Kickapoo River Overall Fastest Known Paddle: 1 day, 3 hours, 25 minutes

Isaac Varde, 41, of Tomah, WI

May 2-3 2026

114 miles

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Live tracker: https://maps.findmespot.com/s/Y9Y2#history/assets

Isaac used a Sport Gen 3

Isaac’s video of his trip: https://youtu.be/61097kmvoIY?si=

Isaac’s YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChTLJuk5rREAq1x86dmNsAw

Start: Bridge 1 Canoe Landing, Ontario, WI 6:27am on May 2, 2026

Finish: Wauzeka boat landing, Wauzeka, WI 9:52am on May 3, 2026

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Boat: 14’ Mad River Freedom Solo canoe

About Isaac: Born and raised in Hawaii, I was introduced to paddling at an early age; experienced in outrigger canoes, stand-up paddle boarding, and prone paddle boards (long surf boards). Fell in love with traditional canoeing when I meet my wife in MN. I have since paddled the entire length of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area several times (Setting a personal record of 83 hours over a 210 mile route; to include the infamous 9-mile grand portage.

Trip report from Isaac: It was 26 degrees when we splashed in.

Frost covered everything. The air bit hard, and the Kickapoo river—cold, fast, and still carrying the scars of recent floods—was moving with purpose.

The first stretch, from Ontario to La Farge, was everything the Kickapoo River is known for. Steep bluffs rose above sandy shores, and the current helped set a rhythm early. The liveries had clearly put in the work; those first 10 miles were clean, open, and fast.

But that didn’t last.

Past La Farge, the river changed.

It felt… neglected. Like everything the “tourist section” didn’t want had been pushed downstream and left to collect. Logjams became constant, some manageable with careful lines, others demanding full portages through steep, muddy banks where one wrong step meant sinking knee-deep or worse.

The riverbanks turned vertical. Slick. Unforgiving.

And then there were the sweepers.

Entire trees, leafed out and freshly torn from the banks now stretched across the river, waiting. Silent obstacles that didn’t forgive mistakes.

With about an hour of daylight left, I came around a bend moving at a solid 5 mph and saw what looked like a small, manageable sweeper.

I made a decision.

I picked the thinnest section, lined it up, and committed at speed.

Bad call... The tree had other plans.

In an instant, I was in the water. My canoe had spun and was now pinned beneath the sweeper, fully submerged; with my phone and emergency tracker still strapped in.

Every attempt to push it through made things worse. It was lodged deep enough that I couldn’t even feel it with my feet.

I dove.

That nearly cost me more than the canoe.

I got tangled in the painter line and bailer tether, everything working against me in cold, moving water. I managed to break free (barely) and eventually, I got everything to shore.

The bank was steep and slick. I had to crawl on my hands and knees just to reach dry ground.

The water was around 38 degrees. I’d been in it for maybe 10 minutes.

It felt like 30.

Once I got to shore, it was about survival.

I needed dry clothes. I needed heat. I needed something warm to drink, but my hands barely worked. Fingers stiff, slow, almost useless.

I got through it.

Checked in with those tracking me. Let them know what happened. Told them I was getting back on the water. I did, but not the same way.

I knew what was coming: 50+ miles in the dark.

No room for another mistake.

I slowed down and switched to a more controlled stroke - keeping the blade in the water longer, prioritizing stability over speed. It cost me physically. The repetitive motion of the J stroke triggered a brutal case of carpal tunnel that I’m still dealing with.

But I stayed upright.

The river at night was something else. Beautiful but unpredictable.

Beavers crashing into the water from steep banks, committing fully to the splash no matter what was in their way. More than once, one came close to landing in the boat.

And then the hallucinations started.

I don’t usually hallucinate on these pushes but I also hadn’t slept much in the days leading up to this.

So there they were.

     Dragons.

     Four-foot-tall rabbits.

     Humpty Dumpty.

And I still swear that horse was real.

I told myself if I could just make it to daylight, it would pass.

It mostly did... Unless there really are gorillas living in the Mississippi River Valley Conservation Area.

When the sun finally broke the horizon, I realized I only had about 25 miles left.

I knew what that meant... Only fivemore hours if I could hold my speed.

So I dropped my head down and went to work. No more sightseeing. No more distractions. Just forward, so I left the gorillas behind.

At that point, I didn’t care about anything except finishing.

I wanted real food.

I wanted a shower.

And more than anything, I wanted a beer and a finish time I could be proud of... And after 27 hours and 25 minutes on the river, I got everything I wanted. What a blast!

* A special mention here to the beautiful people I met on the river, your love for the water, kindred spirits, and kind words were truly moving.