BWCA Entry Point, Route, and Trip Report Blog
July 02 2025
Entry Point 49 - Skipper & Portage Lakes
Skipper and Portage Lakes entry point allows overnight paddle only. This entry point is supported by Gunflint Ranger Station near the city of Grand Marais, MN. The distance from ranger station to entry point is 28 miles. Access is a 320-rod portage from Poplar Lake or a 230-rod portage from Iron Lake. This area was affected by blowdown in 1999.
Number of Permits per Day: 2
Elevation: 1865 feet
Latitude: 48.0517
Longitude: -90.5366
Skipper & Portage Lakes - 49
Number of Permits per Day: 2
Elevation: 1865 feet
Latitude: 48.0517
Longitude: -90.5366
Skipper & Portage Lakes - 49
Smoke on the Water, Loons in the Wind
by prettypaddle
Trip Report
Entry Date:
August 09, 2005
Entry Point:
Moose Lake
Number of Days:
6
Group Size:
2
Trip Introduction:
This is the first trip Eric and I went on with just the two of us, back in August of 2005.
Part 1 of 1
Eric and I arrive in Ely five days before our entry date giving us plenty of time to visit with his family before we disappear into the wilderness. We go swimming in White Iron almost every day with his neice and nephews and head out onto the lake in the evenings with his brothers and sisters to watch the stars come out. [paragraph break] One morning we all get up dark and early and drive to a favorite fishing lake. When we get there, the wind is driving whitecaps into the shore and we abandon our hopes of fishing that day. Instead, we have lunch beside the lake and head back down the portage trail to pick the blueberries we saw on the way in. In ten minutes we fill a tupperware sandwich box; by the time we leave we have two gallons of berries! [paragraph break] 
Eric's Mom's Excellent Blueberry Pie: Combine 5 C fresh blueberries, 2/3 C sugar, 1/4 C flour. Pour berry mixture into dough-lined pie dish, cover with top crust. Bake at 425 degrees for 10 minutes, lower heat to 350 and bake for 30 minutes. Serve warm. [paragraph break] Before we head out, Eric and I have a quest to complete--we scour Ely and surrounding outfitters in search of my very first paddle. It seems as if I pick up a hundred paddles before I find The One. It's so light and beautiful, it moulds to the shape of my hand and feels like an extension of my body. Hardly able to contain my excitement, we head back to the house to try it out. [paragraph break] 
My paddle is wonderful. It's as if the canoe is paddling itself. I'm glad to have paddled with the old clunky loaner paddles for all those years so that I can now truly appreciate how exquisite a good paddle feels. As we're paddling, we see a helicopter with a bucket dangling below it headed down the lake. We follow and two points down we see a small fire the helicopter is dumping water on. Everything is so dry this year and there are already several fires burning in the Boundary Waters. Needless to say, we won't be sitting around any campfires on our trip this year.
Eric's Mom's Excellent Blueberry Pie: Combine 5 C fresh blueberries, 2/3 C sugar, 1/4 C flour. Pour berry mixture into dough-lined pie dish, cover with top crust. Bake at 425 degrees for 10 minutes, lower heat to 350 and bake for 30 minutes. Serve warm. [paragraph break] Before we head out, Eric and I have a quest to complete--we scour Ely and surrounding outfitters in search of my very first paddle. It seems as if I pick up a hundred paddles before I find The One. It's so light and beautiful, it moulds to the shape of my hand and feels like an extension of my body. Hardly able to contain my excitement, we head back to the house to try it out. [paragraph break] My paddle is wonderful. It's as if the canoe is paddling itself. I'm glad to have paddled with the old clunky loaner paddles for all those years so that I can now truly appreciate how exquisite a good paddle feels. As we're paddling, we see a helicopter with a bucket dangling below it headed down the lake. We follow and two points down we see a small fire the helicopter is dumping water on. Everything is so dry this year and there are already several fires burning in the Boundary Waters. Needless to say, we won't be sitting around any campfires on our trip this year.
