BWCA Entry Point, Route, and Trip Report Blog
January 07 2025
Entry Point 50 - Cross Bay Lake
Number of Permits per Day: 3
Elevation: 1670 feet
Latitude: 48.0760
Longitude: -90.8222
Cross Bay Lake - 50
Slow and steady wins the race
Entry Date:
May 22, 2022
Entry Point:
Skipper and Portage Lakes
Number of Days:
7
Group Size:
2
[paragraph break] Glassy waters greeted us on Poplar Lake. We had a short and easy paddle, chatting and marveling at the serene waters to the first portage of the trip into Skipper Lake. This mile long portage would be the first real test for Krystal. Could her body handle the weight of a fully loaded portage pack, and then a second trip with her 38-pound canoe and another 25 to 30-pound pack on her back? With three miles of hard work ahead of us, we unloaded and sorted out who would do what first. Krystal wanted to do the portage pack first, which meant she was in charge of the dogs. The dog rustler is always the person portaging without the canoe, so I followed behind with my canoe and pack because the dogs like to go first.[paragraph break] After a gradual incline at the start of the portage, we stepped along the trail slowly. It was surprisingly dry for the late thaw we all saw this year, and with only a few mucky spots hardly worth mentioning. Krystal trudged along, slowly, but surely. Typically, on mile long portages, we leap frog about halfway down the trail. I knew there was a slight valley about halfway through the mile and figured we would stop there and go back and get the rest of the gear. I caught up with Krystal at the incline after the valley and posed that we leap frog at that spot. A definitive, “No! I am going the whole way!” was her response. And then as she powered forward, she yelled back, “Slow and steady wins the race!”[paragraph break] The portage to Skipper is a beautiful trail, lined with huge pines and sunny valleys. We encountered moose poop scattered everywhere, and could smell a bear nearby as we made our way to Skipper. And we made it. Round one of the portage was completed and complimented by the emergence of patchy sunlight and a freshly opened pack of beef jerky. I kept telling Krystal I could not believe she had just charged across that entire portage. She said she just felt good so she kept moving forward. Her hip was a little sore from the weight and the walk, and her pelvis was always sore, but all in all, that felt good too. [paragraph break] We headed back across the trail to get the second load. At the spot we had smelled bear, there was a fresh pile of bear scat on the trail that had not been there on our first trip. It always amazes me when fresh sign of a large animal like that goes unnoticed by our brilliant dogs. Normally, they would have noses to the air, sniffing greedily at the good smells. Alas, our brilliant crew missed the boat on the bear. The walk back went quickly and we were on our way with our second round of gear. The wind had picked up on this third trip and by the time we arrived back at Skipper Lake there were snow squalls blowing down the lake from the west between bursts of wind and sunlight. We waited out one squall and had another snack. Krystal was beat, and honestly, I was super tired too due to our poor night of sleep. [paragraph break] We loaded up the canoes, and headed out into beautiful Skipper Lake. The moody clouds and precipitation pushed off to the east and the sun emerged as we paddled into the wind. Our movement was slow but the sun felt glorious. We were paddling on the south side of the lake, trying to mitigate the pushier wind, and I saw the sloping rock face of the sole campsite on Skipper Lake. Knowing we had up to eight days to finish this loop, I looked over at Krystal hunched over in the wind, paddling forward, and I crossed the lake over to the campsite. I yelled over to her, "Let’s go camp at that site for tonight!" She happily agreed.[paragraph break] It's a gorgeous little site and we fell in love with it. In a moment of need, it was there to embrace our tired bodies. We set up camp slowly, and made some lunch. Our dried beef, mustard, cheese, and dehydrated pickle roll-ups hit the spot, and we washed it down with some sweet tea and Canadian whiskey. After we finished our backcountry cocktails, a nap was selected as our next adventure. It was about 1 o’clock in the afternoon and there was a definite nip to the air. The clouds were building again, so we ushered all the dogs and humans into the green tent. Not more than a few minutes after we got in the tent, the rain began to fall and it instantly lulled us to sleep. [paragraph break] What felt like a moment was really a three-hour nap, and it was another incomparable Boundary Waters snooze. We emerged from the tent to the sun shining through big puffy clouds and a calm ripple on the lake. I went in search of some firewood, and Krystal, who was feeling much better after the nap, went about tidying up camp and playing with the dogs. We double teamed the firewood and set it aside for an after-dinner fire. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] I am normally the dinner maker, so I settled into my spot to prep the dog’s food, and to get the human food going. It was dehydrated homemade spaghetti Bolognese for the humans, and the dogs favorite, dehydrated dog food rehydrated with warm water, and a little bit of kibble thrown in for good measure. We filled our bellies and then settled in to wait on the sun to set next to our warm fire. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] The nap paid off and we were actually able to stay awake until the sun set all the way. We rarely make it this long while out in the wilderness. But this trip, we would have more energy in the crisp late spring air and see our fair share of sunsets. