Tried to get an early start leaving Minneapolis Saturday morning but realized after a bit of driving that I'd forgotten my wallet and had to return for it. Quickly checked to see if there was anything else essential I'd forgotten, and restarted the journey, minus the early start. To make up for the time lost retrieving my wallet, I drove straight through from the cities to Grand Marais, skipping the normal family stops (Tobey's) and hoping to beat the forecasted rain. I did stop at World's Best Donuts, and planned to check in at the Beaver House, only to discover that it's no longer a bait/tackle shop and has been converted to a liquor store. The owner was gracious and friendly, but said he did not fish, and couldn't offer any advice. There were a few raindrops, and the clouds looked ominous so I didn’t stay long. By the time I got to Rockwood Lodge the sky looked clear, but there was still rain predicted in the area within the next hour, and a steady breeze was creating a few mild waves on the lake. The outfitters were friendly and helped get me launched quickly, after one last phone call back to civilization.

This was my third trip across Poplar Lake, so I imagined I could make it to the portage without checking my map this time, but got turned around somewhere in the middle, and had to paddle into a cove to get out of the wind and check my location/direction. When I got to the portage, another group was loading onto Poplar, so I stayed well away and off to the side fishing to wait for them. Once they finished, they headed straight for me, asked me about the fishing, and after a friendly chat, wished me a good trip. It felt good to stretch my arms and legs after the long paddle into the wind, and I felt like the first portage went much better than normal, despite needing to double portage with no one else to help carry things. I was happy to finally have arrived, and happy that the rain seemed to be holding off despite the wind.

The Lizz Lake paddle was still somehow into the wind, but I didn’t see anyone else, and was grateful for the boardwalks for loading and unloading. There was a group of people on Caribou exploring campsites, (they were at campsite 645 after my first portage and 644 when I finished portaging, with only two canoes and no gear) but they just waved as I went by on my way to the next portage. There was also a group at site 646, across from the portage to Horseshoe, but I think there’s been someone at that site every time I’ve passed it. While unloading the canoe after landing at the portage, I heard a group approaching from the Horseshoe side of the trail. I’d landed around the corner from the main portage, navigating through a shallow, rocky stream mouth where I knew I could easily wade and avoid some of the larger rocks at the natural end of the trail. So I finished unloading and waited for them to pass. There were 8 people in the group, and they were having a great time. Lots of loud talking and laughing, yelling to each other, etc. They were startled to see me, but very polite and friendly as well. I waited for them to finish their double portage and began carrying my canoe once they were busy getting loaded. I could still hear them all the way across the short (22 rod) portage, and made it back for the 2nd half of my portaging to see them depart. I felt a little bad for the group across the lake at site 646, but figured they wouldn’t have to put up with the noise for much longer. It was still turning out to be a nice day, and the rain was still holding off, and since they were heading the opposite direction as me, I knew I wouldn’t need to worry about camping within audial distance of them for the night.

When I finished the 2nd half of the portage, there was a couple in a canoe waiting for me, so I quickly loaded onto Horseshoe Lake to give them space to land. The number of people I’d met started to worry me, since I was heading for Allen Lake and I knew there was only one available campsite there, so I thought about stopping on Horseshoe, but I was making good time, and figured I’d be able to keep going if that site was taken. The portage from Horseshoe to Allen was being guarded by a pair of swans, but they slowly moved away as I approached. I thought I was ready for the difficult portage I knew was coming, but doing it twice took a lot out of me, especially since I hadn’t eaten lunch yet. I took a break after completing the portage to sit and have a snack. There were a few mosquitoes at the landing, the only place I’d seen any all day. Mid snack, I noticed another canoe heading for me, so I finished quickly and got loaded into the canoe before they arrived. They confirmed for me that someone was already occupying the Allen campsite, but having just finished the portage between Allen and Horseshoe, I didn’t want to do it again in reverse, so I made the decision to move on to Gaskin instead.

I’d never done the portage to Jump Lake or Gaskin before, but I knew they were short, so I didn’t think it would take long. They were both very steep though, and the water Jump Lake was low, making the first few yards difficult to paddle without hitting rocks. I had to wade out a bit with the canoe since there were too many rocks in the water around the landing area to navigate, and then nearly dropped my portage pack trying to get it to the canoe. Then I ended up at the wrong spot for the portage to Gaskin, picking what looked like a landing/portage trail on the southwest side of the small lake, but luckily I stopped to check my location before unloading everything from the canoe. I passed another group of three people on the portage between Jump and Gaskin who had also intended to stay on Allen but moved ahead to Gaskin and were just coming back to fish. Two of them were carrying the canoe by the handles, and the third was navigating the trail barefoot. They let me know that they’d taken the closest island campsite on Gaskin. That made me a little nervous, because it was getting late, but I knew there were a good number of sites on the lake, and I’d save time by skipping the site I knew they’d taken.

