“Last portage of the day, everyone! We can do it!” Becky stated triumphantly. “We’ve got a great campsite waiting for us!” “How many rods is it?” Grandpa asked. Jared glanced at the map. “It’s only about seventy rods, so it’s a little shorter than the last portage.” Hearing that, we all rallied a little and began to unload the canoes. “Like last time, I’m going to take a pack over first and see what kind of ground I’ll be covering,” I said as I picked up a bear barrel. “I’ll take two paddles as well.” I headed up from Ottertrack Lake climbing the steep craggy trail, with a pack on my back and a paddle in each hand. Soon the lake was lost to my view. This portage was much steeper, rockier, and muddier than Monument Portage, and what’s worse, it never seemed to go down hill at all. I climbed over some fallen logs as I headed up the steep hill. I carefully navigated my way over the muddy trail, taking care not to slip. Ryan was right behind me. At the very end of the portage, the rough trail dropped sharply down hill. I walked down to the landing, carefully working my way around the rocks that graced the trail, and looked out over Ester Lake. The portage ended on a small channel on the north side of the lake. Dead logs sat where they had fallen near the shorelines on the opposite side. I saw a loon swimming around, oblivious to my presence. If he did notice me, he didn’t react. Setting down my pack and paddles, I headed back up and over the ridge to get another load. “We must be gaining a hundred feet or more in elevation!” I thought. “Hopefully we’ll start to go downhill sooner or later on this trip.” I passed several of the others as I made the walk back to Ottertrack. “Good going, Amy!” Ryan encouraged as she walked by with a pack and a fishing pole in either hand. “Thanks!” she said as she huffed and puffed her way up the hill. Becky was close behind, and, incredibly enough, was carrying two packs, one in front and one in back. “Are you crazy?” I asked. “I needed the balance,” she responded as she followed Amy.

“Now, Ryan,” I stated, “I thought up a system that would allow us to work together on the canoes. One of us will carry the canoe, and the other will walk behind with a pack, balancing the canoe. If the balance gets awkward, the person in back will push the canoe down or up to help the person carrying the canoe regain his balance.” “That’s a good idea,” he said. “Let’s do that.” “Do you want to go first, or should I?” I asked. “I’ll go first so I can get it over with.” We finally reached the landing on the other side. I pulled a bear barrel on my back and then watched as Mike loaded Ryan up with a canoe. Mike lifted up one end of the canoe, while the other end rested on the ground. Ryan crouched under the canoe and got ready, and then stood up as Mike moved out of the way. “See you at the other end!” I called to Mike as I followed Ryan, who was grunting as he hauled that big load of aluminum up the first steep part of the trail. “Push down, push down!” Ryan ordered as the canoe started to pivot forward. I grasped the bow of the canoe with both of my hands and pulled down. “Thank you, that’s better,” he said. We continued to make our way up hill. Ryan carefully navigated around the slippery mud puddles and around the rocks. He almost lost his footing once. I heard him swear. I didn’t blame him. “Man, I’ve got my work cut out for me,” I thought to myself. “You’re almost there, man, keep up the good work!” I encouraged as Ryan’s grunts were starting to get a little louder. We finally neared the top of the ridge. “Aauggh! Aauggh!” Ryan yelled as he scaled the hill and made the walk down to the shoreline. Jared and I boosted the canoe off of his shoulders. Ryan whipped off the bandanna that was on his head, looked up at the sky, and started balling his eyes out. That portage took everything he had. We all looked on. Jared reached out to shake Ryan’s hand, and I did the same. “Respect, man,” Jared said. I echoed a similar sentiment. Ryan regained his composure.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn. See you soon,” I said as Ryan and I headed back over the ridge to grab the final canoe. At the other end, Ryan lifted up the canoe. I wrapped my coat around my neck to improve the padding, and crouched under the canoe. Standing up, I began to head up the steep slope. Ryan followed with the final bear barrel. I had made up my mind to sing over this portage, so I broke out into Gordon Lightfoot’s song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. I knew all the many verses and thought I could scale the portage in the time it took me to sing it. I walked along singing my lungs out. “Down!” I shouted as the canoe began to pivot forward. Ryan adjusted me. “Thanks, man,” I said, returning to my song. “With a load of iron ore, twenty six thousand tons more, than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty….” I was glad my ship wasn’t that heavy. The trek began to be one of sheer existence. One foot in front of the other. Right, left, right, left, hup, two, three, four, hup, two, three, four……Get this thing over the portage……Dodge rock……Hop over tree branch……Don’t slip…… I shifted my hands to the portage pads and relieved my shoulders for a second, bearing the weight of the canoe with my arms. My neck and back were telling me to quit, but I wasn’t going to quit. I scaled the crest of the hill singing my lungs out.

