Slow and steady wins the race
by Gichimon
Trip Type:
Paddling Canoe
Entry Date:
05/22/2022
Entry & Exit Point:
Skipper and Portage Lakes (EP 49)
Number of Days:
7
Group Size:
2
Discuss Trip:
View Discussion Thread (6 messages)
Day 3 of 7
Tuesday, May 24, 2022 A pastel sunrise greeted us at dawn just as a light rain fell on the tent. Sun to the east, and rain to the west. It was supposed to be a mostly sunny day with light to variable wind so a little rainfall was a lovely way to wake that morning. I clambered out of the tent as soon as the rain stopped.
On move days, I usually take care of breakfast because Krystal is a slow riser. Then she stays in the tent to roll up the sleeping pads and pack up all the odds and ends. As we were taking care of our respective camp duties, the sun began to seep through the cedar and balsam trees, casting our little Rainy Day girl, the youngest of our dogs in an ethereal glow. Only in the Boundary Waters do these magical moments transport us to the fairy tale dreams of our childhood.
With breakfast down the hatch, and camp packed, we both remarked at how much better our bodies felt that morning. The aches had subsided and the muscle memory of canoe tripping had finally awakened, although Krystal’s injuries were flared up, but tolerable. This was a good thing as the journey ahead of us was going to be tougher than we had imagined.
The sun spilled over the landscape as we loaded up and headed west to the portage out of Banadad. We paddled slowly and took in the magnificence of the lake and all its character. Up first was a 90ish rod portage, which would be the shortest of the day. The landing was a little mucky but not the worst we have encountered. There was an uphill climb to start and that climb kept going until we ran into a massive tree across the portage. Krystal set her portage pack on the tree, and then huffed over the tree by climbing up one limb, stepping up to the next limb, then sliding off that limb to the other side of the tree. She set her bag on the side of the trail. I then set my boat on the highest limb, and she helped pull it over. We threw my small pack over the tree. I decided we should just go back and get the rest of the gear, leap frogging after this mammoth road block. We decided that would be best and it was a grunt. After we got over with the second load, the rest of this 90-rod portage continued to challenge us. There was another hip high tree across the portage that ate some of my skin, and plenty of rock hoping and sloshy spots. By the time we got done, I asked Krystal if she could handle more of the same. Her answer, “Slow and steady wins the race!” So, on we went.
The paddle through Sebeka was quick and we soon found ourselves landing on the portage to Ross Lake. This 160+ rod portage would again challenge us. Trees down, ups and downs, muddy, boardwalks. But mostly it was the trees down that were irksome and my legs by the end of the day would reveal the battle scars. We were huffing and puffing by the time we finished this one. Again, I asked Krystal, do you have the strength to do two more of these? “Slow and steady wins the race, Tina.”
Ross Lake was a longish lake so we took our time, letting our bodies rest. The bluebird sky and the ample sunshine lulled us into a steady but slow rhythm. The dogs were sleepy and the paddle was refreshing.
This third portage was easier mainly because there were not really any horrible trees down across the trail. We took our time, we were moving slow, but made it to the other side with the glorious thought that we only had one portage left to make it to Long Island Lake. We rested at the edge of Cave Lake working up the energy to make it through this last lake and onto the last portage.
A sole loon accompanied us across Cave Lake and we bid the bird farewell as it cheered us on across this last bit of land. I swear that loon chortled, “You can do it!” And of course, near the beginning of the portage, a pair of downed trees taunted us. Scratchy branches had their last taste of Tina as I went into beast mode and charged across that portage. I made it to the end and settled everything. I started back and met Krystal on the way. There was no rhyme or reason to our motion on this portage, we just went. And of course, Krystal chimed in as I passed, “slow and steady wins the race!”
With my last load over and boat loaded, I waited for Krystal while I stood in the cold water, soaking my sore legs and feet. As soon as I saw her, I was beaming with joy. I kept saying, “I’m so proud of you! You did it.” And I was. I was simply gleeful at how she had conquered this hard day in her own way, defeating the doubts and ending on the picture-perfect Long Island Lake. What a day!
Long Island Lake was a sheet of reflective glass as we slipped across its surface. I had a campsite in mind not far from the portage. We had been on this lake one other time and I believed it would be a perfect cool weather site. To my surprise it was available, as was just about every campsite on the lake. Where was everybody? Last time we were here, this lake was crowded!
Krystal made it to camp shortly after me. We loved the site and were loving the sunshine. Chairs were quickly unpacked, and feet placed in dry socks and Crocks! We poured ourselves a victory cocktail of whiskey, water, and powdered Cherry 7-Up, then relaxed a bit before setting up camp.
After setting up camp, we settled in for a massive bowl of mac n’ cheese, dehydrated broccoli, and hot sauce. We devoured that bowl of cheesiness like a couple of ravenous beasts. Full bellies, and sleepiness all around, we settled in for some relaxation, general excited chatter about conquering this day, and not long after supper, bedtime as soon as the island woods grew dark.
