Sawbill to Lake One, Across the Center of the BWCA
by TominMpls
Trip Type:
Paddling Canoe
Entry Date:
07/02/2018
Entry Point:
Sawbill Lake (EP 38)
Exit Point:
Lake One (EP 30)
Number of Days:
7
Group Size:
2
Discuss Trip:
View Discussion Thread (13 messages)
Part 9 of 9
Sunday, July 8 - Day Seven
I woke up very early - before 5 - and noticed it wasn't raining and things weren't wet. Resisting the urge to get up just then and get on the water before any weather hit, I tried for almost an hour to get a little extra sleep. Some time before 6 M also woke up, and we agreed we might as well get packed up. With everything organized and packed, and without eating any breakfast, we pushed out for the exit at 6:30.
Our trip last year ended with a thunderstorm hitting for the last bit of paddle to the exit point, and so we were prepared for history to repeat itself, with our rain jackets on as we paddled. The sky to the southeast looked ominous, but we were paddling north and the sky to the north looked pretty good; unfortunately, the wind was blowing from the south and we expected the storm to catch us. Just as we approached the first portage to Lake One it started raining, and we assumed we'd be in it. We landed, M took off with the heavy pack and paddles, and I took the light pack and canoe, and we covered the portage. I'd forgotten how wide and flat these two portages are, more like a state park than the wilderness. By the time we reached the end of the first portage the rain had actually stopped, and we realized we'd caught a bit of luck. Short paddle to the second portage, single portage across, and we were on Lake One.
The sun even kind of peeked out of the clouds to the east as we paddled Lake One; the sky to the south continued to be gross, but it was relatively calm and almost pleasant on Lake One. It's been over 15 years since I was on Lake One - I've avoided it because it's so crowded, overused, and not very wilderness (there's even cell phone coverage!) - but one thing I'd forgotten was how incredibly beautiful it is, especially after having spent so much time in the burn zone. The early-morning calm and the surreal lighting from the approaching storm only served to accentuate its beauty, and we were so early that nobody else was on the water so we could almost forget we were surrounded by people.
Another thing I'd forgotten in the 15 years since I was last on Lake One is that it's actually *not* an easy lake to navigate. It's much easier than Insula, but I'd been hyper-vigilant on Insula, while this morning I was thinking about the weather, the exit, the coffee in Ely, the beauty of the lake, in short everything *but* navigating. As we rounded the island where we intended to go north toward the Kawishiwi River path to the exit, I got myself disoriented by 90 degrees but was completely confident I knew where we needed to go - I didn't bother pulling out my compass or a GPS to double check, because I was sure we wanted to go the direction that was really west, toward the Lake One Dam portage, which I thought was north in that moment. M knew I was wrong, and she laid out her case; after some arguing, I pulled out my compass and discovered she was right - she was sure I was trying to get her to do the portages around the dam, but truth by told I was just unusually disoriented. Regardless, her navigation was right, which helped me not be too embarrassed about having myself been wrong.
As we paddled up to the top of Lake One toward the narrow channel that becomes the Kawishiwi and heads toward the exit, three rental canoes full of six guys started paddling out from a site on the east shore toward the exit. They were disorganized, but were paddling efficiently, and moving only a little slower than we were. They stayed right behind us the whole way up, right behind at the hook near the Kawishiwi Lodge. As we turned on the hook we turned toward the storm, and the sky was dark and ominous. We were so close, I hoped we could make it before the storm hit.
There's a place just before the Lake One entry where a bay on the right looks like it might be the landing, but the channel and the path to the entry are actually more to the left. We paddled accordingly, but the three other canoes took off to the right and for just a moment I had a doubt that we were doing it right. Of course, quickly it became clear they'd fallen for the false landing, and once again they came behind us as we rounded the peninsula and turned toward the real landing.
