Skipper & Portage Lakes - 49

My husband and I had planned routes leading to Frost Lake twice and failed to reach our destination. We’d heard that Frost was a magnificent little gem with sandy beaches, moose, and good fishing. Our first attempt came in 2010; we launched from Homer Lake with the intent to head up through Brule to Cherokee, through Frost and the Frost River, and exit through Sawbill, but we’d packed heavy and poorly and came up short of our goal. We tried again the next year, this time wiser and better packed; we planned to launch at Sawbill, head through Smoke, and loop up through Frost, but the weather didn’t cooperate. It rained and stormed almost the whole time we were out. In 2012, we set thoughts of Frost aside and headed to Ely instead, making the loop from Stuart River to Moose River South. [paragraph break] This year we decided to try to reach Frost once more, this time from the Gunflint Trail. We planned an7-8 day trip starting at Ham Lake, going through Frost and ending at Round Lake just a few tenths of a mile from our entry point. We arrived in Grand Marais after an eighteen hour drive from Ohio on June 24. First stop was lunch at the Fish Market on the south end of town for some delicious walleye for me and lake trout for the husband along with cheese curds to share. We spend the afternoon looking around the area before checking into the Best Western for the night. It was a nice place, but all in all, we prefer the Cliff Dwellers in Tofte. Dinner was Sven and Ollie’s Pizza. Awesome pizza and loved the Nut Brown ale.[paragraph break] June 25 we arrived at Tuscarora Outfitters where we would spend the night before heading out. Our bunkhouse was outfitted with three single person beds and one two-level bunk—a bed for each of us and plenty of room to organize and make last minute adjustments to the gear. We spent the day exploring the Gunflint area—a nice hike to Magnetic Rock and some great sandwiches at Trail’s End were the highlights.[paragraph break] Launch day began with homemade French toast served in the Tuscarora dining room. I was up first and headed over hoping for some hot coffee. I wasn’t disappointed. After I’d enjoyed a cup, my sleepy head husband appeared and joined me. The breakfast was awesome and the service was great. By 7:45, we had all the gear in the truck and headed to our entry point. With an early start, we thought we might even make it all the way to Frost in one day, but Karl Lake was our target destination.[paragraph break] By 11:30, we were finally ready to launch. How did we spend four hours fiddling around at the entry point? It’s a long story. Let’s just say I wasn’t happy and move ahead with the trip.[paragraph break] As we headed out, the skies were about to open up. Halfway across the tiny lake it began to pour down and we spent about twenty minutes at the portage standing in the rain in our ponchos waiting for the lightning storm to pass. We met a couple on the next portage who told us all the campsites on Ham were free and recommended the second one. We made a mad dash across Ham as more thunderstorms approached. We made it just as the lightning started to get really close. [paragraph break] Since Ham Lake isn’t even technically in the BWCA, we weren’t off to a great start and the prospects for reaching Frost and completing our planned route had dwindled already. But, the campsite was a good one with a nice, well-drained tent pad and some rocks on a windy point overlooking the lake that were perfect for drying wet gear. It also came equipped with a resident chipmunk and two loons that put on quite a show for us. I managed to lose a favorite Rooster Tail but didn’t catch anything.[paragraph break] Day two began dry enough but it was clear that rain was in the forecast again. We got off to another slow start, but were in the canoe again by 11:30. Three hours later the winds had kicked up and a storm was heading in, so we decided to take the campsite on Rib Lake. It was another nice campsite with good drainage, but it lacked the magnificent views of our camp on Ham. The storm passed quickly and I did a little casting from shore. I caught a four inch small mouth which my husband insisted on taking a picture of—to shame me, I suppose. [paragraph break] Day three proved too stormy for travel, so we spent a second night on Rib. [paragraph break] On day four we left our Rib campsite behind and headed onward. Surely, we would reach Frost Lake today. Not so much. We didn’t find the creek into Gordon and ended up much further down Long Island than we needed to be. The wind was at our backs, so the paddling was easy and the scenery was awesome, so we kept going long after we knew we’d missed our turn. At this point, it was early afternoon. Heading back to the Gordon portage wasn’t very appealing; the wind would be squarely in our faces and the paddling would be tough. So, Frost would have to wait another day. We found a beautiful island campsite near the portage to Muskeg and set up for the night. This time I managed to hook a decent size Northern, but failed to get it ashore. No matter. We had hash browns, bacon, and eggs to make up for the lack of fish.