On move days, I usually take care of breakfast because Krystal is a slow riser. Then she stays in the tent to roll up the sleeping pads and pack up all the odds and ends. As we were taking care of our respective camp duties, the sun began to seep through the cedar and balsam trees, casting our little Rainy Day girl, the youngest of our dogs in an ethereal glow. Only in the Boundary Waters do these magical moments transport us to the fairy tale dreams of our childhood.
With breakfast down the hatch, and camp packed, we both remarked at how much better our bodies felt that morning. The aches had subsided and the muscle memory of canoe tripping had finally awakened, although Krystal’s injuries were flared up, but tolerable. This was a good thing as the journey ahead of us was going to be tougher than we had imagined.
The sun spilled over the landscape as we loaded up and headed west to the portage out of Banadad. We paddled slowly and took in the magnificence of the lake and all its character. Up first was a 90ish rod portage, which would be the shortest of the day. The landing was a little mucky but not the worst we have encountered. There was an uphill climb to start and that climb kept going until we ran into a massive tree across the portage. Krystal set her portage pack on the tree, and then huffed over the tree by climbing up one limb, stepping up to the next limb, then sliding off that limb to the other side of the tree. She set her bag on the side of the trail. I then set my boat on the highest limb, and she helped pull it over. We threw my small pack over the tree. I decided we should just go back and get the rest of the gear, leap frogging after this mammoth road block. We decided that would be best and it was a grunt. After we got over with the second load, the rest of this 90-rod portage continued to challenge us. There was another hip high tree across the portage that ate some of my skin, and plenty of rock hoping and sloshy spots. By the time we got done, I asked Krystal if she could handle more of the same. Her answer, “Slow and steady wins the race!” So, on we went.
The paddle through Sebeka was quick and we soon found ourselves landing on the portage to Ross Lake. This 160+ rod portage would again challenge us. Trees down, ups and downs, muddy, boardwalks. But mostly it was the trees down that were irksome and my legs by the end of the day would reveal the battle scars. We were huffing and puffing by the time we finished this one. Again, I asked Krystal, do you have the strength to do two more of these? “Slow and steady wins the race, Tina.”
Ross Lake was a longish lake so we took our time, letting our bodies rest. The bluebird sky and the ample sunshine lulled us into a steady but slow rhythm. The dogs were sleepy and the paddle was refreshing.
While slipping through Ross Lake, I wondered why there were no campsites on this lake. It was a stunning little lake with a few nice spots for campsites. Curiosity got me thinking about why some lakes were selected to have campsites and others, not. Deep in thought, we arrived at the third long portage of the day. Krystal was in need of a rest so after unloading our boats, she took some tummy time on the portage to rest her pelvis. She timed three minutes of rest. We already had 10,000 steps in for the day according to her watch. I was in awe of her ability to do all this while she was still healing from the accident.
This third portage was easier mainly because there were not really any horrible trees down across the trail. We took our time, we were moving slow, but made it to the other side with the glorious thought that we only had one portage left to make it to Long Island Lake. We rested at the edge of Cave Lake working up the energy to make it through this last lake and onto the last portage.
A sole loon accompanied us across Cave Lake and we bid the bird farewell as it cheered us on across this last bit of land. I swear that loon chortled, “You can do it!” And of course, near the beginning of the portage, a pair of downed trees taunted us. Scratchy branches had their last taste of Tina as I went into beast mode and charged across that portage. I made it to the end and settled everything. I started back and met Krystal on the way. There was no rhyme or reason to our motion on this portage, we just went. And of course, Krystal chimed in as I passed, “slow and steady wins the race!”
With my last load over and boat loaded, I waited for Krystal while I stood in the cold water, soaking my sore legs and feet. As soon as I saw her, I was beaming with joy. I kept saying, “I’m so proud of you! You did it.” And I was. I was simply gleeful at how she had conquered this hard day in her own way, defeating the doubts and ending on the picture-perfect Long Island Lake. What a day!
Long Island Lake was a sheet of reflective glass as we slipped across its surface. I had a campsite in mind not far from the portage. We had been on this lake one other time and I believed it would be a perfect cool weather site. To my surprise it was available, as was just about every campsite on the lake. Where was everybody? Last time we were here, this lake was crowded!
Krystal made it to camp shortly after me. We loved the site and were loving the sunshine. Chairs were quickly unpacked, and feet placed in dry socks and Crocks! We poured ourselves a victory cocktail of whiskey, water, and powdered Cherry 7-Up, then relaxed a bit before setting up camp.
After setting up camp, we settled in for a massive bowl of mac n’ cheese, dehydrated broccoli, and hot sauce. We devoured that bowl of cheesiness like a couple of ravenous beasts. Full bellies, and sleepiness all around, we settled in for some relaxation, general excited chatter about conquering this day, and not long after supper, bedtime as soon as the island woods grew dark.
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