The second closest site (628) was available, and it turned out to be very nice, although I felt selfish taking it for myself since it seemed more suited to a large group than a single camper. It was well used and there were a lot of cut down trees, although it looked like they’d been cut years ago. I got set up as quickly as I could and started dinner, feeling a little overwhelmed by the relief from finishing the journey, the fact that the predicted rain hadn’t ever happened, and the happiness that I’d found a place well before it got dark, mixed with the disappointment that I’d missed getting the spot/lake I’d wanted, the hunger, and the general tiredness from the extra difficult portages and paddling. The sunset made up for all of that though, beautiful colors covering as much of the sky as was visible. The bass started jumping at dusk, giving me hope that the fishing would be good, and the dinner was delicious. It took a long time to find a suitable place to hang the food bag, and the latrine was twice as far from camp as any I’d seen previously, but it was a beautiful site, with lots of places to explore, and fantastic view of the lake in all directions. After dark I could see the fire of the group I’d passed earlier, but beyond that, there didn’t seem to be anyone else on the lake. An otter startled me by checking out my canoe, and it didn’t seem concerned when I approached either, swimming around the landing for awhile until it realized I wasn’t leaving and slowly making its way to deeper water. The stars came out even before the sunset was finished, and I checked into bed a few hours earlier than I would have at home to do some reading and get some needed sleep.

~Poplar Lake, Lizz Lake, Caribou Lake, Horseshoe Lake, Allen Lake, Jump Lake, Gaskin Lake

With the change to my normal meal schedule and the earlier bedtime, I found myself awake at 3 in the morning needing to make the long trek to the latrine. The sky was so clear and the stars so bright that I didn’t need a headlamp. I stayed up gazing at them for awhile and tried to take some pictures with a long exposure. Took some time to get back to sleep but when I did, I slept in to make up for it. It had cooled off a bit, and the wind had picked up again after a quiet night so I relaxed and organized the campsite after breakfast. Took some time to read and play chess, and got some exercise by attempting to cut through a large tree someone had cut down halfway to the latrine. It was a big job with my little hand saw, and I gave up on it after about 30 minutes. There was plenty of firewood left behind by the last campers, which was nice because the obvious heavy usage of the site would have made foraging time consuming. By early afternoon the wind died down enough to take out the canoe, so I tried some fishing near the campsite, covering the inlet to the East and the open water to the Northwest. Had a solid bite on the second cast, but then nothing the rest of the afternoon. The wind picked up again, so I stopped for dinner, and within an hour the lake was completely calm. I decided to try again, but still had no luck until catching one 32” pike as I was about to quit for the night. One group of 5 campers in 2 canoes were the only people I saw all day, but they must have stopped at a site nearby, because I could hear them talking and occasionally laughing loudly as it got dark. I saw very little wildlife during the day as well, only some birds and a flock of geese that were heading south. Saw what seemed like a Pileated woodpecker, but it had an unusually shaped head, so I wasn’t sure if it might be something else, and it took off before I could get out my phone for a picture. Four loons settled down to rest on a flat rock that jutted just above the water out beyond the center of the lake, but they kept to themselves and were able to ignore the laughter from the nearby campsite. I hung out in front of the fire playing chess for an hour, enjoying the complete absence of mosquitoes and flies despite the calm. The forecast no longer anticipated rain either, so I kind of regretted bringing my rain/bug tent, which I never did set up, but knew I would never have taken the risk of leaving it behind. The forecast did call for a drop to freezing overnight, so I made some extra preparations for that and once again turned in early with my book.

~Gaskin Lake

Woke up early in the morning again for another trek to the latrine. The moon was so bright it made the stars difficult to see. I thought about just staying up, but the temperature had dropped significantly, and I chose to crawl back into the warm sleeping bag and try for a few more hours of sleep instead. By 8 it was starting to warm and the lake was perfectly calm. I ate a quick breakfast and headed out to find some fish.

The laughing campers from the night before left site 629 early, so I tried the area west of their site for awhile with no success. By lunch time the wind had picked up again and I was starting to feel discouraged, not just by the lack of fish, but by the persistent chill and difficulty managing the canoe alone in the shifting breezes. Had a loon surface withing a paddle’s reach of my canoe, take one look at me, and quickly dive back into the water before I could even think about getting out my phone. Saw one other solo paddler fishing, but we kept our distance from each other, and he moved on pretty quickly. I found myself thinking about going back to check on Allen Lake, but decided I didn’t want to have to make the portages again if it was still occupied. I made up my mind to try fishing again after lunch, and if still unsuccessful, move to another lake on Tuesday.