[paragraph break] On day five, we managed to get on the water fairly early by our standards. We paddled back the way we’d come and easily located the tiny creek that led to our portage into Gordon. The 140 rod portage from Gordon to Unload seemed longer than advertised, even though I can’t cite any aspect that was particularly challenging. A canoe carrying a scouting party for a larger group had over taken us and decided to try paddling through to Frost to avoid the remaining forty rod portage. They made it, but with considerable effort. The good news was Frost was unoccupied. Since we had gear, we decided just to take the portage. The forty rods again seemed longer than advertised, but not particularly hard otherwise. [paragraph break] We’d finally made it to Frost Lake and it proved worth the effort. The scouting party had claimed the east shore campsite with the sandy beach which worked well since we had our eyes on the northern most campsite. It also had a sandy beach and was close to an area that had to be ideal for moose. Although we had taken five days rather than two to get here, we decided we would spend at least two nights on Frost. The campsite was great—sandy beach, nice tent pad, plenty of firewood, and lots of wildlife. [paragraph break] Our second morning on Frost, day seven, began for me when my husband poked me in the ribs about 6:30 and quietly said, “Moose.” I sat up and looked out the front screen of our tent (aka moose blind) and there she was. A cow moose had walked up the shoreline and was standing in front of our site. I grabbed my camera and took some video as the moose pondered the tent. Apparently, it decided there was no threat and took time for a quick munch on some pine needles before walking slowly up into the woods behind our campsite. Soon after, the seagull that my husband thought he saw from across the lake appeared—except that it had transformed into a beautiful swan. I thought it was awfully big for a seagull, but it wasn’t until it was in front of the campsite that we got a good view of it. Our persistence had paid off in a close encounter with a moose. My husband’s lens fogged up so badly, though, that my video is the only good evidence. So much for his more expensive, fancy camera. (moose video at http://www.screencast.com/t/r6jyZQ0DijCY)[paragraph break] Day eight began early. Hoping our moose made a regular circuit, we were on watch, but had no luck. We packed up and headed off toward Bologna Lake, where we hoped to spend the next night. Taking stock of our remaining food, we found we were a little on the short side. Looking at the map and accounting for the “old people” factor, we decided it would take us at least three days, probably four days, and maybe even five days to reach our exit point. Better get moving. We’d heard and read a lot about the Frost River. It wasn’t going to be an easy sprint home. In retrospect, the leg from Frost to Bologna was the hardest. The beaver damns along this leg weren’t too bad. We mostly pushed or floated over them without getting out of the canoe. The portages, on the other hand, lived up to their reputations for being tough. [paragraph break] The campsite at Bologna Lake was open but isn’t much to talk about. It has the appearance of receiving little use and finding a level tent pad proved difficult, but it was a good way to break up the tough trip down Frost. It was also a little difficult to spot—maybe a little deeper into the cove than indicated. Since we were low on food, fishing suddenly became more important. It was already past five when we finished setting up camp, so we quickly hopped back into the canoe and looked for some good fishing spots. While I’m sure Bologna isn’t noted for its fishing, I was able to hook into a small Northern pretty quickly. There’s nothing better than freshly caught fish and it helped us stretch our dwindling food supply for another day. [paragraph break] The next morning (day nine), we packed up and headed back across the portage out of Bologna into Chase to resume our journey down the Frost River. The portages were as tough as advertised, but the beaver damns weren’t so bad. There were a lot of them and several that we had to do some pulling to get over, but none that required portaging around or unloading the canoe. This leg also had some rocky spots that created some little rapids that we managed to line the canoe through; we really enjoyed this section. I think the husband had the best of it since he remained in the canoe a lot of the time while I pulled us through. [paragraph break] We hoped to reach Mora that night, but ended up taking the site on Whipped Lake. While it might not be an ideal site much of the time, on this night, it was great. There was enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes at bay and we spend a pleasant evening there. It has a nice seating area in a little grove where we enjoyed a good rest after a long day of portaging. I thought I’d make a fire, but a storm started coming up, and we retreated to our tent for a dinner of peanut butter, bacon jerky, and banana chip tortillas. They were actually pretty good. I’d eat them again.