March 2017- bad news, WaterTribe cancels the Minnesota Challenges. I will miss WaterTribe involvement but decide I will continue on (this is the WaterTribe way after all). Besides, I figure, think of all the folks who wanted or may want to face this challenge and won’t have the opportunity. I have a new secondary goal- keep these challenges alive so that other paddlers have the awesome opportunity to push themselves to new unknown limits and accomplish their goal(s). I will get the word out and organize dates and shuttles. [paragraph break] Training and preparations begin when the waters of Minnesota clear of ice. Paddle training and canoe-carrying practice ensues. My neighbors probably start calling me the “walking canoe” as I carry canoes over my head often on my gravel township road. I research some new gear to help with a solo approach to keep portage weight to a minimum- most notably a lightweight fast solo canoe. With a month to go, I start ramping up my paddling and portaging training. During this time I paddle three times a week doing about 10 miles each time. I need to get the feel of this new canoe and find out how fast a pace I can sustain. I practice capsizing and attempt to find the best way to reenter the boat in deep water. I find out that with this new boat, I cannot reenter. This is important to know- I must carefully consider now, how much risk to take if conditions are windy when I’m crossing big lakes. I weigh all my gear and decide I need to cut weight so that I can carry all my stuff in only one trip on the portages. I change my planned food to a no-cook diet consisting mostly of powdered carbohydrates that will allow me to leave cook stove and fuel behind. The last equipment scratch is my tent- I hate not having a good shelter but I intend to be on the move most of the time anyhow (hope it doesn’t rain when I stop to rest). [paragraph break] With 2 weeks to go, I begin writing down my planned itinerary and realize how foolish my goal of four days (96 hours) sounds. Doubt creeps in for the first time as I am faced with the facts of how far and how fast I must travel for four consecutive days to achieve my goal. What I think I can do doesn’t fit within the timeline allowed. I write this down somewhere as:[paragraph break]

-my goal is set[paragraph break] -adjusting my itinerary to fit my goal[paragraph break] -realizing I'm not prepared to achieve my itinerary[paragraph break] -my goal is set[paragraph break][paragraph break]

It really is too late to change. It is too late to train harder. My only solace is I haven’t let many people know what my time goal is; this will minimize my embarrassment if I fail. I am not much of a talker anyhow and I will focus on my goal. It has always been this way- once I commit to doing something then I do what it takes to see it through. With an eraser I change the itinerary and like magic, I make it in 96 hours, on paper that is.[paragraph break] The math is simple- if conditions are good that’s 262 miles divided by four days is 66 miles per day average. That’s crazy! I am all too familiar with what a hard day on the water is as I’ve spent hundreds of days testing my limits. Here’s my scale- 10 miles is easy, 20 miles is tiring, 30 miles is hard, and 40 miles is a long , physically tough day. I have done a few days over 50 miles and that’s exhausting not only physically but also mentally. Sixty or 70-mile days- that’s a whole different level of grueling. Then put 4 of these grueling kind of paddle days back to back with little recovery rest in between, add a bunch of portages that become more numerous and difficult later in the route, and likely some wind and waves to battle; well, not sure what to call it. Some people question me “why try it?” I don’t really have a convincing answer to give.

The Challenge begins- Sometimes making it to the start of an event like this is half the challenge. Only six paddlers make it as many have dropped out due to training injury, family commitments, or self-preservation instincts kick in. Two other solo paddlers join me for the start from International Falls. Challenge volunteer, Lori Johnson, shuttle us and our gear to a public access and takes some photos. Satellite tracking devices (Spot and InReaches) are turned on and we launch September 2nd at 9:05 am with nice WNW 12 mph tailwinds, progress is good until reaching the east sides of the large Rainy Lake basins with a reach large enough for unsettling waves to form. A few of the larger of which causing me to get that tippy feeling. Tippy feeling as in the feel of the boat when I lose control of it’s stability. It’s a thin line between tippy and a full-on capsize and a rush of nervous adrenaline pumps through me.[paragraph break] Most of the first days paddling on these largest of the large lakes to come is somewhat boring (much preferred over “tippy”) as the view of a distant horizon that seems to never get closer is the norm. Even though the winds are mostly in my favor, my speed is slowed by the size of the waves. These sized waves (1.5 to 2.5’ high) travel faster than I so each one picks me up from the rear and then rolls under me to the front before dropping me behind in the trough. For some this constant lifting and dropping probably would cause seasickness but for me it’s only affect is to create turbulence that slows me down. Today’s highlight is racing against an occasional houseboat going my way. My mind wanders looking for something to think about. I ponder why I’m pushing so hard on this trip and I claim I’m doing it for Kruger/Waddell. Just when that thought entered my head, a bigger wave hits me from behind throwing me off balance enough for a little scare. I smile and say “sorry Verlen, I’ll keep the bullshit to a minimum, I got your message”. I never met Verlen when he was still on this side of life but I think we got to know each other on a different adventure of mine. [paragraph break] Blisters form and are taped up with moleskin and electrical tape. With the approach of nightfall, winds turn into my face as I paddle south into Sand Point Lake and a full moon promises a unique paddle to come. Four hours of moonlight paddling later finds me entering the BWCA, wore out, and looking for a place to rest. At 1:00 am, I go to shore, find a flat area on the ground, kick away the pine cones, lay out the sleeping bag, and crawl in fully clothed so I’ll be ready to get up and go in under 3 hours. This has to be one of my harder paddle days ever with 64 miles and one portage covered in 16 hours. Alarm sounds at 4:00 am but it is hard getting up- the bag is shelter and it feels good. I linger too long in the bag and an hour and a half later finds me panicking as I’m scrambling now to get going. Start Day 2 behind schedule with the knowledge that harder days are to come and time will be hard to make up.

