Prologue: Initial Preparation [paragraph break] I see these children with their boredom and their vacant stares [paragraph break] God help us if we’re all to blame for their unanswered prayers [paragraph break] ~Billy Joel, “No Man’s Land” [paragraph break] Ever since I first learned about the Boundary Waters over 10 years ago, taking my children, especially my sons, for canoe trips in the Boundary Waters has been a dream of mine. In the midst of the always frantic latter stages of packing for last year’s trip down the Frost River, when pre-trip feelings of guilt and angst were at their peak, I looked my oldest son Andrew in the eye and said, “Next year, you’re coming along for this! I am declaring it now!” While I could tell Andrew was a little surprised by this declaration, I knew, and I sensed he knew, that he would be ready. As I closed out my final evening of my solo trip, watching the sun set from a high viewpoint above my camp on Grandpa Lake, I silently asked God for what the next step was, and more than anything, I heard that “This place must be shared.” My heart knew beyond all doubt that this was the year to start bringing my son to the wilderness. When combined with my long-held belief that God speaks to the hearts of all in an intimate way in the wildest places, I felt both motivated and intimidated. How was I to take all of this on? How could I prepare myself and my son for a memorable Boundary Waters experience filled with challenge, but also with joy and connection? I felt unequal to the task of planning such an important trip for next year. But I knew I had to get started soon. [paragraph break] The first thing to get sorted out was to make a list of what additional gear would be required. Andrew would need appropriate clothing and some means of sleeping warmly and comfortably. Past that, I would get him his own camp saw, camp chair, as well as a compass and map to learn basic navigation and follow along with our progress. None of that seemed particularly daunting…except the sleep system.

I have loved sleeping in my hammock on these trips, and was mostly unwilling to give that up. While Andrew had never slept in a hammock, I chose to purchase a complete setup for him early in the fall so he would have plenty of time to get used to setting it up and sleeping in it. Considering all the options for his first hammock took me a while, but eventually I settled on a Ridgerunner hammock from Warbonnet. If he didn’t like it, then perhaps he would like my Blackbird XLC better. [paragraph break] During last year’s solo, I had a great deal of trouble with some of my tarp lines on my hammock, and even more aggravation with the lines on my 10’ x 14’ CCS rainfly…especially when working with cold hands in the wind. In response, I made several orders through Dutchware for new lines for both hammock tarps and the rainfly, as well as multiple small “bits” that would make wrapping, deploying, and securing each line much easier with very few knots. Andrew and I spent no small amount of quality time together in the basement, diligently cutting lengths of shock cord and zing it line, then attaching the lines with the appropriate knot to the tarps or Dutchware pieces. Anytime we could carve out an hour in the basement together between fall sports commitments, we worked on hammock and tarp lines. Our patience was tested because there was so much to learn, for both of us. But I was very proud of Andrew’s willingness to help, persevere, and learn. [paragraph break] Our first hammock sleep was in our backyard on a calm, chilly Halloween night. I was surprised that this was even possible, since we have very few trees our our small lot. But one of the great joys of hammocks is the chance to be creative with each setup, and we were able to make it all work. The best part was that Andrew loved it, staying warm and comfortable through the night. Maybe this was going to work!

The next major piece of the puzzle was the route. Last summer, Andrew and my other two younger boys had gone from loving fishing to completely obsessed by it. If there was so much as an open 20 minutes in the day, they wanted to be spending it fishing at our neighborhood pond or a friend’s pond, making every effort to catch bluegill, crappie, or largemouth bass. With this in mind, I knew that the number one trip priority had to be good fishing, especially for northern pike and smallmouth bass. We settled on early June, hoping to take advantage of good fishing before summer sports commitments spooled up. After considering a Clearwater Lake entry with a base camp on Caribou, we settled on a Saganaga Lake entry with plans to basecamp on Red Rock and Grandpa Lakes. Red Rock would offer a variety of campsites with options to fish on Alpine, Red Rock, or Saganaga, and I wanted to use a camp on Grandpa to show Andrew my favorite lake from last year, as well as explore the smallmouth fishing on nearby Roy Lake. While I love fishing, building a route around fishing much closer to the entry point would be a huge departure from my previous trips that were heavy on travel and exploration. At times I had my doubts, but I steadfastly chose to stick to the plan of traveling less and leaving Andrew wanting more versus taking on too much and inflicting suffering that he would never forget! [paragraph break] The dark months of winter were spent looking for ways of acquiring Andrew’s clothing and other gear on sale. Between used gear on eBay and REI sales, I was mostly able to fill in the gaps by spring. I acquired an extra Voyageur map from BWCA.com, a thwart bag with a map case from CCS, and a compass so Andrew could follow along with our progress in the bow of the canoe, versus just paddling blindly. However, given that catching fish was the number one priority on this trip, it felt like every spare moment and thought was spent on researching, purchasing, and organizing our fishing tackle. Another small tackle box was purchased, then another. And then a spare fishing rod that would be set up with a slip bobber to easily and quickly fish from camp with live bait. If effort and preparation catches fish, we were absolutely on the right track for some great fishing! I sure hoped so, anyway. Given my lack of success fishing on all of my past trips, I was optimistic, but cautiously so. In order to learn as much as I could about fishing in the area before the trip (and as an insurance policy against poor fishing we might have), I booked a day of fishing on Saganaga Lake with Seagull Creek Fishing Camp. [paragraph break] Arrangements were made with Voyageur Canoe Outfitters for canoe rental, bunkhouse, and permit. The plan was to arrive on Thursday June 5th and stay at Trail’s End campground for two nights. The following day would be the guided fishing day on Saganaga. The day before entry we planned on a short day trip to Tenor Lake to fish and discover any issues with our gear or packing. We would stay in a Voyageur bunk house that night, then enter on Sunday, June 8th, paddle to Red Rock Lake, camp three nights and fill our days there with fishing. On Wednesday, we would paddle to Grandpa for three more nights of camping and fishing, then exit via the Sea Gull and the Gull River to Voyageur on Saturday June 14th. [paragraph break] Sometime in April, when looking at our reservation and canoe rental costs, I began to consider purchasing a used canoe from an outfitter. One thing led to another, and soon I was on the phone with Tom from Piragis discussing which canoe model would best suit our needs. We settled on a Northwind 18 with the removable third seat, since I have two more boys younger than Andrew that are also avid fishermen and likely will be coming along on future trips. When I considered the price differential between used and new and the desirability of the black lite layup, I chose to buy a new model at their spring sale price. This felt like a crazy thing to do, and still does. But I consider it an investment in a canoe that I hope will provide our family with decades of outdoor memories, both in and out of the Boundary Waters.

[paragraph break] Stay ahead, don’t get behind [paragraph break] There’s no use if you can’t keep time, [paragraph break] Oh stay ahead…don’t break down. [paragraph break] ~lighthearted, “harvester” [paragraph break] At this point in the spring, my packing and organization of gear for the trip was running slightly behind where it had been a year ago. Purchasing the canoe instantly put me farther behind. I dove into a complete garage reorganization project so I could store the canoe inside. I had to learn how to secure the canoe to the top of my car. I worked diligently to create a canoe fishing setup using an old fishfinder I already had. This took a great deal of time, effort, and brainpower, but the feeling of having a tidy garage with a beautiful canoe in it ready for adventures with my kids was a wonderful feeling. My first Boundary Waters trip was just three short years ago, and now it felt like I was signing up to paddle for a lifetime with my family. [paragraph break] When the canoe arrived, we took it on a local fishing trip or two with limited fishing success. The most successful night was fishing in the small pond that is within our neighborhood, which was both fun and hilarious. I have a lot more work to do to find places locally that will work well for fishing close to home when we have free time. [paragraph break] The school year ended on a high note with my daughter graduating eighth grade, then our family vacation. We returned home with two days to completely finish all packing for the canoe trip. With each day filled to the brim with summer commitments and unpacking from vacation, a real clarity and focus somehow emerged in the pressure of the final hours of packing. I took advantage of this as Andrew and I locked in and put the finishing touches on our trip preparation. In the past I have taken a long nap before beginning the all night drive, but the clock ran out on me this year. This meant that when I would at last lay down in my hammock at Trail’s End Campground, I would be awake for over 30 straight hours. This wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t matter anymore, because nothing could be done about it. It was time to go.

Day 0: Travel Day [paragraph break] Wednesday-Thursday June 4-5, 2025 [paragraph break] Andrew and I pause for a quick photo in the driveway before beginning our journey. I have a wealth of Tumblehome podcasts, a book or two on tape, and a lifetime’s worth of dumb stories to share with him on the drive when the time is right, but I can see right away that the early hours of this drive will be lonely ones. Shortly after my customary “YEEE-HAAAAWWW!” Into the pitch black night as I accelerate down the on ramp, Andrew falls into a deep sleep. I make a couple of stops at the first two gas stations to fine tune my canoe straps, and then settle in for the night shift. [paragraph break] Looking back over my life [paragraph break] Spent most of it tongue-tied [paragraph break] Pullin’ my belt tight [paragraph break] It’s just me and the stars tonight [paragraph break] ~Caamp, “By and By” [paragraph break] Driving straight through the night is not the best way to do things, and I know it. However, I’ve come to see this night drive as a very fitting kickoff to a trip where I purposely defy the small, predictable, conventional world I live the rest of my year in, a symbolic act of saying “This week is different!” It untethers me from the frenetic buzz of constant texts about sports practices and group chats, and for the first time all year, I have time and space to think. About what? Not much, and it is wondrous. [paragraph break] Andrew’s quick departure into dreamland makes me think about how long and hard he has worked today and throughout the year to make this happen. Whether learning new knots for the tarp or how to use his compass and map, whenever I’ve chiseled out the time to teach him something new or asked for his help, he’s stepped up to the plate without complaint. In spite of not fully knowing what he was getting into, he bought into the vision I set forth for this trip, and committed to doing whatever it took to help make it happen. On top of all this, he (and all of our kids really) work so hard during the school year to stay on top of their academic and athletic commitments. His discipline and obedience fill me with gratitude. I’m thankful for his help, thankful that we get to share this dream trip together, thankful for his maturity, and most of all thankful that I get to be his father. [paragraph break] When I’m feeling alert, I listen to an hour or two of Jordan Peterson’s “Twelve Rules for Life,” a book I’ve read multiple times. Someday I look forward to sharing more of this book with Andrew, but for now, the best thing for me to do is to just keep reading and sharing the lessons learned with him, either verbally or by example. Another book I spend time listening to is Des Linden’s “Choosing to Run” which details her running career and surprise 2018 Boston Marathon victory. I make several stops to stretch my legs and buy coffee through the wee hours of the morning, and soon enough we are passing Des Moines, where I always see the first hint of light in the eastern sky. Andrew fully wakes up a couple hours later as the sun finally rises in north central Iowa. I’m not feeling too great, but my spirits are buoyed by having Andrew to talk to. We listen to a podcast or two together, eventually settling on the opening rounds of Tumblehome’s “Lurenament,” which comically pits various fishing lures against each other to see which one is the best for Boundary Waters fishing. Nothing could be more perfect listening material for our trip!

