“It looks like we’re going to get wet,” I hollered over the breeze. “That isn’t a thunderstorm, is it?” “I don’t think so,” Mike responded. The first drops began to fall. I pulled my hood over my head, pulled the strings tight, and then replaced my wide-brimmed hat. Just then, the rain started to steadily pour from the sky. We all continued to paddle, not stopping for an instant. Jared and Rachel were leading the way, with the rest of us following behind.

Although the rain came down hard, there was no thunder or lightning, and the wind died down substantially. It was actually quite a pleasant paddle, with one particular exception. “Hey, Grandpa,” I laughed. “I’m sitting with my crotch in a big puddle of water.” “Me too,” he responded from the other canoe. “This is pretty bad.” “It could be worse,” I called back. “Remember Saganaga?” “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said.

We continued to make progress across Ogishkemuncie Lake. My rain coat kept my head and upper body perfectly dry, and, if the canoe seat hadn't been waterlogged, my water-repellent pants would have kept me reasonably comfortable as well. “This won’t stay for long,” Mike noted, “See the sky opening up over there? The wind is coming from that direction, too.” “Oh, good,” I said. “The rain should be stopped by the time we get to our camp site. I’ll bet the fishing will be good tonight.”

We made our land fall just as the rain stopped. Jared, our fantastic navigator, had led us to a camp site on the north side of the lake, located on a peninsula near what looked like the entrance to a small bay. “Go see if that’s a bay,” Jared called to us. “I want to make sure that we’re where I think we are on the map.” Mike and I paddled past the camp site down the small channel and confirmed that it was indeed a small bay next to the camp site. “See that loon there?” Mike pointed out. “There must be good fishing in here.” Sure enough, another loon was working his way around the bay and channel, looking for his dinner.

We joined the others on shore and hauled all of our gear up to the camp site. This site was built on a lot of solid rock, and was large and spacious with several good spots to pitch our tents. Going right to work, we set up a clothes line and started hanging our wet coats and sleeping bags to dry out. I took off my rain coat. The sun broke out from behind the clouds, and with it came a strong wind. I strolled down to the water’s edge and took some pictures of the departing rain storm, admiring the beauty of Ogishkemuncie. From our camp site, I could see several small islands scattered across the lake. On the opposite shore, high hills covered with trees touched the sky. As the sun emerged, it illuminated the other shore with spots of light.

“Rachel, could you help me dry out our tents?” Grandpa asked. Our tents were still wet from the night before. Grandpa and Rachel took one out of its pack and held it up into the wind. The strong breeze blew into the tent door and completely inflated it. As soon as they had finished it, Ryan and I took it over to the site where the girls would have their tent set up. We made short work of setting it up. “This is awesome,” I said. “We’ll all be much more comfortable tonight.” “We’re getting the hang of this now! That was easy!” Ryan said. The others had another tent ready for us, so we set that one up next, also without any problems. Soon, we had four aired, dry, and (almost) correctly set up tents waiting for us to climb into them. The air mattresses were inflated, and the sleeping bags, which had dried nicely on the line, were brought into the tents.

The clouds were now quickly scattering, and it was clear that we would have a beautiful evening. By now, the breeze had died down. I couldn’t help but think of the Bible verse that tells of how the Lord sent a breeze to dry the earth after the Flood. He was gracious to us in that way too. Everyone seemed to be in a better mood, and my spirits were flying high.

Firing up both stoves, Becky began to cook our brats. Mike emerged from the tent, clad in his bug suit, and headed out with Jesse to fill up our water bottles. Jared emerged from the woods with firewood and started working on our fire. Since the wood was rather wet, it took a while to get it going. “This fire starter isn’t working right,” Jared commented. “Give me some of that white gas.” Soon, we had a good fire going, and dinner was ready. Mike and Jesse returned with plenty of water for all of us. I selected two brats, adding a couple of condiments, and sat down by the crackling fire to enjoy them.

“These are fantastic!” I said. “All compliments go to the cook, of course.” “It’s progressing a little better than the steak did,” Becky acknowledged. “And these buns! I’ve never had a better hot dog bun in my life. It really hits the spot after a hard day. It’s just the right consistency, both firm and soft,” I went on. “I’ve never heard a hot dog bun described that way,” Jared observed, as the others started laughing. Rachel emerged from the forest with some more firewood to keep the fire going. “Hey, look at Pyro,” Becky said. “She can’t stand to see our fire go out.” Rachel smiled and set down her pile near the fire.

