Yahara River Expedition
The history of the Yahara
Over a million years ago, the Yahara River formed as flowing water eroded Wisconsin's bedrock and carved out a valley. During Wisconsin's final ice age, glaciers buried much of that valley under rock, sand, and sediment. This blocked the river's original course. As these glaciers melted, water accumulated behind natural dams, creating a large glacial lake that covered much of present-day Madison and Middleton. Eventually, this glacial lake drained southward and separated into four large lakes. We know these four large lakes today as the Mendota, Monona, Waubesa, and Kegonsa.
Fascination as a child
After my father's death, I moved to the Norwegian town of Stoughton in southern Dane County in 2005, where the Yahara River ran prominently through downtown from Lake Kegonsa. As a child, I spent many hours along this stretch, whether hiking, fishing, or walking dogs at Viking County Park, or watching canoe races as part of the annual Norwegian festival Stoughton held. When I left Stoughton and traveled north towards Middleton or Madison, I'd regularly go over the Yahara River on Highway 18, look to my south, and see Upper Mud Lake. As a child, Upper Mud Lake, while small, always sparked curiosity in my mind. Why was it called Mud Lake? Why did it look so ominous from above? Furthermore, I spent many days and nights at Veterans Memorial Coliseum, Olin Park, and in downtown Madison. As a result, my eyes were exposed to the giants of Lake Monona and Mendota, which surrounded the City of Madison. Every time I drove on John Nolen Drive towards the Capitol, I'd see the greenery leave me behind, and the vast openness of water surround me. As I continued north, I passed through a tunnel beneath Monona Terrace, a waterfront convention center overlooking Lake Monona. The structure allows traffic along John Nolen Drive to pass underneath, while parking and event spaces occupy the area above. I often heard teachers talk about the Terrace. They often discussed that it was a special and relaxing place to gather with friends or family. This spurred my fascination even more with the history of the river system; however, life sent me in another direction at the age of 19 when I moved to Oklahoma, and the idea of discovering this beautiful ecosystem seemed distant at the time.
An interest reignited
In July of 2023, I drove down to Wichita Falls, Texas, where I took a 3-hour kayaking course and learned how to kayak safely. Nearly a month later, I had purchased my own kayak and was kayaking on small lakes in Southwestern Oklahoma. Towards the end of August, I made a trip to Wisconsin for the NASCAR Craftsman Truck Series race at The Milwaukee Mile. During that same trip, I decided to check out the Monona Terrace after 20+years of living on this planet, and I couldn't believe the view I was offered of Lake Monona. For as far as I could see, water touched everything. I looked down from above and saw people kayaking along the shore and said to myself, "I want to be them... I will be them..." and immediately began researching kayaking along the 62-mile Yahara River system. After returning home to Oklahoma, I devised a plan to kayak the river system in 2024; however, this plan fell through due to several factors, and just like at 19, the idea was put on hold, but the interest was reignited.
No Roads to Follow
In 2025, I moved to Missouri. I became restless during the winter months of 2026. Unlike in Oklahoma, I couldn't kayak during the winter in Missouri. Most waterways, if not all, were frozen, and those that weren't were dangerously cold. With this in mind, I found it hard to keep myself busy. I started searching for books focused on kayaking expeditions and found a book called "No Roads to Follow", which followed Michael Herman during a 127-day, 1,988-mile journey across the Great Lakes in 1994. As I read this book, I was taken back by the journey from start to finish, and by March I found myself preparing for a trip along the Gulf Coast, with a launch date in July of 2026. This plan quickly changed as I realized I didn't have to do something grand just to have an adventure, and I started looking back at what I was most interested in exploring. That's when it hit me. The Yahara River! When I first came up with this idea in late March, I had planned to kayak the big four and put down 50 miles of kayaking in 3 days.
