What a difference 35 miles and a day can make.

Monday night found us camped on a sweeping, high sand bar down from Belle Plaine, remote and quiet except for the screeching of a hawk or gurgling of the river as it flowed through a downed cottonwood.

Tuesday evening our tents were pitched on a muddy narrow stretch of shoreline next to the 35W Interstate bridge in Bloomington. We’re beneath the flight path of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, alongside a constant din of highway traffic and next to the shipping channel on which deafening diesel-powered towboats push barges of grain to the Mississippi.

It seems a great distance, in time and miles, since John Cross and I started a trip down the Minnesota River at the South Dakota border July 6. There, below Ortonville, a rugged terrain and nature dominate. Here, the bustle of a major metropolitan city surrounds the river.

On Tuesday, we awoke on the same sand bar we camped on 10 years ago, on our first trip down the Minnesota. In both cases, the sand bar chose us, more than us choosing it.

In a long stretch after Henderson, there are no sand bars to camp on — only high and uninviting banks with heavy vegetation and plenty

of mosquitoes atop. The sand bar we camped on is the first after that long paddle. It was a welcome sight in 1998 and on Monday night.

Tuesday’s seven-hour paddle to the 35W bridge was hot, humid and done out of necessity. There are virtually no good camping spots until the bridge, as steep, high banks mark the way.

As we left our sand bar early in the morning and neared Chaska, the distant sound of commerce and urbanization became apparent. Besides Granite Falls, Chaska has one of the most inviting ties to the river. While most towns along the river have no place to easily get close to it, Chaska has a walking path along the edge of the river and easy access to see it.

As we approach Shakopee, the river becomes less attractive than what we’ve seen in the previous 300 miles. The river has more of a look of a long, straight channel rather than a wild, winding river. There are more spots where concrete has been dumped down the banks and the banks look a bit shabby.

Soon, we hear a distant squeal from customers on the rides at Valleyfair. We can see the tops of the roller coasters and other rides as we pass by, and we can smell the deep-fried scents of food carried by the breeze to our canoe.

Another 10 miles brings us to Savage and the grain ports, where corn and soybeans are loaded on barges at Port Cargill and CHS for delivery around the world.

The ports along the lower Minnesota River also get products that come up the Mississippi. A worker unloading a barge at Savage tells us it is an ingredient used to make shingles.

A few miles after Savage, the 35W bridge appears and, despite the muddy accommodations, we look forward to getting out of the canoe, out of the sun and setting up camp.

This morning, we finish our voyage down the Minnesota River.