Marshall, Will, and Holly
On a routine expedition
Met the greatest earthquake ever known.
High on the rapids
It struck their tiny raft.
And plunged them down a thousand feet below.

To the Land of the Lost.
To the Land of the Lost.
To the Land of the Lost.

It started simply enough. It started because many years ago I, and a friend from Carbondale, Illinois, tracked down these cool waterfalls when we were LTE’s for the DNR, the location of which I had forgotten. It started because I came across a name on a topo map and mistakenly thought these were the falls. It started because I found the falls cross referenced on a Whitewater website as a class III-IV run. But mostly it started because I couldn’t make the WMCKA symposium and really needed to just be outside and distracted by a little adventure.

When I came across the name of “Skillet Falls” on a topo map I was pretty sure this was the place I had lost track of over the years. It looked like it could have been the spot. It was only until I cross referenced some roads in the area did I realize I was not quite on the right track of the lost falls. Still I was intrigued. In my searches I had come across a couple photographs at the Wisconsin Historical Society from about the turn of the century. Obviously there was a time when people made the trek to the falls… There was at least one picture of heavily cloaked women standing by the falls in 1909 to prove it! It seems so strange that in an area like ours, filled with state parks, reserves & natural areas, a unique waterfall would not be on every map. It’s not. What’s more, when searching online I came across this… I could not fathom a whitewater run just a couple miles from my house. That did it. I was loaded up and ready to go find their put in.

We arrived at a small bridge just outside of town that was just yards from a big farm. Right there was Skillet Creek, and yes you could easily get a boat on this wide calm stream. If there was a class III-IV it had to be in there a ways. We scouted it a bit until we realized there was no way to get easy access to the water. In Wisconsin we are blessed with some fairly liberal access laws. We can fish, hike or paddle any “Navigable” water in the state. That means basically if you can float something in the water, even if it’s only in spring flood, you can use the waterway without worry. The trick is finding public access, otherwise you will need permission to cross private land to access “public” water. Once in the water we have a “wet feet” guideline. You must stay in the water and you cannot go on the banks unless to go around a blockage. That includes not only trees and such, but water that is too deep if you are wading it.

We had a choice either run the stream with no way of knowing what we would find or if we could get off again, or go to the prescribed take out and walk up. We decided to spend the day hiking up the stream.

The take out ended up to be one of my favorite little spots called “Pewit’s Nest“. I realized this was part of their Class IV section. IF the stream was in flood, and IF there was no blockage, you could run this. It would be scary under those conditions but doable. So was this it? What about Skillet Falls? Well, we’d have to keep following the stream.

We walked to the top of the Pewit’s Nest gorge and followed it to its start. There Skillet Creek took off into the wilds of Southern Wisconsin forest. Oaks, Maple, and pine trees lined the banks along the way. Other than a few sections here and there we were able to easily walk the stream where the water was, for the most part, less than knee deep. In the picture above someone is hiding behind a tree…

In time we began to come across gravel washouts that filled inside bends and suggested very recent changes in the path of the stream. Yes, the floods of 2008 had really let loose through this small stream.

As we continued on, our path became regularly blocked by downed trees. The current had dug deep holes under the obstructions making challenging to get over them. Often it was a better choice to go around.

Along the way we startled ducks and heron. Small fish swam past our feet and through the colorful mix of sand and stone that paved much of the stream bed. In the sand along the banks were tracks of every sort. Heron, raccoons, coyotes, and more.

We came across a small, bent, bridge that had obviously seen better days. Stacked on the upstream side was a pile of concrete that once paved a tractor path across the stream. Now it was simply rubble pressing against a crooked bridge. The farmer had taken to driving right through the stream to get to the field on the other side.

At one spot we came across a vine that had been stretched across the stream by the flood as if planned to take off the head of an unwary little mini-paddler. Or trip us which it almost did.

We happened upon a small but beautiful sandstone wall covered clinging trees, ferns and all sorts of life.

The walls were adorned with amazing patterns created by a mix of stone, leaf, and root.

Again we discovered more destruction. Massive washouts appeared. One could not imagine the power that must have moved all the rock that was lain out before us. Then as if to make all that destruction seem minor, we saw the reason everything had been dropped here.  Our eyes followed the path of stone and downed trees right into a wall. Here was a sharp bend in the stream.  A wall 20 or 30 feet high had been scoured when the flash flood hit, tearing away even the  large trees that grew on the slope. That blast against the wall must have zapped much of the energy from the oncoming wave causing the water to drop it’s cargo on the outside of the bend. One could only imagine what those moments must have been like.