The Preparation
While I was no stranger to long-distance kayaking, the thought of covering FIFTY MILES in just three days was an entirely new challenge. I decided to try to cover over 50 miles of kayaking and indoor rowing by May 31st. Over the next 8 weeks, I did just that, kayaking in the frigid cold waters of Lake Lincoln to the flooded rapids of the Bourbeuse and rainy Salt Rivers. By week 4, I realized I had been a bit cautious with my timing, as I had reached 54.19 miles of kayaking and indoor rowing. With only 4 out of the 8 weeks completed and the goal already reached, I decided to move the trip to June instead of July and continued training. In early May, I took my trusty old Sea Kayak, dubbed "Waterspout," to Wisconsin and gave it a trial run on the southern half of the Yahara River, a portion I had completed the year prior. During that 4.20-mile stretch of kayaking, I decided that the 26-year-old Necky Zoar Sport Touring Kayak was right for the journey. Upon returning to Missouri, I switched all of my equipment from the Sea Kayak to the Touring Kayak. By early June, I felt that I was ready for the journey ahead. I even went as far as to change the old name I had given the Necky Zoar Sport, "The Banana," to a more fitting name, "Voyager," to signify the start of the journey.
Setting sail
On June 27th, 2026, I awoke in Stoughton, Wisconsin, around 6:30 AM. With Voyager already on the vehicle and gear packed, all I needed to do was get dressed. I arrived at McDaniel Park in McFarland around 7:45 AM. The plan was to travel north on Lake Waubesa into Upper Mud Lake, and then flow into Lake Monona, paddling towards the State Capitol.
Weather conditions were sunny and around 59 degrees, with no wind. Ducks, geese, and pelicans sat along the shoreline, unbothered by the presence of a man with a kayak. I officially launched at 8:14 AM, and began my journey north on the Yahara River system. A sense of joy overcame me, as I had grown up seeing Lake Waubesa as a place where people boated, fished, and ice fished in the winters during my trips to Madison. I hugged the shoreline for the next mile or so until I reached both a pedestrian and train bridge that pushed into Upper Mud Lake. While conditions along Lake Waubesa had been relatively calm, the conditions along Upper Mud Lake were almost instantaneously different upon entrance. Waterways went from calm to moving waves, requiring a bit more effort in paddling. Using skills I obtained while kayaking against currents on the Wisconsin River years ago, I found a calm spot away from the moving waves and paddled towards it. Once I was in this calm spot, the paddling slowed down, and I was able to enjoy the beauty around me.
As I maneuvered around a corner, I had Giligan's Island (a small island between Upper Mud Lake and Highway 18) in sight. I came upon a Mallard standing peacefully on a log, unbothered by my presence. I did my best to remain calm in an attempt to photograph the waterfowl. After a few minutes of admiring the mallard, a couple of teenagers came around that same corner I had just maneuvered with a pair of jet skis blaring music. The mallard quickly flew away. If I had been in his position, I would've flown away too, as the presence of the jet skiers caused most wildlife to hide and kicked the waves up significantly in a no-wake zone.
I chose to stop at Giligan's Island and take pictures of the Highway 18 bridge. Thousands passed over the Yahara River daily utilizing this bridge, and as I sat there looking at it from afar, all I could think about was how I used to look down from this bridge as a child and wonder what Upper Mud Lake was like. Now, 29 years later, here I was exploring this area. It was a small but surreal moment for me. As I crossed under the bridge, I heard semis, trucks, cars, and trailers travelling above me. As I came out from under the bridge, I saw the ever-so-bright Monona Terrace Apartments and homes scattered along the shorelines. With a simple bridge gone was the untouched ecosystem, replaced by a new ecosystem. One filled with civilization.
Navigating through the "canal" portion of the Yahara River, I came upon a group of people doing Yoga at Grand Crossing Park. With the cooler temperatures and sunny weather, I could only imagine how calm they must have felt doing yoga. Right next to them was a Yacht Club called the "Four Lakes Yacht Club." What stuck out to me about this area was that gas was $6.25/gallon for those utilizing boats. I didn't want to even imagine what that bill looked like. Just north of Bridge Road, I kept paddling when I watched as a fisherman on a boat caught a large bass. He was elated. I was excited for him too and even thought about telling him how I caught the whole thing on my GoPro. Looking back, I am really glad that I didn't because a water droplet blocked out the entire catch. It was cool nonetheless!