As daylight fully arrives, I take advantage of the waking hours to catch up with a few friends. I extend a belated birthday wish for a friend whom I haven’t spoken to in years, then another who I speak to more regularly but always has great interest in my canoe trip. After passing Minneapolis, we make a stop in Hinckley, MN for the first-ever White Castle hamburger experience for both of us. Neither of us are very impressed, but are glad we tried it! In Cloquet we stop at Wal-Mart to stock the cooler with supplies for tomorrow’s lunch on the water with our fishing guide, and somehow get out of there in 30 minutes flat. [paragraph break] The drive up the north shore always takes far longer than I remember, with Andrew catching another solid nap and me catching up with one more friend that I haven’t spoken to in ages. He wakes up near Gooseberry Falls and we listen to more of the “Lurenament,” laughing pretty hard at how “stick of dynamite” pulled off a couple early upsets. At long last, we reach Grand Marais, and more last-minute details make their way onto the agenda. We fill the gas tank, buy a couple more groceries, and make a customary stop to drop off a token of appreciation to Adam, one of the Tumblehome hosts. In the past three years, I’ve never been able to meet him, but this year, wonder of wonders, it works out. Adam graciously takes plenty of time to talk to us in spite of us interrupting his work day, and it truly makes our day. He says that the bugs have been pretty terrible, but that means we should have zero issue catching fish. In spite of my past lack of fishing success, I feel the familiar surge of pre-trip optimism that all fishermen know well. Four years ago, a single Boundary Waters trip was just a wild-haired idea that I couldn’t shake. Now, with a great deal of help from this BWCA.com community and Adam’s podcast, I am leading a trip with my son. It’s a dream come true which makes meeting Adam on this day all the more special.

After a photo with Adam, we get back into the car and park at the library for the customary photo in front of the Gunflint Trail sign. At long last, we are headed up the Trail, this once-mythical road that Andrew has heard me talk about countless times. I mention that I’ve always wanted to see Clearwater Lodge but never stopped, so with time on our side, we turn off onto Clearwater road and follow it to the lodge. I especially wanted to see the giant lake trout that hangs above the fireplace so Andrew could see what a lake trout looks like. After about 2 minutes inside admiring the fish, we head back up the road and continue west on the Gunflint. Both of us are exhausted yet filled with anticipation. I am nearly consumed with worry about whether our site will be suitable for hanging both of our hammocks. As we near Sea Gull Lake, a car is pulled over near a boggy area and I don’t think much of it until Andrew shouts “There’s a moose out there!” We backtrack and get out the binoculars and spend five minutes watching the bull moose in the bog. This is the first moose I’ve ever seen up here, and my first bull moose sighting ever. A few years ago, Andrew and I saw a cow moose with two calves while mountain biking in Colorado, so perhaps the moose is our new spirit animal. [paragraph break] We continue up the trail and make a wrong turn for Trail’s End campground when we see the signs for the boat ramp. After 15 minutes of general confusion, I continue on further up the Gunflint Trail past the turnoff for Wilderness Canoe Base for a few minutes and find the campground. I made this exact same mistake last year, but now it won’t happen again! [paragraph break] When we pull up to site 25 at Trail’s End, I am greatly relieved. We have plenty of well-spaced trees for hammocks, and even a nice elevated view of the Sea Gull River. If someone were camped in site 26, it would’ve made setting hammocks slightly more difficult for us, but could still be done. As it is, no one is there so we have plenty of space and privacy, and I couldn’t feel more relieved. This is all going to work. But of course I can’t rest in this satisfaction for long. The car is a rat’s nest of coffee cups, snack wrappers, and all the inevitable detritus that accumulates during a 15 hour road trip. We drag our worn-out bodies through the task of setting up camp, and after a bit of fumbling with the tarp and one of the strap buckles, our hammocks are set. I begin prepping supper while Andrew readies our fishing gear for tomorrow’s guided fishing day on Saganaga. As soon as we finish supper we hit the hammocks and are asleep within seconds.

Stats—> Miles: 964 | Total time: 18 hours | All stops (10): 2 hours, 43 minutes | Gas mileage: 28 mpg | Sunrise: Ellsworth, Iowa, 5:50 AM | Minnesota state line: 7:13 A.M.

Day 1: Guided Fishing on Saganaga [paragraph break] Friday, June 6th, 2025 [paragraph break] We rise, eat breakfast, and arrive at Seagull Creek Fishing Camp early in hopes of getting a jump on some excellent fishing today. [paragraph break] After arriving at Seagull Creek and signing our permit, we meet our guide, Steven, and load up for Saganaga. It’s a gorgeous clear, cool morning, which gets even cooler when we are moving across Sag! The wind is nearly dead calm, which has the fish scattered unpredictably around the lake. However, we have decent success fishing in Red Rock Bay with leeches for smallmouth, and also catch one smaller northern. Andrew and I enjoy talking with Steven, who is from Indianapolis but has spent most of every summer up here for around 40 years. He first came to the area as a “trail kid” working at Gunflint Lodge. It was there he met one of the guides, Mike, who now owns Seagull Creek Fishing Camp, and they’ve been working and fishing together in some capacity in the Gunflint area ever since. During his summers here, Steve lives in a cabin he built himself on the camp property. What a cool story! [paragraph break] We spend the day enjoying each other’s company, discussing family life, the Indiana Pacers (who are underdogs in the NBA Finals against the Thunder this year), his experience working as a carpenter at the South Pole, and history of the Gunflint Area. After spending the morning fishing Red Rock Bay, we fish further north on Saganaga, where multiple cabins are visible on the Canadian side of Sag. While I’d heard about this area, I never fully understood how these cabins were fully off-grid and only accessible from the American side, which makes for a very interesting living situation. Steven fills us both in on how that works (and sometimes doesn’t work, especially with the current RABC challenges) for the families that have cabins up there, and I really enjoy hearing all about it. Another thing we discuss quite a bit are the blowdown of ‘99, the Ham Lake Fire, and the Sag Corridor Fire, all of which Steven has firsthand knowledge of. [paragraph break] Along the way, the action isn’t fast and furious, but most fish we catch are respectable in terms of size. Andrew and I gain a new appreciation for the fighting power of smallmouth bass. Toward the end of the day we fish the Sea Gull River and Sag Corridor quite a bit, where we have the best success of the day. After a long day of fishing, we pull the boat out and run into another one of Steven’s lifelong friends he met as a trail kid up here so many years ago. Seeing these long-lasting social connections that were forged decades ago in this wilderness only deepens the appreciation I have for the Boundary Waters. [paragraph break] We return to Trail’s End completely spent, where we cook another quick dehydrated supper, tidy up camp for tomorrow’s departure, go to bed.

Stats—> Hours Fishing: Over 9 | Fish caught: 12 smallmouth, 1 pike

Day 2: Day Trip [paragraph break] Saturday, June 7th, 2025 [paragraph break] After another solid night’s sleep, we pack up camp and get ready to head to Voyageur Canoe Outfitters for a day trip today. Before leaving, we slowly drive around the campground to scout out future desirable sites for hammocks should we come here again. In order, the best sites for us that we saw are: 1) 18 2) 25 3) 30 4) 19 5) 27 6) 14. [paragraph break] I told Andrew at the very start of our drive that the hardest days of the trip are the first few days, because they are days of transition, adjustment, and non-stop work as we go from sleeping/driving overnight in the car, to a car camping site, to a bunkhouse, and finally, to the wilderness. In the past, this day specifically has left me feeling especially exhausted and frazzled, because so many tiny details still need to be worked out before tomorrow’s entry into the wilderness. [paragraph break] That said, it feels great to pull into the Voyageur Canoe Outfitters’ parking lot at 7:05 A.M. where the air is positively buzzing with the excitement of trips beginning and ending. We check in with Cassidy at the front desk where we sign our permit for tomorrow, watch the entry video, and find out that our bunkhouse for the night is already open. The bunkhouse is located a short 30-stroke paddle across the Sea Gull River, which provides a sense of adventure and privacy that we both appreciate. Andrew and I decide we will take all our gear over to the bunkhouse, then head out on our day trip. As I slide the canoe into the waters of the river, I say “At last, the canoe is in pure Minnesota water, where it belongs.” This moment has been a long time coming! [paragraph break] Even though it’s just a short day trip, we bring nearly all of our gear along with us to test the loaded trim of the canoe and to see how well we can portage our packs. I really don’t have any idea how much Andrew can portage comfortably, and each year I’ve done this, I’ve found a few chinks in the armor that need to be fixed. On the way back down to the water for our day trip, I discover something truly beautiful: A colony of pink lady slippers growing right by the walking path! Not once in my past three trips taken in the month of May have I ever spied a lady slipper, and with this fortunate sighting, our optimism for a great day in the park couldn’t be higher! At 9:15 A.M., we are headed out with the goal of fishing on Tenor Lake today. One of the workers at Voyageur told us he was just at Tenor the other day and caught walleye right from shore, so we are optimistic! While it’s been a busy morning, we have made great time to this point. Finally paddling out to do some fishing from our canoe feels like a great accomplishment after a year of preparation and all the travel to get up here. We stop at the northernmost campsite in the corridor briefly so Andrew can see what a Boundary Waters campsite looks like. While I fully expected this to be a rough and tumble site, I was pleasantly surprised by it and it would be a fine place to spend a final night in the park if the situation warranted stopping short of the exit point. [paragraph break] While it felt silly buying that extra map and compass for Andrew over the winter, it’s a very gratifying feeling to navigate our way up the corridor as a team, discussing various waypoints and bays along the way as we search for the Tenor Lake portage. The portage is a bit overgrown and difficult to see, but we got it figured out easily enough. The portage itself features a shallow landing full of hull-gouging rocks and some rough footing through the brush, but thankfully it’s extremely short. Before I even have time to get the canoe fully ready to go, Andrew catches a small northern from the northern shore of Tenor with a Mepps “Comet” spinner with a chartreuse twister tail. Then another! I toss out a medium sized perch Rapala X-Rap and also catch a small northern. We found them! [paragraph break] After this much early success, it’s hard to make the effort to even get into the canoe to fish, especially since it’s getting windy from the south. But there are other areas of this lake we want to explore and fish, so we stop casting for a minute so we can load up and try trolling the shore. With limited time before we need to paddle back and head to town for Saturday night Mass, I decide we don’t need to spend time setting up the fish finder today, though I’d love to see more data on this little-known lake. [paragraph break] The action along the north side of the lake can only be described as fast and furious, both of us having equal success. At one point, I hook into what feels to be a very nice sized smallmouth, but he finds a way to worm his way under a log and shake the lure. Another time, Andrew hooks into a fish with about 12” of line out that makes us both laugh, then what we both swear was a walleye, but it gets off right at the boat. We paddle further south to explore a couple more promising wind blown shorelines, but don’t have much luck, so we head back to fish the north side again. While trolling, I readjust my rod holder, forget to lock it back in to the mount, then hook into a fish and the rod holder goes over the side and into the lake. That hurts a bit but I know I can make do without as I’ve done on past trips. And when you’re catching fish, nothing else really matters, right?! [paragraph break] Andrew is very excited at how well our fishing has gone so far. While we don’t find nearly the quality of fish in Tenor as we caught in Sag yesterday, we catch almost as many fish in just a couple hours as we did over the course of the whole day yesterday! My number one worry about this trip was coming all the way up here to get completely skunked, and after today, those stresses are gone. Everything else from this point onward is a bonus, and we still have the entire week in the wilderness ahead of us! [paragraph break] We paddle out from Tenor at noon, allowing extra time to paddle into the breeze back to the bunkhouse. On the paddle back, another canoeist gives us a thumbs up and says “That’s a beautiful boat!” I respond the only way I can think of, by saying “Thank you! It’s a dream.” We spend a few minutes with our gear making the final decisions as to what gear will make the cut and what will be left behind. After today’s success fishing and challenge on the little Tenor portage, we decide that it’s best to leave the fish finder with its bulk, awkward mounting system, and heavy battery behind. We also choose to add a third pack to spread out the gear load a bit more so the load is more manageable for Andrew. Making these final decisions about the gear is a great feeling, lending at last a sense of finality to the year-long process of packing! On our way down to the canoe landing, we spook some unseen small animal into a pile of building supplies along the trail, that we never see again. We leave for town at 2:30 P.M. On the way down the Gunflint Trail, both of us completely famished, we eat our dehydrated lunches from the thermoses. Andrew naps a bit before we arrive in town. [paragraph break] Once back in town, we stop at Buck’s Hardware for gas and the all-important leeches. Of course, we both get sidetracked by the fishing lure section, and purchase 4 more X-Raps and a Husky Jerk. This feels completely silly, but last year I lost my best lure during the trip and I am going to have more than enough on hand for all the fishing we will be doing this time around! [paragraph break] Still clad in our soggy canoe clothes, we go to Mass at St. John’s and are surprisingly asked to assist in bringing up the gifts during the Mass. Had I known this would happen, maybe I would have found a way to be a bit more cleaned up! Oh well. In the parking lot after church, I check the weather on my phone one last time, because my weather radio for some reason hasn’t picked up any reception at the end of the trail. The best weather days appear to be Tuesday-Thursday, with light rain expected Monday and steady rain expected Friday. [paragraph break] There’s no rhyme or reason [paragraph break] Ain’t a damn thing you can do [paragraph break] Some days you write the song [paragraph break] Some days the song writes you. [paragraph break] ~Guy Clark, “Some Days You Write the Song” [paragraph break] On the way back up the trail, we make our customary final calls back home. When outside of cell reception and nothing left to focus on but our trip, I lay out the specifics of our route plan for the week, with the weather forecast impact included. It doesn’t take us long to decide that we want to spend as much time as possible on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday fishing. Our original plan had us traveling from Red Rock Lake to Grandpa Lake on Wednesday, effectively nixing one of those fishing days. Both of us are uncomfortable with this, and catching northern on Grandpa Lake has always been the main focus of this route for us. And so it is decided that this week’s trip will be based solely from a camp on Grandpa, allowing us plenty of time to fish Grandpa, Roy, and perhaps even the southern end of Sag when the weather allows it. Both of us are excited about this plan! [paragraph break] We make it back to the bunkhouse at 7:30 P.M., feeling hungry, frazzled, and way behind on final packing for tomorrow’s paddle out on Sag. We ready the fishing poles with X-Raps for trolling while we travel, distribute the gear appropriately to the packs, get the beds ready for our sleep, cook supper, and eat. In order to make all of this happen, we are in and out of the door about 1000 times. There isn’t much air moving tonight so the bunkhouse is stuffy, and opening the windows only seems to let more swarms of mosquitoes in through the window screens. The bugs are definitely getting worse as the evening wears on, and we are getting more exasperated! Both of us are pretty tired of dehydrated food already, and barely touch tonight’s meal. Instead we spend most of suppertime killing as many mosquitoes as possible! We are so tired! [paragraph break] We make one final paddle across the river at sunset with a few more small items we don’t need to bring along, then back across the river to do dishes and get ready for bed. At long last, we hit the bunks at 10:45 P.M. We had planned to paddle out at sunrise for the most favorable winds possible on mighty Sag, but as tired as we are, I choose to set the alarm for the lazy late hour of 5:30. That time turns out to be more than early enough, because neither of us could sleep much for the first 2-3 hours of the night. The bunkhouse is still stuffy and the mosquitoes are positively voracious. We both can’t help but laugh quite a bit at our pathetic state of affairs while simultaneously going crazy with exhaustion and the bugs that keep attacking. Andrew tries a couple of times to sleep in his head net, but has no luck with that. My bottom bunk has about 3” of clearance, so I can’t do much to move around to escape the bugs, which also makes us laugh pretty hard. Sleep somehow settles on both of us well past midnight. I awaken with a jolt in the middle of the night with hamstring cramps that send shocking ribbons of pain all the way down the back of both of my legs and can’t help but scream! What a day and night this has been!

