Friday, August 21, 2026 [paragraph break]Day 1 Today was a big travel and pack day. [paragraph break]Beka and I have had a crazy busy summer, with activities and little trips nearly every weekend, and plenty of our weeknights filled up too. The week leading up to this trip was no different, with three weeknights already spoken for. Naturally, this meant we did what any responsible adults would do and procrastinated on packing until the Friday of our trip. [paragraph break]We were both scheduled to log off work around 2:00, but our morning quickly filled up with meetings and other things that needed our attention. That led to a little more procrastinating, which eventually left us with roughly an hour to get everything together before we needed to leave. [paragraph break]By 2:30, we were finally out the door, sweaty from the combination of packing, last-minute chores, and trying to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything. We picked up our son from Kindercare and started the long drive north, with a quick stop in Lindstrom to drop him and our dog off with the grandparents for the weekend. [paragraph break]We are incredibly lucky to have grandparents who not only agree to watch our kid, but genuinely look forward to it. It’s a blessing to have that kind of support in our lives, and it gives us the freedom to take off on adventures like this one. After about 15 minutes in Lindstrom, we said our goodbyes and headed north on 35 without looking back. [paragraph break]We were making good time and had planned to stop somewhere around Duluth or Two Harbors for dinner. Beka started looking at options on her phone, and since we were going to hit Duluth right around prime dinner time, we decided to push on to Two Harbors and grab a burger at McQuade’s. [paragraph break]That turned out to be the right call. [paragraph break]McQuade’s had an awesome burger and, to our surprise, even had Hoops Brewing beer on tap. This was especially exciting because Hoops had permanently closed back in February. We had always loved Hoops, so seeing one of their beers on the tap list felt like finding a little piece of something we thought we had lost. [paragraph break]After a quick 30-minute dinner stop, we were back on the road, heading north toward Grand Marais. [paragraph break]Our plan for the night was to stay at the Hungry Hippie campsite just north of town. We were making good time, though, and arrived in Grand Marais with enough time to squeeze in one more stop, a nightcap at Voyager Brewing. [paragraph break]We grabbed a beer and headed up to the rooftop patio, where we sat overlooking Lake Superior under the moonlight. After the craziness of the afternoon, it felt good to finally slow down. We were officially heading north, the trip was underway, and the Boundary Waters was waiting for us in the morning. [paragraph break]Eventually, we tore ourselves away and continued on to Hungry Hippie Hostel and Campground, home for the night. We arrived just after 10:00 p.m. and found the map that led us to our campsite for the night. We set up the tent, both took showers, and finally settled in. [paragraph break]Then came the wind. [paragraph break]And the rain. [paragraph break]And the tossing and turning. [paragraph break]I feel like this happens on the first night of almost every camping trip. After sleeping in a bed for weeks, or, in this case, months, it takes a night to remember what it’s like to sleep on the ground. The tent flaps in the wind, the rain hits the fabric above you, and every little noise seems just a little louder than it should. [paragraph break]It wasn’t exactly the peaceful night of sleep we had hoped for, but we were finally up north. [paragraph break]Tomorrow, the real adventure would begin.