Part 3 of 1
Day 1 - Tuesday, August 09, 2005 [paragraph break] Moose Lake - Newfound Lake - Sucker Lake - Birch Lake - Melon Lake - Seed Lake - Knife Lake [paragraph break] My journal entry for this first day is as follows: [paragraph break] "Paddle paddle paddle portage portage portage make camp (Eric does the dishes!) go to sleep." [paragraph break] Ok, so that doesn't entirely cover the day, but we're both tired and we've both been through this portion of the Boundary Waters so many times that we're operating mostly on auto-pilot. We paddle late into the afternoon, set up camp on Knife Lake and enjoy a beautiful sunset. Later, a blood-red crescent moon sets between the trees to the accompianment of mournful loon calls. 
[paragraph break] 
[paragraph break]
Part 5 of 1
Day 2 - Wednesday, August 10, 2005 [paragraph break] South Arm Knife Lake - Eddie Lake - Jenny Lake - Annie Lake - Ogishkemuncie Lake - Spice Lake [paragraph break] We had a long day yesterday--covered a lot of ground and made camp pretty late--so it's taking forever to get out of the tent, make breakfast, pack, and get on the water this morning. When camping, it sometimes takes me awhile to relax and to let go of all the worries of the "real world." One thing I have trouble letting go of is a schedule and this is causing some tensions. Or maybe the actual problem is that I'm a morning person (once I'm awake I'm ready to get moving and see what there is to see) and Eric is most definitely not (it seems to take him at least an hour from the time he wakes up until the time when he's actually awake). This is the first trip Eric and I have gone on where it’s just the two of us and also our first trip to the Boundary Waters since we started dating so it’s kind of a crash course in relationships. [paragraph break] Well, we make it to Eddy Lake for lunch and, after stashing our gear to the side of the incredible monotonic portage, we backtrack to the falls for lunch. Everything is mossy and cool and wet and it seems as if we’re eating in an enchanted grotto. Sunshine dapples the water and highlights dancing sparkles rushing through the verdant shade. The strain I felt this morning drains away. We finish lunch and continue on towards Ogishkemuncie. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Things on the campsite front aren’t looking good—every site we pass is full and we hear from people coming towards us that there aren't any empty sites on Ogish. It’s already late afternoon so we cross our fingers and head towards Spice Lake hoping that no one has taken that lake’s one campsite. Hallelujah! We don’t have to paddle into the evening and we have a whole little lake to ourselves! [paragraph break] We quickly set up camp and head back out to see if we can catch our dinner. We’re only on the water for about five minutes before Eric catches a nice sized Northern. Now it’s time for me to live up to a promise… A couple of months ago, Eric gave me a beautiful puukko knife on the condition that I help him clean a fish the next time we went to the Boundary Waters. I was really touched since in his family a puukko knife is sort of a coming-of-age gift that the kids can’t wait to earn, but now I need to “man up” so to speak. [paragraph break] A little confession--flopping fish freak me out. I have no trouble baiting a hook with leeches or worms and I can even pass someone a minnow hand-to-hand, but once someone actually catches a fish and it’s banging around while they get the hook out, it’s all I can do to stay in the boat. In school I dissected hearts, eyeballs, frogs, squid and even a fetal pig without problem so it’s not that I’m squeamish about guts--but when things flop around! Ugh! I guess if it was a matter of survival, I’d have to make sure I was surviving somewhere with an abundant supply of mac and cheese. [paragraph break] Anyhow, we make it to a nice flat rock away from camp and begin the ordeal. I try, I really do, to grab the flopping fish and cut off its head but my sweaty, clammy hands simply will not reach out towards the horrid thing. Eric relents and says that as long as I watch, he’ll go ahead and clean the fish. It’s terrible, but I do watch and once the last spasmodic twitching dies away, I help with the descaling and filleting. [paragraph break] By the time we make it back to camp, I have firmly repressed all memory of the nightmare and happily fry up and enjoy the fillets which mysteriously appeared in our pan. I cheerfully wash the dishes tonight (a chore which Eric loathes) and realize that relationships are made stronger by helping one another through the flopping fish and dirty dishes of life. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Things on the campsite front aren’t looking good—every site we pass is full and we hear from people coming towards us that there aren't any empty sites on Ogish. It’s already late afternoon so we cross our fingers and head towards Spice Lake hoping that no one has taken that lake’s one campsite. Hallelujah! We don’t have to paddle into the evening and we have a whole little lake to ourselves! [paragraph break] We quickly set up camp and head back out to see if we can catch our dinner. We’re only on the water for about five minutes before Eric catches a nice sized Northern. Now it’s time for me to live up to a promise… A couple of months ago, Eric gave me a beautiful puukko knife on the condition that I help him clean a fish the next time we went to the Boundary Waters. I was really touched since in his family a puukko knife is sort of a coming-of-age gift that the kids can’t wait to earn, but now I need to “man up” so to speak. [paragraph break] A little confession--flopping fish freak me out. I have no trouble baiting a hook with leeches or worms and I can even pass someone a minnow hand-to-hand, but once someone actually catches a fish and it’s banging around while they get the hook out, it’s all I can do to stay in the boat. In school I dissected hearts, eyeballs, frogs, squid and even a fetal pig without problem so it’s not that I’m squeamish about guts--but when things flop around! Ugh! I guess if it was a matter of survival, I’d have to make sure I was surviving somewhere with an abundant supply of mac and cheese. [paragraph break] Anyhow, we make it to a nice flat rock away from camp and begin the ordeal. I try, I really do, to grab the flopping fish and cut off its head but my sweaty, clammy hands simply will not reach out towards the horrid thing. Eric relents and says that as long as I watch, he’ll go ahead and clean the fish. It’s terrible, but I do watch and once the last spasmodic twitching dies away, I help with the descaling and filleting. [paragraph break] By the time we make it back to camp, I have firmly repressed all memory of the nightmare and happily fry up and enjoy the fillets which mysteriously appeared in our pan. I cheerfully wash the dishes tonight (a chore which Eric loathes) and realize that relationships are made stronger by helping one another through the flopping fish and dirty dishes of life. [paragraph break]
Part 6 of 1
Day 2 - Wednesday, August 10, 2005 [paragraph break] South Arm Knife Lake - Eddie Lake - Jenny Lake - Annie Lake - Ogishkemuncie Lake - Spice Lake [paragraph break] We had a long day yesterday--covered a lot of ground and made camp pretty late--so it's taking forever to get out of the tent, make breakfast, pack, and get on the water this morning. When camping, it sometimes takes me awhile to relax and to let go of all the worries of the "real world." One thing I have trouble letting go of is a schedule and this is causing some tensions. Or maybe the actual problem is that I'm a morning person (once I'm awake I'm ready to get moving and see what there is to see) and Eric is most definitely not (it seems to take him at least an hour from the time he wakes up until the time when he's actually awake). This is the first trip Eric and I have gone on where it’s just the two of us and also our first trip to the Boundary Waters since we started dating so it’s kind of a crash course in relationships. [paragraph break] Well, we make it to Eddy Lake for lunch and, after stashing our gear to the side of the incredible monotonic portage, we backtrack to the falls for lunch. Everything is mossy and cool and wet and it seems as if we’re eating in an enchanted grotto. Sunshine dapples the water and highlights dancing sparkles rushing through the verdant shade. The strain I felt this morning drains away. We finish lunch and continue on towards Ogishkemuncie. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Things on the campsite front aren’t looking good—every site we pass is full and we hear from people coming towards us that there aren't any empty sites on Ogish. It’s already late afternoon so we cross our fingers and head towards Spice Lake hoping that no one has taken that lake’s one campsite. Hallelujah! We don’t have to paddle into the evening and we have a whole little lake to ourselves! [paragraph break] We quickly set up camp and head back out to see if we can catch our dinner. We’re only on the water for about five minutes before Eric catches a nice sized Northern. Now it’s time for me to live up to a promise… A couple of months ago, Eric gave me a beautiful puukko knife on the condition that I help him clean a fish the next time we went to the Boundary Waters. I was really touched since in his family a puukko knife is sort of a coming-of-age gift that the kids can’t wait to earn, but now I need to “man up” so to speak. [paragraph break] A little confession--flopping fish freak me out. I have no trouble baiting a hook with leeches or worms and I can even pass someone a minnow hand-to-hand, but once someone actually catches a fish and it’s banging around while they get the hook out, it’s all I can do to stay in the boat. In school I dissected hearts, eyeballs, frogs, squid and even a fetal pig without problem so it’s not that I’m squeamish about guts--but when things flop around! Ugh! I guess if it was a matter of survival, I’d have to make sure I was surviving somewhere with an abundant supply of mac and cheese. [paragraph break] Anyhow, we make it to a nice flat rock away from camp and begin the ordeal. I try, I really do, to grab the flopping fish and cut off its head but my sweaty, clammy hands simply will not reach out towards the horrid thing. Eric relents and says that as long as I watch, he’ll go ahead and clean the fish. It’s terrible, but I do watch and once the last spasmodic twitching dies away, I help with the descaling and filleting. [paragraph break] By the time we make it back to camp, I have firmly repressed all memory of the nightmare and happily fry up and enjoy the fillets which mysteriously appeared in our pan. I cheerfully wash the dishes tonight (a chore which Eric loathes) and realize that relationships are made stronger by helping one another through the flopping fish and dirty dishes of life. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Things on the campsite front aren’t looking good—every site we pass is full and we hear from people coming towards us that there aren't any empty sites on Ogish. It’s already late afternoon so we cross our fingers and head towards Spice Lake hoping that no one has taken that lake’s one campsite. Hallelujah! We don’t have to paddle into the evening and we have a whole little lake to ourselves! [paragraph break] We quickly set up camp and head back out to see if we can catch our dinner. We’re only on the water for about five minutes before Eric catches a nice sized Northern. Now it’s time for me to live up to a promise… A couple of months ago, Eric gave me a beautiful puukko knife on the condition that I help him clean a fish the next time we went to the Boundary Waters. I was really touched since in his family a puukko knife is sort of a coming-of-age gift that the kids can’t wait to earn, but now I need to “man up” so to speak. [paragraph break] A little confession--flopping fish freak me out. I have no trouble baiting a hook with leeches or worms and I can even pass someone a minnow hand-to-hand, but once someone actually catches a fish and it’s banging around while they get the hook out, it’s all I can do to stay in the boat. In school I dissected hearts, eyeballs, frogs, squid and even a fetal pig without problem so it’s not that I’m squeamish about guts--but when things flop around! Ugh! I guess if it was a matter of survival, I’d have to make sure I was surviving somewhere with an abundant supply of mac and cheese. [paragraph break] Anyhow, we make it to a nice flat rock away from camp and begin the ordeal. I try, I really do, to grab the flopping fish and cut off its head but my sweaty, clammy hands simply will not reach out towards the horrid thing. Eric relents and says that as long as I watch, he’ll go ahead and clean the fish. It’s terrible, but I do watch and once the last spasmodic twitching dies away, I help with the descaling and filleting. [paragraph break] By the time we make it back to camp, I have firmly repressed all memory of the nightmare and happily fry up and enjoy the fillets which mysteriously appeared in our pan. I cheerfully wash the dishes tonight (a chore which Eric loathes) and realize that relationships are made stronger by helping one another through the flopping fish and dirty dishes of life. [paragraph break]
Part 8 of 1
My permit was for May 14, 2022, entry point 50 - Cross Bay. I was planning on going on a 2 week solo trip down through the Frost River and eventually into Little Saganaga. Typically this route would be ideal in the spring. However, there are record water levels in the boundary waters this year. I discovered small creeks that are typically capable of being walked across were turned into 60 foot wide white water rapids, with water 15+ feet deep. I made out past 2 sets of rapid covered portage landings and flooded portage trails and was heading through an apparent calm narrow way from the bay just after the 2nd portage into the big part of Ham Lake when a strong current instantly turned me sideways and flipped me into the ice cold water. The current was pushing me into the center of the lake, away from shore and toward the rapids. I hooked and grabbed my canoe, paddle and 3 packs (1 main pack and 2 small food packs) with my one arm and started kicking and using the other arm to swim for the closest shore, which was a rock with a downed tree. I was in icy cold water for about 1 hour swimming against the current. My legs went numb and slowly stopped moving at some point. I had to shed one of my food packs to decrease the drag and continued to swim with one hand. I managed to get to the partially submerged tree and pull myself onto it and then straddle it like a horse. I pulled my boat onto the tree with the gunwales facing down, and flipped my boat over it to empty the water and get it upright. I then got back in. Similar to an open water canoe retrieval with a 2nd boat. I tried to drag my large main pack but it was dragging my boat sideways from being pulled by the current. So I reluctantly put my main pack and 1 food bag I had with me into the boat. I was top heavy since I was not able to distribute the weight of my packs in the boat properly. I then tried to paddle over to get the other food bag still in the water that was heading for rapids. The current once again took me and this time sucked me into