Pomme de Terre River, its lakes help define us

The Pomme de Terre River flows lazily past our wind turbines. (Photos by B.W.)
My favorite Pomme de Terre River photo, taken south of Morris close to Highway 59.
The Pomme de Terre River in springtime, bulging with springtime thaw. This photo was taken down the hill from the West Central Research and Outreach Center (WCROC).

Del Holdgrafer used the term "time immemorial" in describing some of the original prairie close to where he grew up. It was right across the road from his family's farm, he recalled in a book put out by the Stevens County Historical Society.

He remembered the "burrowing owls and native plants." The panorama of the prairie had a timeless quality. Early explorers were spellbound at the vastness of it all. The owls and plants were part of a most resilient ecosystem.

Holdgrafer described the wondrous nature as having thrived "from time immemorial."

I have read that if you want to get an idea of what the original prairie was like, go down by the Pomme de Terre River. It's easier now than when I was a kid. We have biking/walking trails which provide for a wonderful departure from one's usual routine.

You can get a sense of the real "prairie."

The Pomme de Terre River cuts through the prairie landscape with an irresistible force. Water is like that. Anyone who grew up in Morris considers the river like an old companion.
The Pomme de Terre is "our" river. As kids we may have "wet a line" on its banks.

The wide spots are wide enough to be considered lakes. Some are borderline in this respect, like the "wide spot" at Pomme de Terre City Park. This "almost" lake provides the backdrop for the campground. It seemed more palatable for swimming years ago. The same can be said of Pomme de Terre Lake (or Perkins Lake, if that's the name you prefer) several miles to the north.

It's all hooked together by the Pomme de Terre River which snakes along close to Highway 59 North. It gets narrower as you go to the north - logical since this is how rivers behave. As you get toward Elbow Lake the river almost seems to get lost among the vegetation ("cattail" plants etc.) in places.

So where does it all begin? How many of us Morrissites, who have been familiar with the river all our lives, can answer trivia questions about it?

You have to go quite far to the north, actually, to pinpoint where the Pomme de Terre begins. We're talking the Fergus Falls area.

In all the Pomme de Terre River is a little over 100 miles long. It's part of the watershed of the Mississippi.

The Pomme de Terre River begins from Stalker Lake. Someone once told me Stalker is a quite deep lake and has walleyes. The closest town is Dalton. The river proceeds past or through Barrett and Appleton in addition to Morris.

Finally it ends up in southwestern Swift County where it gets absorbed by Marsh Lake.

Marsh Lake is on the Minnesota River. Appleton is about four miles away. Marsh Lake is maintained by a manmade dam. It was formed by a backup of water caused by the Pomme de Terre's delta.

The river strings together the lakes north of Morris known as a "chain." On the map these lakes probably look more impressive than they really are.

"Middle" Pomme de Terre really doesn't seem like a separate lake. The one lake that has recreation possibilities doesn't have a commonly accepted name. On official maps it's "Perkins." But the big sign at the public access welcomes people to "Pomme de Terre Lake."

I have raised this issue before, even bringing it to the attention of the Historical Society, but the reaction has been more or less a shrug of the shoulders.

"Let sleeping dogs lie," I guess.

The contradiction doesn't seem to bother anyone. People in Mayberry pretty much just know their way around.

The lake known as "North Pomme de Terre" looks bigger on the map than it really is. I have scouted out there and found no real redeeming qualities to the lake. It has the look and feel of a slough. I suspect it looks big on the map because it takes in vegetation ("bulrushes," cattails and the like) that don't equate with true lake surface.

It's actually hard getting a good look at North Pomme de Terre. The roads skirt the lake only partially and they aren't of high quality. Actually the dirt roads all around the Pomme de Terre Lake chain leave a lot to be desired. When wet they can seem foreboding. Plus you'll often encounter an annoying "washboard" effect.

I decided once not to even use my bike along the road that snakes out to the Pomme de Terre West neighborhood. I try to take good care of my bikes.

The road that goes to the north of Middle Pomme de Terre will eventually get you to Farwell, I believe. But keep a map handy.

