clouds. The wind picks up quickly and rain starts pouring out of the sky for about 10 minutes. It stops for a minute, then starts again. I try to sleep, but every now and then wake up to more thunder. I see a huge flash of light and 2 seconds later the loudest, sharpest blast on the west side of the lake. Like a howitzer going off. Shook everything as my heart jumps into my throat. Holy thunderboomer, Batman!

I finally get up at 6:00, have some cereal, and still have a sore throat. The wind is already blowing hard from the south. Fishing will be problematic today. I had hoped to head into Marj for a daytrip, but the only way to get there would be into the big wind. Not a problem so much on Burt, as it’s only a few hundred years from my campsite to the southern shoreline, but the waves on Marj could be much larger. I paddle across and park the canoe on the portage leading to Marj. The granite slab is quite steep, but not a problem today in the calm water and dry conditions. A northerly wind or wet rain, and this landing would be precarious at best. I leave the canoe and the nice trail to Marj and sure enough, the waves are rocking and rolling. I’m just not up for fighting that kind of wind today. Next, I paddle to the other portage to Marj that follows the small creek. A short pretty little portage through pines, cedars, maple and birch that ends in a pond. A short paddle from here to another short portage gets you into Marj. I throw some casts into the pond from the shoreline but nothing hits. At least here I’m not seeing big wind. On the return walk, I collect some small downed maple and stuff them into the canoe. 

I spend the next 90 minutes fishing the calm southern shoreline with little success, just some small smallies. It’s about noon when I decide to rig up a deep diving rapala and ride the wind and waves north to the small island on the SE side of the big island. Halfway across, my pole bends wildly. Holy crap! A strike, in the middle of the lake! A few minutes later, I land a nice 21-inch laker. What luck! The only problem now is fighting through the 1-foot rollers back to the campsite. The waves aren’t that large, but they are really moving fast, and it takes a good 20 minutes of hard yak paddling to reach the campsite. I struggle to get the gear and canoe out of the water. Next, fillet the trout. Where’s my 6-inch Rapala fillet knife. Hmmm. Not in the fishing pack. Not in any of the other packs. Uh oh. It’s nowhere to be found. I think. Shoot. I must have left it back on Suzanette, either at the campsite, or on the shore where I cleaned the bass 2 days ago. And I didn’t bring another fillet knife like I usually do. So, I learn quickly how to fillet a trout with the small 2.5-inch blade on my Buck knife. It actually worked better than I anticipated.

Due to the wind, there’s not much fishing to do today, so I spend the better part of the afternoon reading, napping, and getting the wood ready for baked lake trout tonight. The huge erratic near the landing works as a fine windbreak. While reading and munching on snacks, I soak in the scenery and marvel at the clarity of Burt’s water. Clearest water I’ve seen since Argo a couple years ago. I haven’t seen a soul for over 5 days now, but I‘m actually sitting here really enjoying myself. And there are no horseflies, ankle-biters or other bugs to speak of. “Wow, this has got to is one of the finest campsites I’ve ever stayed at!” A golden-colored moth wants to get out of the wind so it lands next to me on the pfd. Never seen one with this color pattern. 

The canoe is just to the right and in front of my chair, so I wonder what a south-facing ground-level picture from acanoe’s perspective would look like.

By late afternoon, the stratocumulus continue to build, and to the north they are getting bigger, darker, and closer. I hear thunder in the distance as I secure the campsite. Sure enough, here comes the rain as I dive into the tent with my snacks, book and chair. The pitter patter of rain on the tent puts me to sleep for a good hour. I look out and see blue sky to the south and the east. As I walk out to view the sky, I see black clouds and rain coming in from the west and north. I must be just on the edge of a front. A couple of ankle biters surprise me and take a couple chunks out of my ankles and calves. Ouch. You turds! I notice the wind has shifted 180 degrees and is now coming from the north. So weird. And here it comes. Rain from the west. I race back into the trees and dive into the tent. And it rains hard. Geez, I hope it stops in time so I can start the fire and bake the trout. Luckily, the rain stops about an hour before dark. As I’m getting ready to eat out on the ledgerock, it’s calm. Which brings out a swarm of ankle-biting flies. They are everywhere. So I grab my baked trout, fixins and drink and race to the security of the tent. After stuffing my face, I read into the night and fall fast asleep.

Day 12, 13. Burt to McIntyre via Paulene

Total Distance – 7.8 miles; 2 portages (710 yards).

View 2011 Day 12 in a larger map

Well, why the heck not. I’m moving to McIntyre today and will fish Paulene on the way, which I’ve heard is full of largemouth bass. I tried to keep it a secret, but the Quetico Gods somehow found out and cause the wind to literally howl from the west. I look at the lake and 2 foot rollers with whitecaps are moving across the southern part of Burt. Geez. Anything larger and I’m here for another day or two. From where I stand, it’s about 500 yards to get to the more protected southern shoreline. These will be the largest waves I’ve fought against with my 9-foot yak paddle.