Down by the water, the others were beginning to wonder where we were. “Do you think they’re all right?” Becky had just asked. They heard my singing and knew that we were all right. I finished the song just as we began to head down towards the lake. I carefully stepped down from rock to rock as we neared the landing. “Someone grab a camera and take a picture, please,” I yelled. “I don’t want to forget this one.” Rachel captured the moment for me. Ryan and Jared boosted the canoe off of my shoulders. I was filled with emotion and joy, knowing that I, with the Lord’s help, had overcome that obstacle. I threw both of my arms up in the air. “YES!” I yelled and then whooped loudly. My voice echoed across the water and off the other shores. My heart rejoiced. That was one of the greatest moments of my life. As boys grow into men, they often have moments where physical, mental, and emotional strength are pushed to the limit and overcome. The portage definitely did that for me.

Grandpa and Amy were already in their canoe and ready to go. “I have to take care of something real quick before I get in,” Becky said. She walked into the lake up to her waist, and then plunged backwards into the water. “Oh, that’s so refreshing,” she said. “Now I can think.” “You look great, Becky,” Grandpa encouraged. “Oh, stop it, Tom,” she responded.

“Joseph, that loon is still there. See?” Rachel pointed out. I looked. That loon had barely moved an inch. It was as if it was sitting there just to encourage us.

Mike and I were the last ones off. We pushed off into Lake Ester and began to head southwest towards our camp site. Jared led the way. “Well, that was a challenge,” I said to Mike. “You did really good,” he returned. “All of you did great.” It was about seven in the evening. The sun had emerged a little as we loaded the canoes, but it was soon obscured by more clouds. Ester was a much smaller lake than Saganaga and, like Ottertrack, had many high, rugged, craggy cliffs that loomed over the water. The water was clear and refreshing, and the air smelled wonderful. Jared led us southwest as Mike and I brought up the rear.

“Look over there,” Mike said as he pointed to the northwest. I looked, and my heart faltered again. There loomed a group of dark clouds, headed straight for us. “Not again!” I thought. Once again I snapped into my survival mode and began to paddle much faster. Fortunately, this storm seemed to be smaller than the other system that had passed through the previous day, and seemed to be moving a lot slower. We reached our campsite ahead of the storm.

“This is the camp site I always stayed at on Ester,” Grandpa said as he hopped on shore. “It hasn’t changed a bit.” “We need to hurry and get those tents up,” Becky said. We quickly unloaded the canoes, and Ryan and I began to set up the tents in order to beat the storm. We could hear it getting closer. Jared and Grandpa began to set up theirs. “Rats! Nothing’s going together right again,” I muttered. “Hurry!” Ryan shouted as the first drops of rain began to fall. Mike and Becky hurried over to help, but we didn’t get all of the tents up in time before the rain began to come down even harder. Some of them got completely drenched. “This stinks!” Ryan stated as we finally got the girls’ tent to stand up, and then started in on ours. “We’ll all be wet tonight.” I said nothing.

Hope

We finally got all the tents up, although they didn’t look too pretty. Fortunately there was not much thunder and lightning involved in this storm, but the rain came down in buckets. Everyone stood around the bear barrels. It was clear from some of the comments and tones of voices I heard that the others weren’t happy. “I’m not going to even try to get dinner ready," Becky said. “It's Clif Bars and trail mix for dinner tonight.” She was clearly all done.

