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 7 of 7
Saturday, May 28, 2022 Nature calling woke me a solid half hour before the alarm was to go off. As quietly as possible, I sorted my pile of bits and bobs, changed into my move day clothes, and exited the tent with the dogs. Krystal weaved in and out of sleep as I went about making coffee and sorting out the dog’s breakfast. We had everything packed and ready to go by quarter to five. It was going to be a long day, but there was a cheeseburger and a beer waiting on the other side of that hard work and we were ready.
There were a variety of ways we could return to Poplar Lake because our exit point was Lizz Lake. As we had never seen much of Gaskin Lake, we opted to go through Henson and down to Gaskin, then back up to Horseshoe, Caribou and on out. We felt no need to rush because it was only Saturday and the long Memorial Day weekend stretched before us. If all else failed, we could camp somewhere along the way.
We were on the water at five o’clock. As we made our way across Omega, there was a film all over the surface of the water. I noticed right away the shapes of future insects. As soon as I noticed all those insects, despite the cooler weather, I was certainly glad we were not going to be in the wilderness for the hatch. There was also a pretty heavy population of tree fluff on the water from what I am assuming were the birch and poplar trees springing to life. The water surface texture created some beautiful photographs.
With each paddle stroke toward the portage to Henson Lake, I noticed small black flies emerging from the water. One or two per stroke seemed to be the rule. I was unsure of what type of insect it was, but I could only imagine they were the biting kind. So long suckers! Under the guise of a rising sun, we landed at the portage.
The short portage to Henson was wet but easy. We had camped on this lake once before and our journey through the long reaches of Henson were filled with nostalgia. The clouds had commandeered the skyline and we knew rain was going to fall sooner than later. Our hope was to make it to Gaskin before that happened.
We were on Henson for nearly an hour. It is quite a long lake. Finally making it to the Gaskin Lake portage, big fat raindrops began to lazily fall from the sky. After unloading, we made our way over to Gaskin on the second longest portage of the day. There was a small stream running down the steep part of the portage, but all in all, it was a gorgeous journey. The trail was littered with moose poop and we stumbled on some fairly fresh moose tracks sunken deep in the loam lining the trail. And did I say we love Cedar trees? The cedar trees welcoming us to the Gaskin side of the portage were gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to see what Gaskin had in store for us.
Gaskin had a downpour in store for us! We paddled from the east end to nearly the west end of the lake in a deluge. Krystal and I did not mind one bit. I love watching the rain drops on the lake surface as they plop and reemerge, causing a bubble. We started chatting about raindrops and if they have competitions with each other on who can make the biggest splash, comparing raindrops to kids jumping off the high dive. We chuckled on the idea of how long it would take a raindrop to climb back up the ladder to a cloud to try to make a second bigger splash. The life cycle of a raindrop…
It's funny, the things you think and talk about among the wild things. Some of my favorite conversations and musing have occurred while paddling a canoe. Moments I would not trade for all the riches in the world, for that time in a canoe is my fortune. The richness of a canoeist’s life is beyond compare.
We made it to the portage to Horseshoe Lake around 10:30 with smiles still on our faces. I don’t think our big oaf Dobby was all that thrilled about the rain, but the other two could care less, snoozing as the rain trickled down their snouts.
When we reached the Horseshoe Lake side of the portage, we took a snack break eating the last of our cheese and jerky. The rain still fell as we peered down the southern arm of the lake from the portage. We had three more portages to go but were feeling great after our snack break. Canoes loaded, we set off into the pitter patter of one heck of rainy day.
In 2021 we took our friend Melvin on a trip into Horseshoe Lake. I was curious to see if anyone was camping on the lovely site we had had not far from the portage. As we neared the site, there were four men in rainsuits walking around near the rock face of the site. They had two beautiful red canoes tied off in the water. As we neared them, they yelled over, “Do you know what the forecast is supposed to be for the next few days?”
We yelled back, “Rain, rain, thunderstorms, and gusty winds according to NOAA.”
They thanked us and we headed for the portage to Caribou. Gusty winds of up to around 30 miles an hour had been forecasted for the afternoon, and afternoon was rapidly approaching. As we neared the portage, two canoes with four young men waited behind us. We said to them if you don’t mind dogs, come on over, and they did. We all raced across the short portage to Gaskin and were on the water in due haste.
Now we were in what felt like a race with the guys. As they were in tandem canoes and we were in our solos, they raced ahead of us. As we rounded the point to head back east toward the portage, we snuck through the high-water channel near the point, and they navigated around the flat rocks hiding under the water by the island and got stuck. We were ahead of one of the canoes, but the other was fast approaching the portage. But no! They paddled past the portage, apparently confused as to where they needed to go. We hit the portage first and the guys nearest us in one canoe, with desperation, watched as their two friends paddled to the end of the lake.