I tie everything down in the canoe, put on my pfd and slide the canoe into the water on the protected eastern side of the ledgerock point behind the huge erratic which blocks the wind. I hit full speed as I round the point and quarter into the whitecaps which break over the bow every now and then. I’m digging in hard with the yak paddle, with shorter more vertical strokes than I normally use. This is where my fully-loaded Bell Northwind truly excels as it slices through the waves. I have no problem staying on course with the yak paddle, and after 15 minutes, the waves begin to weaken and I’m through the largest waves of the day. As I near the exit from Burt, I peer down a nearby cove and spot another huge erratic, about the size of a small house. Amazing power those glaciers, I think to myself.

I catch a number of good smallmouth in the channel leading to the Paulene portage, the largest at 18 inches. I just can’t seem to break that 18-inch barrier. The portage into Paulene, a long narrow lake running east to west, is along a nice trail. As I rest at the put-in on Paulene, the waves aren’t that big, but they are moving really fast right into me. No fishing on the main part of the lake today, but there are a couple of long, narrow coves that branch north from the northern shoreline. Over the next 2 hours, I catch at least 30 largemouth bass throwing a spinnerbait. Almost any fallen tree holds a bass or two. But none are over 14 inches. That’s what I was wondering about. Are there any big largemouth in this lake? Seems like there might be, maybe in the main channel of the lake in deeper water.

The last portage into McIntyre is also along a nice trail that goes gradually up the first third and gradually down for the last two thirds with a quite rocky ending. I’m smiling as I return for the canoe knowing the portage is more downhill coming from Paulene. But it’s here that I also notice my right big toe is really hurting. Feels like an ingrown toe nail or something, but it hurts every time I bang my foot into a rock. Can’t do anything about it now, but I’ll have to check it once I’m done traveling for the day. Once on McIntyre, it takes a little over an hour to fight through the wind and arrive at one of my favorite Quetico campsites. Surrounded by red and white pine and cedar, this campsite also has a message cache that few people seem to know about. It’s located along a trail to the north of the campsite about 100 yards or so. You have to watch for a clearing on the left about 25 yards or so off the main trail. Look for a rock cairn that’s about waist high.

The site has enough space for 3 tents, with one located down the slope protected by a huge white pine.

The campsite offers great views of McIntyre and good fishing nearby for lakers, smallmouth, and northern pike. After setting up the camp, I head down to the ledgerock and wade into the water to wash of the day’s grime. I’m bitten on my thighs by some ankle-biters, so I dive in the water to escape. So much for wading. After the impromptu swim, I get dressed, hang up the wet clothes, and set up my screen room so I can relax without fighting the flies. This cheap little netting has more than paid for itself on this trip.

As I sit in my screen room, I realize I’m totally exhausted. I guess fighting the wind on Paulene to fish for a couple hours took a lot out of me. The wind continues to howl from the west, but this campsite is well-protected. The wind whips over the ridgeline and then drops down and just lightly swirls around in the nearby cove. I think about baking a pizza, but I’m too tired to search for firewood and bake the darn thing. So I pull out the trail mix, two nut bars, some slim jims and tootsie rolls. Yum. 30 minutes later, I feel better and the wind appears to be calming. I conduct some wilderness first aid on my infected toe. It looks like an infected ingrown toenail on the left side of my right big toe. It’s puffy and blue. So I heat up a needle with my Bic lighter, poke a few holes and squeeze out a boatload of pus. I lather on the triple antibiotic ointment and cover it with gauze and tape. That’ll work for now. By 8:00, it’s calm enough on the water so I hop in the canoe to troll for some trout. I paddle down through the narrows to the southern bay of McIntyre but can’t entice any trout to strike. I return just before dark and get everything secure for the night. It’s the 12th night and I realize how much I miss my boys. We’ve canoed together each summer for several years now, but their college commitments conflicted with this summer’s trips so I’m on my own.

It’s sunny and mostly calm when I roll out of the tent in the morning just after 7:00. A family of 6 loons in the middle of the lake are making noise all over the place. They appear to be playing a game of tag or capture the flag. I absolutely love their sounds. After a relaxing bowl of cereal and cup of coffee, I refill my mug head to the trout hole. The first pass nets a nice eater-sized laker.

But I have a craving for pizza tonight with lemon poppyseed muffins, so I release him to grow some more. As the trout lays in the water, my canoe drifts about 10 feet away., Suddenly and without warning, a mature bald eagle swoops down from behind and with talons ready to strike gets within a few feet of the trout. But sensing I’m still a threat, the eagle halts the attack and rises up and over to the nearby shoreline where it perches on a tall pine. That was interesting. A few seconds later, as I wonder if the eagle will return, the trout splashes a couple times and heads for the deep. Another 30 minutes pass by without any strikes, so I head to the shoreline and gather some seasoned white pine from a couple downed trees. Perfect for splitting and baking a pizza. I return to the trout hole for another pass and hook into another nice eater-sized laker which I quickly unhook and release to fight another day.