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Little Rush was a gentle and quiet paddle. We made it to the Rush Lake portage in short time. The portage to Rush was lined with tree artwork left by the burn. There is an iconic hulled out tree along the way that warranted a quick photo opportunity. I do believe this ghost of a tree is a celebrity in some circles, and probably even more so by oodles of moose according to the quantity of moose poo along the trail. The zenith of the portage has quite the view down Little Rush. This is the very reason I love double portaging now. So many views![paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] By the time we got on the water of Rush Lake, the wind had picked up. The sun was now playing hide and seek behind the growing company of clouds. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] About half-way across the large west to east expanse of Rush Lake, the clouds finally triumphed with the aid of their friend, the wind. We wended our way over to the southern side of the lake to stay in the lee as much as possible. As we neared the two long bays on the western end of Rush, we could hear rushing water. I was eager to see the Banadad ski trail bridge, and I knew we were close. We edged into the rocky landing at the portage one at a time. This landing was tricky, slippery, and required we get wet feet (Oh, and let me say this, we also determined we made the extremely bad decision of not bringing our muck boots along on this trip. Wool socks and our Astral tennis shoes did not cut it. We were fine, but would have been a lot more comfortable in the muck boots getting in and out of the boat.).[paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] The Banadad ski trail bridge was sketchy. Some of the boards would flip or wobble if we walked too far to one side or the other. The best bet was to walk along the horizontal support beams down the middle. And the connector stream was running over part of the trail on the Banadad side of the bridge and that water was icy! There were still bits of ice in the water. The trail was mostly submerged in cold water, but it was just standing water. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Despite the short length of the portage, it wore us out because of the cold water, and the uneasy footing getting the canoes onto land in the beginning. We took a few minutes to warm up and snack under the stunning cedar trees lining the Banadad Lake landing. Somewhere down the lake a campsite was waiting for us. [paragraph break] And of course, the wind picked up, gusting here and there. We were both worn out again but pushed on as far west down the lake as we could. There was a small island site which may have not been an island in low water years, but we snagged it immediately. The kitchen area was not the greatest, but the views down the lake were mesmerizing and the tent pads were flat and so cozy under the trees. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Krystal was aching for a nap, so after camp set up, I strung up a hammock, grabbed my book and sleeping bag to cocoon myself in an early afternoon nap while Gichi, the golden retriever slept under the hammock. Krystal crawled into the tent with the two other dogs. I read for a bit and fell asleep until I snored myself awake. I could hear Krystal purring from the tent so I took my trusty golden retriever for a walk around the island. We sat up on a bluff in the open sunlight for a while. [paragraph break] We had homemade dehydrated Shephard’s pie for dinner that night and took our chairs down to the water’s edge to enjoy our late evening meal. A loon couple came over to investigate these strange creatures on the land. They hung out at our camp for a good 15 minutes so we whiled away the evening watching the happy couple. Our Dobby-do mutt loves watching the loons so he was in heaven. He’ll sit on the edge of the lake for hours waiting for them to arrive. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] After the loons departed, it was early to bed for us. We had a big day tomorrow as we would be making our way over four longish portages to Long Island Lake. It would be a rough test for Krystal to be certain.
Having spent the previous night at Tuscarora Lodges bunkhouse #1, we are up early doing some last minute packing before heading over for the French toast breakfast. Soon after we are loading up one of Tuscarora’s vehicles so we can be shuttled over to Poplar Lake. It’s cool and skies are gray as we push off but, at least it isn’t raining. After a brief paddle, still brimming with excitement, we arrive at our first portage of the day; the 320 rod trail to Skipper Lake.
This end starts with a climb, and there are a number of mud holes and shorter climbs along the way. I find an accommodating sitting rock (closer to the Skipper side) that provides both comforts for my long legs and has a concave depression that seems made just for my backside. Bugs are a nuisance the whole way across but, the landing proves to be even worse! All appearances suggest that Skipper is a lovely lake but, it is difficult to fully appreciate the scenery since the fog and mist are still so heavy. 
A bit of luck finds us as we are able to paddle right through the ‘rapids’ that occasionally necessitate the 20 rod portage into Little Rush Lake. It is spring and there has been plenty of rain recently, so I think it’s safe to say water levels are higher than normal. Still, dependent on how particular one is about scratches on their canoes (and getting their feet wet), I think a canoe could be walked through here in all but the driest of conditions.