raging rapids dumping me into the water. Then I was sent down rapids and beaten by trees and rocks. I kept my arms in front of my face to absorb most of the blows. I had my life jacket on but the current and waves were so strong, that I was constantly being pushed under water and would only come up once in a while to grasp for part of a breath. My body was giving out. I kept my legs up to try to avoid being trapped by underwater debris. While my lungs started filling with water, I threw my arms up with one last hope to grab something. Luckily, I managed to blindly grab a tree while I was underwater and pull myself up. My canoe came right up behind, pinning me against the tree and pushing with such force I could barely move. My legs were caught in branches below the water, but my head was now above. I took a few deep breaths and coughed up some water. I saw my main pack barely caught on a branch next to me, I grabbed it and hooked it securely to the tree I was pinned against. I managed to pull my legs out of the debris and work my way down the tree toward shore, out of the water and onto the land. I managed to go back for my pack and bring it ashore. I am hypothermic and was going into shock. I quickly pulled the tarp out of my bag, ripped my clothes off, wrapped myself in the tarp, fell to the ground and threw up a few times. I turned myself to the side before allowing myself to pass out, to prevent asphyxiation if I vomited while unconscious, which I did. When I came to, I was shaking and burning cold. I managed to get my head together and focus back. I quickly got dressed in dry clothes and began to assess the situation. My spot tracker, phone, watch and maps were all torn from me in the rapids. I had no canoe and no food. I assumed that nobody would be coming close to me for a while due to the conditions and I wasn't expected to return for 2 weeks. I accepted there will be little to no chance of rescue. I needed to get out on my own and quickly. I am sore, beaten, bruised and cut up but nothing broken and everything mostly works. I looked at what I have... I thankfully had my main pack that had dry clothes, tarp, hammock, sleeping bag, compass, first aid kit and spare water filter. I then heard thunder and the skies went dark. I set up camp immediately along the shoreline where I landed and where my canoe was still pinned about a foot below the water. I managed to get the tarp up and get into my hammock before a short thunderstorm came and went. I made some weak spruce needle tea, rested in my hammock and began to make an escape plan. While planning, I decided to draw a rough map from memory on a bandage wrapper while the information was still fresh in my mind. I stayed hydrated and rested all night. I woke up Sunday morning at dawn, hydrated well, packed up camp, threw my main pack on my back and headed out into the woods using my compass and little hand drawn map. My visibility was limited at times to only a few feet in front of me. My feet were sinking in muck if I stayed too long in one spot. I could not follow the shore line as the water was so high. So I had to go inland. I was zig-zagging through the flooded terrain, going up steep climbs and rocks covered with such thick brush it's like trying to run in a dream. The constant resistance was unimaginably exhausting. Adding to the struggle were the branches whipping me in the face and jabbing my body as I walked. Due to the Ham Lake fire, the terrain is covered with younger trees that still have their low branches tangled with and thick, gnarly ground cover. Even the highlands were saturated with the recent rains and snow melt. Every step was a mushy, entangled, uneven nightmare and strains the ankles and knees. A few times I had to throw my gear down the edges of rocks and climb down, hoping there was a way out. I started hearing the 1st sets of rapids grow louder and began to head toward them. This led me through a flooded lowland area that was covered in thick, submerged brush but had small grass patch clearings above the water line. I tried to keep to these, but then realized I was walking in piles of fresh wolf scat everywhere. I stopped for a moment, but could not see anything through the branches. I could only hear multiple animals scurrying and splashing all around me. It seemed that the wolves were using the dry, grassy patches for bedding and I was walking on their beds. I continued through this for a few minutes without confrontation. I then had to cross a section of flooded forest in chest high water while navigating the submerged underbrush for about 10 minutes. I was slowing significantly once I got out of the water. I was water logged, freezing and shaking once again. I decided to go a bit farther and reach higher ground to assess again. As I pushed a bit farther, I suddenly popped out of the wilderness directly behind my car in the entry point parking lot. For four hours, I trekked, drudged and bushwhacked with a 60 lb pack on my back and ended up directly behind my car at the entry point parking lot. After my return, the Forest Service subsequently temporarily suspended permits for EP #50.