Saturday, August 22, 2026 Day 2 [paragraph break]Today was the day we entered the BWCA. [paragraph break]We woke up early at our campsite and started tearing everything down. We took our time with the restrooms and getting ourselves organized before heading back down to Grand Marais for breakfast at Java Moose. We grabbed breakfast sandwiches and coffee while Beka finished organizing our bags and I waited for our order. [paragraph break]From there, it was up the Gunflint Trail toward Tuscarora Lodge & Outfitters. [paragraph break]I had forgotten how long that drive from Grand Marais to Tuscarora was, and as the miles slowly ticked by, I started getting a little stressed about how late our entry was going to be. Normally, I like to get an early start. There’s something about being on the water early, when everything is quiet and you feel like you have the whole day ahead of you. [paragraph break]But this wasn't a normal trip. This was Beka’s first trip into the BWCA, and I was determined not to turn into the guy obsessing over schedules and arrival times. So I tried to play it cool and just go with the flow. [paragraph break]We finally arrived at the outfitter, and I went inside to check in and get our permit. [paragraph break]The person helping me couldn't find my name on the permit list. [paragraph break]That was strange. [paragraph break]I pulled up my confirmation email to see what was going on, and that's when I saw it. [paragraph break]I had booked our permit for the following weekend. [paragraph break][paragraph break]What a terrible feeling. For a brief moment, Panic set in and I thought the entire trip might be falling apart before we even put the canoe in the water. We talked through our options with the outfitter and even started considering whether we'd have to completely pivot to a different entry point. [paragraph break]Then, somehow, we caught a break. [paragraph break]There was an available permit for the same entry point we had originally planned on using. [paragraph break]We were saved. [paragraph break]And, as it turns out, this wasn't even my first time making this mistake. The exact same thing had happened to me and my group a few years earlier on my first-ever trip to Tuscarora. [paragraph break]Apparently, I have a history with incorrectly booked Tuscarora permits. [paragraph break]We quickly canceled the permit for the following weekend, hopefully freeing it up for someone else to grab, and then shifted into high gear. We picked up our Kevlar canoe, finalized the last few packing details, and made our way to the water. [paragraph break][paragraph break]At around 11:30 a.m., we finally pushed off from shore. [paragraph break]This was really, really late by my standards. Usually, I like to be on the water no later than 8:00 a.m. [paragraph break]But the weather wasn't exactly perfect, so I decided it was probably fine. We were here. We were on the water. And, most importantly, Beka was here with me. [paragraph break]We crossed Round Lake at a pretty good clip and soon found ourselves at the Missing Link portage, where we arrived at the same time as another group. We made quick work of it, despite the fact that this portage always seems to be longer than I remember. [paragraph break]We loaded back up at the other end and pushed off onto Missing Link with gusto. [paragraph break]We were almost to the real challenge of the day. [paragraph break]The notoriously intimidating Tuscarora Portage. [paragraph break]I had been looking forward to, and maybe dreading, this one. Our plan was to take our sweet time and double portage together. We'd each carry a bag as far as we could, walk back for the rest, and then I'd take the canoe while Beka carried the paddles. [paragraph break]The goal was simple: don't dread the portage. Enjoy it. [paragraph break]To help pass the time, we started playing different alphabet word games. It sounds pretty simple, but it worked. Instead of thinking about how far we still had to go, we were laughing, talking, and trying to come up with words for whatever category we had chosen. The mile-and-a-half portage took us about two hours, but honestly, it didn't feel like two hours. The time passed surprisingly quickly, and instead of the portage being something we had to endure, we actually enjoyed it. Eventually, we reached the end. [paragraph break]And that's when I noticed the smoke. We could see it hanging in the distance, and then we could smell it. [paragraph break]Wildfire smoke. [paragraph break]My mood immediately took a hit. [paragraph break]I had built this trip up in my head for a long time. I wanted Beka's first BWCA experience to be perfect. I wanted the weather to cooperate, the lake to be calm, the campsite to be great, and the entire trip to unfold exactly as I had imagined it. The smoke felt like the first crack in that picture. We pushed off from the portage, and as we paddled away, Beka reminded me that things can change quickly. She was right. As we rounded the corner and came out of the bay where the portage ends, Tuscarora opened up in front of us. The wind had picked up. And so had the waves. [paragraph break]The water that had seemed manageable just moments earlier was now rolling and choppy, with the kind of wind that makes you pay a little more attention to every paddle stroke. The lake suddenly felt much bigger than it had from the sheltered bay, and my plans for the rest of the afternoon didn't seem quite as important anymore. I had originally hoped to make it all the way to the island campsite. I had read good things about it and was excited to see it for myself. My backup plan was Site 517, a site where I'd spent two nights a few years earlier on my first BWCA trip. The waves made the decision for us. We headed for campsite 517. [paragraph break]As we came into the site, we landed nicely on shore, and I immediately felt a sense of relief. [paragraph break]We were home. [paragraph break]And what a great site it was. [paragraph break]I had remembered 517 fondly, and coming back felt a little like returning to an old friend. The shoreline had plenty of rocks to sit on and explore, with the lake stretching out in front of us and the forest rising behind the campsite. After spending the day driving, paddling, and hauling gear over about two and a quarter miles of portages, there was something really satisfying about finally being able to put the packs down and just look around. This is one of the things I love about the BWCA. There isn't much to a campsite in the traditional sense. There are no buildings, no electricity, no roads, and no real separation between you and the landscape. It's just a piece of shoreline, some flat ground, rocks to sit on, trees surrounding you, and a lake stretching off into the distance. And for us, that was home for the next two nights. [paragraph break]The rest of Saturday slowed down. [paragraph break]We took our time setting up camp and eventually settled into the site. The temperature had dropped and the evening was chilly, but the clouds and wind eventually gave way to a beautiful sunset. The light started to soften across the lake as the day wound down, and for a while we just sat there watching the sky change. The water, the trees, and the rocks around camp all seemed to take on a different color as the sun dropped lower. It was one of those moments where there wasn't really anything we needed to do. We played some cribbage as the last light disappeared and the evening settled in.