Our next portage, into Rush Lake, is a winding path that has a steep rocky hill to surmount. Once back in the canoe, we enjoy the beautiful scenery unfolding before us as we paddle west down this long waterway. We paddle past a couple of sites that don't overly impress us. Since our target is the west end of Banadad Lake, we just quickly note it for a possible future trip to the area. At our next portage there is a charning little bridge where the Banadad ski trail intersects this diminutive trail. Since it is so short, there is no confusion as it is obvious which path is the portage; as along with the babbling brook, it helps provide an idyllic scene. There is some fish spawn (eggs) clearly visible in the shallow water here that provide an interesting diversion/learning opportunity for Aurora. There doesn't seem to be a clear cut landing point here, it appears that people take out where ever is convenient. As it is, I take the packs across the bridge and, then carry the canoe right up the creek - bypassing the bridge. 
Banadad is a narrow, almost riveresque body of water, and we are all instantly smitten with this little jewel. Unfortunately our spirits are dampened a bit as the ominous sighting of canoes near the western end of the lake indicate that those sites are occupied. Retreating, we paddle back to claim the island site near mid-lake. It is certainly nothing special but, it will have to do. The fire grate/kitchen area is severely sloped, all the tent pads are plagued with large protruding roots, and there is a precipitous drop just a few feet from the front side of the fire grate. Still, we determine to make the best of it! 
Its seasoned pork tenderloin, potatoes and rehydrated green beans for supper. Afterwards, Vickie is anxious to give her new Old Scout reflector oven a try. She quickly bakes up an indulgent chocolate cake for dessert. The oven exceeds expectations, and she is happy with the speed and efficiency this method provides. Later on, the increasing intensity of the rain showers chases us to the warm sanctuary of our sleeping bags in the tent.
Poplar Lake, Skipper Lake, Little Rush Lake, Rush Lake, Banadad Lake
The rain continues throughout the night into the morning. We linger in the tent hopeful the incessant pitter patter will subside. It doesn’t. Finally, our sore muscles and full bladders force us towards the inevitable. I get breakfast going as rain persists on and off throughout the morning hours. We hang around camp as I process some firewood for a hopeful fire later but, mostly we’re just a bunch of dead beats sitting around. Finally Vickie suggests we go out for a paddle just to get out of camp.
It is still cold but the rain has mostly stopped for now. There is a little chop out on the lake but, nothing too serious. We paddle for the western end where we find the island site still occupied. We then paddle back into the northern arm continuing our exploratory route around the lake. The campsite there is open, so we decide to check it out. It doesn’t look like much from out on the lake but, once we get past the constricted landing and up to the fire grate a decent site with a couple of nice tent pads is revealed. It’s nothing special but, when compared with ours, it looks very plush. There are even several orchids beginning to bloom on the fringes. 
Continuing on, we head for the Sebeka portage trail. I’ve heard this one is a real beast, and figure we can scout it out since we’ll be heading this way tomorrow. The landing is full of chewed up beaver sticks and Vickie & Aurora have a grand ol’ time inspecting them. Vickie even finds a nice diamond willow, while I spot something altogether different. It’s a tiny mud turtle. It could not have possibly hatched yet this year, so it must be a yearling. I hand it to Aurora and watch her play & gaze upon it with fascinated curiosity. When finished, she also freely puts it back where I had picked it up at and tells it to, “Go find your mommy, little turtle.”
Afterwards, we hike the portage trail. I tell Aurora she needs to practice how to safely walk around the big mud holes that are located throughout. Both Vickie & I unwittingly discover some knee deep pockets of muck but, fortunately, Aurora proves she has learned the needed lessons on the return trip.
There is no hurry as we paddle back, as our exploratory excursion continues. We take time to check out the rock wall just west of our site and circle around the back side of our scenic little island before returning to camp. Even though the clouds are finally beginning to break up, it proves exceedingly difficult to get (and keep) a decent fire going with our damp, wet wood. Per usual the bugs are once again a persistent annoyance but, we do enjoy not having to huddle under the tarp for a change. 
left" > 
Of course Aurora has packed in some of her toys, and while she doesn’t totally neglect them; it’s fascinating to note the she consistently seems more enthralled and entertained by the various rocks & sticks that she discovers. A noteworthy item is a chunk of wood that she calls her hammer.