[paragraph break] Having spent the night on Whipped, we had to reach Tuscarora today. We’d been out ten days and splitting the remaining food over two more days wasn’t appealing. Fortunately, the winds were cooperative. The breeze that had kept the mosquitoes away the night before had gotten stronger overnight rather than subsiding, but it was going to be at our backs most of the day. The wind was with us through Mora, Terry, Crooked, and Owl. We met a party of two canoes at one of the portages—I don’t remember which, but it is really rocky. We felt really sorry for them. The wind was straight into their faces with gusts of maybe 20-25 mph and they had to dig for every inch of progress. The wind caused a few problems for us, too, beating our Souris River Quetico 17 into the rocks as we struggled to get our packs out and onto the rocky shore line. We bought our canoe used last year from Canoe Country Outfitters in Ely. It’s proving to be a good canoe for us, but is definitely going to need a little TLC after this trip.[paragraph break] After portaging into Tuscarora Lake, we knew we were in good shape as long as a campsite was free. Since the wind was still at our backs, we decided to head to the far side of the lake closest to our next portage, a 424 rod behemoth that we had no intention of tackling that day. As it turns out, we really didn’t have a choice because the first two campsites we saw were occupied. About the time we reached the first campsite, the wind decided to shift and was now coming from our port side. Just about the time I decided to comment that there were at least no white caps yet, white caps appeared, but by then we were close enough to see the third campsite. We couldn’t tell if it was open yet, but we soon could relax and enjoy paddling in the swells. While the waves were getting pretty high, the water was warm and, should we capsize, we, our canoe, and our gear would wash up right at our intended campsite. We didn’t capsize and the campsite was open. We quickly set up camp as some thunder rolled in the distance. It looked like we were in for a good storm so we put up a couple of tarps to better protect the tent from the wind and rain. Once camp was set up, we used the camp stove to whip up some Thai Peanut Noodles and Chicken Ramen with freeze-dried egg (I call it BWCA egg drop) for our last dinner and stood on the shoreline admiring the lake. It kept threatening and we had a few sprinkles, but the storm mostly skirted around us. [paragraph break] We had only two short paddles and two long portages between us and our exit, so we took our time on the morning of day eleven--until a couple of rangers arrived. They told us there were strong storms expected in the afternoon, so we needed to kick into high gear and get going. We arrived at the start of the first portage in no time. 424 rods into Missing Link Lake. In addition to being long, this portage features some good climbs and a fair number of swampy areas. On this day, it would also feature a downpour and the resulting puddles. We were about half way across the portage when it began to rain. The rain actually was a welcome relief from the heat. As long as it didn’t storm, no problem, but it was clearly going to storm.[paragraph break] We encountered the rangers again at the end of the portage. Like us, they were racing to beat the weather. We saw them disappear around the point toward the portage on the other side of little Missing Link Lake and we, too, hustled to cross the little lake before the storm hit. We didn’t make it. We’d barely left the portage when the skies opened up, the winds kicked up, and the lightning began. Although small, Missing Link has three campsites, so we thought we might be able to pull up at one to wait out the storm. The first two were occupied and the storm was getting worse. Being on the water in a lightning storm is dangerous so we pulled up on a little point across from the final campsite (also occupied) to wait for the light show to subside. We spent about an hour waiting for several waves of storm to pass. Every time there was a break and we were about to set out, another streak of lightning would appear in the sky.[paragraph break] Finally, the storm subsided and we made it to the start of our final portage into Round Lake. It was a mud pit. Fortunately, we were already as wet and dirty as it is possible to get, so we slogged through with no thought of trying to dodge the puddles. I saw at least a half dozen frogs just sitting along the trail as I walked by. I also heard something large behind me at one point and turned expecting to see my husband. When he didn’t appear, I walked on, thinking the sound was made by some animal crossing the trail behind me. Then I heard the same sound and turned again, but didn’t see anything. I thought this was strange; I started to wonder if I was being stalked by something. I’d seen some large, wolf-looking tracks that I thought probably belonged to someone’s dog. About that time, I heard the same rustle and turned this time to see the haunches of a deer disappearing into the brush. I guess it had been following the trail behind me looking for somewhere to get off.[paragraph break] It was about five o’clock when we reached the dock at Tuscarora Outfitters. We were greeted by some of the crew who were out cleaning up debris and asked if we’d been caught in the storm. We told them about waiting it out on the shore and they told us about all the downed trees and branches they'd been cleaning up. One big tree nearby had been struck by lightning.[paragraph break]

