16 miles of paddling, 2 portages (80, 140 rods) Man, everyone was in high spirits and anxious to get paddling. We didn’t know at the time that someone would almost die on the very first day of the trip, but heck, let’s start at the beginning.
The mountain of gear was loaded into one of Zup's tow boats with the assistance of 'Northwoods Jan', a capable operator who then proceeded to fearlessly whip her 200 hp fast attack tow boat around islands, over rocky reefs and up swollen rivers.

This was no scenic cruise for Jan and she was trying to hold to a tight schedule. Chatting with the guys as they came off some big water, the engine hit that high turbine whine and we realized Jan had the engine fire walled at almost 6000 rpm, pushing an ounce of fuel a second through the injectors as we rocketed up a narrowing channel. Eyes intently fixed and unblinking, she blasted this 8' wide boat between sentinel rocks at 40 mph and through a chute of fast water; the hull skipping across the riffles. With less than 2 feet of draft, she was dirt tracking it.

The tree lined rocky shore filled the windshield. Hang on to your hats! No, just hang on! Suddenly Jan whipped the helm 75 degrees to starboard, prop starting to lose it’s grip, skidding the stern of the boat to port as we entered the pool above. Clang went the gunwales of the canoes against the rack above. The icy spray on the windshield was barely disturbed by the sweep of the lone wiper blade lazily moving back and forth. No margin for error here… or someone goes home freight. As she relaxed her shoulders, Jan straightened the helm and backed off the throttle. “I’ve been doing this for nine years, but you never know what to expect on these early spring high water tows - got pushed backwards by the current there a while back”, she spoke casually. “Hey Jan, want to go camping?” In Pete’s mind’s eye she was dutifully frying up some fresh caught walleye as he tended to the flames. "Sorry guys, gotta work." Jan says with a friendly smile. Oh well.

We arrived at Zup's Lodge and Resort on LLC where Mark, the owner, threw the proverbial monkey wrench into months of planning. The route that we had planned and researched since January had to be scrapped. Gone. Done. Over, and just that quick.

Zup told them the near record high water levels on LLC (due to heavy winter snows and near record fall rains months earlier) and the resulting rampaging Namakan River flowing out created a bad situation. Mark reported that our planned route would have virtually guaranteed multiple fatalities if they were to try it. The water flowing out of Lac La Croix was more than ten feet higher than last May, and portages around the various falls and rapids (that Bryan knew from previous trips) were now completely submerged by the blasting river which forms the Western edge of Quetico. The prospect of being carried over Snake or Ivy Falls appealed to no one. We would find other means and places to tempt fate, but who knew then?

New maps were purchased and Zup graciously helped us craft a new route in about 45 minutes. Maps and notebooks in hand, campsites and fishing hotspots were marked….. and a brand new adventure was born at that sun warmed table. Who needs months of planning? Turn on a dime and head off on a route in the opposite direction. No fuss, no bother. This is easy stuff if in the right frame of mind, and we were. Jan was given our revised starting point. We reboarded, Jan lit the fuse and we blasted off to the southeast end of LLC and Bottle Portage, eventually skidding the boat into the nearly submerged Bottle portage landing at 12:15 PM. With Zup’s the objective is speed, not economy. Hold onto your hat because if it blows off, she ain’t goin’ back for it.

Bryan had warned that this particular portage was ALWAYS wet and muddy, even in a drought. Pumped to get this adventure rolling, we slogged our way over, getting to know the packs that would be our lifelines for the next week and a half.

Bottle Rapids was crashing violently over its deep and twisting course, dampening the surroundings with its mist, current and rolling thunder.

Stopping at the top to take in the view, we checked the maps and continued east to Curtain Falls, paddling briskly away from the treacherous top of Bottle Rapids.

We paddled across Iron Lake, and soon were at the outflow from Curtain Falls. Zup had warned us about the swifts below Curtain Falls, very STRONGLY recommending that we lift over American Island and paddle the few feet to the start of the portage. The temptation, however, was to just run up the swifts and stay in the canoe.

Bryan and Pete looked at the sweeping current and figured that given enough speed they could push right through to the calm waters just feet above. They paddled hard, approached the current and it turned them broadside. Instantly. And violently.

Bryan went to brace right and the current snatched his paddle and pushed it under the canoe. Pete leaned hard left and backstroked hard, pointing the bow downstream ….and they floated away, barely breathing. The canoe had rolled right to the gunnel. It was a surefire capsize that somehow didn’t happen. 40 degree water and an 8mph flow. Dave and Mark would have not reached them before they were hypothermic in that water.

Wow! Life is short. “Want to try it again Bryan?” Pete queried. “NO!” Bryan gasped. After returning to our senses, we unloaded and lifted the canoe and gear over the island and reloaded just eight safe feet away on the other side. Mark and Dave smiled smugly and calmly lifted over without a snide remark. Later, Mark and Dave said they had discussed what was about to happen and it played out on precisely as they thought it would. They were too far away to do anything other than watch. Another push across a tiny bay and the crew unloaded the canoes again for the Curtain Falls portage. Not a difficult, but a long, wet and muddy portage, especially this spring.

The views of the falls, however, were fantastic.

We went in five days after ice out… arriving even before the migratory song birds. The forests were largely gray and silent as they headed deeper into Quetico. Except for a lone canoe in the distance on Robinson, the canoe they saw below American Island would be the last for five days.

Bryan, the eternal stern paddler/navigator felt very strange paddling bow, depending on the navigation skills of Pete and Dave, and seldom knowing where he was. (Due to the change in routes, he hadn't loaded this section into his Garmin.) He just kept paddling and paddling, leaving the navigation to Pete and Dave. Dave’s custom map set designed around the original route was also useless. So between the two canoes, we had about a overview map and a half. GPS, but no GPS charts or waypoints. Hey, just like the old days. No problem, let’s go.

The first day we paddled fifteen miles and portaged over one mile, all in the afternoon, aiming for a campsite that Zup circled as a five star site on Gardiner Bay. The sun was low in the western sky as we arrived at the campsite Zup circled. We put Dave’s Purcell Guide Grill on the fire for a KC Strip and Single Malt Scotch dinner. Dave exhibited his fine campfire culinary skills (the team silently voted him head chef at this point), and the steaks were soon devoured with garlic potatoes, fried peppers, mushrooms and onions. The food was inhaled and the booze was sipped…mostly.
It was a small campsite with the fire ring right on the lake, it was good, not great, but we were too tired to either fish or explore further so we cleaned up camp and dozed off to a glowing sunset as the sky cleared. (Note the five star site Zup had mismarked on the map was a scant 100 yards further down the shore, a fact that we wouldn't discover until we departed the next morning)