We reached the landing for Lake One at 8, nearly dry and without incident, after a short 4.2 mile paddle. The three other canoes landed just after us, and M commented that she thought it was the guys we'd seen on Hudson Lake, who'd been using their paddles backward. Sure enough, I heard one of them commenting that we were the paddle people, and we talked and laughed about it. They said they'd had a great trip, that they really appreciated knowing how to use their paddles when they crossed Lake Three, and they really liked the experience. I also overheard one of them comment that they "were probably the most inexperienced people on the beach". Mind, it was a crowded landing with a lot of *extremely* rookie people getting ready to enter, and I almost commented that after five days in the wilderness where they'd gotten all the way to Insula and back they certainly knew more than most of the people at the landing, but figured maybe I shouldn't broadcast that to all the people on the landing. Just as our boats were landing there was an older man and his grandson about to head out, and one of the guys from the other group helped them get going. Given the impending weather and their large amount of gear, I was a bit worried about them, but they headed in as I went to get our car.
I pulled the car around, M and I threw our two bags and paddles in the back, we put the canoe on the roof, and we strapped it down. Just as we were climbing in to change our shoes, the sky opened up. Two large groups and their fleets of aluminum canoes had just been dropped off by outfitters, and the guys who'd landed with us were still waiting for their outfitter shuttle. The guys found shelter under the latrine awning, and the groups about to go in stood on the beach and got wet as we waved and started off toward Ely, dry in our car.
As we drove back to Ely the storm got more and more intense, with hail bouncing off our canoe and car for a good five minutes, but then it lessened again just as we got to Ely. We stopped at Front Porch Café for our now-traditional first coffee and pie out of the woods. Not yet even 9 AM, there was a line of regulars there for breakfast but we found a seat and enjoyed our coffee and pie. After breakfast we went to the Elywear store and got M a sweatshirt, spent a while looking around Piragis to wait out another serious bout of blowing rain, then went over to Northern Grounds for a second cup of coffee while the rain continued. A quick stop at Crapola to pick up some granola, and then we were at Ely Steakhouse for an early lunch of Bucky Burgers. The World Cup was on the TV and we learned from the bartender and patrons that soccer would be a better game if the field were a bit smaller - there were a few less players - they had sticks in their hands - and the ball was replaced with a puck. The lounge is always the best place to be, but on a Sunday morning it's especially great.
Thus reintroduced to civilization, we drove home tired and satisfied after seven days, six nights, six sites, and 55 miles east-to-west across the center of the Boundary Waters.
~Two, Lake, One, Lake
I woke up very early - before 5 - and noticed it wasn't raining and things weren't wet. Resisting the urge to get up just then and get on the water before any weather hit, I tried for almost an hour to get a little extra sleep. Some time before 6 M also woke up, and we agreed we might as well get packed up. With everything organized and packed, and without eating any breakfast, we pushed out for the exit at 6:30.
Our trip last year ended with a thunderstorm hitting for the last bit of paddle to the exit point, and so we were prepared for history to repeat itself, with our rain jackets on as we paddled. The sky to the southeast looked ominous, but we were paddling north and the sky to the north looked pretty good; unfortunately, the wind was blowing from the south and we expected the storm to catch us. Just as we approached the first portage to Lake One it started raining, and we assumed we'd be in it. We landed, M took off with the heavy pack and paddles, and I took the light pack and canoe, and we covered the portage. I'd forgotten how wide and flat these two portages are, more like a state park than the wilderness. By the time we reached the end of the first portage the rain had actually stopped, and we realized we'd caught a bit of luck. Short paddle to the second portage, single portage across, and we were on Lake One.
The sun even kind of peeked out of the clouds to the east as we paddled Lake One; the sky to the south continued to be gross, but it was relatively calm and almost pleasant on Lake One. It's been over 15 years since I was on Lake One - I've avoided it because it's so crowded, overused, and not very wilderness (there's even cell phone coverage!) - but one thing I'd forgotten was how incredibly beautiful it is, especially after having spent so much time in the burn zone. The early-morning calm and the surreal lighting from the approaching storm only served to accentuate its beauty, and we were so early that nobody else was on the water so we could almost forget we were surrounded by people.