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 10 | Paddle distance: 7 miles | Fish caught: 7 pike | Lakes: Saganaga, Tenor

Day 3: Entry Day! [paragraph break] Sunday, June 8th, 2025 [paragraph break] After a short, tortured night of sleep, the alarm is an unwelcome intrusion on this morning. However, every fiber of our being is pulling us toward the wilderness, so we quickly pack up our bedding and portage our gear to the shore. While later than initially hoped for, we feel good about paddling down the Gull River into Sag at 7:03 A.M. I have assured Andrew that while today won’t feel as frantic as yesterday, entry day is always a day full of challenge and adventure. For now, we are happy to revel in a calm paddle under head nets into Sag. We are underway at last! [paragraph break] Once the river opens up into the main body of Saganaga, we cast out our Rapalas and leisurely troll our way to the west, paying close attention to the compass and our maps. Andrew and I both enjoy the simple pleasure of discussing all the tiny geographic waypoints that are guiding us along on this paddle, and I again feel very glad that he has a map to follow our progress as a fellow paddler, not just a tagalong. [paragraph break] After paddling through a channel south of a nice island campsite in the southeast end of the main body of the lake, I surprisingly hook into what feels to be a nice fish! As it nears the boat, I can see that it appears to be a decent but not huge northern. Unfortunately he shakes the hook shortly thereafter, but this again buoys our hopes that we will indeed have some fishing success on this trip, provided we just keep on fishing! The skies have taken on a steely gray hue, and it appears it could start raining any moment. I don my rain gear before we continue our paddle. [paragraph break] Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight [paragraph break] Got to kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight [paragraph break] ~Barenaked Ladies, “Lovers in a Dangerous Time” [paragraph break] While most of today’s paddle is sheltered from the wide open expanses of Saganaga that can get dicey, there are a couple wider bays that could whip up some whitecaps in a hurry if the wind picked up. We pass through the first bay, feeling great about the progress we are making and how we’ve thus far avoided getting disoriented. But as we near a point that guards the next open stretch, the sky darkens and the wind begins to blow in earnest. Soon a steady rain is pelting us, and the occasional white cap can be seen in the bay ahead. We beach the canoe in the lee of the point to reel in our lines, secure the rods to the gunwales, and make one final check of the compass and maps before heading across the bay. I tell Andrew I’m going to need him to paddle strongly through this stretch, but also that I’m not worried about it, because I’ve seen worse, especially during last year’s weeklong solo trip in the wind, rain, and cold. [paragraph break] We round the point and get down to the serious business of paddling steady, strong, and straight through the rollers, while still following along with the map so we can “stay found.” Last year, during our summer vacation in Maine, we were out in similar conditions in the ocean in tandem kayaks. On that day, I was paddling with Kristoff, my youngest child of 6 years, while Andrew was paddling with his 9 year old little brother Emil. When we had to paddle strongly to make it back to the cabin through some larger ocean swells, Emil began to get nervous. Andrew never missed a beat and began singing all sorts of loud nonsensical songs as they paddled through the swells, which helped Emil calm down and enjoy the adventure. Today, as the rain and waves continue to increase in strength, Andrew starts singing again. I absolutely know at that point he’s giving me all he’s got, and that this is a bit more than either of us expercted. But I also know that he trusts me and believes he’s equal to the task that is being demanded of him. Not only am I confident that Andrew will pass this first test of the wilderness and proud of how he is responding to the challenge, but I am very thankful for his strong, capable paddling in this moment! It sure beats paddling solo in such conditions! [paragraph break] We make slow, but steady progress across the choppy waters of the bay with Andrew singing off and on. Most of his lyrics contain some version “I’m glad we aren’t paddling all the way…to Red Rock today!” After crossing the bay, we gain welcome shelter behind a small island or two before sighting the beginning of Devil’s Walk Narrows which extends straight south out of Saganaga. Our navigation has been crisp this morning, with zero wasted time getting disoriented, far better than my first time on this lake just three years ago! [paragraph break] Once we enter the narrows, we are instantly sheltered from the breeze, and the rain stops too. Both of us are relieved at the chance to ease our paddling cadence, and eager to find the portage to Roy, so we can stretch our legs a bit after this long paddle. Before we hit the portage, I would like to get breakfast, though. We haven’t yet this morning and I don’t want to burn all of Andrew’s energy reserves on this little-used portage into Roy. We paddle in search of a campsite to land and eat, but fail to find it, so we decide to head for the portage instead. I take a compass bearing to the south to make sure I choose the correct bay to look for the portage in, and we paddle all the way to the end of the bay, only to find…nothing. There’s plenty of marshy grasses, scrubby brush, and thick woods on a steep cliff. No way do any of these spots contain the portage! So we try the next bay over, trying to make sense of it all on our map, but also come up empty. Andrew is determined that it has to be in the first bay we tried, as am I, but I also know I never saw anything back there, as much as I wanted to. We take a few more compass bearings, trying to make sense of it all, but come up empty. My biggest fear is that we somehow turned down the wrong bay of Sag, considering how easy it is to get lost out there. This possibility is supported by the fact that we never found the campsite we expected in this large southern bay. But everything I can see indicates that we are in the correct bay, very near the Roy portage. Frustrated, tired, and hungry, I tell Andrew we are going to paddle about 8 minutes back to the north in the bay to a large island, stop, and take the best bearing possible to the portage and then follow the compass, no matter what. [paragraph break] One day you’re waiting for the sky to fall [paragraph break] The next you’re dazzled by the beauty of it all [paragraph break] ~Barenaked Ladies, “Lovers in a Dangerous Time” [paragraph break] At this moment, after being so strong and tough the whole trip, especially through the rain, wind, and waves this morning, Andrew breaks down. We both agree the bay that the portage “should” be in, but I must have solid confirmation of that before trying again to find it there. I tell him that I don’t want to do much extra paddling either, but that this is just part of the experience, that I’ve always found where I needed to go, and that I’ve been disoriented in worse conditions before. I tell him my story of failing to find the portage north out of Gabimichigami in a steady driving rain last year with whitecaps everywhere, alone, and how worried and tired I was. He says through the tears, “I just want to be in a warm, dry place!” [paragraph break] We reach the island, turn the canoe to the south, and get the best bearing possible from the map and then translate it into reality. The bearing points us directly toward the marshy area again, giving us little choice but to paddle straight back to where we began this misadventure. Within ten minutes, we are back in the mucky bay and my hope is waning, but I decide to keep the heading we decided on until I can’t do so anymore. Just when I’m about to give up hope, I see a tiny channel, about the width of the canoe, maybe less, open up to the right. We follow it and within five strokes a muddy landing comes into view. We did it! What would the Boundary Waters be without the massive self-doubt and frustration brought on by not finding a portage? [paragraph break] We pull the canoe up onto land and we both feel like we’ve passed through a gateway test that separates a Boundary Waters greenhorn from a journeyman adventurer. We are both so exhilarated at finding the portage, we create a new secret celebratory handshake right there on the spot (that we still use to this day)! Andrew is ready to take on his first portage, but I declare that right here, right now, we are sitting down for breakfast and giving our jangled nerves a break after a challenging morning. Even though I’m eager to portage into Roy and beyond, past experience has taught me that pushing too far through hunger and fatigue causes much worse problems down the road. [paragraph break] After thermoses of sweet potato porridge, we slog through some muck then up a short hill through some trees. On the second trip with the canoe, I manage to get the canoe stuck between a couple trees and am forced to readjust a bit, but otherwise this is a nice short break after our long paddle. [paragraph break] The portage ends at a large beaver dam, where we have one more snack before pushing off and casting out our lines to troll the eastern shore toward the south, where we hope to find another very rugged portage to Grandpa Lake.

The weather has cleared and we enjoy a peaceful paddle through the northern neck of Roy. But our peace is soon interrupted when I see Andrew’s rod suddenly arc toward the water and sharply call out “Fish!” Both he and I manage to land three small smallmouth, but you’d never know the size by how excited we are to be out here catching fish together in the wilderness. Maybe this is coming together! We forcibly pry ourselves away from fishing as the obvious portage landing at the south end of the lake comes into view, then manage the challenging landing. Once we unload the canoe and look around, we see…not much at all really. The portage trail appears to run out very quickly in a mess of brush at the bottom of a steep hill. Upon further investigation into the brush, I return and tell Andrew that there is no way that this is the portage. We are again in the portage hunting business. After the last experience, this is disappointing, but considering Roy is such a small lake, we figure it can’t be too hard to find the real portage. [paragraph break] On my past two trips, both of which featured multiple notoriously rough portages, I traveled with many pages of self-curated “portage notes” from comments left on this site. But on this trip? Of course not, we won’t be portaging much, how hard can it be? Also, I’ve listened to the two Tumblehome podcast episodes that discuss Saganaga Lake and the surrounding area in depth more times than I count. During these episodes, Andy from Tuscarora describes a day trip through Roy and Grandpa Lakes, including these portages, so I feel like the notes are engraved deeply into my brain. However, all I really remember is that these portage are rough, longer than expected, muddy, and that one of them has a landing full of basketball size boulders. [paragraph break] Just down the shore is a giant boulder field that couldn’t possibly be the beginning of the portage…or could it? We aren’t certain so we paddle down there quickly to investigate without the packs, where we find that the giant boulder field indeed is the landing to the Grandpa portage. So back to the false portage we go for our packs, where we lay a few sticks in an “X” shape to tell other paddlers that this isn’t the landing.

