Boundary Waters, Trip Reports, BWCA, Stories

Arctic's June 2011 Quetico Trip
by arctic

Trip Type: Paddling Canoe
Entry Date: 06/21/2011
Entry & Exit Point: Quetico
Number of Days: 9
Group Size: 2
Part 2 of 3
We paddled east down William, and I was struck by the lack of bedrock outcroppings and the absence of cedars. I suspect a large fire decades ago wiped out the cedars and their seeds near this lake. The islands must have missed the worst of this burn, as there were some nice stands of old-growth white pine on these. From the narrow, east end of the lake we portaged 870m to Conmee Lake. The portage starts amid a boulder field and doesn’t seem to get a lot of use, but is fairly flat and not difficult. A massive balsam fir had fallen lengthwise down the portage from the recent winds, and required a crash through the brush to bypass it.

Conmee is a beautiful lake with plenty of rock outcroppings, and it leaves you with a feeling of remoteness. I blew through there when I was in my early twenties on the way to Delahey Lake, and I barely remember it. It was good to be back, a month short of my 50th birthday.

We portaged an easy and convenient 200m to Suzanette Lake on a trail that ends on a long, but low bedrock shoreline. From there we paddled to the campsite that has a plastic message jar, hidden in a nearby cairn. By then the high overcast of the day had broken to allow spells of sunshine, so we swam in the clear waters and washed off the day’s grime. Then, we set up the tent and headed out to fish. We scoped water up to 100 feet in depth not far from camp, and each jigged up a small trout, but in water not nearly that deep. Both fish were released.

Back in camp we ate supper, and noticed that a fair number of wood ticks also enjoyed this nice site. Afterwards, we fished a bit and explored a nearby bay until near sunset, when we headed back to camp. I hung the food bags from some low branches to reduce the likelihood of mice getting into them overnight, and then we hit the sack. I didn’t bother setting up the rain fly.

26 June, Day 6: We awoke to filtered sunshine, the sky being filled with a thin layer of high clouds. We casually dismantled camp and read many of the messages in the message jar. I added my own comments, the first time I have done so since leaving one at Delahey Lake in 1984. This jar was established in 1998. It was cool to read of the love and reverence that so many people have for the canoe country, and some entries were very moving. There is one entry where some guys describe bringing the ashes of their deceased friend (Quetico Joe?) and placing them on an island in Suzanette. I reflected on the quality of these men and the sorrow they must have felt for the loss of their friend.

We paddled east down the lake as the clouds thickened and the sun disappeared. This was to be a short day, our destination being Burt Lake. Traveling such a short distance, we kept the depthfinder and fishing gear at hand all day. We fished where the Darkwater River enters Suzanette Lake, but found it too shallow to support much more than small bass, so we portaged 200m around the rapids there and paddled on to the next rapids, below which Everett caught several bass and a nice pike of around seven or eight pounds. Then we portaged 225m to the long, lake-like channel leading to Burt Lake. Both portages are on the north side of the river.

Near the entrance to Burt lake is a large, irregular cliff where there are supposed to be some pictographs. We could not find them. When we got out onto the main body of the lake we scoped out a reef and then proceeded to catch several fat walleyes, the smallest being about 18 inches and the largest, maybe 22. We kept the smallest one for lunch and released the rest. As we drifted into deeper water just off the reef, Everett caught and released a nice lake trout. All of these fish were caught on 3/8 ounce, chartreuse twister tails.

We found an excellent campsite on a rock point, where the nearly brush-free undercover under a canopy of pines reminded me of the dry forests of the Rockies. A large fireplace was built against a massive boulder. We set up a comfortable camp, collected firewood, and built a fire to fry the walleye fillets. Fresh walleye fillets are one of the great treats of the North Country, and these ones did not disappoint.

The wind was blowing from the SW and into the bouldery bay near camp, and I would not have fished there, fearing a snag, but Everett did and caught a dandy walleye that I estimated to weigh between four-and-a-half and five pounds. He was pretty psyched. We released it, and that was the only fish we caught there.

Later, we paddled back to the reef where we had caught fish earlier, and I caught I caught one or two walleyes, but Everett could not connect. So, we returned to camp and ate supper. Afterwards we jigged for trout without luck, before returning to camp for the night. We stashed our packs and some dry firewood under the rain fly and tied down the canoe well away from shore.

27 June, Day 7: Sometime in the pre-dawn darkness it started to rain. Before long, it was a torrential rain with lightning and thunder, and Wilson was lying up against my body, shaking. As soon as the rain would taper off a new downpour would begin, and despite our elevated, well-drained location, the floor of the tent started to feel like a waterbed, although very little water seeped into the tent. As I dozed off again a lightning bolt struck nearby, and the bang of thunder occurred at nearly the same instant. It set the adrenaline flowing and there would be no more sleep, despite the early hour.