Eating lunch helped my spirits, but the wind played with my mind for sure, calming to perfectly still for a few minutes, then picking up again to remind me it was still there. I decided to try to ignore it for awhile by reading in my hammock, and that helped too. After the rest, I was ready to hit the water again and checked out the cove by sites 630 and 631, hoping it would shelter me from the wind a little bit. I finally was able to find some bass near the shallow point connecting the bay to my campsites’ side of the lake, and the trees were well situated to help me better control the canoe in the wind. I discovered that the canoe could fit through the shallow gap, so I didn’t have to go all the way back around the island to return to camp. I also discovered just how much protection from the wind I was getting in that cove, as I had to work a little to get back to camp across the larger open water against the wind. None of the fish were quite big enough to keep for dinner, but I was happy to finally catch some. I decided to try getting up earlier Tuesday morning and give Gaskin another chance.

Back at camp, I enjoyed dinner and another beautiful sunset. The loneliness was starting to affect me as well, as I spent a bit of time using my Zoleo to chat with family back home. I read for awhile as it got dark and was interrupted by the sounds of a moose somewhere across the cove to the south. I tried to watch for a while, but between the advancing darkness and the heavy tree cover, never did get sight of it. I retired early to the tent and tried to read some more before calling it a night.

~Gaskin Lake

Had a rough night trying to sleep, and woke multiple times with sore shoulders and back. I finally got up at sunrise hoping to improve my fishing odds, but still couldn't find much initially. After an unsuccessful hour, I headed back to the cove where I'd caught the bass yesterday, and quickly hooked into some more of them, including a 3 pounder I initially thought must be a pike from how it dove and pulled without head shakes for the initial fight, until it startled me by launching itself out of the lake trying to shake my hook.

The sunrise was beautiful, but the wind picked up again quickly, and I found myself dreading another night in the tent. There were also some regular shotgun blasts across the lake, I suppose from someone grouse hunting. By lunchtime I'd convinced myself that I didn't want to stay overnight again, so I planned to break camp after lunch and head home. The hearty meal helped temper my feelings a bit, but I still carried through and packed everything by 1. I decided to take the longer portage directly to Horseshoe instead of the short steep portages back to Jump and Allen Lakes, partly because I'd stayed on Horseshoe during my very first visit to the BWCA, and thought it would be nice to check out that site again on the way out. After checking in with the family and letting my wife know my plans, I decided I'd also like to check out the ‘honeymoon’ site on Horseshoe, and possibly stay there one more night if it looked nice and truly offered another chance to see Moose.

The portage from Gaskin to Horseshoe proved to be a good choice. Although a bit longer, the elevation changes were more gradual and the trail itself much easier to navigate. I felt like I had plenty of time, so I enjoyed the trail and did not hurry, especially since being out of the wind felt like such a relief. I’d left the canoe on land while I went back for the portage pack, and as I finished the second part of the portage, I saw a canoe approaching on Horseshoe. I waited until the two women in the canoe landed, and chatted for a bit, not sure what they were planning to do. After awhile, I realized they were waiting for ‘the rest of my group’, thinking someone was still portaging with me. I told them I wasn’t in a hurry, but they were just checking out the trail, and one of them waited in the canoe while the other one scouted ‘a few yards’ down the trail to see how easy it was. They had another canoe in their group with three people in it, but that canoe stayed away from the landing, fishing while they waited. I chatted with the remaining woman for awhile, and then we agreed that the first woman must have decided to hike the entire trail to Gaskin, so I started loading and preparing to shove off. It turned out to be a good thing she was there, because the wind was just annoying enough to keep me from being able to load my gear without it drifting quickly away. She held on to it for me so I could get started, and I don’t know how I would have accomplished that task without her help.

There were a few more canoes on Horseshoe, positively crowded compared to the last few days on Gaskin. I made my way past the Southern campsites and around the corner through the weedier section that turns into the Brule River. It took a lot longer than I expected to get to site 676, and I kept stopping to check and see if I’d missed it somehow. The weeds and lily pads contributed to the slowness, as did the wind, but mostly I just wasn’t sure about my location and my arms were getting tired. When I did find it, it looked nice, but I couldn’t find a place to comfortably get out and still hold onto the canoe, as the wind was just strong enough to pull it away from shore, and there were too many rocks at the landing to navigate without scraping or bumping. I also felt a strong sense again of wanting to sleep in a bed instead of on the ground, so I started heading back.