The wide spot in the river at Pomme de Terre City Park has an interesting background. We have fallen back on the name "Pomme de Terre reservoir," even though this isn't really a name, it's a description.

I was fascinated to discover once this lake has had at least one real name. I was writing an article for the print media on the bike trail system. I was shown a map. I saw the name "Lake Crissey."

Lake Crissey! Sounds appealing. I had never heard it before. Was it official? Did someone name it after his girlfriend?

I wondered. Why did the name seem to die?

People began flocking to the lake for recreation after the dam was completed. "Lake Crissey" came into circulation. Contrary to being an offhand reference to someone's girlfriend, the Lake Crissey name was inspired by A.D. Crissey, state representative who had supported creation of the dam and park.

The park was first known as "Riverside" - a nice name. Odd how neither the name of the lake or park stuck.

Being proactive

I'd like to make a formal suggestion here and now: to bring back the names "Riverside Park" and "Lake Crissey."

Let's put up signs.

There was a Star Tribune article not long ago about a Minnesota artist doing logos for every Minnesota lake. Let's contact that person, offer her a little monetary sum and get a nice design for a "Lake Crissey" logo!

BTW I have referred to the Crissey name a couple times in my past writing but misspelled it "Crissy," going from memory. I'll have to go back and fix those.

How could we possibly allow the bland and sterile name "Pomme de Terre reservoir" to take over? Ugh.

The park was once a state park but didn't meet the true specifications for such an entity. The recreation area was limited and we didn't see the desired "wilderness" complexion in the truest sense. Still the park had its attractive attributes, but more as a county or city park.

"Pomme de Terre City Park" was born and it's a valued asset of the area. I'd just like to see a little tweaking of the cosmetics, by re-instituting the "Lake Crissey" and "Riverside Park" names.

"Riverside" would clearly differentiate the place from other places - too many - that have the "Pomme de Terre" name (like the lakes to the north).

"Pomme de Terre" is French and means "apple of the earth." The reference is taken to mean potatoes. Early French explorers gave us this name and were actually thinking of the "prairie turnip" which is potato-like. This was common fare for the Sioux Indians.

I remember the Morris Centennial in 1971 - a terrific celebration - and how the program (at the fairgrounds) began with a Native American character standing on top of a pole. Presumably there were safety safeguards. Was it Peter Kron who played that role?

A friend expressed consternation, saying this program followed an established script and wasn't tailored to Morris.

"There weren't any Indians in Morris," my friend sniffed.

I have the impression there were not established Indian settlements in this area, even though most certainly there was transient or sporadic activity. Travelers along the Wadsworth Trail had to watch out for hostiles.

I played in the "German band" for the Morris Centennial. John Woell threw that group together. We played in the Met Lounge which was the first time I'd ever been in a bar.

The WCROC Horticulture Garden overlook is a great place from which to appreciate our "Old Man River," the Pomme de Terre. Les Lindor was instrumental in making the overlook a reality. It's a terrific place and convenient for people appreciating the garden, but to be honest I think there's a slightly superior view afforded by a "lover's lane" type of place immediately to the north of Pomme de Terre Park, at the top of a hill of course. It's just a little flattened ground.

Maybe a little interpretive sign could be placed there someday.

We take the Pomme de Terre River for granted, perhaps, maybe because it's such a constant. It has graced the area "from time immemorial," as Delmar Holdgrafer would note.

A river has the power of God behind it. Only an earthquake, which also reflects our maker's power, can supersede, as it did with the New Madrid earthquake which changed the course of the Mississippi River in places.

The Pomme de Terrre River isn't a famous river but it's our river. This tributary of the Minnesota River has given our area character since we took root out here.

I'm reminded of the lead character in the movie "Swamp Thing" who said "much beauty in swamp - all you have to do is look." Same with the prairie.

Wildflowers flourish amid the foliage. Butterflies flutter about. Deer race in bounds. The raccoons slink around.

From time immemorial.

We're just renting the area for a while. The Pomme de Terre is an essential backdrop for our lifestyle. It helps give us character and definition. Take a stroll along the bike trail this spring and appreciate it.

- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com