There would be no campfire tonight because of the fire ban, so we turned in relatively early, finished our cribbage game in the tent, and let ourselves drift off to sleep. Between the Tuscarora Portage and our restless night at Hungry Hippie, we were both exhausted. And thankfully, we slept much better. We actually managed to sleep until around 7:30 the next morning, which for us is sleeping in. What surprised us most was just how cold it got overnight. Luckily, Beka had a nice sleeping bag and a good sleeping pad, and she stayed warm all night and into the morning. I was not quite as fortunate. I sleep with a camping quilt and was using a sleeping pad that isn't really meant for colder weather. I was fine, but sometime during the night I apparently decided that my quilt wasn't enough and added a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and wool socks to the sleep system. [paragraph break]It could have been worse. And honestly, despite the cold, I still slept great.

Sunday, August 23, 2026 Day 3 [paragraph break]We woke up at the beginning of our first full day on Tuscarora. [paragraph break]It was a chilly morning, so we got right to boiling water for hot coffee. For Christmas, my parents had gotten me a Stanley pour-over camping coffee set. When I first got it, I was adamant that I would never pack something like that into the BWCA. It was a luxury item. Extra weight. Extra space. More stuff to carry over those miserable portages. But honestly, it makes really good coffee. And for this trip, I wanted to bring it. Beka loves coffee, and I wanted to provide all the comforts I could for her first trip, even if that meant hauling a few extra ounces over the Tuscarora Portage. So we had our fancy camping coffee and some delicious oatmeal to go with it. [paragraph break]After breakfast, we packed a day bag, changed into our canoe clothes, and hopped in the boat for our first adventure of the day. The morning was overcast and windy as we set off across Tuscarora toward the bay where I had caught the giant northern a few years earlier. As we crossed the lake, the wind was hitting us from the side, sending small rollers toward the canoe. Nothing too serious, but enough to make us work a little harder. We muscled our way across and eventually made it into the bay, where the water immediately calmed down. It was a completely different experience. The wind that had been pushing us around on the open lake barely seemed to exist once we were tucked back into the bay. We paddled around exploring, and Beka graciously allowed me to soak a fishing line while she did the actual work of paddling us around. No luck with the fish. To be fair, I wasn't trying particularly hard either. [paragraph break]After circling the bay, we made our way back toward the entrance. Unfortunately, the wind from the northwest was waiting for us. Right in the face. We still wanted to keep exploring, so we locked in and paddled hard toward the protection of the island in the middle of the lake. It's amazing how quickly things can change on a big lake. One minute you're fighting the wind and waves, and a few minutes later you're behind an island and the water becomes almost completely calm. We rested for a bit in the middle of the lake before continuing toward one of the bays in the northwest part of Tuscarora. We found a nice spot to pull over and stopped for lunch. The menu was an assortment of dried meats, pepper and original beef jerky, and pistachios. It was a good lunch. It was also extremely salty. We polished off both of our waters pretty quickly. By this point, the wind was starting to pick up again, but something else was changing too. The sun was coming out. What happened next was one of those little pieces of magic that are hard to plan for. The morning had started completely overcast, with clouds packed tightly across the sky. But now they were beginning to break apart. At first, there were just a few small openings, little patches of blue appearing between the clouds. Then the openings grew. And grew. And grew. Before long, the clouds were becoming the exception rather than the rule. The gray morning had turned into a bluebird day. [paragraph break]We rounded the island and headed back toward camp, mostly because we needed to refill our water. The wind was still blowing pretty hard, but the sunshine had completely changed the feel of the day. While our water was filling, we decided to explore around camp a little more. We hiked in all directions for quite a while, following the man- and game-made trails to see what was around us. Eventually, on the north side of the campsite, we discovered something we hadn't noticed before: a really nice sandy, shallow beach area. [paragraph break]It looked perfect