Sometime after first light the rain tapered to a light drizzle, and we took the opportunity to quickly stuff our sleeping bags, take down the tent, and consolidate everything under the rain fly. I heated water on the stove for breakfast about the time the sky let loose again with another torrential rain that was long-lasting and added a good two inches of water to an empty cup. Even under the 8X10 tarp we had to wear rain gear to stay dry as there was so much splashing in from the outside. Wilson couldn’t stand the noise, so he ran off to lie against a boulder and under some dense brush near the shoreline.

Sometime late in the morning the thunder passed off to the NE and the rain tapered to a drizzle, so we packed up the canoe and headed for the portage to Marj Lake. The wind was building from the north and piling up some whitecaps, so the take-out was very tricky. Unfortunately, we chose the eastern-most of the two routes to Marj Lake, and found the beaver pond reduced to a boulder field with an insufficient amount of water in it, so we retreated to Burt Lake and paddled to the nearby single, direct portage to the lake. This carry is 175m long and starts on some steep bedrock, which is hazardous when wet and even more so when large waves are rolling in. I jumped out of the canoe and into the lake and threw the packs into the woods, while trying to keep the canoe from smashing into the rocks. Everett was wordless and a bit stressed out.

A steady rain made Marj Lake appear dreary, a stark contrast to the sunny times I had been there, when the aquamarine water and pine-clad shores were so inviting. We portaged 300m to an unnamed pond to the east. The Fisher Map places the portage too far to the south, but the Chrismar map is correct, as usual. Next, we portaged about 200m to Joyce Lake.

Joyce Lake has always seemed a mysterious place to me. The alignment of bent trees on islands as you look north can leave one with the illusion of seeing the curvature of the earth. In 1988 while co-leading an Outward Bound trip through the area I was caught in a violent storm while camped on one of the islands. We had trees blow down on the site, and my partner and I were inside our tent wearing our rain suits, holding the tent down, and waiting for the tent to fly apart. Fortunately, no one was injured.

On this day as Everett and I crossed Joyce Lake, thunder rumbled to the SW and a steady north wind piled up waves against the south shore. With lightning in the area and no obvious place to pull off into the woods, we stayed near shore and worked our way along the south shore as fast as possible. We found a small opening along the SE shore where we pulled in, wedged the canoe overhead between a couple of trees, and piled our gear, dog, and ourselves underneath as a downpour ensued.

A short time later the rain stopped, so we paddled the short distance north to the portage and carried 580m on a decent trail to a small, unnamed, rock-lined lake. The thin soils and surrounding jack pine forest indicates that the area has a long relationship with fire. Along the way a boardwalk cut from local trees crosses a wet area.

We then portaged 920m to Kahshapiwi Lake, passing through a few wet spots and over a granite ridge, before dropping over 100 feet to the lake. There was a lot of debris washed into the lake and floating on the surface, and the sound of numerous small, temporary streams could be heard as the surrounding landscape shed the water it could not store. We stopped at the island where we had camped the year before, and considered camping there again, but the only place that would hold a tent was flowing with water. So we ate a late lunch and pushed on to the SE bay of the lake, where we camped in a stand of red pines. Being unburned, this part of the east shore seemed closed in when compared with the miles of exposed rock to the north.

I set up a clothesline to slowly dry out our gear in the wind, despite the damp air and persistent cloud cover. Then it was hot lemonade on the stove, a change into dry clothes, and a quick hike up a shoreline hill before we cooked supper. A few small “sucker holes” (patches of blue skies) in the west hinted at improved weather for the following day.

28 June, Day 8: We got up to cloudy skies and a light north wind. After breakfast we packed up and paddled the short distance down to the Yum Yum Portage. Everett and I were both interested in that trail, as we had heard stories of its difficulty, so we had to check it out. Everett donned his pack, grabbed the rod case and paddles, and headed down the trail. I hoisted my pack and the canoe onto my shoulders and followed suit.

The trail climbs for a long time and ascends over 200 feet, before topping out at a cool cliff-top overlooking a bog. We stopped to take a few photos there. The trail then descends to a large sloping face of granite that is certainly the most dangerous part of the carry, especially when wet, as it was when we were there. I took the canoe and pack down through there in separate trips, and it required careful foot moves. I carried Everett’s pack down, too, as he was a bit stressed out by the injury potential.