We made our way across the second to last portage of the trip, overjoyed at the new dock that was put in at the muddy Lizz Lake landing. When we went back, Krystal joked with the guys as they pulled up, and they agreed, we had won!
Soon after, we were gliding down the length of Lizz Lake, past the Boundary Waters marker, and to the landing to Poplar. With one portage to go and stomach’s growling, we were elated that we had pulled off this big move day. The guys came in behind us, and this time, they charged across the portage in front of us when we went back for our second load. We watched them ease on down the trail.
At last, we were in our canoes on the last leg of the journey. We navigated the large expanse of Poplar Lake as the rain began to fall once again. What sounded like the roar of a car racing down a highway could be heard in the distance. I looked to the horizon and the trees were beginning to sway. Our quiet rainy day was waking up. We were thankful we had made it this far before the winds blew. When we had about a quarter mile yet to paddle, our big boy, Dobby, threw in the towel. He does not like being wet for extended periods of time, and he began to talk. We laughed so hard as he moaned and groaned and moaned some more as we neared the landing. Don’t worry, we are almost there, Dobby!
Feelings of triumph and sadness accompanied us to the landing. We were happy to be back, but as is common with so many canoeists, a great sadness settled over us that we must leave this quiet and slow-paced way of life. We loaded up the Jeep with soggy bags and stinky wet dogs. I took one last look down the length of Poplar and said to Krystal, “Look, two bright red canoes are headed this way!”
Sure enough, the guys from our old campsite on Horseshoe also threw in the towel and were headed out early. Bet they were gearing up for a cheeseburger too!
We got in the truck and ran up to the water closet to put on dry clothes, and fed the dogs a heaping helping of dog food we had stashed for them in the truck. We had one more adventure left!
Before we made the four-hour drive to Krystal’s folk's house in northern Wisconsin to ride out the rest of Memorial Day weekend, we needed food. And for the first time in all the years we have been going into the BWCA, we stopped in at The Trail Center on the Gunflint. We immediately fell in love. Hot and delicious burgers, cold beers, and crispy French fries warmed us from the inside out. We shared some extra love on our way out and bought a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and some cold Sarsaparilla for the ride home.
And one more thing. There are many ways to experience the Boundary Waters. But if Krystal’s perseverance on this triumphant trip can teach us anything, it is as follows. Slow and steady will most definitely win the race.
Happy tripping!
There were a variety of ways we could return to Poplar Lake because our exit point was Lizz Lake. As we had never seen much of Gaskin Lake, we opted to go through Henson and down to Gaskin, then back up to Horseshoe, Caribou and on out. We felt no need to rush because it was only Saturday and the long Memorial Day weekend stretched before us. If all else failed, we could camp somewhere along the way.
We were on the water at five o’clock. As we made our way across Omega, there was a film all over the surface of the water. I noticed right away the shapes of future insects. As soon as I noticed all those insects, despite the cooler weather, I was certainly glad we were not going to be in the wilderness for the hatch. There was also a pretty heavy population of tree fluff on the water from what I am assuming were the birch and poplar trees springing to life. The water surface texture created some beautiful photographs.
With each paddle stroke toward the portage to Henson Lake, I noticed small black flies emerging from the water. One or two per stroke seemed to be the rule. I was unsure of what type of insect it was, but I could only imagine they were the biting kind. So long suckers! Under the guise of a rising sun, we landed at the portage.
The short portage to Henson was wet but easy. We had camped on this lake once before and our journey through the long reaches of Henson were filled with nostalgia. The clouds had commandeered the skyline and we knew rain was going to fall sooner than later. Our hope was to make it to Gaskin before that happened.
We were on Henson for nearly an hour. It is quite a long lake. Finally making it to the Gaskin Lake portage, big fat raindrops began to lazily fall from the sky. After unloading, we made our way over to Gaskin on the second longest portage of the day. There was a small stream running down the steep part of the portage, but all in all, it was a gorgeous journey. The trail was littered with moose poop and we stumbled on some fairly fresh moose tracks sunken deep in the loam lining the trail. And did I say we love Cedar trees? The cedar trees welcoming us to the Gaskin side of the portage were gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to see what Gaskin had in store for us.