We headed for our tents as the rain continued to fall. I tapped Grandpa’s shoulder and motioned for him to follow me. We walked down to the edge of the lake and stood there as the rain came down steadily. “Grandpa, I want you to know that I’m having the time of my life no matter what we encounter. This trip was our baby, and I’m excited that our dream is finally in fruition. I don’t care what’s involved,” I began. I meant every word I said. “That’s fantastic, Joseph! I’m glad the circumstances aren’t changing your attitude. I feel the same way,” Grandpa responded. I could tell he needed to hear what I had said. “Well, that’s true for me,” I went on, “but I’m not sure about the others. We had a really hard day today and it’s clear that some of the others aren’t having a good time. I wanted this trip to be a good time for everyone. Can we pray together that God would change our circumstances for their sake?” “Sure,” Grandpa said. He and I prayed, and I gave him a big hug. Experiencing Grandpa's favorite place with him was so wonderful that I didn't care how bad the weather was. “Thanks for bringing me up here. It feels great,” I said genuinely. “You’re welcome,” Grandpa responded. “This is my favorite lake, you know. I’m a little bummed that you couldn’t see the beauty of it.” “That’s all right. Maybe it will clear up tomorrow. If not, I’ll come back someday and see it how it’s supposed to look,” I replied.

Grandpa went into his tent to join Jared. “Are you coming, Joe?” Ryan called from inside our tent. “The trail mix and Clif bars taste great!” “Not yet,” I responded. “I’ll be in soon.”

Looking over the lake as the rain came down, I ate a macadamia nut Clif bar and thought about everything we had went through that day. I felt terrible. I didn’t feel bad for myself. I was having a blast and nothing would ever change that. However, I felt bad because I felt responsible. The trip had been my idea, and I had wanted this trip to be a rejuvenating time for everyone. I knew that some of the folks that were with us had endured a challenging year, and I wanted this to be a time for unwinding and relaxing. Now my vision had put them into a place that they were dying to get out of. What’s worse, I could not change our circumstances one bit to make anything better. But I knew Who could.

I walked down to the edge of the water and stood there as the rain came down. My heart was weighed down with this burden, and I needed to get rid of it. “Father,” I prayed, “I thank you, first of all, for making my vision a reality, and I want you to know that I am enjoying this trip immensely. I have a concern to bring before You, however. When I envisioned this trip, I wanted it to be a wonderful, joyful time for everyone involved, especially for Grandpa. This whole trip was for him. I’m having a good time, Father, but there are some others here who clearly are not. That’s not what I want. Father, improve our circumstances, not for my sake, because I don’t care, but for the sake of the others who came along to have a good time. I pray these things in the power of Jesus’ name, Amen.” I continued to pray for about a half an hour as the rain continued to steadily fall. My heart was breaking.

All of a sudden, the western sky began to get lighter behind the clouds, and a brilliant orange light illuminated the clouds from behind. The rain was still coming down, but my heart began to sing. The sun set behind the clouds, never emerging, but that was all I needed to see. “Thank you, Father. I didn’t need a sign that You had heard my prayer, but I sure do appreciate it,” I silently whispered. I continued to walk around our camp site, feeling a little better now. The rain still came down hard from above, and the bugs began to come out. I swatted them away.

Then, to the northwest, the clouds slowly parted, and I saw the blue sky of dusk. I walked down to the shoreline, took out my camera, and took a picture of the storm as it cleared away. As I stood there, a strong breeze came up and blew the rest of the rain clouds away from overhead. The rain stopped, and my heart rejoiced. The Lord had heard me, and what’s better, He had removed the burden from my heart. I prayed another prayer of thanksgiving as I walked to my tent.

After eating a hearty meal of trail mix and Clif Bars, and changing into some dry clothes, I rolled up in my slightly damp sleeping bag and fell asleep filled with hope.

Day 2 Lakes Visited:

Saganaga Lake

Swamp Lake

Ottertrack Lake

Ester Lake

Portages: 2; 160 rods