I continued north out of the canal portion of the Yahara River and into Wiicawak Bay, which separates the Yahara River from Lake Monona. As I reached Wiicawak Bay, I saw the Madison skyline off in the distance and exploded with excitement. I couldn't believe it! There she was in all of her glory, and for the first time I was seeing her from the water, not the land! I was beyond myself, to say the least! The half mile or so from Wiicawak Bay into Lake Monona felt like ages, and what didn't help was the endless number of commercial aircraft flying very low over my head thanks to the proximity of the lake to Dane County Regional Airport. While I am used to planes flying over me, I have never had commercial airliners fly over me while on a body of water at such low heights, and it made me very uneasy. I decided it was best to keep my eyes on the ground and not look up.
Just before 10 AM, I had officially crossed onto Lake Monona from Wiicawak Bay and felt like I had just struck the lottery. With this crossing, I also noticed an immediate change in water characteristics. The water went from calm to mildly aggressive due to its size. Having kayaked regularly on Tom Steed in 25 to 30 mph winds back in Oklahoma, I wasn't concerned; however, a factor I didn't have to deal with often there was the number of boats. Most boats kept their distance from me and slowed down when near, but not all of them. With this in mind, I chose to get a bit closer to the shoreline where the waves were calmer, and the boaters were less likely to be. As I continued forward, I started noting my distance from the Monona Terrace. Slowly, I watched as the distance kept going down. 2.0 miles, 1.7 miles, 1.5 miles, 1 mile.
Something I noticed was that as I came closer to John Nolen Drive and the skyline coast was that the waves were becoming slightly more aggressive. I found this interesting as the wind hadn't picked up. I ultimately chalked it up to the rough coastline and lake characteristics. As waves crashed over the bow, I finally saw her in all her glory; the Monona Terrace sat directly in front of me. I saw people looking down into the lake from the Terrace, and all I could think about was that three years ago I had a dream to kayak this lake, and now here I was fulfilling that dream. I truly couldn't believe it! Another thing I couldn't believe was the number of people fishing from the terrace walls.
As I continued along the John Nolen Drive shoreline, I watched as cars, semis, and trucks all drove past towards a busy downtown Madison. People ran along the shoreline, with a certain individual dancing to music. I sat and watched him dance freely for about 5 minutes. The individual then started doing cardio. I loved seeing such different lifestyles at play from the water. Each individual was living their own life with their own goals for the day. For some, it was running; for others, it was fishing. For me, it was just existing and enjoying the moment.
As I turned around to head back towards the put-in in McFarland, Wisconsin, I came across a sailboat. It was a simple sailboat, roughly the same length as my Necky Zoar Sport Touring kayak. The individual seemed at peace on the boat as they raised the mast and brought out the sail. I decided to try to race it and, in doing so, actually found myself passing the sailboat before the individual drifted off in a different direction. Some day I'd love to own a sailboat of my own. I wouldn't travel across the Pacific or do anything grand, but the concept seems so relaxing. The rest of the way back was filled with nothing interesting, and I found myself back at the shore in McFarland around 2 PM, ready for some racing later in the afternoon and more kayaking the following day.
While forecasting for day two of the expedition, I noticed that thunderstorms were likely in the early afternoon hours on June 28th, so I knew I was against the clock. While not concerned about rain, I did not want to get out on the water with lightning. Today's mission was to go from the lower Yahara River into Lower Mud Lake and then back onto the Yahara River before entering Lake Kegonsa. I arrived at Indian Mound Park in McFarland at 8:55 AM and launched at 9:09 AM into the lower Yahara River.
Nearly a half-mile after launching from Indian Mound Park, I noticed I needed to slow my pace down, as I was still tired from the day before. I zigzagged around the curves of the Yahara River and slowly found myself in Lower Mud Lake, now surrounded by thick aquatic plants and algae. It was apparent that there was one main lane for traffic. Those who didn't stick to that clear lane fought thick aquatic plants and algae. I wanted no part in this, so I stayed on course. Unlike the previous day, the wind was somewhat of a factor as I battled 10 to 15 mph winds. This made Lower Mud Lake feel like an eternity to cross, when in reality it was just a mile.