Since it was already evening and we were wet and cold, we arranged to stay in a bunkhouse for the night rather than heading into Grand Marais to look for a hotel. (Note: This one was better suited for a troop of scouts. It had three bunks with three tiers each and two small benches along the wall. The bunks were too closely spaced to sit on comfortably, so the choices were stand or lay, but it was warm and dry and hot showers were just a short walk away.) We drove into Grand Marais for another round of pizza and Nut Brown ale.[paragraph break]

Our ten night, eleven day trip was over. We’d finally made it to Frost Lake.

Lakes Traveled:   Cross Bay Lake, Ham Lake, Rib Lake, Karl Lake, Long Island Lake, Gordon Lake, Frost Lake, Bologna Lake, Whipped Lake, Tuscarora Lake,

The area the portage is in is a beautiful little spot, and I stopped there for lunch. There's a nice sitting rock, and the northern side of the portage has a nice quiet little pond. Kind of a pretty spot, and there are a few campsites in this area, too.

I'm struck by the cliffs on Ottertrack as well. What a neat lake. As I check out the plaque dedicated to Benny Ambrose, I'm struck by the thought of how lucky Benny and Dorothy were to have been able to spend so many years living up here. Of course, I personally would have probably gone stir crazy, but if Amy were with, it would have been awesome! This and the paddle between their two lakes, of course, made me wonder whether old Benny and Dorothy ever got together to hang out. I mean, picture it, Benny calls Dorothy up on the short wave, "Hey Dot, you wanna hang tonight? We could look at the loons, maybe watch the northern lights…" And then Dorothy would have to go through that mental checklist: "Hmm, do my hair, find a clean outfit, I wonder if Benny has bathed this month, paddle three hours….to hang with Benny." "Yeah, you know Benny, I'm going to have to take a rain check on that one. I've got a broken paddle." Yes, the mind does tend to wander when one is paddling solo!

After Ottertrack comes the 80 rod Monument portage into Saganaga. My question as I headed toward it was why it was named the Monument portage. Then, I pulled up at the portage and spotted the huge pointy international boundary marker. I was thinking "why would they haul all that cement up here so they could name the portage after it?" The funny thing is, I did 125 miles of paddling and saw international boundary markers everywhere. Each one was about a foot high and about 2 inches square. There was probably one every mile or two. Then, I hit this portage, and in the course of a quarter mile, there are THREE gigantic boundary markers…one at each end and one in the middle. Further, on the Ottertrack side of the lake, there is a giant marker about 10 feet away from a little one. Huh? I'm guessing this must have been some type of Outward Bound project, or maybe an Eagle Scout project, or maybe some bored ranger picked up too much cement at Home Depot and didn't know where to get rid of it! The portage itself isn't TOO bad…it has a real steep section in the middle, and a dock at the Sag end, where you have to walk out thirty or forty feet to get your stuff into the water.

Monument Portage on the Ottertrack end (with the little market in case you can't find your way to the big marker)

Monument Portage middle hill (and marker in the distance)

Monument Portage on the Sag end, with the boardwalk

Heading into Sag, I've got some clouds moving up behind me and it gets overcast as I weave through the islands. I'm pleased to see that there isn't much wind, so there isn't a lot of chop on this big lake that has had me a bit worried for a while. I'm down to a t-shirt and shorts when the rain hits. I look behind me and see that there is sun behind the cloud, so I forego the rain gear, thinking it will be a short shower. Five minutes later it starts to POUR. I'm heading out onto the main lake and am shucking on my fleece jacket to ward off the chill when I pass another solo dude in a strip canoe, heading the other way, totally decked out in his rain gear. I comment "nice canoe," and he replies "yeah." And from the look of disdain in his eyes, I suspect he wasn't too impressed with my lack of rain gear during a huge downpour. Oh well, it ended up lasting a little longer than expected, but I didn't get THAT wet.