At last, we are on what we expect to be our final portage of the day. True to form, our first day of travel in the wilderness has provided more adventure and challenge than either of us expected, and we are eager to reach that proverbial “warm, dry place” where we can lay our heads and call home for a few days. The challenge of walking on the boulder field at the beginning of this portage can’t be overstated…this is a rough one. And then it starts climbing! There are three solid climbs on the way to Grandpa, with a long muddy traverse somewhere in the middle for good measure. We both shed a couple layers along the way but otherwise handle it pretty well. Re-configuring our packs last night proves to be a good decision, because Andrew is able to carry a lighter pack with each trip, while I carry the canoe and the heavier pack. Great! [paragraph break] At long last, the glimmering waters of Grandpa are seen through the trees. I reach the landing first, and my relief is quickly followed by disappointment as I look across to the “good” campsite on the lake and see a hammock billowing in the wind! Andrew reaches the landing shortly thereafter and I immediately break the news to him, but also say that maybe the site will be open by the time we bring the second load across. If not, the other site on the lake isn’t highly reviewed, but my research indicates it should still work for us, even though it isn’t our first choice. For the first ten minutes of our empty-handed walk back to Roy, and the first time all week, we are both completely silent. The disappointment in the air is palpable, another “low” in this challenging day of highs and lows. When I finally break the silence, I have no choice but to be as encouraging as I can, to reinforce to Andrew that this is a chance we took, and that this is all just a part of the adventure. There is still plenty of daylight left in the day to find an alternative site on Saganaga or Sea Gull if we need to. For now, all we can do is hope for the best and finish the portage in front of us. [paragraph break] Once we finish the portage and see the hammock is still set up on the good site, I say a quick prayer asking for God’s favor that the other site on the lake be open and suitable for our needs, then we paddle along the northern shore toward the site. While every Boundary Waters travel day is filled with challenge and adventure, there’s no way to adequately express the high drama of paddling for the last campsite on your chosen destination lake of the day in hopes that it’s open. Again, the tension hangs in the air even as Andrew marvels at the beauty of the clear water and meandering shorelines of Grandpa Lake. We round a point and the landing of the campsite comes into view…and the site is open! I land the canoe and Andrew scrambles up the steep landing into the site to scout it out, and quickly says “It should work!” He sounds so sure of it, I can hardly believe it, so I step out to see for myself, and am very pleasantly surprised! There’s some nice open space in here with plenty of suitable hammock trees and a fire grate with a somewhat obstructed lake view. The site backs up to a bog and faces east, meaning there isn’t much wind to keep the mosquitoes down that hang around in the bog, but I am certain that it will work well for us! [paragraph break] The rain suddenly starts again as we are unloading, but in spite of this, I declare that the first order of business is setting up our camp chairs and enjoying a lukewarm thermos lunch. We chuckle at our plight as the rain comes down as hard as it has all day. Properly fueled again, we dive into setting up our hammock tarps, then the CCS tarp over the fire grate as the rain ends. This is my first time setting up the CCS tarp using the improvements we made to it this fall, and I’m floored that it goes up very quickly and easily! Time and effort extremely well spent! The hammocks go up quickly, we fill up the gravity water filter, and then head out to saw some firewood across the bay. After all of this is complete, it’s nearing 6 pm, and I know we should get supper going, but I can’t resist taking the chance to see if we can catch a northern worthy of the frying pan for tonight’s supper. [paragraph break] We head out with Andrew trolling the large size “glass ghost” Rapala X-Rap and I troll the same lure in a perch color, the same thing that worked well for me last year. Soon Andrew has a fish on, and then another! I get antsy and switch to a color that more closely resembles his, a “parrot” X-Rap from Buck’s with blue, silver, and orange, and hope for the best as we troll back toward the campsite in fair weather. Just as Andrew reels in his lure for the night to prepare for the landing, I hook into a northern which we land and deem worthy of the frying pan. Alright! [paragraph break] Back at camp, it takes forever to organize the kitchen for supper, and I find myself cleaning the fish under the light of my headlamp at 10 pm. I am completely exhausted, but the anticipation of this exact meal by the fire with my son has spurred me on for an entire year, and tonight we are going to reach the finish line! The pike fries up wonderfully, and we are both amazed at how incredible this first day was! By the time we wash dishes, tidy up, tie the bear bags to a tree, and clean up for bed, it is past midnight. We squeezed every drop of adventure out of this day!

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 180 | Paddle distance: 7.5 miles | Fish caught: 6 smallmouth, 3 pike | Lakes: Saganaga, Roy, Grandpa

Day 4: Fishing on Grandpa [paragraph break] Monday, June 9th, 2025 [paragraph break] I sleep well through the night, but wake up shortly after 6:30 on my own and decide to get to work tidying up camp some more. Even though we stayed up late last night, various parts of camp were still in a state of disarray, and it feels great to truly settle into our new home in the woods, with everything in a place that makes sense. Today is expected to be a bit stormy, but the morning is a beautiful one. I set up the weather radio and again have zero luck getting any reception. With some time on my hands to fiddle with it and Andrew still asleep, I eventually find a solution by setting the metal lid for the fry-bake pan on top of the extended antenna. It’s pretty tricky to balance, but the effort is worth it in order to hear the forecast. [paragraph break] After about 90 minutes of piddling around, Andrew wakes up and says he slept great, which is a relief. I love these hammocks, but getting one set up in a way that works well for a young adult is something I worried a lot about! Last night’s lengthy campfire session burnt up a lot of wood, so after breakfast, we set out to bolster our firewood supply. We had some trouble getting the smaller sticks to catch fire last night since they were moist and not splittable, so today we err on the side of sawing some thicker logs that will require some time and effort to split, but should be much easier to keep going. We return and split just enough to have a fire tonight and leave the rest for later, because it’s time to get out and fish!

We wind around a long shoreline we have named “Broadway” with X-Raps a bit and then Andrew switches to a green pumpkin “Fat Albert” plastic grub. Both of us caught a couple fish on these lures, but the action isn’t too lively and the sizes aren’t anything noteworthy. At some point during the week, we coined the term “Grandpa special” for what seems to be the average fish caught in this lake: A healthy 21” northern. The fish we caught during this session were no larger than a Grandpa special. [paragraph break] Even for these smaller fish, both of us have really taken a shine to manning the net to help the other person land their catch. There’s just enough skill to it to be challenging, especially for the pike, and it lends a surprisingly strong sense of teamwork to each and every catch. Unfortunately, the joy of using the net comes along with the price of dealing with a tangle or two. On one of these fish, Andrew’s X-Rap trebles become tangled beyond hope in the net well after we release the pike. After over ten minutes of fiddling with it and more curse words than I care to admit, we decide to land at the now-vacant other campsite on the lake to sit down on land and fix the issue. Also, I wanted to show Andrew this site that I loved so much last year because exploring campsites is always fun. We climb up to the top of the bluff above the site and snap a photo before I sit down by the fire grate to tackle this mother of all tangles. I still struggle mightily for over 20 minutes, but at long last the tangle is unsnarled. Andrew is a bit glum after seeing the campsite, because he sees why it is the preferred site on the lake with its expansive view, breezy point that keeps the bugs down, picturesque bluff above the latrine, and no mosquito-infested bog behind it. Even so, he and I both agree that our present site with the tarps hung is a wonderful place to call home for a few days and that we don’t want to pack up and move now! [paragraph break] After trolling another shoreline or two, the skies darken and we decide to head back to camp for lunch and a cozy campfire beneath the tarp. The rain never materializes, but it still is so comforting to relax in the camp chairs a bit by the fire after a morning in the canoe. After lunch, I split the remainder of the firewood, and we realize that if we are going to do any more fishing today, we need to quit sitting around camp and go for it. [paragraph break] By the time we get our lures tied on and the dishes cleaned up, the skies are the most threatening they’ve looked all day. But by this point we make what we both figure is a foolish decision to head out anyway, keeping our rain gear handy in the event of a downpour. Somehow, the rain never materializes, and aside from a few stray sprinkles, amounts to nothing. Neither does the fishing, as we return to camp, having caught zero fish tonight. Before we land, we make a quick pass in front of our campsite to scout the depth of the water just in front of the 5 foot high rock in front of the fire grate. We test the depth with our paddles and are unable to touch bottom, so this should be a great spot for jumping into the lake when the moment strikes us! [paragraph break] In spite of the slower fishing action today, both of us are in high spirits and spend a long time sitting in front of the fire. I always have my National Geographic Boundary Waters maps handy in camp for scheming and dreaming, and now that he’s finally in this place, Andrew has a lot of questions about various lakes and my experiences from past trips. I share many stories from the first trip I took up here with my friend Shawn, how neither of us really knew what to expect and the inevitable mistakes we made on that trip that now make such great stories. This uninterrupted time in the wilderness, just the two of us, is so very special. We manage to get to bed much earlier tonight at 10 P.M. and have grand plans of an early wake up for a trip to Roy tomorrow to have another try at catching some smallmouth bass.

