the far seawall, safe from the main channel. From the bridge above us, we heard "Yeahhhh! Kayaks! Woooo! Kayakers!"

Heather raised her paddle in salute, and then we sliced in again, letting the wake from the water taxi rock us back and forth, a welcome respite from the flat water on the north branch.