After finishing a couple of brats, I sat back to relax. The sky was blue overhead and the wind was a gentle embrace. “Joseph,” Amy called. “I found this view above our camp site, a little ways down. Do you want to come and see it?” “Sure,” I responded. I followed her down a narrow trail and into the woods. We headed a little ways in before climbing up the rocky trail to a large rock that was perched on the top of the hill. I hopped up on top of it. You could barely see the lake due to the tall and stately trees. “There’s a spot a little higher up,” Amy told me. We headed up a little ways more and found another rock outcropping. I could see parts of the lake (through the trees) to the south, and trees as far as I could see to the north. It was really something. I took a couple of pictures. “Thanks for bringing me up here,” I said. “We’ll need to bring Grandpa up here later. How did you find it?” “We were looking for the latrine and, while we didn’t find it down this trail, we did find the view,” she responded. “I’m really impressed with you and Rachel. You’re both having a great attitude and are real troopers on the portages,” I encouraged her as we walked back to camp. “You’re welcome,” Amy said with a cheerful smile. “I guess I’m having a good time now.” “I’m really happy to hear that,” I responded.

“Grandpa, you have to come see this view,” I mentioned when we had returned to camp. “Amy brought me up to see this. It’s amazing!” “Let me finish my dinner, and then we’ll do that, Joe,” Grandpa responded. Sitting down by the camp fire, I took the guitar out of its case to play it a little. It was a little wet, but I dried it off as best as I could. The rain had completely destroyed the cardboard case. “Your case is toast,” Ryan noted. “That’s fine. I’ll just get a new one when I get home. Play something, Joe,” Grandpa said.

I picked out a couple of tunes and helped keep the fire going while the others finished their dinner. I slapped a few mosquitoes. "That bug suit is looking more desirable every day we're up here," I said enviously to Mike. "I'm never going to laugh at your purchases again." Mike nodded with a little smirk. "No bug spray for me," he said triumphantly.

A little later, Grandpa, Rachel, Amy and I headed back down the trail to the view up above our camp site. An enormous toad as big as my fist sat under a bush nearby and graciously posed for a picture. “This is really impressive,” Grandpa said looking across the tree line. “Isn’t the Boundary Waters just a beautiful place?” “It’s one of America’s hidden treasures,” I responded.

To the west, the sun set between the clouds in a brilliant display. I took a picture of Grandpa, Rachel, and Amy together, and then we started down the trail back to camp. “Thanks for showing me the view,” Grandpa said. “Don’t mention it,” I said. “Thank you for bringing us up here! I feel like we finally turned the corner today.” “It’s starting to feel that way, isn’t it?” he responded. “How’s your finger?” I asked. “It really throbs at night,” he answered, “but it’s doing all right, I guess. Let’s see if we can’t go catch a few fish from shore.” Grandpa, Ryan, Jesse and I headed down one side of the large rock outcropping right down to the waters’ edge. I could see that about three feet off the shoreline, there was a really sharp drop off. “This should be a good spot,” Grandpa stated, “so let’s give it a shot. Hopefully we’ll hit a school of walleye.” Strolling over to our fishing poles, Grandpa groaned. “Look at this, Joe!” The fishing lines had completely entangled in a hopeless mess. Grandpa, Ryan, and I worked with them for a while and managed to free three of them. “We shouldn’t have brought so many fishing poles,” Grandpa said regretfully as he slipped a leech on my line. “We aren’t doing as much fishing as I thought we were going to do.” “That’s all right,” I responded. “At least we have the capacity.”

We casted and reeled in our bait for about thirty minutes, not getting as much as a nibble. Since it was getting dark, we decided to call it a night. Poor Becky was having a hard time back in camp. Nothing was fitting back in the packs like it was supposed to. After banging the pots around for a while, she finally managed to get everything put away. I could tell she was really upset. Everyone made their way into their tents, and I sat down on one of the rocks so that I could enjoy the night for a while. Mike started walking towards his tent.

Suddenly, Becky started sobbing from inside her tent. Mike turned around and headed back to see what was wrong. He stood at the tent door for a while, saying nothing. Becky was broken. “Help her feel better tomorrow, Lord," I quietly prayed. Mike bent over and worked with something for a while, and Becky continued to sob from inside the tent. After about ten minutes, Becky had calmed down, and Mike headed back for his tent with his flash light illuminating the way. I walked next to him. “What happened there?” I asked. “She had a big leech sucking on her foot,” he responded. “She probably got it while loading the canoes today and didn’t notice it until now.” “Ugh,” I winced. “How’s she doing now?” “It took us a while to stop the bleeding, but I think she’s doing all right now.” “That really stinks,” I said sympathetically. “Well, sleep well tonight!” “Yep, good night,” Mike responded as he entered his tent.

I walked back over to my rock and sat there for a little while before entering my tent. Rolling up into my sleeping bag, I joined the others in a hard-earned rest.

Lakes Visited:

Ester Lake

Hanson Lake

South Arm of Knife Lake

Eddy Lake

Jenny Lake

Ogishkemuncie Lake

Portages: 5; 190 rods