Stats—> Portages: 0 | Fish caught: 4 pike | Lake: Grandpa

Day 5: Fishing on Roy, Grandpa [paragraph break] Tuesday, June 10th, 2025 [paragraph break] I rise before 6 and am eager to get on the water for our journey to Roy today. Even though it’s just one portage, it’s not an easy one, and I know from experience how quickly time flies on day trips when you will be retracing your journey back to camp at the end of the day. I feel very confident that we will have solid fishing success today, a stark contrast to how I felt just a couple days ago when we arrived. The glass-calm waters on the lake are begging to be paddled and fished, and I am antsy to get going. But I temper my enthusiasm and decide to get everything 100% ready to push off from the landing for our trip and to let Andrew catch up on his rest. [paragraph break] This takes a surprisingly long time. Soon it’s after 7 AM and Andrew is still sound asleep in his hammock. We’ve both slept perfectly through this trip so far, ending any trepidations I had about starting Andrew off from the very beginning in his own hammock setup. Though I know he needs as much rest as possible, I also know he wants to get plenty of fishing in this morning, so I finally wake him up. We eat our breakfast and then push off for the portage to Roy. [paragraph break] We reach the portage landing and unload. The landing on this end isn’t bad, but it isn’t great either. I’m still very eager to get rolling in hopes of fishing some topwater on Roy in the fleeting calm of the morning, and I make a mighty upward heave of the canoe while I’m on uneven footing in the water. Bad idea. The canoe never reaches my shoulders, my feet slip beneath me, and I come crashing down on my back on a boulder in one loud swearing pile of aging humanity, with what feels like the weight of the world upon me to add insult to injury. By some miracle I’m not injured, though I do need a moment or two to lay on the rocks and contemplate the pain and my own foolhardiness. While I’ve never been an ultralight camper, it’s amazing how much heavier the load is on my shoulders for this tandem fishing-focused trip compared to my past solo trips. I’ve gone from a solo canoe to large tandem, with a heavier layup. We’re carrying three fishing poles plus a net and way more fishing tackle, not just one pole. Three paddles instead of two. Two thwart bags full of snacks. It all adds up to a lot more weight on my shoulders this year (literally and figuratively)! The portage itself goes smoothly, aided by cooler temperatures and occasional drizzle this morning. [paragraph break] The whole portage is a tough wake up call, seeming much tougher than our initial portage in to Grandpa two days ago. My shoulders have been getting painfully sore during the longer portages, so I keep adjusting the yoke pads narrower, but it doesn’t seem to help (I later find when I’m perusing this site after my trip that I really should set the pads out as wide as possible, on the bony parts of my shoulders). While it’s not too hot, it’s quite humid, especially in the thick woods this morning. But nothing can temper our enthusiasm for catching a mess of smallmouth today! [paragraph break] By the time we arrive at Roy, the wind has picked up to a steady breeze that is putting a light chop on the water. In addition, we are peppered with intermittent rain showers from solidly overcast skies. Overall, these are less than ideal conditions for fishing topwater lures, but nonetheless, we give it a go along the southern shoreline, where we are briefly accompanied by a pair of otters. Andrew fishes with with a Berkley Choppo, and I with a Jitterbug. Andrew gets a few semi-interested strikes, but nothing that results in a catch. Even still, we are encouraged just to get some topwater action on this day. [paragraph break] We take a more conventional approach and switch lures, Andrew to a Mepps Black Fury, and I to a smaller black/gold Husky Jerk. Nothing doing on the Mepps for Andrew, but I do pick up a couple smaller fish trolling along the east bank on the Rapala. I briefly switch to the Mepps “Comet” inline spinner with a twister tail that was successful for Andrew in Tenor Lake, but get zero interest. The slower bite is offset by enjoying a nearby pair of loons as well as a high flying bald eagle. After one flyover, we see the eagle return on a much lower trajectory, then dive bomb the loons! The loons somehow thwart the attack, and the eagle never returns for another try. Another wildlife encounter I’ve never seen before! [paragraph break] For whatever reason, I feel like getting a little crazy and pick up a beautiful purple/silver Vibrax spinner that I bought on a whim but felt foolish when I did so (I’ve never fished with anything purple). But why not today? While not red hot, it’s the most successful lure of the morning, and I do pick up one nice keeper bass. It’s enough to convince Andrew to tie on a sparkly blue/white Vibrax, and he had some bites but not nearly as many as I was getting. [paragraph break] We find a spot on the northeast corner of the island at the north end of the lake and take a lunch break. By the time we finish our meal, it’s about 1:30, and I tell Andrew we have 90 minutes to “close the deal” with at least one keeper fish in order to have a fish fry tonight. I also say aloud that I doubt our chances, but that we won’t know until we try. [paragraph break] The sun is out now and the day has warmed nicely, which I believe leads to me getting steady action on the Vibrax. Andrew switches to a blue undressed version of the same lure, and joins the party. We continue to troll the east bank and wonder of wonders, manage to pick up two eater-size smallmouth on the purple Vibrax. What a feeling, knowing we will eat well tonight! We troll back to the portage to Grandpa and I want to catch just one more fish of any size before calling it a day. About 10 yards from the portage landing I reel in and discover the tiniest bass of the trip is on my line, further entertaining us both.

Northstar Canoe CEO Bear Paulsen says the thing that makes canoeing truly special is that it’s a shared experience, hence their company slogan “Share Wonder.” On this day especially, it feels like Andrew and I are really starting to hit our stride as a canoeing duo. When not catching fish, each of us truly enjoys the challenge of netting the catch for the other. When working the shorelines, the commands of “Dixon left/right” (c-stroke from the bow while I back paddle from the stern) and “Double C” are born so we can quickly steer the canoe toward the shoreline of our choosing.

After a few photos capturing our elation, I teach Andrew how clean the fish on the shoreline and ziploc the filets for our portage back into Grandpa. This portage is never easy, but we both feel lighter on our feet tonight as we look forward to our fish dinner. Even though it’s just after 5 pm when we reach the landing on Grandpa and Andrew is especially eager to get back to camp for a fire, food, and dry feet, I convince him to at least do a little trolling on the way back to camp. I tie on the glass ghost perch X-Rap for a conventional approach, so Andrew decides to go wild and tie on a big #3 Firetiger/Perch Syclops spoon. I’ve never had any luck whatsoever on any of my Syclops lures, so much so that I almost didn’t bring them along. I tell Andrew that while this day has already been wonderful, if he catches a fish on the Syclops, I’ll be jumping in the lake tonight! Sure enough, after a few missed strikes, he does it! It’s a Grandpa special that we release, and he and I may have a new favorite lure. [paragraph break] We make our way back to camp, bathed in the golden glow of the lingering evening twilight, guffawing like a couple seasoned voyageurs as we re-live the defining moments of this incredible day. Catching the smallies as the clock ran out on us. Seeing the eagle attack the loons. Watching the otters swim. Nearly busting my back on a rock. Catching a pike on what to this point was thought to be a hopelessly large and obnoxious lure. [paragraph break] Back at camp, we quickly unload and organize, then start a fire. True to my word and the high spirits that rule the day, we strip down for our first leap off of the large boulder in front of our campsite. While we don’t stay in the water long, the water temp is far more bearable than what I’ve experienced during my past trips in May! We take three more jumps, trying cannonballs and distance leaps, never once touching bottom. While the other site on the lake is pretty nice, it doesn’t have a jump rock like this! I’ve always wanted to stay at a site with a nice jump rock, especially with my kids, but I didn’t expect to have one on this trip! [paragraph break] The rest of the night is passed fishing off the jumping rock, enjoying the fish, some tomato soup, cheez-its with fried summer sausage and melted cheese from the fry bake skillet, and dessert. While we have designs on another early morning departure for more fishing on Roy, neither of us want to stop basking in the glow of this fire, under these stars, after this perfect Boundary Waters day. This is the type of day I drew up in my mind when I planned this trip. It was a day of adventure, challenge, success, relaxation, and joy. We retire to the hammocks just before midnight, eager for the adventures tomorrow holds.

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 260 | Fish caught: 18 smallmouth, 4 pike | Lakes: Grandpa, Roy

Day 6: Fishing on Roy, Grandpa [paragraph break] Wednesday, June 11th, 2025 [paragraph break] After yesterday’s epic day, I refuse to set a wake up alarm. After all, how could we possibly top yesterday? Even still, I rise around 6:30 and prepare for our departure from camp. We burnt up a lot of firewood last night, so we will need to gather more before we depart. We eat breakfast and head out to a nearby bay, where deep in the woods Andrew finds a downed jack pine that is perfectly seasoned. The worst part? It’s gigantic, and will require lots of work to saw and split into usable firewood. The best part? It’s gigantic, and will provide plenty of firewood for the rest of the week without requiring us to keep tromping around in the brush looking for more! I love sawing and splitting wood, and personally look forward to the challenge. One of the extra items I purchased for Andrew was another bow saw so he could join in the wood gathering chores. This is another purchase I’m very glad I made, because he gets to be included, learn firsthand about how to find and harvest quality firewood in the wilderness, and lessen my workload. After about 90 minutes, we have a solid crop of logs ready for splitting back at camp. But the splitting itself will have to wait, because we need to get to Roy for some fishing!

After dropping the logs off at camp, Andrew takes a latrine break and I take a brief nap break in the canoe at the landing. The early morning wake up combined with the long wood hogging session has me feeling weary, and we still have the whole day ahead of us! we hustle away to the Roy portage with the goal of catching smallmouth on top water lures on this gorgeous, mostly calm morning. While I don’t have any mishaps heaving the canoe onto my shoulders today, I am still taken aback by how exhausted I feel about halfway through the portage, so much so that I put the canoe down to take a short break, something I’ve rarely ever done. I think staying up too late last night plus a strenuous morning sawing firewood knocked me down a peg or two. Fortunately, Andrew does great carrying our day pack and soon we again reach our goal of Roy Lake, just in time for the late-morning winds to pick up, similar to yesterday. [paragraph break] Andrew throws the bluegill colored Choppo, while I try the small baby loon Whopper Plopper. Even in the wind, we are more successful than yesterday. We paddle the shore then periodically drop the anchor to cast a bit before moving on to another spot on the shore. Our best luck is found working the shoreline around the island in the northern part of the lake, and the Choppo generates more strikes than the Whopper Plopper in any size. Aside from one borderline fish which I choose to let go, we don’t catch many eating-sized fish, but nonetheless are having a blast. I’ve fished many times with Andrew, but never with steady top water action like this. On one pass around the island, I see a loon glide right underneath the canoe! [paragraph break] We take another short lunch break on the island to eat some underwhelming dehydrated meals and to contemplate our smallmouth ambush for the afternoon. After the lackluster lunch, neither of us are remotely excited to eat a dehydrated meal tonight. And the smallmouth are just easier to clean than the pike. With the pressure on, Andrew elects to try a new approach, tying on a soft plastic on a jig head. Considering the success yesterday, I tie on the purple Vibrax. We also decide to try the west shoreline of the lake since we haven’t done so yet. I get a bite or two, but no fish, and Andrew gets a snag or two and no bites. He quickly dials up another Z-man plastic Ned rig in coppertreuse with a gold blade, and immiediately picks up three fish. That’s all the convincing I need to tie on a Ned rig of my own in green pumpkin orange with a gold blade, and from that point, the bite was ON! [paragraph break] The afternoon winds have really picked up, meaning lots more paddling commands of “Dixon left/right” from the bow, but nothing can dampen our enthusiasm now. I lost multiple smaller fish due to using a barbless jig head, so I switched to a barbed jig head. After this experience, while in the BWCA, I still plan to crimp the barbs on all treble hooks because of how much trouble they can cause, but expect to fish a barbed hook on smaller single hooks to avoid losing fish. Also, in all the wind, we discover that dropping the anchor when a fish is on prevents getting blown all over the lake. Between the fast action, paddling in the wind, reeling in, dropping the anchor, and manning the net for each other, he and I are in constant motion, working as a team. Each fish we catch feels like we both caught it. Sometimes canoe fishing just feels like a lot more work than fishing from the shore. But when it’s all clicking and you get to work as a team like this, running and gunning up and down the lake, we can’t imagine a more fun way to fish. [paragraph break] While most of the fish are smaller, I manage to bring in a keeper near the southeast point of the lake. With time again ticking down, could we catch another and save supper tonight? We make a couple more passes down the shoreline, and Andrew catches the nicest fish of the day to clinch our fish fry! Both he and I feel as elated as watching a buzzer beater basketball victory as I net the smallmouth, and we both hoot and pump our fists in victory! What a feeling!

Andrew calls it quits on that last fish while we paddle back to shore, and I keep trolling. My final fish of the day is a beautiful 6” bass that brings my smallmouth total catch for the trip to 30. I clean the fish while Andrew readies the packs for our portage. We again have a smooth and happy portage back to Grandpa, and again, even though we are both tired, I tell Andrew that I can’t help but troll a bit on Grandpa since we are out here with the fishing gear. [paragraph break] Andrew again ties on the Firetiger Syclops and we decide to try the northwest bay of Grandpa for the first time. Andrew quickly caught one, then lost the lure, I think due a problem with his knot rather than getting bit off. Unfortunately this became a common refrain in the closing days of our trip that caused him a lot of frustration. But fortunately, we packed in plenty of tackle, so he was able to switch to an orange/black Syclops 3. After doing so well on the Firetiger, he wasn’t very optimistic, but that didn’t last long because he began positively slaying fish while trolling the north shore. I had a tough time fishing at all myself, because he couldn’t be stopped! [paragraph break] He quickly caught a 26” chunky pike that was the longest and heaviest of the trip. I put him on the stringer and then he caught a 25” pike that I also put on the stringer to supplement our meal of smallmouth tonight. Then he badly gill hooked a 22” “Grandpa special” that I was unable to save. That fish was chosen for the fry pan, and after a few photos, we set the other two free to grow another year. Both he and I felt good about doing so. Especially his big chunky pike was just too wonderful to kill. I’ve since learned that we should avoid holding these fish vertically for photos for their health, but I’m proud to report that we did not do so for long before releasing the fish which both quickly swam away.