Within a few minutes, I realized it was probably too late to get all the way out and back home at a decent time, so I stopped and tried to calculate my options. I almost went back to 676 to give it another chance, but decided instead to go back to site 675, which was the very first site I ever used on my first trip to the BWCA. I knew no one had taken it yet when I went past on my way to see 676, and decided it would be nicer to be a little bit closer in the morning on the way out. It was still open when I got back to it, so I quickly unloaded and set up camp. The water was significantly lower, over a foot at least, since the last time I was there. I took some pictures of the same places I knew I had previous photos so I could compare them when I got back home. There were also a lot of small squirrels occupying the site, very noisy and constantly moving. They initially weren’t afraid of me at all, but I chased them away if they got close, and made a mental note to make sure I didn’t leave any food or scraps for them. Even so, if I left an area of camp, they would immediately descend on it to see if I’d left anything. So while I set up the tent, they checked out my bags and gear around the fire grate. And as soon as I hurried back to the grate, they would explore the area around the tent. They at least stopped approaching me, but they were so noisy I started to wonder if I’d get any sleep at all. The trees provided excellent relief from the wind, though I could still hear it overhead. I had dinner and relaxed in front of the fire for awhile before decided to try some fishing from shore. A few more canoes went past, but I didn’t see or hear any signs of campers at the nearby sites. There were some shotgun blasts but they were farther away, probably still back near Gaskin, and not as regular. I tried a few different baits without success, but finally started catching walleye just after dusk. As I landed the first one, an eagle landed at the top of a pine tree just across the bay and watched me photograph, measure and release the fish. It stayed and watched me catch a second one, and then flew away in what I imagined to be disgust after I released it as well. Before it got too dark, I explored the site a bit and found what looked like a memorial. I thought about taking it down, since I believed they weren’t permitted, but didn’t feel like touching it, wondering if it was related to the recent death of Dan Cooke of Cooke Custom Sewing. I discovered that the latrine (uncovered) is significantly lower than most, making it feel unbalanced when sitting down, with my knees higher than my hips. I also spooked a grouse while hanging the food bag, but I let it know it was perfectly safe from hunting while I was at the site. There was a nice pile of firewood left by the last group, so I enjoyed a peaceful evening in front of the fire, once again grateful at the lack of bugs, comfortable temperature, and shelter from the wind. The squirrels disappeared and were quiet as soon as it got dark, and even the wind calmed quickly, so it turned out to be a beautiful final night.

~Gaskin Lake, Horseshoe Lake

The squirrels woke me up at sunrise with their chattering and chasing each other across the campsite, so I decided to try for some fish for breakfast. I caught a nice sized bass off the rock porch overlooking the lake, and planned to fish for a little longer before breakfast, but an otter must have noticed my catch, as I watched it swim across the bay directly towards where I had my stringer in the water. I hurried back to the fish and the otter stopped, then came a few yards closer before diving into the water and apparently swimming away. I decided not to risk a sneak attack, and took the fish out to prepare it for breakfast. The morning was lovely, with low clouds, warmer temps and no wind. I thought about staying another day, but decided I really did want to get home, though I certainly wasn’t in a hurry. A flock of birds descended on the site as I ate the fish, filling the smaller trees around the fire grate, but they didn’t stay long, taking off again as a group. A few squirrels approached tentatively as I ate, but I was aggressive towards them again, and they settled down to wait for me to be finished. I was careful to clean and put away everything before I headed to the tent to break camp, and they immediately swarmed my chair, pack and the fire grate looking for any scraps I may have missed.

When I woke up, I’d heard an occasional thumping noise that made me wonder what was happening, and as I watched the squirrels, I discovered that regularly during their chasing each other, they would leap out of a tree, landing on the hollow sounding ground with a distinctive drum-like thud, probably due to the configuration of the ground and underlying rocks. Sometimes they’d drop pine cones or branches from high in the trees too, and those would also make the drumming noise. I was glad I’d seen it happen, or it would have bothered me wondering what it was well after I left.

I didn’t see any other paddlers until late in the morning, but by the time I was ready to leave, there were a few canoes on the lake. The wind picked up again a bit while I headed toward the portage, but I wasn’t in a hurry, and slowed to fish whenever I saw an interesting spot. There was still a group at site 646 (as always) and there were tents up at site 645, just across from the Lizz Lake portage, but I didn’t see any people there, so they were likely day tripping somewhere. As I approached the portage landing, a group of 2 couples emerged from the trail, so I paddled past them a bit and fished in the bay East of the landing until they were done. They were not quiet, and had to reload for some reason, so it was almost a 20 minute wait, and I started to get frustrated with the concept of giving other paddlers space. I didn’t run into anyone else the rest of the way back though, and reminded myself that I had plenty of time, and was even enjoying the casual fishing as I went. It was not easy to fish on Lizz as I made my way to the final portage, because the wind would take over as soon as I stopped paddling, and it was (of course) pushing me back to the South. The same thing happened on Poplar, and I marveled that only a few days earlier I had fought the wind to start my journey in the other direction. Back at Rockwood, I enjoyed chatting with the outfitters, and they agreed that the memorial on Horseshoe was probably related to Dan Cooke, as he had liked that particular campsite. I took a long refreshing shower, checked in with the family to let them know I was on my way home, and started looking forward to planning my next trip.

~Horseshoe Lake, Caribou Lake, Lizz Lake, Poplar Lake