The St. Paul skyline was a long anticipated and rewarding sight Wednesday.

After 11 days, 330 miles and countless thousands of paddle strokes, John Cross and I were more than ready to climb out of our Old Town canoe for the last time.

The morning started on a narrow bank next to the 35W bridge. Despite the commotion and noise of the city, we’d slept well from the physical tiredness that comes from long days outdoors.

The final 15 miles of the Minnesota River remain isolated from the world in spite of being amid a major metropolitan area. White egrets, bald eagles, great blue heron and a doe with her fawn on the river bank were still present, if not in as great of numbers as farther upriver.

The wildlife is aided, no doubt, by the thousands of acres of wetlands on both sides of the river that are part of the Minnesota National Wildlife Refuge, one of only a few national refuges in a major urban city.

Still, it’s easy to know you are no longer on a rural river. Every few minutes, jets roar over the treetops as they climb from takeoff at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

The Highway 77 bridge, then the 494 bridge and the Highway 55 bridge carry heavy traffic above you. Billboards, the big Xcel Black Dog power plant along the river, and more and more homes and condos tucked in the bluffs make it clear you’re in the metro.

The Mississippi, as it merges with the Minnesota River near Fort Snelling, is anything but mighty. It is no wider than the Minnesota here, but the water is dramatically different. The Mississippi carries nearly crystal clear water while the Minnesota dumps in a cloudy, muddy mix that soon turns the Mississippi dirty.

The Mississippi quickly stretches wide in the next mile or two as it moves into downtown St. Paul.

We see Free Press photographer Pat Christman at the boat ramp to pick us up and a sense of relief and accomplishment set in.

It’s been a long trip. We’re glad we did it. We’re glad it’s over.