Prelude I had just started working at an internship at St. Luke's Hospital of Duluth. There were two of us interns in the same role. After working alongside the other intern for about 4 weeks, he invited me along on a BWCA trip he was planning. They had 3 committed and we're looking for a fourth. I'm in - i've always wanted to go and was just never in a position to do so and was uneasy about trying to figure it all out on my own. This would be the second trip for the fella that invited me - his first trip being the prior year. Third trip for another participant and maybe 5th trip for the final participant, but he had not been in some years, most of his trips were when he was younger...I believe they may have been with the scouts. The plan was to enter at Brule and loop through Cherokee, Long Island and Winchel, then coming back down to Brule. Plan was 3 nights - 4 days. First night on Cherokee, Second on Long Island and third on Winchell. Our gear was a mess - we had two borrowed aluminum canoes, one giant 6 person tent, some borrowed sleeping bags, I bought a used kondo's envelope style pack online, a wenzel sleeping pad. We also brought a guitar, one water pump, and a bunch of other gear that really didn't need to be on the trip. 5 people and we had 4 packs per canoe, with the largest being a duluth pack 4 or 5...the thing was a monster. The canoes were two person, so someone had to ride duff. Yes - we ended up with 5, as when they were looking for a fourth more than one person made it their goal to find the 4th and two were successful.

Day 1+ I've added the plus as I'll start the story the night prior to our actual entry date. Two of us lived in Duluth and the others were coming up from the cities. Plan was to get together the night prior and pack all the gear, then retire and drive up in the morning. After much gear shuffling, a few whiskeys, beers and perhaps a pull or two off the oney as well (we were in college after all). We finally found ourselves to be comfortable with what and how we had everything packed. 

We then made the decision, maybe not our best decision, to skip sleep and depart for the entry point. I believe it was past midnight, but not quite 1AM. I grabbed a roadie and off we went. Myself and the other intern in his giant White Caprice with one canoe strapped on top and the others in a rusty old oldsmobile with the other canoe. The drive was largely uneventful, until we hit the gravels...at which point the driving was akin to the old video game of Sega Rally Championships. I called out the turns and we drifted and powered through them. We piled into the Brule parking lot somewhere between 3 and 4. Gear was unloaded, we smoked a bit more and briefly stared at the stars and and moon. Anticipation was high and we shoved off into brule lake in the dark of the night. No discussion about anything. As we paddled strongly towards the first island, I called back to the stern paddler, which was my work intern buddy, "Lets head for the north shore and then follow it along to the other side of the lake". The other three were in the other canoe. As we got to the north shore of Brule lake and turned left, we realized the other canoe was no where in sight. We called out a couple times - no response. My buddy who knew the others prior to the trip, States, "they must have taken another route", and with that we dug in, got in the zone and shot across Brule Lake.

We stopped at the entry into the bay towards the Cam Lake Portage...not knowing where they were or if they were even headed this way or the towards the temperance lakes. We silently stared into the darkness of the night - nothing. A call out garnered no response. We hit the oney, concluded that there was a discussion that we were gong through cam and gasket and then subsequently concluded, perhaps they're already at the portage waiting for us. Ya - I bet they're faster with three people. I remember thinking that. We turned and paddled to the Cam Lake Portage. We arrived - still dark and to no one's surprise reading this - they weren't there. As we stood on the shores of the portage landing, contemplating the next steps, the started to rise.

The sun now fully up and our bellies full from some snacks, we pumped some water and refilled the nalgenes. As we debated heading back out, we saw a canoe round the corner into the bay...ah ha! There they are. With much delight we were all about to be re-united. Two individuals paddling and the third wedged in between a thwart and a duluth pack, with his knees in his throat. The bow paddler first, grabbed a pack or two and handed it to us on shore. Next was the fella riding duff or as we referred to it at the time "riding bitch", he got one foot on shore and promptly fell over "I cant' feel my legs, I can't feel my legs" came out of his mouth. I can't imagine, sitting in the bottom of an aluminum canoe without moving for a couple hours in early may - had to be cold. The stern paddler of that canoe then proclaims, jsut get up and grab a pack - you'll be fine. As life slowly came back to his legs we made our way across that first portage.