Gaskin had a downpour in store for us! We paddled from the east end to nearly the west end of the lake in a deluge. Krystal and I did not mind one bit. I love watching the rain drops on the lake surface as they plop and reemerge, causing a bubble. We started chatting about raindrops and if they have competitions with each other on who can make the biggest splash, comparing raindrops to kids jumping off the high dive. We chuckled on the idea of how long it would take a raindrop to climb back up the ladder to a cloud to try to make a second bigger splash. The life cycle of a raindrop…
It's funny, the things you think and talk about among the wild things. Some of my favorite conversations and musing have occurred while paddling a canoe. Moments I would not trade for all the riches in the world, for that time in a canoe is my fortune. The richness of a canoeist’s life is beyond compare.
We made it to the portage to Horseshoe Lake around 10:30 with smiles still on our faces. I don’t think our big oaf Dobby was all that thrilled about the rain, but the other two could care less, snoozing as the rain trickled down their snouts.
When we reached the Horseshoe Lake side of the portage, we took a snack break eating the last of our cheese and jerky. The rain still fell as we peered down the southern arm of the lake from the portage. We had three more portages to go but were feeling great after our snack break. Canoes loaded, we set off into the pitter patter of one heck of rainy day.
In 2021 we took our friend Melvin on a trip into Horseshoe Lake. I was curious to see if anyone was camping on the lovely site we had had not far from the portage. As we neared the site, there were four men in rainsuits walking around near the rock face of the site. They had two beautiful red canoes tied off in the water. As we neared them, they yelled over, “Do you know what the forecast is supposed to be for the next few days?”
We yelled back, “Rain, rain, thunderstorms, and gusty winds according to NOAA.”
They thanked us and we headed for the portage to Caribou. Gusty winds of up to around 30 miles an hour had been forecasted for the afternoon, and afternoon was rapidly approaching. As we neared the portage, two canoes with four young men waited behind us. We said to them if you don’t mind dogs, come on over, and they did. We all raced across the short portage to Gaskin and were on the water in due haste.
Now we were in what felt like a race with the guys. As they were in tandem canoes and we were in our solos, they raced ahead of us. As we rounded the point to head back east toward the portage, we snuck through the high-water channel near the point, and they navigated around the flat rocks hiding under the water by the island and got stuck. We were ahead of one of the canoes, but the other was fast approaching the portage. But no! They paddled past the portage, apparently confused as to where they needed to go. We hit the portage first and the guys nearest us in one canoe, with desperation, watched as their two friends paddled to the end of the lake.
We made our way across the second to last portage of the trip, overjoyed at the new dock that was put in at the muddy Lizz Lake landing. When we went back, Krystal joked with the guys as they pulled up, and they agreed, we had won!
Soon after, we were gliding down the length of Lizz Lake, past the Boundary Waters marker, and to the landing to Poplar. With one portage to go and stomach’s growling, we were elated that we had pulled off this big move day. The guys came in behind us, and this time, they charged across the portage in front of us when we went back for our second load. We watched them ease on down the trail.
At last, we were in our canoes on the last leg of the journey. We navigated the large expanse of Poplar Lake as the rain began to fall once again. What sounded like the roar of a car racing down a highway could be heard in the distance. I looked to the horizon and the trees were beginning to sway. Our quiet rainy day was waking up. We were thankful we had made it this far before the winds blew. When we had about a quarter mile yet to paddle, our big boy, Dobby, threw in the towel. He does not like being wet for extended periods of time, and he began to talk. We laughed so hard as he moaned and groaned and moaned some more as we neared the landing. Don’t worry, we are almost there, Dobby!
Feelings of triumph and sadness accompanied us to the landing. We were happy to be back, but as is common with so many canoeists, a great sadness settled over us that we must leave this quiet and slow-paced way of life. We loaded up the Jeep with soggy bags and stinky wet dogs. I took one last look down the length of Poplar and said to Krystal, “Look, two bright red canoes are headed this way!”
Sure enough, the guys from our old campsite on Horseshoe also threw in the towel and were headed out early. Bet they were gearing up for a cheeseburger too!
We got in the truck and ran up to the water closet to put on dry clothes, and fed the dogs a heaping helping of dog food we had stashed for them in the truck. We had one more adventure left!
Before we made the four-hour drive to Krystal’s folk's house in northern Wisconsin to ride out the rest of Memorial Day weekend, we needed food. And for the first time in all the years we have been going into the BWCA, we stopped in at The Trail Center on the Gunflint. We immediately fell in love. Hot and delicious burgers, cold beers, and crispy French fries warmed us from the inside out. We shared some extra love on our way out and bought a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and some cold Sarsaparilla for the ride home.
And one more thing. There are many ways to experience the Boundary Waters. But if Krystal’s perseverance on this triumphant trip can teach us anything, it is as follows. Slow and steady will most definitely win the race.
Happy tripping!
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