Banadad Lake, Sebeka Lake
[paragraph break] Another lovely loon couple swam over to investigate us and the dogs. They preened and chirped and scanned the waters below. Dobby was in heaven again as he watched his feathered friends from shore. It was a lovely sendoff as we departed the site. [paragraph break] No rain was promised for the day as we slowly paddled under a dim grey sky to the eastern end of Long Island Lake. This was our first time seeing this part of the lake and the landscape was stunning. The mixture of burn and heavily wooded islands inspired awe at every turn. [paragraph break] Once we made it down the channel to the portage to Muskeg Lake, the work part of the day tumbled out before us. A boulder strewn landing greeted us and one by one, we pulled our gear and boats up onto the rocks. The only conceivable way through this portage that we could make out was through knee to thigh deep water. I had read on the BWCA site that this was basically a portage through a shallow stream. With the high water for this year, it was a not so shallow frigid stream that iced our feet and legs to numbness. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] After the first trip across, we had to stay out oF THE WATER FOR A FEW MINUtes to regain feeling in our toes. Standing on piles of sticks from the beaver dam, our feet warmed up quickly. We then charged daintily back through the water to get the second load. This was not an easy portage, but we managed to get back to the beaver dam and haul ourselves up this wonderous work of engineering. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] I made my way into the boat with gear and dog safELY LOADED, AND FLOATED OUt into the pool to wait for Krystal. I could sense the feeling coming back to my feet with no real worry. A short paddle awaited us to the steep portage to Kiskadinna, where I know we would warm up and then some. Krystal finally made it into her boat with Dobby and Rainy, and we were off.[paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Muskeg Lake was gorgeous. We remarked that this is exactly the type of lake we seek out during the busy Boundary Waters summer months. Solitude looked exceptional on this tiny little lake. We snacked on jerky and trail mix as we floated toward the portage, enjoying the views. There were two women on the portage before us so we stayed back, letting them have the trail to themselves. [paragraph break] When the fellow travelers had disappeared into the woods for about five minutes, we landed and unloaded. Krystal went first with her heavy portage pack, and I followed closely behind with my canoe and pack. It was up, up, up until we got to the steeps. This is where it got hard and due to the saturation of the thaw and the heavy rainfall from the day before, the gaping boulder steps squished and separated from the hillside as we went up.[paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Once Krystal made it to the top of that steep climb, we dropped our gear to the side of the trail. We drank a little water and caught our breath. She was doing fine. She said it was tough, but the only way forward was back and up again. Slow and steady wins the race, indeed![paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Going down that steep climb was nerve wracking. Each stone seemed like it was on the verge of breaking loose and rolling down the hillside. This is the point where we were overjoyed that we were heading up this portage instead of down it with the gear. The clunk, grunt, clunk, grunt, thud, clunk of someone coming down the portage on our way back up it reiterated that belief. [paragraph break] I had one misstep on this journey and it always comes after eating my own words, per the rules of my life. I was so worried about Krystal slipping and falling that I must have said 100 times, be careful on the wet rocks, they are super slippery. As soon as we were on our way on the flat topside of this portage, I put my foot in it! I stepped on a rock and literally took a knee as my foot slipped down the large sloped boulder, while my other leg stretched long and awkwardly behind me, and plop, right on my rusty old knee. I thought for sure I was going to injure something. I stood up, checked my knee for soundness or pain, and all was well. As soon as Krystal knew I was okay, she said, “Be careful on the rocks, Tina. They are slippery.” as she smirked and walked on down the trail. [paragraph break] We had ran into an energizing group of younger people from an environmental school in Minneapolis at the apex of the portage steeps. We ended up chatting with three of the young women when we finally made it to Kiskadinna with all of our gear and dogs in tow. They loved the dogs and were eager to chat a bit and rest, as were we. We wished them well as they were graduating from high school as soon as they finished this week-long trip, and told them as they walked away, “Now the adventure really begins!”[paragraph break] We slipped onto Kiskadinna excited that that tough portage was over. Kiskadinna was gorgeous, with the looming cliffs and long secret stretches of water. Under the grey sky, the lake was hypnotic. Our paddles dipped slowly through the water as we soaked in the scenery.[paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] When we neared the portage to Omega, both of us were thinking it would be a breeze, short and sweet. We were so wrong! Another crazy steep and slippery portage. We were cautious and slow, and made it through. Originally, we had planned to go to Gaskin or Horseshoe Lake for the next campsite, but deep in my heart I wanted to go to Omega Lake. The last time I had been there, my grandmother had passed away. The same day she had passed, I had a wonderful, yet mournful encounter with a loon on Omega. I will write about that trip someday. But I really wanted to come back to this lake while in a different mindset than I was that somber year. Visiting Omega again felt like visiting grandma again to me, so I secretly planned to tell Krystal we should stay there instead of going onto Gaskin. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] As soon as we were on the water of Omega, I said to Krystal, let's camp here. Following the trying day we had had, she jumped right on the bandwagon. Instead of staying on the same site we had last time we were on this lake, we took the open-air site right off the Kiskadinna portage. What an excellent choice that was! Though the landing was a little sketchy, the big sky views were just what we needed after our rainy and darker site on Long Island Lake. And with warm temps and sunny skies promised for the next day, there would be basking in sunlight to be had.[paragraph break] After setting up camp, we noticed that the chimney to the fire grate had been basically dismantled. We spent a good amount of time relocating all the rocks that had been confiscated from the fire pit. Previous campers must have taken them to hold down tents because there were at least four rocks at every tent pad. We did a decent job of rebuilding the firepit, but not without a painful mishap. Just as I was plopping down the last largish rock, it bounced back up and plopped down right on my right middle finger. The tip of it exploded like a squashed grape. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] My ex-EMT wife bandaged me up with as much care as possible. My heartbeat had moved to the tip of my finger so I held it up above my heart for a while presumably flipping the bird at everything in my line of sight. Though in my heart of hearts, I really wasn’t angry at the rock or me. The rock and I made up in the end, and the rock even did us a solid and blocked the wind during our fire that evening. All was well and right in the world. [paragraph break] The rest of the evening drifted by until a gregarious beaver decided to join us at our site. Upon my hunt for firewood earlier in the evening, I had discovered some fresh beaver chews. It would seem the beaver was not pleased that we had intruded upon their fresh stash of delicious small trees. The beaver had climbed up on the site, then noticed the dogs. With a resounding, “Nope!” it slipped back in the lake. Our beaver friend swam not more than ten feet off shore for a good 20 minutes or so. Tail slaps galore kept the dogs entertained. I tried to tell the beaver we would be gone in two days, but the beaver wasn’t having it. Eventually it swam off and cursed at us a few times from across the lake. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] We finally had warm and cozy campfire after the exhaustion and the rainstorm of the last two nights. Crackling and snapping wood, calling loons, angry beavers, and singing birds carried us through the night. We stayed up until the fire burned out, and the sun set. With hues of orange and pink, the sunset was a promise of a warm and glorious day to come. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break]
Today is about a 180 of yesterday. It’s windy, cold, and threatens rain at any time. The temperature never even makes it to 50! With gusts of up to 30+ mph predicted, we decide to forego our day trip to Cherokee Lake and stay close to camp. I process plenty of firewood while Vickie does some baking (blueberry scones). We also have plenty of time for exploration and even discover, much to Aurora’s delight and amusement, that we have a friendly rabbit sharing camp with us. Really there isn’t too much to say about today, as Vickie & Aurora eventually take a long nap and I do a little reading. At least we stay warm and comfortable, while we hope for better weather tomorrow. 
It’s still cool and overcast but, today’s weather promises to be more forgiving. After breakfast we load up a day pack and venture out, with Frost Lake as our hopeful destination. The Long Island River is straight south of our site, and after negotiating a couple of beaver dams and the 11 rod portage we are quickly on Gordon Lake where the 140 rod portage to Unload Lake is located.
After the rocky landing, this trail has one decent hill (down to Unload) but for us the primary obstacle(s) are the long stretches of slippery mud and water. A pretty decent landing greets us on the Unload end but, I’d noticed a nice grove of cedars just up the trail a bit; so, after setting the canoe down, I hike back to scope them out. While not quite on par with the monster located below Johnson Falls, there are some very impressive sentinels on display here. Vickie has also finds & collects a nice cache of birch bark for use as needed later in the trip. 
The bog laurel is beginning to bloom, and adds a splash of color to the gloominess of the day as we paddle across Unload Lake to the large beaver dam just before Frost Lake. The wind starts to kick up as we head for the beach. While this obviously makes for tougher paddling, the tradeoff is that it is beginning to blow in little splotches of blue sky and glorious sunshine.
Frost Lake is deserted, so we have the place to ourselves. We pull into the camp nearest the beach and check it out before walking over. Aurora’s eager excitement is hard to contain as we near the sandy expanse. Upon officially arriving, Aurora immediately drops down and starts making sand angels. For the next couple of hours we’re all happily occupied building any number of sand creations as, gratefully, the sun graces us with its presence. Spending time here at the beautifully expansive beach definitely helps make up for yesterdays forced lethargy.
We take a little time to explore Long Island Lake on our way back. In keeping with the theme of this trip, the threat of rain chases us back to camp. It’s only a short shower that eventually treats us to a beautiful rainbow. Later, Vickie bakes up some muffins for a delectable bedtime snack, as I begin to pack a few things away.
Long Island Lake, Gordon Lake, Unload Lake, Frost Lake