As I'm heading toward American point, I'm watching a pretty dark cloud form behind me. It's only about 3:30pm, but I'm thinking about grabbing a campsite. The first one looks nice, and has a nice beach that I pull up onto. There's a little stream flowing across the beach, and I sit and relax for a minute, mentally debating whether to stay or move on. I watch the clouds for about five minutes, and realize that the dark clouds are skidding east on the north side of Sag, while most of Sag stays in the sun. Because of that, and the lack of much wind, I decide to head onto Sag toward the campsites on Horseshoe Island, to knock off some of the big lake when its not so choppy. This plan works to perfection until I'm halfway across, and the afternoon wind turns from lightly out of the southwest to strongly out of the south. I am getting broadsided by waves in the 18 to 24 inch range, and I can't turn and run downwind due to the direction I'm headed and more importantly, the fact that the broadside waves are too strong to allow me to turn. So I head straight across them, bobbing up and down in the swell. I'm moving fast (averaging about 5mph according to the GPS), but Homer is handling the big chop very well. I finally hit the island south of Voyageur's Island that purports to have a campsite on the western end. Rather than fight my way around it in the wind, I tether off and walk the circumference of the island. I find the site on the far southeast end, and it’s beautiful. Huge pines, big rocks, just a nice place to stop. So, I stop for the night. Later, I listen to my weather radio and hear the forecast for 20 30 mph winds with 40 mph gusts the next day and almost wish I would have braved the rest of Sag to get across it, because I KNOW I'm going to be blown in with that kind of wind.

Camp on Sag:

Day 5, Tuesday September 11, 2007, Saganaga Lake No miles traveled today. I am officially blown in. Huge waves and whitecaps on Sag. I debate whether, with a northwest wind, I can scoot along the back side of the last islands, get around the point and get into the relatively protected waters of Maraboeuf Lake and the Granite River. I decide better to be safe than sorry. The next day this is confirmed as I paddle the lake and see the size of the openings I would have had to cross in the wind. It would not have been pretty.

Whitecaps on Sag (not great pictures of the big wind!)

I take a picture of myself, and I look BAD. Puffy eyes, beat looking: Surprisingly, I look better than I feel! I'm really worn out, and hoping that I can recover some energy today. If I can't I'm going to be in bad shape tomorrow. The day is overcast in addition to the wind, and cold. I listen to the weather radio, and they are forecasting lows in the 20s tonight. I am wearing long johns (top and bottom), 2 pairs of socks, my pants, my t-shirt, my fleece jacket, a stocking cap and gloves to bed. It works, as I don't freeze to death, but this is not my idea of fun!

My journal reads only "This officially stinks. Really homesick, can't do anything about it. Tonight is supposed to be in the 20s. Wind is REALLY blowing. Sleeping in, try to keep warm, rest my sore body." Before I go to sleep, I check out my map, guessing how long I have to get to Superior. I also, though, make some notations on where I can get out of the BWCA if need be.

Day 6, Wednesday September 12, 2007, Saganaga Lake-Gunflint Lake 21 miles traveled, 5:56 moving, 2:54 stopped, Moving avg. 3.4 mph, Overall avg. 2.3 mpg Lakes: Saganaga Lake, Maraboeuf Lake, Gneiss Lake, Granite River, Clove Lake, Pine River, Magnetic Lake, Gunflint Lake Portages: 34 r. Sag Falls, 27 r. Horsetail Rapids, 25 r. Devil's Elbow, 25 r. Gneiss Lake, 25 r. Granite River, 72 r. Swamp, 40 r. Granite River, 100 r. Clove Lake, 30 r. Wood Horse, 13 r. Little Rock Falls

This was a tough day. I started out fairly early, heading east toward Sag falls from my campsite around 7:30am. I didn't take me long to get around to Sat falls, noticing on the way all the fire damage on Sag. Given how far north I was, I didn't connect this fire damage with the Ham Lake fire (and from what I've read later, it may have been an earlier fire), but pretty much the entire day was spent traveling through fire damaged wilderness. It was interesting to see, and I've never been through this type of area, but I will not choose to travel through a fire damaged part of the BWCA in the future. I can't even imagine trying to camp on some of the sites that were still open, with the lack of trees and the barren moonscapes. Pretty bizarre. I had a thought as I traveled across a portage and noted the size of the some of the trees that had burned and fallen, that never again in my lifetime would this area look like it had just 4 months ago.