for swimming, with the exception that it wasn't protected from the wind. By the time we made our way back to camp, the clouds were almost completely gone and the temperature had climbed enough that swimming suddenly seemed like a very good idea. We changed into our swimsuits and walked out into the crystal-clear water. It was cold. Very cold. Tuscarora is a deep lake, so the water never really gets to what I would consider a comfortable temperature. But there is something about getting into cold water where, if you can just convince yourself to go all the way in, it eventually becomes bearable. I ventured out far enough to dunk my head. This was a lengthy process. There was a lot of squealing. Eventually, I made it under. I hurried back toward shore and joined Beka on a lightly submerged rock shelf that had warmed nicely in the afternoon sun. The rock was almost perfect, just enough of it above the water to sit comfortably, with the lake gently lapping around us. And we stayed there for more than two hours. We lounged on the rocks, laughed, talked, and enjoyed simply being there together. No schedule. No meetings. No errands. No daycare pickup. No packing. No driving. Just us, the water, the trees, the rocks, and the sound of the wilderness around us. [paragraph break]How can you not get a little romantic about nature in a moment like that? It's moments like these that make it impossible for me not to think spiritually. Sitting there in the middle of all that beauty, it was hard not to feel grateful for the opportunity to experience it. What a gift of God's greatness, to be able to step away from the busyness of regular life and find something this beautiful right at our fingertips. [paragraph break]Eventually, the sun had passed its peak and started its slow journey back toward the horizon. We reluctantly made our way back to camp and started thinking about dinner. Tonight's menu was chicken and dumplings and beef stroganoff. Served in bags. Now, I am not a fan of freeze-dried meals. They're convenient, sure, but one of the things I love about camping is cooking over a fire for the group. It's an experience I look forward to on every trip. Unfortunately, with the fire ban in place, that wasn't an option. Luckily, over the years, I've talked so much trash about bagged meals that they apparently had nowhere to go but up. And they did. The meals far exceeded Beka's expectations, and she actually loved them. I still think they are ho-hum... [paragraph break]But, I guess some things are worth complaining about. [paragraph break]After dinner, we cleaned everything up, set up the bear hang, and headed back toward the large rock surface near the water. We brought out the cribbage and dominoes and settled in for the evening. The sun continued dropping lower and lower, and we eventually said goodnight to it. As we sat there watching the sunset, something caught our attention. A line of what looked like loons was swimming toward us from the north side of camp. Then another. And another. We started counting. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Eventually, we counted more than 40 of them. I'm pretty sure they weren't actually loons, because if they were, that would have to be some kind of BWCA loon convention. Whatever they were, watching that many birds moving together across the lake during sunset was pretty incredible. The setting sun was throwing warm light across the water as they slowly made their way past our campsite, occasionally diving beneath the surface to feed. We just sat there and watched them go, trying to take in the whole scene at once. [paragraph break]As the last light disappeared, the moon began to take over the sky. We were blessed with a big, bright, beautiful moon hanging over the lake. The moon was so bright that we didn't get the full experience of the stars that night. Normally, that's one of my favorite parts of being in the BWCA. The darkness out here can be incredible, and on a clear night the sky feels almost impossibly big. But I wasn't disappointed. There was something pretty special about sitting on those rocks with the moon lighting up the lake, reflecting across the water and making the shoreline just visible enough to see. By this point, it was getting late. But neither of us really wanted to go to bed. [paragraph break]It had been a perfect day, and we knew tomorrow wouldn't be quite the same. We would be packing up, leaving Tuscarora, and heading back toward the real world. So we stayed there a little longer. We wanted to soak in every last moment we could. [paragraph break]Eventually, common sense won out. With no fire to keep us warm and a long day ahead of us, we decided it was time to get some sleep. We both slept really well that night.

