Friday, September 16, 2011 - ** Day 4 ** The next day was an earlier get up, and start. We had decided the evening before to push on and not stay another evening here, as we had previously planned to do, mostly in the hope of finding some better fishing luck. It was cold with a light breeze that had begun to break the second morning of sock-in fog. By the time we ate, loaded up, and left camp, it had pretty much done so. The two chipmunks that had appeared constantly in our temporary home chattered loudly as we slowly paddled away. I joked it was now time for them to rule their island again. We reached the portage, and upon breaking onto the Lac La Croix end, Matthew noticed that fish seemed to be feeding right at the rocky shore. Having carried his rod across intact, he immediately cast in and had a huge bite. With the second cast, a nice smallmouth. After a few more, he latched onto a good-sized northern that breached the water like a smallie would. “It’s like Shark Week in the BWCA!”, Matthew cried, and laughed with me after. We lingered for a bit, then got back to the day’s business at hand, Lac La Croix. I must admit, I was a bit anxious about crossing some big open water in a canoe. We stayed within decent distance of the southern shoreline until one spot, where we had to cross what felt like a small sea due to a long open bay that stretched to the South. The wind was blowing a bit, and the occasional rollers pleased neither one of us. We had been on some big lakes, and some in high winds and driving rain, but this was different. Thankfully, all went well. The big lake seemed much lower than any we had seen, with shorelines and islands clearly more visible than normal. We shared a good laugh when we passed a small, all rock island that was half-covered in gulls, and totally covered in white gull poo! Nearly 2½-3 hours after that first portage, we cut into a small channel leading over towards the mouth of Pocket Creek, which, due to low water, had been dammed across. I was rather impressed with the size of it, but, they do what they do. In fact, in this case, we were glad that it kept some water up in the creek. The next small portage around some small rapids gave us a taste of the low water conditions to come. The put-in there was well receded, and for us, an adjustment maker, as we have been mostly spoiled over the years with average or close-to water levels. Matthew paddled out from the shallow mud and around a small bend to some large rocks better suited to load me and the gear off of. I was a little thankful for the detour though, as the mud over to the rocks was chock-full of tracks of all kinds : Deer, Moose, Wolf, even Bear. Now if we could just see some, from a safe distance, of course! The euphoria of a relatively easy day ended quickly upstream, as we took the split down towards “Gebbe” (Ge-be-on-e-quet) lake. It narrowed quickly, and was choked and shallow. Our progress South slowed gradually, and soon, it came to a near standstill. It seemed as though we were only pulling against the deep mud and muck…because we didn’t feel like we were going anywhere. Around the next bend, we made out the culprit, yet another dam. This was a big one that looked like it had everything stopped. We looked to the edges of the “creek” to see if others had bailed to continue on by walking or dragging, but there were no signs at all. Determined, we stuck with the digging and poling until we finally reached the base of the dam. The last hundred feet or so must have taken 10-15 minutes, and seemed much longer. We were both short-term exhausted by the time we reached the dam. Bucky was definitely OFF the Christmas card list. We pulled up and over the dam, and continued on with much easier conditions. The portage into Gebbe Lake felt a bit steep after an already long day. We were glad it was a short one. The wind greeted us on the other side – hard – right into our faces. We frowned and put down our gear, then trudged right back for the rest, getting ready for another long pull across Ge-be-on-e-quet. After Gebbe, and at the next portage into Green Lake, my shoulders began to feel the strain of the day’s paddling under the weight of the canoe and my pack. A bunny portage would have been nice, but this one climbed nearly 100 feet in the first 50 rods or so, with quite a few of those tricky rock stair-steps. It felt every bit of 120 rods. Again, on the other end, a hard wind in our faces welcomed us. Also, as we emerged from the trees to the water’s edge, we saw people again for the first time in a few days. It’s funny how we take interaction with other’s for granted. I wondered what it must have been like to be one of those early trappers...going months without seeing anyone else. Hoping they weren’t looking for the one campsite here, we sped up our pace a bit, even though it turned out they were right beside it when we saw them. We briefly shared our experience North of Gebbe as we passed on the water, if they were headed that way. We wished them well, then went to the camp, midway down on the Eastern shoreline. By the time we got lined out, it looked to be a good site. We put our tent right beside the water, as was the fire grate, a few feet away. Our view looked right across the small lake, facing West. Matthew said it was the perfect setup for me to see an awesome sunset, and he was right. We set up the two captain’s chairs we had carried, and with some Super-Duper-Matthew-Bean Boundary-Waters Home-Makeover edition work in the kitchen area, it was a fine camp indeed. In fact, we decided to go ahead and make our chicken-n-dumplings dinner, right there and then, and sit down to enjoy the view. If there had been any letdown at all on this trip so far, it was the bad luck in fishing compared to our last trip. But, this was the first (and only as it turned out) afternoon and evening that the wind was barely blowing at all. With great excitement, we hit the water and looked for the best spot to start our angling deluge. Several bites and some near-misses later, Matthew finally pulled in a decent Northern. The skies were clear, so even the sunset wasn’t spectacular, but it was still beautiful all the same. We fished on, a bit closer to dark than we normally would, secure in the fact that we could still pick out our camp and tent clearly across the small, quiet lake, and that there was no one else out here. Just as I was about to say we needed to head in, I told Matthew, “I think we just need to wake these fish up”. I put on a good-sized popper, as did he. After 8-10 of some pretty loud *plunk – plunk-plunk’s*, we began to see lots of dark objects whizzing through the air all around us. Finally, we figured out they were bats, another first for us! The noise from the poppers buzzing across the lake must have perked their curiosity. They bumped Matthew’s pole and tried to hit the poppers in the water themselves. It was fun to watch and experience, but also a little creepy as they sped in and out all around us and our canoe, zipping right between us many times, and getting awful close to our heads too. In the maelstrom, I actually bagged a little Northern myself. It was pretty interesting trying to concentrate on getting him in and unhooked, with the whole bat thing going on. Now THAT doesn’t happen every day. By now, it was by all means..dark. There was just enough light left past the trees on the horizon to get back. We made hard and fast for the camp. Once there, and getting our canoe and gear safely stashed, we made some coffee and cocoa. In the still darkness, we sat in our chairs for a bit and enjoyed the stars and night sky before turning in.