Burn on Saganaga

The weather was ok. Most of the day after mid morning was sunny, although I doubt if the temperature broke the 50 degree mark. Even through a day of paddling and portaging, while I ended up in my t shirt, I wore my long john bottoms all day. Most of the wind was from the south, and it was supposed to shift to the southeast by afternoon. My experience was that it was pretty much in my fact for most of the day, although it wasn't too strong, as I was pretty well protected by being on the river and narrow lakes. By the end of the day, when I hit Magnetic and Gunflint lakes, I was working my butt off heading straight into a pretty strong wind that had a good distance to get its speed up.

The Sag falls portage was pretty flat, although the southern end had a pretty good rock and not much landing. I carried my pack over, and then walked back to get the canoe, carrying the camera to get some pictures of the falls and the burned area with its flowers. There was one beat down trail that went out to the falls for photos, but I wanted to get a shot from further downstream of the falls, so I headed into the brush. Two steps in, I happened to look down and notice that I was standing in a pretty healthy patch of poison ivy! I could almost hear Homer yelling "D'oh!" from the end of the portage. I scrambled out and took my photos from the beaten path, got the canoe and then, after setting it down, spent a few minutes scrubbing my shoes with mud. I am a bit of an expert on poison ivy, as I've had it pretty bad over the years (one time missing a week of school after having it on 90% of my body after burning it in a bonfire). This summer, I had gotten the poison ivy vaccine, which is a bit untested, but seems to work in anecdotal tests...that is, no one the doctor has given it to has gotten poison ivy! Anyway, as I type this, I am free from welts and itching, so I think it must have worked for me, too.

Sag Falls

I head south to the Horsetail rapids. The portage there is another Canadian side one of 25 rods. I paddle up to the base of the rapids, and can only spot a light trail that appears to dip in and out of the rapids! The rapids itself is a beautiful little spot. The main rapids are separated from the smaller rapids on the Canadian side by a cedar covered island. The smaller rapids are then surrounded on both sides by cedars, which form a cozy arched walkway. The water on the smaller side looks less than a foot deep and not too rocky, so I head up it, tugging the canoe by its rope. This works fine, with no issues. Today I am trying out my sealskins water socks over a liner sock with my tennis shoes, because of the cold. I get my feet pretty wet here, and discover that one of the socks has a leak in it. Sweet. Even though I'm wet, the socks do keep even my wet foot warm.

Heading down Maraboeuf, I pass a group of 7 in 3 canoes, heading north. They are outfitted by Gunflint lodge, so I ask how long it has taken them to get this far, thinking it will give me a better sense of the distance. They've been in for 2 days, though, so they aren't much help on that front. They ask about the portages, and I mention that the falls one is ok, and that I've just walked up the Horsetail rapids. They give me a mildly horrified look and say "That's the one our outfitter says to absolutely NOT run." I suggest that their outfitter is probably right, but that the right side as they go downstream is where I came up, and that I walked it, I didn't run it.

The next group I encounter is at the 25 rod portage across the point into the devil's elbow area. They are moving pretty slowly, it is their third day in after coming up from Gunflint. They warn me as I pull up that the portage is pretty bad. We chat for a while, and then I head out. They are right. The portage is composed of a huge rock bed, 20 yards or so wide, and basically the length of the portage. Across the rock bed, filled with boulders that you have to pick your way over, are strewn burned trees knocked over in the fire or before it. This is not a fun portage to pick across. The landing on the other end is fine, so once you make your way through, its ok, but I would NOT want to double pack on this trail.