I have an easier time filleting this pike, so maybe I’m learning how to better do it. I also spend 30-40 minutes splitting some of those gorgeous thick logs for our fire tonight. I’m always amazed at how splitting wood makes my back and shoulders feel especially tight. But that makes jumping off our rock at camp that night feel even more therapeutic. We again jump four times in celebration of yet another day that surpassed all expectations.

[paragraph break] Always remember there is nothing worth sharing [paragraph break] Like the love that let us share our name. [paragraph break] ~The Avett Brothers, “Murder in the City” [paragraph break] The fish feast with dessert, fried summer sausage and cheese is again the perfect ending to a perfect day. We have a side by side taste test and conclude that we slightly prefer smallmouth bass to pike, though both are delicious. But as we gaze into the embers with the beauty of the wilderness surrounding us, Andrew provides an unexpected surprise. “Dad,” he says, “This day has been the best yet from start to finish.” Not surprised by this, I tell him that while each day just keeps getting better, that won’t go on forever, but nonetheless, every wilderness day out here is very, very special. “You know Dad, I love catching fish and all the things that happened today have been amazing, but I think my favorite part of each day is this part. Just sitting here by the fire talking with you.” I don’t remember what I even said in response, though I know I was speechless for a bit. Likely I told him how much I loved him and how I have believed deeply since coming here that the wilderness, and this place in particular, was seemingly designed by the hand of God particularly for fathers and sons to spend time together, seeking a deeper relationship with each other. [paragraph break] My entire mission this year has been to craft the best possible wilderness fishing/canoeing/camping experience for Andrew. For him to be comfortable, to have fishing success, to be challenged, but for him to fall in love with Boundary Waters canoeing. While I of course went through all this work with the overarching goal of forging a strong relationship with him at a very formative time in his life, I never anticipated that he would realize his own joy at strengthening his relationship with me. This moment, on this day, is the peak of the peak, the tip of the spear, the single bright pinpoint of light where I know that every moment of preparation, expense, and sacrifice was worth it. That my steadfast belief in how this trip would help me grow closer to Andrew was not a mirage or a flight of fancy. [paragraph break] There is something spiritual about these campfires in the wilderness, about frying and eating the fish together over these campfires, as so many fellow travelers across the ages have done. These fires are where it at last becomes clear to us what all the challenges and adventures of the day were for. The wood that began the day as a dead down tree in a forgotten place is found, sawed, split, then burnt, providing comfort. The fish that was unseen in the lake as the day began is searched for, caught, cleaned, then cooked over that fire and consumed, providing nourishment. Both the wood and the fish began as the humblest of organisms many years before we came to be here. But at this very moment, the tree that began as a humble seed and the fish that began as a humble egg are simultaneously assumed into our human nature, and we humans are humbled by these unspeakably beautiful, undeserved gifts. In this act, more so than any other single act, we find answers to what brought us to this place and this moment. [paragraph break] Contemplating this great mystery, how we feel it was destiny to share this moment together in this time and place, is an instinct that was apparently embedded in mankind eons ago. While no one would describe this contemplation in the same way, nearly all would agree that there are few better places for meaningful, unhurried conversation, than a low, crackling campfire. What truly gets done around a campfire? Not much really. But how have these moments of close connection around such fires changed the course of relationships, families, of the entire course of history? How many men, who began a trip perhaps as mere acquaintances, have shared a campfire with their fellow man and known that from that point on they would always be connected to one another? How many men have gazed into a campfire while traveling alone, remembering their close friends and family that have passed on? How many times have the same men pondered how they can foster deeper connection with their family and friends of the present once they return to civilization? What is the real impact of those moments? I would argue that these moments have changed the world for the better in ways we cannot imagine. [paragraph break] When I look at this moment more closely, I have even more questions, and much more serious ones at that. How many more campfire nights do I have left to spend with Andrew in my life? How many more do I have left with him before he becomes a young man, and I an old man? How can I find these moments of connection with all of my kids, as much as possible, while there’s still time? [paragraph break] Our plan for tomorrow is to slow down a bit and just fish on Grandpa, so we both plan to SLEEP IN since we won’t be portaging over to Roy.

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 260 | Fish caught: 27 smallmouth, 8 pike | Lakes: Grandpa, Roy

Day 7: Fishing on Grandpa [paragraph break] Thursday, June 12th, 2025 [paragraph break] Andrew and I both fulfill our goal of sleeping in a little this morning. After breakfast, we decide to put off sawing firewood until mid-day in order to take advantage of the morning bite on the lake. [paragraph break] With cooler, wetter weather on tap for tomorrow, this is likely the best fishing day we have left, so we tie on our favorites: Andrew the large orange Syclops, and I the medium orange Syclops. Unfortunately, Andrew has another knot failure and the lure is lost early in our fishing day. I offer to let him use my Syclops, but he refuses and takes this as a chance to try some of the other lures we brought. I also experiment with using a steel leader this morning, and have success with it, but I still seem to get more bites when using my standard fluorocarbon leader instead. I also realize that the long, skinny design of the Syclops virtually always keeps the sharp teeth of the pike well away from the line, preventing bite-offs. [paragraph break] While I’m getting plenty of bites this morning, Andrew is mostly striking out up front today. Even though I know he’s frustrated, he’s a good sport and truly seems to enjoy netting pike when I’m able to catch one. At one point, he decides to try a red/gold ¾ oz. Little Cleo, but has no luck. The Little Cleo is another one of those lures that has a loyal following as an excellent fishing lure, but I’ve never had any luck with it whatsoever. However, with the orange lures being hot this week, I tell him that perhaps the orange/silver Little Cleo will be the ticket to get him back to catching some fish. He’s willing to try just about anything at this point, so he ties it on and He drops it about a foot into the water to see the action before casting it out…and then… [paragraph break] From the stern, I see Andrew’s pole violently bend toward the water while he watches the lure. An instant later, he exclaims “Ooo!” Just as suddenly, the pole straightens and Andrew looks back at me with a shocked face, saying, “He took it and now he’s gone!” Apparently the Little Cleo is the latest victim of a knot failure, but I can’t do anything about it now except laugh at what I just witnessed. Andrew tells me that as he dropped the lure into the water to watch it, he thought to himself “Man, a fish would have to be so stupid to bite this shiny piece of metal with a gigantic undressed treble hook hanging from it.” Right at that moment, a large pike emerges from the depths, looks at the lure for half a second, then calmly inhales it and swims away. It happens so quickly, Andrew hardly has time to react except for his stunned exclamation of “Ooo!” Rather than become sullen, Andrew is a great sport and joins me in reliving the moment and laughing while he finds yet another lure to tie on. I lower the anchor bag so he can tie on, and then only half-jokingly tell him that while he’s up there goofing around with another lure, I’m going to catch that same fish with my Syclops. On the second cast, I indeed do catch a very respectable northern. He measures 27”, the longest of the trip thus far, albeit not quite as fat as Andrew’s gorgeous 26” fish was last night. While the Little Cleo is nowhere to be found, we are both convinced it is the same fish, and really consider it a fish we both caught. We are more than happy to release this fish, as this ridiculous sequence of events leading up to the catch is more valuable to us than another fish dinner today. While I’ve always heard there are perch in this lake, I’ve never seen one. But while anchored on this shoreline, we do witness multiple large schools of small perch darting about.

After our days catching feisty smallmouth bass out of Roy, Andrew and I both kept saying that the smallmouth may be our favorite fish to catch, especially when considering the ease of cleaning them. But as we keep finding ourselves laughing about the temperament of the pike that appeared from nowhere to terrorize Andrew’s Little Cleo, we know for certain…while it may be the most maligned fish species of canoe country, Andrew and I love catching northern pike more than any other fish. [paragraph break] The bite starts to slow down with the warmth of the midday sun, and we begin to troll back to camp. We see a woman arrive at the portage landing from Roy, and she asks how the fishing has been. We pass on our intel from the week thus far, and tell her that the open site on the point is an excellent one. She and her husband have never been to this lake before, so I’m happy that they get to enjoy the airy site on the point tonight. [paragraph break] We drop off our fishing gear back at camp, have a leisurely lunch, and head to the big downed jack pine to harvest the last of the firewood for the week. We succeed in sawing up nearly all of the tree, which will provide more than enough firewood for us for the rest of our trip. [paragraph break] Maybe the wilds in our minds [paragraph break] Are the tides and deep rivers flowin’, [paragraph break] Feelin’ them real things, [paragraph break] They keep us around. [paragraph break] ~Joe H Henry, “Real Things” [paragraph break] I am always surprised by how much energy I spend in the Boundary Waters on the simple act of sawing and splitting firewood. But I am even more surprised by how much enjoyment I glean from doing so. The act of searching for, splitting, and burning the best firewood I can find on these trips has taught me as much about these trees or more than any book I’ve read. Likewise, if one wanted to learn everything there is to know about lake trout, a great place to start would be to talk to a lake trout fisherman…and then go fishing. The joy is not only in the doing, but in the learning that comes from the doing. In learning through experience, I feel ever more connected to this, my favorite place on earth. While I’m still a novice in terms of just about everything related to traveling through canoe country, Andrew is a neophyte. I can only blather on so many times about the satisfaction that comes from a pile of perfectly dry and split firewood that I harvested with my own hands before it gets boring. When on these short wood gathering missions, Andrew and I saw logs until we are covered in sweat and sawdust. But as we work alongside each other in the woods, my passion for these woods rubs off on him, bonding us closer together. [paragraph break] While fire has impacted virtually every single lake in the Boundary Waters at some point in time, Grandpa and Roy Lakes have a particularly interesting back story that is told by the forest surrounding them. In this area of the Boundary Waters, both the Cavity and Ham Lake fires of 2006 and 2007 had a huge effect on many lakes due to the amount of acreage they both covered. While shoreline surrounding Roy and Grandpa was spared from both of these fires, both lakes were almost completely within the burn zone of the Romance Lake fire in the mid-1970’s. Jack Pine, due to pine cones that open up to release their seeds in a fire (seeds that can withstand extraordinarily high temperatures), is able to use the “blank slate” of a burn area to its advantage. After the fireweed, blueberries, birch, and other brushy tree species make their mark, the Jack Pines seeded during the fire begin to tower above the burn. Since they all germinated at about the same time due to the stimulus of the fire, they are all nearly the same size. Similar to the numerous similar sized “Grandpa special” 21” northern pike, 50-70 foot tall ramrod-straight Jack Pines are a tradmark of Grandpa and Roy Lakes. We also found a stand or two of healthy birch trees on Grandpa. But as much as I love finding dry cedar wood for the campfire, they are extremely hard to come by on these lakes. My favorite Boundary Waters tree is the White Pine, and we only see one White Pine survivor of the fire during our entire week on Grandpa and Roy. All of that to say, as much as we enjoy sawing, splitting, and burning Jack Pine, I look forward to showing Andrew the joy freshly split, aromatic cedar on future trips!