Day 2 is just not going good- behind schedule to start and just not feeling the power in my paddle. I think I am falling further behind and decide not to look at the clock anymore as it’ll just make me feel worse. I regret stopping when I did last night- I had pondered continuing up the Loon River but failed to muster the physical strength and mental toughness needed. Nine hours later finds me approaching Bottle Portage and a solo canoer is sighted ahead. For the first time today, I feel motivated and move in to catch up with this person. Hey, it’s one of us. Paddlinjoe is his moniker and we paddle alongside each other for a mile before parting ways at the portage. He asks me about my progress and I tell the truth-I don’t know because I don’t know the time. He offers the time and I refuse saying “time doesn’t really matter anymore, I just gotta keep paddling”. Heading quickly down the Bottle Portage, mud is sucking at my feet forcing me to work a little. After that, I feel a surge of strength that I can only attribute to the mental pleasure of meeting Paddlinjoe and the physical displeasure of portage mud. A ray of hope emerges now that the power is back in my paddle. Time doesn’t matter, only making Basswood Lake before the next daylight does. This will get me back on schedule and allow me the best opportunity to get across this big lake early in the day before winds usually increase.[paragraph break] Most of today winds have been light NNW but as evening comes, wind speeds pick up with strong gusts. Thankfully I am able to find protection by hugging the north shore of Crooked Lake and still make progress. I feel good that the big lakes Lac La Croix and Crooked didn’t stop me. The second night falls cloudy and dreary with thunder and lightning in the distance. I navigate by compass and map so I have a red flashlight shining on my deck compass mounted in front of me. I keep a bright white-light headlamp on my hat for times I need to watch for rocks or find a portage opening on shore. Rain does not help with this form of navigation. Water droplets form on the compass glass and obscure my bearing. To turn on my headlamp now will only reveal falling rain drops to 10’ in all directions. The chill caused by falling nighttime temperatures and wet clothes combined with occasional flashes of lighting help to confuse me. I count the seconds between the lightning flashes and the resulting thunder to determine the storms distance. Mostly it seems to be far enough away, until a closer flash brightens the night and I think I should get closer to shore, wherever that is. Navigation is tough and there are moments of “where am I”. I almost run into high ground that shouldn’t be there. These moments of confusion and concerns of hypothermia force me to shore early tonight (before 10 pm) and short of my goal. But I promise myself to make up for it by getting an earlier start tonight. Again I put 16 hours in the boat today but with lesser miles of 58 produced. With rain continuing, I put a little more effort into my “camp” tonight and set up a tarp. I crawl into the sleeping bag in mostly wet clothes, set the alarm for 3:30 am, and fall into a tortured sleep of sorts. It doesn’t help sleep when an occasional mosquito buzzes around my head or a bug crawls over my face. I keep my food close to my face so if any animals try to get at it, I will awaken. Mice are brave enough to just crawl on me and a bear I should be able to smell its breath. I try to sleep. Next thing I realize is a slight lightening of the sky not caused by the moon. “Oh Shit” I yell, looking to the alarm clock and seeing it isn’t working. The twilight indicates it’s about 5:30 am and that means two more hours behind to start the 3rd day- not good. I tell myself “sleep is my enemy, oversleeping is killing my goal, I need to try to push harder”.   

We got off at 8:00 a.m. and warmed up with the 168 rod difficult portage from Little Loon to Slim. Once into Slim Lake, we easily found the beginning point of the Slim to Fat portage. We had decided to just carry packs the first trip in case we ended up abandoning our efforts. We started off on the trail (yes, there is a trail) and found the early split to the right up a hill. About one-fourth of the way from Slim to Fat, the trail became obliterated by a large area of downed trees and we got off of the trail. We bushwacked through the woods for about 20 minutes and finally ran into the trail again and made it to Fat Lake with just the normal issues of downed trees in the trail. There were no big elevation changes and in most places the trail was plain to see, albeit not wide or maintained. At some points there was not sufficient clearance in the trees, so you had to drag the canoes through on the ground. I actually did see some saw-cut trees along the trail near the Fat end, so somebody has done some maintenance on it. The animals have used the trail a lot as there were many species’ scat along the way. Our measurement of the portage was around 300 rods, but that included some extra distance due to getting off the trail. On the deadhead trip we were able to mark the way better so we would not get lost the second trip. On the second trip, my son and I each carried one of the canoes and two persons carried the third. We all had our difficulties. My son and I both got off the trail at different points because we could not see where we were going, with the canoes over our heads obstructing our vision. We both had to backtrack and drag the canoes some. We thankfully made it to the Fat side and collapsed for some rest and water. A big rain shower came for about an hour and we ate lunch under a canoe at the portage trailhead. We did three smaller portages and made it to a very nice campsite (#93) on the north side of Bear Track Lake by 5 p.m. We only covered nine miles that day, but did lots of portaging.

We had a good day of paddling into Lac La Croix via Pocket Lake and River. We lunched at campsite #146 immediately east of the Pocket mouth. At lunch, we discussed the course we intended to take toward Fish Stake Narrows. On the way toward Fish Stake Narrows, the trailing canoes went off course before the leading canoe knew it, and we were separated. The leading canoe stayed put in the middle of the lake and waited about 30 minutes and eventually the trailing canoes came along, having realized the error of their ways. The rest of the way through Fish Stake Narrows we stayed together. The wind was practically non-existent on LLC that afternoon, so the paddling was easy. We stopped by the pictographs on Coleman Island on way to our afternoon campsite (#171). I do not recommend that campsite. It had a huge sloped flat boulder going down from the fire grate to the lake, which got very slippery when wet. The tent pads were not that great, either. We covered 14 miles that day.