Sunday, July 21, 2019 After reviewing the maps a good while the night before, we decided to take the long way over to Oyster Lake in hopes we could get into some Lake Trout for our first time ever. We got going relatively early with the sun still barely breaking the horizon. We loaded up the dogs and gear and made our way to Boulder Bay and the Boulder River.
The day was already hot and the friendly blue sky made the long paddle day before us all the more appealing. There were no winds yet to speak of as we meandered through Boulder Bay to the mouth of the river. We immediately fell in love with the river. It reminded us heavily of sections of the Namekagon River in Wisconsin with its huge towering pines. We charged up a few rapid sections but the water was high enough that it wasn't much of a chore. One small section we had to line the boats over what I assume was a ledge as the tongue of water charging through the flat rock shorelines proved too powerful to paddle. After that last elevation change it was smooth and quiet paddling on one hell of a gorgeous river.

We made it to the portage to Lake Agnes in fairly good time and waited for a group of teenage boys to finish the portage with their aluminum canoes. I've always loved the sound of an aluminum canoe clanging loudly as it is lustily thrown from tired shoulders. The boys made haste onto the water and we charged across the short portage to Agnes.
Just as we made our way to the large expanse of Lake Agnes, the wind decided it wanted to play. We struggled over to the northwest shoreline and then made good time down the lake. Hunger prevailed as strongly as the winds so we pit stopped on a vacant campsite for a tuna wrap and Fritos lunch. While sitting there, we glanced at the maps again. With a mind for adventure, we saw the whole of the Oyster River as a fun way to spend the day so we decided to go for it.
Already at the end of Lake Agnes, we quickly approached the short section the Nina Moose River we would have to paddle. It wasn't long before we realized we overshot the start of the Oyster River and had to turn around. The tall grasses made the Oyster tricky to find but we did find it. We immediately comprehended that this was definitely going to be a long river adventure.
The narrow and winding river made for a technical paddle. A few beaver dams were easily paddled over, and then we encountered our first beaver dam that we would have to get out and pull over. The dogs handled the challenges really well. They stepped out of the boat onto the finely engineered dams and waited until the canoe was safely on the other side before loading up.

The Oyster River proved to be a long and arduous paddle but we enjoyed every minute of the struggle as we were in full adventure mode. The day was growing long as we neared the portage to Oyster Lake. We definitely went through those moments of thinking the portage would be just around the next bend, but it never was until it was. The portage to Oyster was magnificent and gratifying. Our legs were so grateful to be stretched to their full length and planted firmly on such beautiful ground, even if for a short while. Massive trees lined our way through the portage, and when we arrived to Oyster Lake, the wind was raging. We had to team up to get our gear and ourselves loaded into the boats.
Once we were on the water, we noticed a very happy naked man on the first campsite off the portage. He looked like he was having a great time basking in the sun, and oh boy did we get a good chuckle out of that. To each their own I say.
We pointed our bows into the wind and made way for the campsite directly across from Naked Guy Point. It was open so we took residence there. We set up camp in the lower section of the site among the cedar trees. The main fire pit area had a large tree down right over the top of the fire pit. This hidden set up would prove comical under the darkness of night.

Exhaustion had settled in and we were not much use for the world. We cooled our aching muscles in the lake after quickly setting up camp and swigging some whiskey. Too tired to eat, as soon as the sun began to set, we nestled in our sleeping bags waiting as a thunderstorm roared in the distance. Our eyes quickly fluttered shut as deep darkness settled in the Boundary Waters. And then I heard voices, and some banging of canoes. Some poor souls had arrived extremely late at night and were stumbling around the site, thinking it was open. The dogs began their low growl and woofing, and who wouldn't after being surprised out of a deep sleep. The group must have realized we were there because they never said anything to us, and the next thing I heard was them climbing back into their canoes and paddling away. As I drifted back to sleep, I hoped they were able to find a site.