The last stretch of the portage is a gradual downhill walk, and the treadway for much of it is worn a good foot or more into the ground from use and flowing water. It was actually a small stream as we passed through. Before long we were putting in at Yum Yum Lake. Summing it up, the Yum Yum is a tough portage, but not overly grueling. Certainly, the Cache Lake and Poohbah East (aka “Memory Lane”) portages are far tougher. That said, if the temperature was 90 F, you were overloaded and/or unfit, and the bugs were finding you attractive, then it could be grueling, indeed.

We stopped on a small point to pull out the fishing gear and depth finder. We found the trout nearby, and I quickly caught and released a couple of four- pounders. Everett couldn’t connect here and was disappointed, but we had to get going, so we packed away the gear, loaded the canoe, and headed out.

Before long, we rounded a point and heard the sound of voices, and saw a group of paddlers just setting up camp. Their gear and clothing reminded me of the cover of an REI catalog. These were the first people we had seen in a bit over three days, since we left Argo Lake. A short time later, while portaging 580m to Grey Lake, we encountered another, larger group – Boy Scouts from somewhere in the South.

The western shore of Grey Lake has some cool, overhanging rock formations. Several nice, but well-used campsites are also found on the lake. We portaged 720m to a clear, narrow, unnamed lake, crossing a large, open, and wet area midway. This area was pretty juicy after all the rain, and I slid off a log and up to my right thigh. I had to put down the canoe, place my pack in the canoe, and extract myself from the muck. Luckily my rain pants kind of sealed the top of the boot, so my foot stayed dry.

Instead of heading over to Shade Lake and then down to North Bay, we decided to check out the route through Dell Lake that ends at North Bay at the mouth of Isabella Creek. We portaged about 100m to Dell Lake. A campsite lies along the NW shore. By now the sky was clearing, and Dell Lake looked very inviting. It would make a nice first night’s camp when heading into Quetico from Moose Lake.

After portaging 260m to another unnamed lake to the south, where there are some ancient pines and a campsite on the eastern shore, we portaged 320m to Isabella Creek just above where it flows into a small, nameless lake upstream from the northernmost end of North Bay. This lake is sometimes called “Lily Pad Lake”, and it is shallow.

At the lake’s outlet we pulled through a gap in a beaver dam, and I worked the canoe downstream, carefully keeping Kevlar and rock apart, while Everett walked the steep shoreline. Downstream he got into the canoe, and we continued downstream to North Bay, pulling over another long, low beaver dam enroute.

There is a huge, heavily used campsite NE of the channel to Lost Bay and numerous other outstanding sites on North Bay itself. We stopped for a gorp break, before heading due south on a light chop across North Bay to the entrance of Burke Creek. After a quick portage, paddle, and portage, we were on Burke Lake, headed for the island site we had camped on last year. It was open, although we did see two or three groups paddle through the lake. A short time later, two Boy Scout leaders stopped by, looking for a PFD that they thought was left on the site. Fortunately, I found it near the fireplace and returned it to them. Then they headed back to their island site on North Bay.

I strung up a clothesline, and in the dry wind and sunshine, packs, raingear, socks, and anything else that was wet, damp, or needed airing out, was soon dry. We went for a swim and washed off the grime of several days’ travel, and then we air-dried too.

Everett did some casting from shore, as large fish were occasionally breaking the surface. I suspected these to be bass, but he caught a nice pike instead that I guessed to weigh about eight pounds. After supper we went out in the canoe and each caught and released two lake trout in the two to three-pound range from 60 to 80 feet of water. We returned to camp a little after sunset and found a painted turtle near its nest. It had laid several eggs in a narrow hole dug into the rocky soil, but it looked as if something had eaten at least a couple of them. I carried the turtle down to the lake and watched it swim away. We were hoping to stay up late and watch the stars on this last night of the trip, but high clouds filled the sky like giant feathers, so we retired to the tent.

29 June, Day 9: Up to sunny skies with some cirrus, we ate breakfast, broke camp, packed up and headed out. After the flat, 450m carry to Basswood Lake we paddled to Prairie Portage amid the sound of occasional motorboats. I bought a Quetico hat for my youngest son, Philip, and chatted with the folks there for a while as Everett waited with Wilson at the lake. Then we ate some gorp and portaged to Sucker Lake and began the six-plus mile paddle back to the landing at Moose Lake.

There were a LOT of paddlers and a regular passing of motorboats as we paddled against a steady headwind. At one point I could see 13 other canoes. Finally, we arrived at the landing, packed up our gear into the car, and drove into Ely for lunch, before heading down highways 1 and 2 to the Two Harbors area and home.