I would like to thank Tuscarora and Voyageur Canoe Outfitters for their help and support upon my return.
Part 2 of 1
Day 5 - Saturday, August 13, 2005 [paragraph break] Gijikiki Lake – Rivalry Lake – Lake of the Clouds – Lunar Lake – Cherry Lake – Topaz Lake – Amoeber Lake - Knife Lake – South Arm Knife Lake – Knife Lake [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Ah, a beautiful day for portaging! When I first peek out the tent, the lake is calm and tinged a delicate pink. It fades to silver and I am still in the tent. By the time we’re on the water, the sky is bright blue with fluffy white clouds. It’s a short carry into tiny Rivalry Lake and an even shorter paddle to the next portage. I think it took us longer to put everything into the canoe than it did to cross the lake. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] A slightly longer portage into Lake of the Clouds winds along the bottom of a cliff and so far is the only place we’ve been bothered by mosquitoes. With the canoe over his head, Eric didn’t even see the cliff until we reached the lake. We figure someone must have been standing atop the cliff, looking down into the reflected sky when they named the lake. [paragraph break] Another short hop and we’re in Lunar Lake which is ringed with dead trees. We notice a beaver dam at the portage into Cherry Lake and figure the water must have risen too high for the trees near shore. The beaver dam might also explain the beautiful little pocket of grassy, marshy prairie that’s ringed in wild flowers but marked on the map as a little pond. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] The portage starts off steep and rocky with a tiny hidden stream gurgling along then opens into this little piece of Kansas. It’s so unexpectedly lush and green--it even smells and sounds different. Grasshoppers chirp and I breathe in the smell of green grass warmed in the sun as we make our way to Cherry Lake. [paragraph break] We still have a long ways to go so we don’t stop to climb the cliffs on Cherry Lake. We push on through Topaz, Amoeber, and into South Arm Knife. The portages have all been short (the longest was 83 rods), but all the unloading and reloading is really starting to wear on us. By the time we get to the South Arm of Knife, the wind is picking up and brings with it rain. Cold, cold rain. We paddle on and on and on looking for an open campsite. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] At last--the last site on Knife before the portage into Vera is open. Once again, it’s 7 and we’re just getting into camp. The temperature is falling so we hastily set up the tent, change into dry clothes, and start dinner. It’s a pretty site with a view to the setting sun. After washing up, we head to bed for a chilly night. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Ah, a beautiful day for portaging! When I first peek out the tent, the lake is calm and tinged a delicate pink. It fades to silver and I am still in the tent. By the time we’re on the water, the sky is bright blue with fluffy white clouds. It’s a short carry into tiny Rivalry Lake and an even shorter paddle to the next portage. I think it took us longer to put everything into the canoe than it did to cross the lake. [paragraph break] [paragraph break] A slightly longer portage into Lake of the Clouds winds along the bottom of a cliff and so far is the only place we’ve been bothered by mosquitoes. With the canoe over his head, Eric didn’t even see the cliff until we reached the lake. We figure someone must have been standing atop the cliff, looking down into the reflected sky when they named the lake. [paragraph break] Another short hop and we’re in Lunar Lake which is ringed with dead trees. We notice a beaver dam at the portage into Cherry Lake and figure the water must have risen too high for the trees near shore. The beaver dam might also explain the beautiful little pocket of grassy, marshy prairie that’s ringed in wild flowers but marked on the map as a little pond. [paragraph break] [paragraph break] The portage starts off steep and rocky with a tiny hidden stream gurgling along then opens into this little piece of Kansas. It’s so unexpectedly lush and green--it even smells and sounds different. Grasshoppers chirp and I breathe in the smell of green grass warmed in the sun as we make our way to Cherry Lake. [paragraph break] We still have a long ways to go so we don’t stop to climb the cliffs on Cherry Lake. We push on through Topaz, Amoeber, and into South Arm Knife. The portages have all been short (the longest was 83 rods), but all the unloading and reloading is really starting to wear on us. By the time we get to the South Arm of Knife, the wind is picking up and brings with it rain. Cold, cold rain. We paddle on and on and on looking for an open campsite. [paragraph break] [paragraph break] At last--the last site on Knife before the portage into Vera is open. Once again, it’s 7 and we’re just getting into camp. The temperature is falling so we hastily set up the tent, change into dry clothes, and start dinner. It’s a pretty site with a view to the setting sun. After washing up, we head to bed for a chilly night. [paragraph break]