Unable to move through the debris tossed about in this section, we cut through a lush green forested elbow filled with green leaves and spring flowers. Without we hoped, Poison Oak!

What we did find was a small scull with big fangs.  I thought that of all the places to end your stay here on earth, this little bit of woods would’nt be the worst place to go.  Then I thought, “Yikes, his teeth are in better condition than mine!”

From this point onward the stream took on a new personality. It became a living painting. One in which every perfectly laid stone and sketched out tree branch came to life in a mix of bird song and babbling brook. We hopped through this picture perfect place, stone by stone, amazed.

Upon turning the next bend we were again awestruck. The stream had come to an open glade. At the far end of a large pond a sandstone gateway called us forward. To our right the pond was  lined with low sandstone walls where flood waters roaring out of funnel must place their full force before continuing down the rest of Skillet Creek.

The Gorge while not particularly tall, was still an amazing, impressive and unexpected site.  After taking it all in we made our way across shallow pond and stepped up onto the solid rock ledge that now cupped the water flowing from deeper within the gorge. The walls amplified the rushing water in the distance and the deeper concussions that let us know there were waterfall nearby.

We took plenty of time to explore every nook and cranny of this small gorge. Here was a place that few people ever see. Lost behind the protection of private lands, it’s simply inaccessible without taking a long trek that few will take.  Inside the walls, birds hopped from spot to spot catching bugs on the air. We stepped down into an almost waist deep pool which finally gave us a view of the upcoming falls. It was beautiful.

Skillet Falls is not all that high or wide or large. It is simply a series of steps which send the water splashing down a few feet to the next and the next before hitting the pool below. Yet, it is unique and beautiful.

I moved around taking pictures and stepped up to another ledge. It was then I could see a gazebo. Yes, and next to it a home. I could’nt help but be a bit surprised that a  house had been built right next to this unique Sauk County natural area.  Even a bit more surprising to me as that the owners had put up a stone structure to name the falls in their own honor. “MyName Skillet Falls”.  Like naming rights on a stadium I suppose.  I could’nt help but wonder what good putting your name on it was if no one actually saw it?? Did they offer some sort of public access? Did they share their bit of the earth with the community? I was ready to give them a pass if they let the public in to enjoy it, even if they did want naming rights.  Did they let people in? There was a picnic table up there after all. Well, it didn’t take long to find out. It was only minutes before a man in a blue polo shirt came out to shoo us away and generally make sure we knew we weren’t welcome. Obviously the sign was personal enjoyment only! He was convinced of course that we had snuck in through his property which he expressed from his vantage point above the falls. We of course were standing in the water below. I had to cross the falls to get close as I could beneath him simply to catch every 3rd word.  “this…is….our…waterfall..it’s…got…our…name…on it…see…”  or some such thing. When I told him we had walked the stream up and would walk it back, keeping our feet wet at all times as prescribed, he was obviously doubtful of my story.  Faced with a guy making faces and staring, we had decided begin our trip back. We waved and began the return walk through the small gorge. The man up on the bank followed us a ways then stopped behind a tree, watching as we continued down the stream and out of his line of sight.

We walked back feeling mixed about the adventure. We had found the falls. Not the falls I was looking for, but the ones I’d read about elsewhere. I also knew now why they are seldom mentioned in publications about the area. To stay legal you have to trek almost 2 miles up a sometimes challenging stream bed. When you get there you face someone who doesn’t want to share the falls with just anybody.  While I certainly believe we should respect private property,  I also think the state is correct in making waterways accessible with enough flexibility to allow all citizens to enjoy our state.

Following the creek and finding Skillet Falls is one great example of creating adventures in your own back yard.  Many of us have amazing natural treasures  right near us.   Some it seems  have been almost forgotten in our modern way of living. On the other hand technology such as GPS &  satellite imagery make it easier than ever to rediscover our hidden gems.   It’s certainly worth some research.  Skillet Falls was worth it.  Ah… just remember to be mindful of your states regulations and property owners rights along the way.

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Regarding paddling Skillet Creek, the mentions in other whitewater sites are simply out of date (as of today). You could run the first section, (from Gasser Rd.) over the falls and into the lower pool if the stream was in flood. However you can’t go beyond it due to debris. You’d need to get permission to take out from somewhere there. Then the stream is simply impassable the rest of the way to the top of Pewit’s nest. Again, some crazy paddler could possibly run Pewit’s in flood too. In fact it would be a nice park and play. However, it could be dangerous with debris and traps. I’m not crazy enough to run it in flood conditions myself. There might be a middle ground….

 

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