The late afternoon is cool with light winds, and we head out for more fishing. [paragraph break] As we paddle by the campsite on the point, the couple camped there calls out to us and starts a conversation, sharing that this is the woman’s first Boundary Waters trip, and the man’s first trip since coming here with his dad for five years in the late 70’s (Considering the fire history discussed above, imagine what Grandpa Lake looked like then!). He says the park is still just as he remembered it back then. He and his wife have been camping on Red Rock fishing this week, and have had zero luck, aside from a smallmouth that she caught from the portage landing here on Grandpa. We share as much fishing intel as we can, while admitting that the bite has slowed down a bit for us today compared to earlier in the week. I briefly share some details of our trip, and it makes the man’s day to see another father taking his son into the wilderness for a week. It makes my day too! [paragraph break] This evening session turns out to be the slowest fishing of the week. It feels like a cool front has passed, because it’s about 7-8 degrees cooler tonight. I pass the quiet time on the water quietly singing a couple oldies songs that I don’t quite know the words to (“Reflections of My Life” by Marmalade and “You Are Everything” by The Stylistics), but I can tell Andrew is a bit worn down from being on the water fishing most of the day but not catching any fish. With the slow fishing, we even take the time to land the canoe to discover a large stand of birch in the forest and to fill my pockets with their bark that litters the forest floor here. I then tell him that he needs to fish with my orange Syclops and that we are going to do so until he catches something. It takes a fair amount of paddling, and we even explore a few bays of the lake that we haven’t tried before, but he does eventually catch a fish. We see our friends from the other campsite out fishing too, but never do hear if they succeeded in catching a fish. After our discussion, I told Andrew I probably should have just given them our sole remaining orange Syclops, but I didn’t think of it at the moment. [paragraph break] Andrew is more relieved than excited about the “Grandpa special” he caught, and after releasing him we head back to camp for a leisurely night by the fire. I split the remainder of the Jack Pine logs as Andrew preps for supper. Today is the first day of the trip that isn’t “Even better than yesterday!” Sensing the low energy, I turn on a TumbleHome podcast as we go about our camp chores, taking some time to carefully place a few more flat rocks in just the right places near the fire grate for our camp kitchen. Soon enough Andrew and I are both laughing about another round of the “Lurenament” hosted by Erik and Adam. No rock jumping tonight, just peaceful enjoyment of the lake and each other’s company by the fire, still laughing about the big pike that stole Andrew’s Little Cleo. I’m way behind on my journaling, so Andrew and I spend an hour taking notes on all the happenings of the past few days for this trip report. All too soon, darkness settles on the lake and we again retire to our hammocks vowing to sleep in tomorrow.

Stats—> Portages: 0 | Fish caught: 11 pike | Lakes: Grandpa

Day 8: Fishing on Grandpa [paragraph break] Friday, June 13th, 2025 [paragraph break] It is our last full day in the wilderness. With a high today of only 53 and east winds at 5-10 with gusts to 20 mph, we don’t have high fishing hopes, so the first order of business is letting Andrew sleep in as late as he wants…8 A.M. After breakfast, with nothing but time on our hands and low fishing expectations, I tell Andrew we are going to do something goofy this morning. All week long he’s been paddling from the bow. I haven’t sat in the bow seat of a canoe since I was his age. So, in the name of instruction, I told him that we were going to paddle a little bit in the shallow secluded bay near our campsite so both of us can gain a totally new perspective on canoeing! Right away, we are both surprised at how different the view feels when we change seats. The floor space open for legroom is also different, though as a taller guy I’m still quite comfortable in the bow. We push off from the landing and I tell him I’m just going to steadily paddle on one side so he can choose which side he wants to paddle on for steering. I give him free rein of where he wants to paddle in our little mucky bay and tell him I will respond to any paddling command he makes from the back. Right away he is laughing at how awkward he feels back there, while I overplay the part of a happy-go-lucky paddler without a care in the world, just loving the view and trusting Andrew to get us where we are supposed to go. Both of us are taken aback by how much fun this 10 minutes on the water was, just learning what it’s like to be the “other guy” in the boat. [paragraph break] Lookin’ back over my life [paragraph break] Spent the most of it tongue-tied [paragraph break] And I wish I’d had more time [paragraph break] Listenin’ to you speak your mind [paragraph break] ~Caamp “By and By” [paragraph break] We head out for our final morning of fishing, again with the Syclops and an old reliable X-Rap. We quickly pick up two pike and then the bite slows way down. For the greater part of this week, we have been very blessed with good fishing. Most of our interaction with each other while canoeing has been related to the fishing, with the exception of our paddle across the choppy water on Saganaga. In cool weather, well-rested and both thankful for all we’ve experienced this week, Andrew and I pass the morning in easy, comfortable discussions about anything and everything in our lives. Andrew shares many stories and thoughts from his past school year that I have never heard until now. I even share a story or two from my growing up days that I have never spoken to anyone about. [paragraph break] But mostly, I share with him how a trip just like this one has been a dream of mine for decades, and how that came to be. I grew up on a farm in central Kansas. I was fortunate to have access to plenty of places to fish where I grew up, and was mostly taught how to bass fish by my late Grandma “Boots”. Occasionally my dad would take me fishing in a pasture pond or even bring me along in the Grumman canoe to check bank lines he and his friends had set for flathead catfish in the river. Once when I was about 10 years old, my dad was shocked to find out he had purchased enough seed for the farm over the past year that he had earned enough “points” for a large reward: Either two brand new sets of Craftsman wrenches and sockets, or an outfitted Canadian fishing trip. Having never had a truly complete set of tools for the farm before, my father chose the wrenches…and he still uses them today! It was the right choice for our family, but I still remember how excited I was for a moment, thinking about the possibility of taking a big fishing trip with my dad. Fast forward a few years, and I continued to spend plenty of time in junior high and high school fishing with some of my best friends, or alone. As life got busy after college with building a career and a life of my own in the Denver area, I rarely had the time to do any fishing at all, especially with my old fishing spots now hundreds of miles away. But something changed one Fourth of July weekend, when I was assigned a last minute work trip near Bemidji, MN. All of the hotels in the area were sold out for the weekend. But somehow, my colleague and I found a rustic cabin on Black Duck Lake that we shared. During our down time, we trolled the lake using a small aluminum boat with a 10 hp pull start motor, trolling leeches along the weed beds. We caught and released multiple pike, gazed at the stars, drank cheap beer, and had the best work trip ever. I had never dreamed while growing up catching largemouth bass and catfish that someday I would catch northern pike, the mythical giant alligator fish of the north country. To say the least, I was hooked. Years after that, another co-worker happened to tell me about the Boundary Waters. That was when this trip fully took shape in my head, as the ultimate coming-of-age father-son backcountry fishing getaway. Over a decade later, and with countless sacrifices and learning along the way, that dream was finally a reality. [paragraph break] That led me to share with Andrew how blessed we truly are, much of it due to the sacrifices of my parents, as well as generations that came before. My grandpa also grew up on the farm, but during the 40’s, he was a gunner’s mate on a destroyer in the South Pacific during World War II, and had at least one very near miss with a kamikaze during the war. He returned home to discover that in addition to the pain he carried each day as a result of what he’d witnessed, the entire farm had been passed on to his older brother, leaving him to forge his own path. He managed to do so, raising three boys, but losing his first wife to cancer along the way. During a very trying time in the 80’s, he contemplated declaring bankruptcy and moving the family to St. Louis to be a truck driver. But he persisted, mainly because his middle son struggled in school and he worried about finding a good school system away from our small central Kansas community. Through great sacrifice and dogged determination, he succeeded at farming and was able to pass a legacy on to my father, who continues that tradition still today. Had my grandpa not made it through the war, given up on farming, or moved away, I wouldn’t be here today. Nor would my son. I never would have learned fishing from my grandma in the small pasture ponds of my youth…and who knows if I ever would have considered finding solace in a place like the Boundary Waters. By the support and sacrifice of my family, I made it through the lean years of my career after college, which led to my current career that affords me the time off to make a trip like this happen. I shared all this with Andrew to show him that his dream, my dream, and our very existence was truly built on the shoulders of those who sacrificed before us, who never knew the long-term effects of their sacrifice. They just did what they knew to be right. If we can be strong enough to follow their example, we can change the world…for generations. [paragraph break] We manage to eventually catch one more pike and make sure to snap a photo, but that’s all she wrote for today. Andrew has another knot failure with the Syclops at the tail end of our session, but it can be replaced. Three hours on the water, and three small fish to show for it. But as far as discussion goes, this was the best morning of fishing we had the entire trip. We get back to the site and have lunch until about 2:15, at which point it we finally rise from our chairs and come to grips with the reality that our trip is ending. We’ll be driving all the way home tomorrow, and we estimate our journey back to Voyageur will take about three hours, provided it goes smoothly. In order to get home before midnight, we’ll have to be paddling out well before sunrise.

We spend the afternoon organizing and packing, turning our cozy campsite into even cozier little bundles that will fit in the canoe tomorrow. We take down the tarp before supper, which is enjoyed in front of the most persistently smoky fire of the trip on the coldest night of the trip, due to the wind blowing directly into the site. At least the mosquitoes aren’t around! We break out the maps and I review with Andrew how to use the compass and map so he’s ready for tomorrow’s paddle. Then we review every single step of tomorrow’s route so we can execute the plan without a hitch. During supper, I again tell Andrew what a special week this was, but also say how much I enjoyed this morning, even though we didn’t have much fishing success. He barely remembers or never met any of the grandparents on my side of the family, so I share anecdotes about all of them. How my paternal grandpa always came to our athletic and music events, unless it was a strings concert, because he was openly not a fan of youth strings concerts. How my paternal grandmother taught me how to bake a pie and was the best gardener in town. How my maternal grandmother taught me how to fish, but more importantly how to enjoy life. And how my paternal grandfather, seemingly out of sheer orneriness, drove a mail route for the postal service well into his 80’s. More campfire connections made. [paragraph break] Our goal is to paddle out at 3:30 AM tomorrow, I set my alarm for 2:15, my earliest wake up yet in the Boundary Waters, Can we do it? We will soon find out. Before turning in, we take one last photo together from the landing. Even though it’s 7:50 PM and still very bright, we both sleep the deep, satisfying slumber familiar to all who give their day’s energy to the demands of the wilderness.

Stats—> Portages: 0 | Fish caught: 6 pike | Lakes: Grandpa

Day 9: Paddle Out [paragraph break] Saturday, June 14th, 2025 [paragraph break] The alarm blares, and the first sign that I’m returning to civilization is knowing that I must not ignore it, for there is too much to do and too many people counting on me to get it done, now. [paragraph break] Clothes on, headlamp on, and I begin the careful process of packing up my hammock while I allow Andrew another precious 15 minutes of sleep. While it’s not something I particularly look forward to, I don’t mind packing up in the dark too much, thanks to the many times I have done it on my solo trips. We haven’t had a sunrise paddle yet this week, and I look forward to it, because a) That will mean the packing is done! And b) Paddling glass calm water at sunrise is the most serene paddling a canoeist can experience. I wake up Andrew and find that we both slept soundly last night, which keeps our spirits high in spite of the inhumane hour. We purposefully but cautiously pack up, taking extra care not to forget anything important. [paragraph break] It takes us 95 minutes to be completely ready to launch from the landing at 4:05 AM. The birds are singing and first light is rapidly illuminating the sky as we enjoy a perfectly calm paddle across Grandpa Lake to the Sea Gull portage. We paddle in silent reverence, taking in the sounds of our paddles rhythmically pulsing through the water, the morning chorus of birds, and the distant howling of wolves. I savor every moment, knowing that whenever we see this lake next, we will be different people, changed by the circumstances that life will throw at us between now and then.

We easily find the portage and are quickly on our way. I tell Andrew that I think this portage is more beautiful than the portage to Roy, but also a bit longer. However, from my last trip, I remember the portage is mostly downhill to Sea Gull and much easier when going this direction. This all still holds true this morning, as the first load is quickly across and we are able to take a few moments to enjoy the walk back through the woods. Andrew shows me a tree that appears to have begun as two separate trees, but now is fused together as one. Also, he spies the shimmering waters of Gump Lake, so we take a short detour down to the shoreline for a closer look and a photo. My fishing data says that no fish inhabit Gump, and both he and I wonder how many canoes paddle in Gump Lake each year. And of course, we would love to troll an X-Rap and a Syclops in here to really find out if there aren’t fish here! Someday we will…but today is just not the day. Perhaps we can try a day trip to Gump the next time we visit Grandpa.