Monday, August 24, 2026 Day 4 [paragraph break]We woke up on our final morning at Tuscarora, and I was ready to get moving. After experiencing the long travel day that was ahead of us, my instinct was to get up, pack everything as quickly as possible, and hit the water. But Beka wanted to take the morning easy and enjoy our last little bit of time at camp. Normally, I probably wouldn't be very good at this. But I was very patient. I wanted Beka to take her time. This was her first trip into the BWCA, and if she was enjoying the morning and didn't feel like rushing, I wasn't going to be the guy pushing her out of camp. We had spent the last couple of days moving at a much slower pace than we're used to, and there was no reason to change that just because we had to go home. So we took our time. We probably spent two to three hours packing up camp, making sure we had everything, and taking in those last few moments on Tuscarora. Eventually, we were ready. [paragraph break]Around 9:30 or 10:00, we pushed off from shore for the last time. As we reached the Tuscarora Portage, I recommended that we change our strategy from the two days before. Instead of doing every section together, I suggested we leapfrog our way across the portage and power through it. The day before had taken us about two hours, and I wanted to cut that time down as much as possible. We ended up making great time. It helped that we didn't run into anyone else until the very last stretch, so we were able to keep moving without stopping and waiting for other groups to pass. The entire portage took us about an hour and fifteen minutes. Much better. We loaded the canoe back onto Missing Link and paddled the short distance to our next portage. [paragraph break]If the long portage to Tuscarora hadn't seemed quite as long as I remembered, the portage back to Round Lake seemed to make up for it. I picked up the canoe and took off, determined to carry it the entire way without stopping. As I walked, I kept seeing what looked like openings in the trail ahead. Each time, I thought I was finally approaching the end. But it wasn't the end. Then it happened again. And again. I think this happened three or four times before I finally actually reached the other side. By then, I was gassed. I walked back for my pack, and by the time we loaded up and pushed onto Round Lake, I was running on fumes. But the final paddle didn't need to be rushed. [paragraph break]We took our time crossing Round Lake, enjoying the beautiful day and our last paddle of the trip. We talked about our favorite parts of the trip, what we wanted to eat when we got out, and all the little moments that had made the trip special. [paragraph break]Eventually, the Tuscarora Lodge & Outfitters shoreline came into view. Just like that, our time in the Boundary Waters was over. We pulled up to shore, dropped off the canoe and life jacket, and headed into the store for a few souvenirs and snacks. We each grabbed a small bag of chips and some yogurt-covered pretzels, along with a pint glass and a coffee mug. And then we were back in the car. We were on the road by around 1:00 p.m. We made one more stop at McQuade's in Two Harbors for another burger and beer before continuing south. From there, it was the long drive home, eventually picking up our son from his grandparents and pulling into our driveway sometime between 7:00 or 8:00 that evening. It was a very long day. But as tired as we were, I couldn't help but feel incredibly grateful. Grateful for the trip. Grateful for the place. And most of all, grateful for the person I got to experience it with. [paragraph break]I asked my soulmate to come into the wilderness with me, and she embraced every part of it. She was patient with the portages, happy to slow down, willing to paddle through the wind, and seemed to genuinely enjoy the quiet and simplicity of being out there. That meant more to me than I think I can put into words. [paragraph break]One of the reasons I wanted Beka to come on this trip was because someday, I want to take our kids into the Boundary Waters. I don't want to be the only one who knows this place. I want them to grow up knowing what it's like to paddle these lakes, walk these portages, sleep under the trees, and experience the kind of quiet that is becoming harder and harder to find. I hope someday this becomes something we do every year as a family. I'm honestly a little sad that I didn't discover the Boundary Waters until I was in my late 20s. When I think about all the trips I could have taken, all the nights I could have spent out here, and all the memories I could have made, it feels like I missed out on a lot. But I don't want to dwell on that. Instead, I'm thankful that I found it when I did. And even more thankful that I now have the opportunity to introduce my children to it at a young age. Hopefully, this trip with Beka is just the beginning of many, many more trips to come. [paragraph break]There's something fitting about the fact that the fire ban that had been in place for our entire trip was set to end on Monday, the same day we were leaving. We never got our campfire. We never got to sit around the flames at night or cook dinner over the fire like I normally love to do. But somehow, I don't feel like we missed anything. [paragraph break]We had the lake. We had the rocks. We had the sunsets and the moon. We had the cold water and the wind. We had two quiet nights away from the noise and busyness of normal life. And most importantly, we had each other. As we drove south, leaving the North Shore behind us, I found myself already thinking about the next time we'd come back. Because that's the thing about the BWCA. [paragraph break]Once it gets into you, you don't really leave it behind. [paragraph break]“In Wilderness is the preservation of the World.” — Henry David Thoreau