The waters of the Mississippi that cradle our Twin Cities do not recall a storied past of myth and empire like the Ganges or the Thames. Yet humans have lived here for thousands of years—the mysterious people who built their burial mounds near the white cliffs of St. Paul, and after them the Dakota, the French voyageurs and fur traders, and finally, with the building of Fort Snelling in 1810, the Americans. Even this short history remains obscure. I went to a fairly good suburban high school, and learned all about the battle of Yorktown and the invasion of Normandy; yet I can’t recall ever being told about La Salle’s expedition, Pig’s Eye, or the Dakota village at Kaposia. Our special feature in this issue attempts to bring readers a little closer the river that threads itself though our lives and history, and recently seems only an obstacle to interstate highways and floodplain housing.
One Sunday this fall I canoed with some friends across Pickerel Lake and hiked up the steep river bluffs. Looking out, we could see only forest—the dome of St. Paul’s cathedral to the east and the toy skyscrapers of downtown Minneapolis in the distance were the only reminder that we were not in some remote wilderness. Yet the place where we stood had been a brick yard in the early 20th century, a site of heavy industry. Broken bricks lay strewn about here and there, a reminder of the ephemeral nature of human undertakings. One day the wilderness will take back the rest of our city, too. But the river will remain...
- Joel Van Valin