We single portaged - 8 really heavy packs and two aluminum canoes. If you had a canoe, you carried the canoe and one duluth pack. Those without the canoe carried two duluth packs, one on the front and one on the back. Those without canoes were also responsible for the guitar, paddles, life jackets and fishing poles. The first portage I took two packs and whatever I could carry. The second portage it was my turn for the canoe. This was my first time portaging the canoe...about 20 rods in with the pack and canoe, I remember thinking, I can't do this. This sucks - it's fricking heavy. I then remembered, there were two other dudes that just did it on the first portage and I'm not going to be that guy. So you embrace the suck, man up and just power through it. Each subsequent portage got a little easier.

We arrived on Cherokee and paddled across the lake to the site on the west shore, northern part of the lake. We unloaded and everyone basically just collapsed. We ate some lunch and lay on the shore in the sun exhausted. At that point someone suggested, hey it's still pretty early in the day, should we keep going? With that we found ourselves back in the canoes and paddling towards the Gordon Portage. I think surprisingly we all felt pretty strong after the break. We watched a moose swim across Gordon Lake, found a bunch of suckers where the water runs into Long Island. We ended up a nice site on Long Island. The stern paddler of the other canoe was a wiry little fella and had the most BW experience of any of us. He appointed himself "Trip Leader" and quickly started assigning tasks, some of us were to set up the tent and sleeping bags, another pumped water and others were cutting firewood.

We retired fairly early that first night.

We awoke to an absolutely gorgeous day. I remember being in awe of the vastness of the area, thinking I could go in any direction for miles and just find the same (trees, lakes and streams). I was hooked - right there, I knew I would be back here many times. Breakfast was oatmeal and we started the task of packing up. Our goal today was to get to Winchel Lake. 

Out second portage of the day was Muskeg to Kiskidinna and I had the canoe and a pack. This was all prior to any of us really doing any research...I feel like the internet was still new'ish at the time. I say that to share, that we had no knowledge of this portage having a reputation. The stern paddler of the other canoe was the first to head down the portage. He too had a pack and the canoe. I headed down the trail a little bit after him. In the flat section as we approach Kiskidinna Lake, I see his canoe off to the side and him down in the middle of the trail, not moving. I call out his name, nothing. I quickly sherk the canoe off my shoulders into the brush and run to him. At what point he rolls over and says, "Ohh, I twisted my ankle a little bit." He then proceeds to get up and get his stuff and finish the portage. I walked back, grabbed the canoe and finished the portage as well.

We continued on without further issue and set up camp on Winchel at the popular bonsai tree site. Similar to last camp, orders were handed out and all the shores were accomplished without said trip leader really doing any actual work himself. We stayed up late into the night, drinking and smoking around the fire, watching the stars and BS'ing as college guys do. At one point - I watched a satellite stop moving and change directions...I was aware this didn't really just happen, i've just smoked and drank too much and it might be time for me to call a night. I was the first to retire. It got cold that night, weather reports later told us it was in the mid 20's. Which we didn't have the best gear. I remember waking up pretty cold and looking over at another fells, who had completely closed himself inside his sleeping bag...as I wondered how he was breathing, I noticed only his nose sticking out a tiny hole. He had it zipped down tight.

We awoke and chores were handed out again...at this point there was some level of mutiny. To which, he kept saying "Somebody has to be the trip leader". I don't know if this comes from scouts or what...but it just wasn't vibing with the rest of the group. We packed up in largely silence, while the now former Trip leader stood on the other side of the peninsula casting for lake trout. This continued to the point of us literally in the canoes and ready to shove off.

"One more cast" - and dang it if he didn't catch a lake trout on that last cast. This led to further tension, as he wanted to clean and cook his fish for breakfast. We were packed and ready to go. Much discussion was had and the fish was eventually released. We paddled down to Brule. I remember being amazed at how clear Mulligan lake was. There was no breeze, the sun was high and it was as if we were floating on air over the rocks and boulders in this lake. It was surreal. We paddled around Brule briefly and found many of the sites occupied, we did find an open site on an island near the EP, but it was terrible. Lots of bugs, kind of muddy and just not good in any way. Decisions were to be made - Continue looking for a campsite, call it and head to the nearest town for a beer and burger. A vote was cast 2-2 with the final fella not being able to make up his mind. Rock paper scissors came into play and we're headed to the bar for a burger and beer.

The rest of the story This was in 1999 - myself and two others from that original group have become the absolute best of friends. We get together for golf weekends, bw trips and vikings games. We've been on countless trips and adventures together...one of the best decisions I ever made was saying yes to a trip, where I didn't know many of the participants and barely knew the fella that invited me. "Trip Leader" guy went on one other trip with us and just couldn't vibe with the rest of the group. He's a great guy - we just don't go on BW trips with him anymore.