Devil's Elbow Portage:

The Granite River portage is pretty scenic in the beginning, but again heads through a burned out area. I seem to be portaging some smallish rapids on a few of these, and wonder if it had been a nicer day if I wouldn't have been able to line the canoe up them. The swamp portage is also pretty easy, traveling along a large rock at the beginning. At this point, I am feeling ok for the first time today, but not sure if I'm going to go on after Gunflint. I'm trying to calculate in my head what time I will get to Gunflint, and how much further I have to go to get to North or South Lake. I had hoped to get to Gunflint by 2pm, leaving the option of moving forward still out there. It was 2pm by the time I reached the 100 rod Pine portage, however, and I had marked the campsite after that portage on my map as the last until the east end of Gunflint lake, 8 miles and two more portages away. I figured it would be at least 5pm by the time I got to the east end of Gunflint where campsites start showing up, and another two hours past there to get to North or South lake. This was basically decision time. And I decided to press on, leaning toward the idea that I would take out at Gunflint unless I made super good time getting there.

So, with all of that running through my head, I was walking the beginning of Pine portage when I looked up from checking where my feet were landing…and realized that the portage went straight up a hill, with some logs thrown into the sides to minimize washouts and create rudimentary stairs. So not only was this a sort of long portage, but it was going to be a pain in the behind, too.

Pine Portage from the top: Pine Portage from the bottom:

With nothing to do but cross, I headed up. It turned out to not be as bad as it looked, but I think contributed to the general weariness I had. This became a bigger factor at the next portage, the Wood Horse portage. Here, when you paddle up, you are confronted with one of those big rocks that doesn't show wear no trail portages. So, I hiked over it for a bit, and found the other end, found a reasonable path (after the initial scramble up the steep rock face) and headed pack for the pack. My usual mode of operation was to grab the pack and my camera bag and paddles, put the GPS around my neck so that it would record the miles, then leave everything at the end of the portage (thus the high "stopped time" on the GPS when I was doing a lot of portages). I loaded up this way and headed over the portage. At the landing at the other end is a huge sloped boulder you would walk across. If you are tired, even though the rock is smooth, this might be the point in the day where you lose your footing. Which is what happened to me. I slipped and went down hard on my front. I was able to keep my face off the rock, and had my life jacket on, which helped cushion my fall. After laying for a few seconds and doing a mental inventory to make sure I was all there and all right, I rolled over and stood up, which is when I noticed the big crack down the face of the borrowed GPS that I had just landed on. I did not think good thoughts for a few minutes there. (Postscript on the GPS: I now own a GPS with a cracked face, and my friend Tom owns a brand new matching model. D'oh!)

Frustrated and tired, I went back for the canoe and then hopped in to head to the Little Falls portage, or Magnetic Falls as some people refer to it. One map indicates this is a 13 rod portage, the other that it is a 130 rod portage. So, I'm not sure what to expect. I can see the falls as I work my way up the Canadian shoreline, but no sign of a portage path. I get closer and closer until I am at the base of the falls, pulled up on a rock. "This must be the 13 rod variant," I'm thinking. I hop out, and scramble up the face of the 20 foot cliff in front of me (well, steep rock anyway) and find myself at the top of the falls. Huh, I guess this is the portage. I haul the pack over without too much trouble, then stand pondering the canoe and the narrow path through some rocks at the base of the "cliff." After some wandering around, I see that I can avoid the top half of the cliff by angling off up the face to the right. I will still have the scramble at the bottom, though. Oh well, I'm game. I hoist the canoe, scramble up the rock, and haul it around the side trail. Two minutes later, I'm done. There that wasn't too bad.

Picture of the portage trail at Little Rock Falls, heading straight up to the right of my paddle, along the line the paddle points out.

Little Rock falls, from a distance and up close.

At this point the sun is out pretty strongly, but it still feels like it's in the forties, temperature wise. In my mind, I'm debating whether I'm going to keep going on this trip or be done today. It’s the trip of a lifetime, but as I mentioned before, I'm not having a lot of fun. I decide to take some pictures while I mull things over. Dawdling around the falls, trying to capture the flow of the water and the sun dancing on the bubbles, I'm convicted by the fact that this is what I love about the BWCA, and what I haven't been doing. It is basically then that I decide I'm going to stop at Gunflint Lake. It's already 3:30pm, and I'm at least an hour from the west end of the lake, probably at least 3 hours from the next available camp, and not feeling up to a lot more movement. Knowing that I'm going to stop at Gunflint, I unstrap my fishing rod for the first time and tie on a top water popper to fish for bass at the falls. I don't catch any, but the relaxation generated in that ten minutes of fishing reminds what I SHOULD have been doing all week.