Part 3 of 1
Day 6 - Sunday, August 14, 2005 [paragraph break] Knife Lake – Vera Lake – Ensign Lake – Splash Lake – Newfound Lake – Moose Lake [paragraph break] Our last day. We try to get an early start and are moderately successful. After a dehydrated Mexican omelet (much improved with a liberal amount of hot sauce), we’re at the portage into Vera. Boy, am I glad we didn’t have to cross this one last night. It’s steep and the downhill portion in the middle gives false hope of a nearing end. What a view though! And after that portage, Vera Lake looks so inviting that, despite the chilly, breezy day, I convince Eric to stop at an island for a swim. So invigorating. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Well, the breeze picks up and the clouds are starting to clump together so we head to the Ensign Lake portage. Another steep one. From the bare rocky patch at the top there’s a view to hills in the distance, very reminiscent of a Missouri vista. We had planned on fishing Ensign Lake but we’re already unsure if we’ll meet our ride on time. Through Splash and by the time we reach Newfound, the wind is really picking up. There are whitecaps on Moose and I’m ready to be done. Seeing the tow boats whizzing by while we’re battling the wind is so disheartening and knowing that we’re only working this hard to get out of the Boundary Waters is sad. [paragraph break] 
About four hours later than we anticipated, we meet Eric’s dad at the public landing. We head to their house on White Iron for amazingly wonderful hot showers and a huge dinner of home-smoked ribs with his parents, brother, and nephews. [paragraph break] This has been a remarkable trip. We reveled in the beauty of the wilderness, saw the destruction which fires can cause, battled against the wind, pushed ourselves over never-ending portages, and most importantly learned that we can depend on one another. It was a full two weeks in the real world before the bliss of this trip began to began to fade, but the joy of struggling and succeeding is still with me today. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] Well, the breeze picks up and the clouds are starting to clump together so we head to the Ensign Lake portage. Another steep one. From the bare rocky patch at the top there’s a view to hills in the distance, very reminiscent of a Missouri vista. We had planned on fishing Ensign Lake but we’re already unsure if we’ll meet our ride on time. Through Splash and by the time we reach Newfound, the wind is really picking up. There are whitecaps on Moose and I’m ready to be done. Seeing the tow boats whizzing by while we’re battling the wind is so disheartening and knowing that we’re only working this hard to get out of the Boundary Waters is sad. [paragraph break] About four hours later than we anticipated, we meet Eric’s dad at the public landing. We head to their house on White Iron for amazingly wonderful hot showers and a huge dinner of home-smoked ribs with his parents, brother, and nephews. [paragraph break] This has been a remarkable trip. We reveled in the beauty of the wilderness, saw the destruction which fires can cause, battled against the wind, pushed ourselves over never-ending portages, and most importantly learned that we can depend on one another. It was a full two weeks in the real world before the bliss of this trip began to began to fade, but the joy of struggling and succeeding is still with me today. [paragraph break]
Part 4 of 1
Epilogue [paragraph break] The Alpine Lake Fire began on August 6, 2005, from a lightning strike and burned 1,335 acres of forest between Alpine, Seagull, Red Rock, and Grandpa Lakes before it was contained on August 20, 2005. Damage done to the region by the Alpine Lake Fire was minor compared to the devastation caused by fires in subsequent years. [paragraph break] The Cavity Lake Fire, also begun by lightning, destroyed 31,830 acres between July 14 and August 8, 2006. The area was again ravaged in May of 2007 when an untended campfire sparked the Ham Lake Fire which consumed more than 75,000 acres in the United States and Canada and burned 147 buildings. Vast tracts of wilderness and the homes and livelihoods of many people were destroyed, but a few months later, regrowth and rebuilding had already begun. 
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