We make great time getting the second load across, the end of the difficult portages for this trip. Even though we base camped the whole trip, every single portage on this route is tough! As we paddle on to Sea Gull, I reminisce to Andrew about how relieved I was to see the natural cedar archway over the portage to Grandpa after a long, tough paddle on Sea Gull during last year’s wet and windy solo trip. He looks back and sees exactly what I mean. Most portage landings are either nondescript or difficult to find, but when you first lay eyes on this one, you just know it’s a gateway to someplace special. Both of us stay focused on the map, following along with the various bays as we look for the opening that leads to the Sea Gull River. I continue to reminisce with Andrew about the hair-raising paddle I had on Sea Gull just one year ago as I finished my solo trip. On that day, I could see the white caps uniformly rolling across Sea Gull from nearly a mile away, looking like windrows in a hay meadow, and knew I was in for a tough paddle. But today, this early morning is nothing but tranquil. We spy the inlet into the river and paddle through the riffle to the north. This gives the canoe just enough “boost” to feel fun, and Andrew enjoys it. Someday he and I will need to go run a beaver dam or two for some real fun! [paragraph break] We paddle up the river and things quickly begin to look familiar. Before long, we spy where we camped at Trail’s End Campground last week, and shortly thereafter, we reach the boat ramp. While I didn’t investigate the portage around the rapids in the river, I read multiple comments saying that this was the easiest way to make our final portage around the rapids back into the Sea Gull River. We walk up the ramp and portage the road to the other side of the campground easily enough, taking a couple photos along the way. Just a few minutes from Voyageur, we pass by a large cabin on a small island and a lady sitting out on the porch and we exchange a quiet wave with a lady drinking her coffee out on the porch as we paddle by. The docks along the river come into view, and we reach the landing at Voyageur just a few minutes later at 7:40 A.M. As we land, Andrew spies a giant smallmouth bass just below the dock. We spent just over 3.5 hours paddling and portaging this morning, and were thankful to have no navigational hiccups. We didn’t leave the campsite quite as early as we had hoped, and we also didn’t hurry, making sure to enjoy the scenery along the way. [paragraph break] Voyageur is bustling with activity this Saturday morning with fellow adventurers beginning their trips. Now comes the tough part: Transitioning from a canoe trip to a road trip. Andrew and I haul the gear up to the car, and I take my time securing the canoe and locating the gear we will need for the drive home, namely our snacks and thermos meals. After showers, we peruse the Voyageur gift shop making sure we don’t forget the perfect souvenir, then use the internet to download multiple podcasts for the drive back, especially the Tumblehome podcast where Andy at Tuscarora talks about that confounding portage into Roy! Every time I visit the park, I am surprised at how often I think of various episodes I’ve listened to over the years that relate to whatever situation I’m in. I mentioned plenty of episodes to Andrew while we were in the park, and now they will be a lot easier for him to relate to. All of this takes just over 90 minutes. [paragraph break] On the way back down the Gunflint Trail, we pass Round Lake Road and I tell Andrew we should drive into Tuscarora just so he can see it since I’ve talked about it so much. He asks if he will get to meet Andy so I say we can stop in and see if he’s there. We drive around admiring all the towering White Pines that inhabit the property before walking into the office. Andrew says “Maybe he will recognize you!” And I laugh and say “Surely not, I’m not here that often!” Sure enough, the office is quiet and Andy greets us as we enter, then immediately says “You’ve been here before, right?” I chuckle and say that I have, and we spend several minutes catching up with Andy on how the season has been so far regarding weather, fishing, and bugs. We browse the gift shop a bit and find a chartreuse Syclops to purchase, then we’re on our way again. [paragraph break] Once back on the trail, Andrew says “I haven’t eaten all morning, but I had no idea I was hungry until now!” He breaks out the breakfast for us and I turn on a Tumblehome podcast talking about two separate people who were lost in the Boundary Waters, and within seconds we are reaching for the maps from the pack to visualize where the stories take place. Like father, like son! Andrew finishes his breakfast and quickly falls asleep. We take a short stop in Grand Marais to take another photo on the other side of the Gunflint Trail sign, then drive under it and turn west onto highway 61, marking our unofficial re-entry into society. [paragraph break] We stop in Cloquet at the Wal-Mart for some apples, craving fresh produce after a week of dehydrated meals and fish. Andrew also picks up a large pre-made chicken Caesar salad. Both the apples and salad taste fantastic! Now fully awake, Andrew says “We have to listen to what Andy said about the portage into Roy.” We do, and sure enough, Andy perfectly details the marsh grasses at the very south end of Sag and the channel leading through them to the portage landing that bamboozled us. One can never do enough prep when taking portages in the park that aren’t used very often! I’ve listened to this exact podcast countless times, but not recently…I should have known! We both bust up laughing at how the info was all right there for us, and I disregarded it, sure I had it all figured out. [paragraph break] The rest of the drive is uneventful, albeit a long one that stretches well into the night. I miss my exit for gas in Des Moines and 40 minutes goes up in smoke as we wind through residential areas and a huge construction zone. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but somehow keep on rolling, and we pull into the driveway at 2:15 AM, exactly 24 hours removed from waking up in the wilderness on Grandpa Lake. We pile the gear up in the house, put the canoe in the garage, and call it a night. [paragraph break] The following days are filled with cleaning up the gear for storage and packing it away. But within a week, we already have the maps out, dreaming about our route for the next trip. Next June can’t come soon enough!

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 280 | Paddle distance: 3.5 miles | Lakes: Grandpa, Sea Gull, Sea Gull River

Lessons Learned and Final Stats [paragraph break] Gear notes: [paragraph break] Northstar Northwind 18 in Black Lite: This canoe is a joy to paddle with two people. When goofing off in our shallow mucky bay, Andrew and I rocked back and forth violently to test the stability, and had zero worries about capsizing, thanks to the outstanding secondary stability of this canoe. I look forward to making many memories in this canoe with my kids! My only concern is that it will be difficult to comfortably fit a third paddler on travel days when loaded. Soon enough we will test that out. When fishing, there’s adequate room for three and we’ve had four fishing at once which works but can get chaotic at times. [paragraph break] WarBonnet RidgeRunner hammock with Super Fly tarp: This was absolutely a hit. [paragraph break] DutchWare tarp hardware and poles for quick rigging: Switching to shock cord loops plus lengths of zing it on line winders with DutchWare ringworms eliminated so many headaches and tangles, making setup a breeze. I still need to mess around with setting the continuous ridgeline for the tarp, for some reason I had trouble adjusting the tarp horizontally between the trees even though I know I can. I also added DutchWare poles for the panel pulls on our tarps, which added an incredible amount of standing room space under the tarps. In the same vein, all the time and money invested in pre-rigging the CCS tarp for quick deployment was worth it. [paragraph break] Garmin Striker 4 with Nocqua battery: As noted above, this got left behind, and that was absolutely the right choice for us in this situation. I’ll still use this setup when fishing around home, but I’m still just learning how to use it. Less bulk and weight saved us a lot of headaches this time around. [paragraph break] YakAttack Omega Pro Track Mounted Rod Holder: I loved using this, until it fell in the lake. I bought a replacement as soon as we got home. Especially when paddling stern while the kids fish, it keeps the pole out of the way of my paddle stroke and makes it easier for me to see and react to strikes. I love the convenience and adjustability that the track mount offers, however, I’ve yet to find a great way to mount a piece of track directly to the canoe. So I’m still on the hunt for a simple, non-clunky rod holder that can securely mount to the gunwale. [paragraph break] An extra fishing pole, live bait: Zero luck with this. But as long as these trips are fishing focused, I’ll probably continue to bring along the extra pole. I know leeches are a nearly guaranteed to catch fish, but I’ve had zero success with them, and may be dropping them off the gear list. [paragraph break] FryBake Expedition pan: I hadn’t brought this on my solo trips, but frying fish and summer sausage/cheese/crackers was a breeze with this pan. Plenty of space, use it on the fire, scrape it out, and never worry about it. [paragraph break] Extra 6L bladder for the gravity water filter: I felt pretty silly when I bought this. But between our daily protein shakes, powdered limeade mix, and constantly boiling water to rehydrate meals, the increased capacity greatly reduced our trips out to the lake to scoop water for the filter. With the extra bladder, we had to complete this chore once per day, using around 10 liters of water each day. [paragraph break] Youngstown Mechanic Gloves: I bought these at work due to my hands getting chapped and sore on past trips. By the end our hands were still feeling fatigued, but we liked these gloves way more than I thought we would. They protected us from wayward hooks and pike teeth while fishing. We wore them paddling and portaging. We wore them when sawing and splitting wood. Must have. [paragraph break] Everything I bought for Andrew: Just the bare minimum (clothing and a sleep system) was a large investment in the future of these trips. Spending more on a map, compass, saw, and a good camp chair wasn’t easy, but kept Andrew engaged and comfortable the whole time while learning wilderness skills. Worth it. I managed to find a used wool flannel on eBay that saw plenty of use too. We even got a compliment on how we dressed alike which was funny. [paragraph break] Way more fishing tackle than ever before: We committed to a fishing-centric trip, and that required lots more weight in tackle. Several lures had success that we didn’t expect, so I was happy with what we brought. Before the next trip, we will re-evaluate and pare down a bit, but also reload to make sure we have extras of our favorites and to account for lost lures. [paragraph break] Snacks and food: Several of my dehydrated meals just weren’t that good. The shrimp and crab options in particular were weak. There’s way too much rice in most of the meals. I’m going to try to bring some taco-seasoned beef for a meal or two next year, it should be a versatile option to add. The breakfast meals and desserts are fantastic, no change needed there. Top suppers are: Chili, couscous with sausage and tomatoes, unstuffed peppers, and penne with meat sauce. Both fried fish and summer sausage/cheese in the skillet blow all of those out of the water. [paragraph break] Decisions: [paragraph break] Bringing Andrew: It was everything I hoped it would be. He handled everything so well. I loved my solo trips and hope to do more of them, but there’s nothing quite like sharing the wilderness I love with my son for the first time. We now regularly share how eager we are for our next trip together, and relive the memories of this unforgettable first trip. [paragraph break] Routing + a single base camp site for the week: Considering the weather and timing of the better fishing days, this was the right call. It was risky considering the limited campsites on Grandpa and not very convenient backup options. The portage into Roy provided plenty of challenge and good fishing. A week is plenty long for this trip, and yet I’d still like to explore more around Grandpa Lake. In particular, I look forward to paddling Gump Lake someday. With some willingness to get muddy and an adventurous spirit, one could even try reaching Diamond and Larry Lakes. Grandpa is guarded by LONG TOUGH portages and BIG water, so getting to smaller lakes with good fishing from here takes a lot of time and effort. One can fish on Sea Gull or Sag for a day, but I prefer the smaller lakes, especially with a young man in the bow. [paragraph break] Campsite: We could have moved to the larger site early in the week. But we grew to love the site we stayed in. The jump rock really helped with that. Aside from the bugs, which were pretty annoying at times, we enjoyed our time there. [paragraph break] Guided fishing: The action was a lot slower than we had hoped for on the day with fished with Steven. That said, we learned a lot, and the smallmouth we caught on this trip were the largest of the week by far. Namely, the simple practice of fishing the windward side of the lake almost exclusively, something I should have learned decades ago. Also, we came away from the trip less intimidated by how to catch fish. Most of what we did on this guided day was very simple and didn’t require much more than persistence and a willingness to keep looking for the fish. I probably won’t spring for this in the future but I am still glad we did, and I really enjoyed spending the day with Steven sharing our life stories and learning more about the area.

Final Stats: [paragraph break] Portages: 10 | Portage rods: 990 | Portage miles: 3.1 | Paddle distance: 11 miles [paragraph break] Fish caught: 105 | Species: 63 smallmouth, 42 pike | Andrew: 56 fish (33 SB, 23 NP) | Dad: 49 fish (30 SB, 19 NP) | By lake: Saganaga 13, Roy 51, Grandpa 34, Tenor 7 | Top lures: Syclops 24, X-Rap 18, Z-Man plastic 17, Vibrax 16, Live leech 13, Choppo/Whopper Plopper 11