As I crossed from Lower Mud Lake back onto the Yahara River, I zigzagged some more along calm river conditions, with winds slowly dying down as trees covered the river. I found some mallards, but no other wildlife. I remember turning a corner and seeing a bridge off in the distance, surrounded by trees. This view reminded me so much of my adventure on Cache Creek in SW Oklahoma, and for a second, I thought I was in Oklahoma. Then it happened! The realization! This wasn't just ANY BRIDGE; this was Dyerson Bridge! The same bridge I took my 1991 F150 on and shot pictures with in 2014. The same bridge that was a part of the Wisconsin Rustic Road Program. The same secret bridge and road off the main highway system that bypassed Stoughton and connected you to another highway. I was elated! So much so that I had to get a self-portrait. The issue, though, was that there was no land nearby. All of the nearby "land" was actually marsh. With that in mind, I decided to do what I did during my trip to Louisiana. I placed my Canon M50 and tripod on a log and took a couple of pictures, hoping the camera wouldn't fall into the water. Thankfully, it didn't, and I had some really neat, simple photos. As I continued down the river, I was passed by a WWI airplane. That was a surprise, to say the very least!
Roughly 1.14 miles from Lake Kegonsa, I came upon an area of the river that was being worked on. Large CAT excavators sat in the middle of the river on a platform with a large cutter-suction dredge nearby. These machines play an important role in keeping waterways navigable by breaking up accumulated sediment and pumping it away through a discharge pipeline. This piece of equipment was absolutely gigantic and looked more like something you would expect to see working on the Mississippi River. It was beyond cool to see.
As I came around the bend of the Yahara River near Orvold Park Drive, a deer poked their head out of the tree line and watched me from a distance before receding into the deep forested area. Homes along the riverside replaced the thick, forested shorelines as I came closer to the AB Bridge. Once at the AB Bridge, I saw many people fishing along the shoreline, along with many boaters heading out to Lake Kegonsa.
Not long after, I had finally made it to Lake Kegonsa. For me, Lake Kegonsa was a place that held significance to me in ways that may not make sense to others. This is the lake that I first heard about after the 2005 Stoughton F3 tornado, after an individual captured incredible footage of the tornado from the northern end of the lake. This is the lake where I took my senior pictures. This was the lake that took the lives of two classmates back in High School. This is the lake where I often sat and ate lunch and dinner as a child and as an adult. This lake held significant value to my life, and now, finally, after 29 years, I was on it! With the waves rough on Kegonsa, I took time to have fun with it and crash into them, forcing water over the hull. After about 20 minutes of fun, I looked at the radar and saw storms moving in, so I began paddling back towards the put-in.
As I paddled back, I found a few boaters to catch waves from and help with forward movement. That presented a whole other area of fun, as I found myself attempting to race them with the added speed from the waves. I did not win. Something I also discovered on my way back was a USGS River Gauge at the Exchange Street bridge in McFarland. Immediately, I looked up the USGS River Gauge on my phone and saw that the river was four feet high. Meaning that I could actually stand in it. I was surprised by that, but wasn't interested in trying it out.
Nearly a half-mile from the put-in, I checked radar once again and saw light, but not severe storms pushing into the Madison area. Not much longer after, a crack of thunder rumbled across the sky, and I was glad to be near the put-in. The thunder gave me a flashback to July 3rd, 2025, when I kayaked Pecan Bayou in the Texas Hill Country. Less than 24 hours before devastating flooding impacted the area. After getting out of the water, I saw my mother and step-dad pull up, as we had planned to go out for lunch afterwards. Almost as soon as I began loading the kayak, the rain started to fall. What great timing!
After all was said and done, I only completed 21.94 miles of the expected 50 miles in 24 hours; however, what I learned along the way was that it was LESS about the miles and MORE about experiencing something new and seeing life from a new point of view. Every time I take Highway 18 and go over the Yahara River, I now look at it and say to myself with pride, "I kayaked that."
As of writing this, the only lakes I have yet to kayak in the Yahara River system are Lake Mendota and Lake Wingra, along with the upper river system. I am not sure if I will ever complete that. Maybe one day, but for now I am happy and feel fulfilled with what I have completed on this journey. I hope you enjoyed reading this blog! Have a wonderful day/night!
About the writer: Michael Thornton graduated from Rose State College, majoring in Emergency Management. He is the Director of Warren County Emergency Management and an Oklahoma Certified Emergency Manager. In 2024, he was awarded the OEMA Innovator Award for his severe weather operations in Tillman County.
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