Another thing I'd forgotten in the 15 years since I was last on Lake One is that it's actually *not* an easy lake to navigate. It's much easier than Insula, but I'd been hyper-vigilant on Insula, while this morning I was thinking about the weather, the exit, the coffee in Ely, the beauty of the lake, in short everything *but* navigating. As we rounded the island where we intended to go north toward the Kawishiwi River path to the exit, I got myself disoriented by 90 degrees but was completely confident I knew where we needed to go - I didn't bother pulling out my compass or a GPS to double check, because I was sure we wanted to go the direction that was really west, toward the Lake One Dam portage, which I thought was north in that moment. M knew I was wrong, and she laid out her case; after some arguing, I pulled out my compass and discovered she was right - she was sure I was trying to get her to do the portages around the dam, but truth by told I was just unusually disoriented. Regardless, her navigation was right, which helped me not be too embarrassed about having myself been wrong.
As we paddled up to the top of Lake One toward the narrow channel that becomes the Kawishiwi and heads toward the exit, three rental canoes full of six guys started paddling out from a site on the east shore toward the exit. They were disorganized, but were paddling efficiently, and moving only a little slower than we were. They stayed right behind us the whole way up, right behind at the hook near the Kawishiwi Lodge. As we turned on the hook we turned toward the storm, and the sky was dark and ominous. We were so close, I hoped we could make it before the storm hit.
There's a place just before the Lake One entry where a bay on the right looks like it might be the landing, but the channel and the path to the entry are actually more to the left. We paddled accordingly, but the three other canoes took off to the right and for just a moment I had a doubt that we were doing it right. Of course, quickly it became clear they'd fallen for the false landing, and once again they came behind us as we rounded the peninsula and turned toward the real landing.
We reached the landing for Lake One at 8, nearly dry and without incident, after a short 4.2 mile paddle. The three other canoes landed just after us, and M commented that she thought it was the guys we'd seen on Hudson Lake, who'd been using their paddles backward. Sure enough, I heard one of them commenting that we were the paddle people, and we talked and laughed about it. They said they'd had a great trip, that they really appreciated knowing how to use their paddles when they crossed Lake Three, and they really liked the experience. I also overheard one of them comment that they "were probably the most inexperienced people on the beach". Mind, it was a crowded landing with a lot of *extremely* rookie people getting ready to enter, and I almost commented that after five days in the wilderness where they'd gotten all the way to Insula and back they certainly knew more than most of the people at the landing, but figured maybe I shouldn't broadcast that to all the people on the landing. Just as our boats were landing there was an older man and his grandson about to head out, and one of the guys from the other group helped them get going. Given the impending weather and their large amount of gear, I was a bit worried about them, but they headed in as I went to get our car.
I pulled the car around, M and I threw our two bags and paddles in the back, we put the canoe on the roof, and we strapped it down. Just as we were climbing in to change our shoes, the sky opened up. Two large groups and their fleets of aluminum canoes had just been dropped off by outfitters, and the guys who'd landed with us were still waiting for their outfitter shuttle. The guys found shelter under the latrine awning, and the groups about to go in stood on the beach and got wet as we waved and started off toward Ely, dry in our car.
As we drove back to Ely the storm got more and more intense, with hail bouncing off our canoe and car for a good five minutes, but then it lessened again just as we got to Ely. We stopped at Front Porch Café for our now-traditional first coffee and pie out of the woods. Not yet even 9 AM, there was a line of regulars there for breakfast but we found a seat and enjoyed our coffee and pie. After breakfast we went to the Elywear store and got M a sweatshirt, spent a while looking around Piragis to wait out another serious bout of blowing rain, then went over to Northern Grounds for a second cup of coffee while the rain continued. A quick stop at Crapola to pick up some granola, and then we were at Ely Steakhouse for an early lunch of Bucky Burgers. The World Cup was on the TV and we learned from the bartender and patrons that soccer would be a better game if the field were a bit smaller - there were a few less players - they had sticks in their hands - and the ball was replaced with a puck. The lounge is always the best place to be, but on a Sunday morning it's especially great.
Thus reintroduced to civilization, we drove home tired and satisfied after seven days, six nights, six sites, and 55 miles east-to-west across the center of the Boundary Waters.
~Two, Lake, One, Lake
Lakes Traveled:
Three, Lake,
Three, Lake,
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