I load up and fight my way back to Gunflint Lodge. I'm about an hour or two straight into a strong wind down Magnetic Lake, through the gap and across Gunflint. I pull up at the lodge, tie off at the dock and head up in search of a phone, a meal and a shower. On the phone, Amy asks me a few times whether I'm sure I'm ready to be done, and I can barely keep my composure as I assure her that I have nothing left. The tank is empty. She assures me that she's proud of me and what I've accomplished, and I tell her I will see her in a few hours. My next call is to my father-in-law in Babbitt, who graciously agrees to come pick me up, bringing my car down to 61, so that when we leave, I can drive straight home and they can head back to Babbitt. After 4 hours of driving (and in spite of my reassurances that it will only be a couple hours from Babbitt to here), they arrive, and we head out. I get back home at 3am Thursday morning. Amy is awake and we talk for a minute before I sink into sleep in my nice warm, soft bed.

Epilogue

This was my first ever solo trip, and my first fall trip. I'm glad I did the trip, but I don't think I'll ever do another solo. And I will probably not do another fall trip unless I know its going to be warmer. I grew up in northern Minnesota, in Hibbing and Grand Rapids, so I know what cold weather is all about, and I know that I much prefer camping in warm weather!

Lakes Traveled:   Cross Bay Lake, Ham Lake, Rib Lake, Karl Lake, Long Island Lake, Gordon Lake, Frost Lake, Bologna Lake, Whipped Lake, Tuscarora Lake,

As far as equipment went, I was 100% thrilled with Homer the wonder solo canoe (Bell Magic). I loved my new stove, an MSR superfly (I brought 2 8oz fuels, and 1 4oz fuel, and didn't even tap the 8 ouncers). I used my Mom's new 10x10 nylon fly, which rocked. It is very light and easy to put up, and a nice center panel with ties for a center rod (or stick, which is what I used). I had a new Gander Mountain GSX rain jacket that was great…not warm and clammy, and it had zip out arm pit vents, which worked great. I also had a new Gander Mountain GSX Crescent two person tent. Amy had purchased a Eureka Isis solo for me, but one of the tie backs got pulled out of a seam, and it leaked like crazy when we tested it out. She had purchased it at Gander, so we took it back there and I opted to carry a little more weight on this trip so that we could have a two person tent instead of a solo. It turned out to be very nice…easy to set up, warm and big enough to fit all my stuff inside when there were mice in the vestibule. I also used my daughter's new Gander GSX (yes Gander Mountain got a lot of my money, as did REI) sleeping bag, rated to 25 degrees. It was plenty warm and comfy, and had lots of nice snug ties to keep the heat in. To go with it, I used a thermarest sleeping pad in the short length ultralite model, which packed down to about the size of 2 pop cans, and kept me comfy and insulated from the cold ground. As I mentioned, I also had Bending Branches bent shaft and kayak paddles. I used the kayak paddle a total of not more than half an hour. The single paddle was drier and seemed just as fast. I would not carry the kayak paddle in the future. I would just carry an additional single blade spare. The dehydrated food was fine, but when we cooked a couple meals for the kids at home after I got back, it seemed inedible! And of course, my parent's good old Duluth Pack (in the #3 size) was perfect for all my stuff and fit in the canoe like it was meant to go there.

Amy has promised that she'll do the rest of the border route with me some time, so I'm looking forward to that. Maybe some time in the future she and I can make the whole trip, too. Although I've also discovered I'd much rather paddle through a winding river or a bunch of small lakes than across the big lakes. I've found a lot of new places I want to take her, which was also another part of making the trip.

Anyway, thanks for reading this and I hope you got some enjoyment out of it! I look forward to seeing you out on the water.

Greg

Lakes Traveled:   Cross Bay Lake, Ham Lake, Rib Lake, Karl Lake, Long Island Lake, Gordon Lake, Frost Lake, Bologna Lake, Whipped Lake, Tuscarora Lake,