I return to camp and enjoy the rest of this beautiful day, a westerly wind strengthening a bit as the day progresses. The white pine I collected splits so nice. Just a couple taps with my Sport Ax on the little 10-inch logs and plink, they split. Gonna be a great fire tonight. As I laze around the rest of the afternoon, I’m in heaven. It’s almost 8 days now and I haven’t seen another paddler. But I’m not lonely. There’s always things to do. I check out the message cairn and find there’s only one or two new notes since my son and I visited this site last year. I jot down some notes about this year’s solo and leave the cairn as I found it. Returning to camp, I take a photo of a lonely windswept tree latching onto one of the granite ledges bordering the campsite.

Time to read a bit and start a fire. The wind seems to be coming more from the north as I ready the fire. This has been the strangest wind of any trip I’ve been on in the Quetico. Never seems to stay the same for more than a day or so. Coming from every different direction. What are the chances it’ll be with me tomorrow as I head south to Basswood via Sarah, Point and Nest? Don’t bet on it.

The poppyseed muffins and pizza turn out great. Did I mention I was in heaven?

I have enough firewood to last for a couple more hours, so instead of fishing, I enjoy my most relaxing evening I’ve had on this trip with a 3-hour campfire as the stars begin to shine. Even though I had earlier doubts about enjoying this trip after the Death March, it’s amazing what a couple of calm, quiet evenings around a campfire can do to rejuvenate the spirit. A great end to a great day.

Day 14. McIntyre to Basswood (small bay leading to Nest Lake)

Total Distance – 11.9 miles; 11 portages (2310 yards).

View 2011 Day 14 in a larger map

The wind began to blow pretty good during the night and has now shifted from the north to east, threatening with low stratus to bring rain . But it’s cooler, low 60s I think, and that’ll make the long travel day a little more bearable. I hope the rain holds off because the two portages from Side through the unnamed lakes are very steep and very slippery when wet.

I get an early start for me, on the water by 8:00. The waves ramming into the ledgerock make it real dicey and the canoe bangs against the rock a few times before I finally get seated and push off. I paddle hard into the waves down to the calmer waters near the narrows heading towards Sarah. The first 300-yard portage is along a nice soft trail, mostly downhill into Sarah. There’s another shorter “up and over” portage along the creek into Sarah, but the longer one seems easier to me. Sarah is calmer than I expect as I make my way south. Until I reach the grand 5-star campsite that guards the northern opening of the “chute”. This part of Sarah can really be a bear in the wind. And wouldn’t you know it, even though I’m paddling in a general SE direction, the stiff wind must be blowing just enough from the south to whip around the tall trees along the step shoreline right at me in the chute. I paddle harder than I have the entire trip, including that big west wind on Burt a couple days ago. As I near the end of the chute, the wind is wickedly strong and gusting straight into me, then whipping around the treeline and buffeting my canoe to the right and left. I actually struggle to keep my track even thought I’m only a canoe l=ength or two from the shoreline. “This bites!” I yell into the gale. For almost 30 minutes I fight south down the chute. Finally, I get within 30 yards of the take-out leading to the portage left of the creek and the water is calm. I’m just happy to be out of the wind. While I rest a bit, I look back along the treetops and can’t believe what I’m seeing. The wind seems to have totally died. Yeah, that’s just great. “Screw you, damn giraffe!” I mutter to myself and wipe the sweat off my brow.

I quickly make it over the first portage. As I load the canoe and step in, I look up and lo and behold! Two canoes carrying couples glide towards the landing. First people I’ve talked to in 9 days. They’re heading north for a couple weeks. Can’t remember exactly where, but it was quite nice to talk to someone else besides myself. I wind my way through the narrow creek channel and make it over the next two portages in short order. As I munch a couple of snacks on Side Lake, it looks like the rain will hold off. Good. Now I won’t have to slog up the steep hill to the first unnamed, or slide out of control down the steep slabs of rock into the second unnamed lake. Once on Isabella, I hang to the right and 30 minutes later I’m on Point Lake. The clouds are starting to thin and I can almost see my shadow as I park the canoe and check out the small campsite on the east side of Point. Not bad. Flat landing, a grassy area for a tent or two, mediocre firepit, and another area under the pine canopy that could hold a tent or two. I eat a quick lunch and return to the water for some fishing. I was told before this trip to try for the bass that lurk in the green-tinged water of Point Lake. And I wasn’t disap-POINT-ed. Sorry, couldn’t resist. First cast of the spinnerbait back at the shoreline by the campsite yields a nice 16-in smallie.

As I paddle northward, I see a shallow reef with deeper wate that is fairly clear. I quickly catch at least a dozen more smallies, all on my spinnerbait, all between 15 and 18 inches, with a lighter, greenish and tan tinge to their pattern. Much different than the dark-striped pattern of smallies on Basswood and most other lakes in Quetico. Continuing along the northern shoreline, I cast into the cover of blowdown trees and start nailing more 13 to 16-inch fish, this time largemouth. Wow. What a deal. In the middle of the afternoon. With a spinnerbait. I make a mental note to bring my boys here someday.

The hardest and longest portage of the day leads from Point into Nest. It’s about ½ mile, fairly decent trail, a couple of ups and downs, a little mud, some overgrown parts, just longer than I remember coming from the other way. From Ne