Plans last night were to wake up, make the leftovers for breakfast and head out: East down West Pike, portage over to Pine, back West up Pine Lake to the far end and hike to Johnson’s Falls. Return itinerary on the day trip is open to completing a loop via Little Caribou or back the way we came.

Extreme Fisherman dad confided in me. Did you see the map for this day trip? There is some incredulity in his voice and on his face. I guess we are in for a lot of paddling and portaging, but I am game for anything, I mean isnt that why you go to the BWCA?

The Extreme Fishing crew decides that fishing is more important than getting a move on down the lake. They go the long way, around the island and troll for Lakers again. Our other two boats take the direct route, towards the east portage. After 30 minutes of paddling it is obvious the fisherman must be on the fish, as they are WAY back there. So we go with the flow and start fishing for bass and wait for them to catch up. When they do, they do have a nice Lake Trout caught by the son.

We make landfall at the portage. I was too busy to think through the math, but in retrospect 318 rods is 2 canoe lengths short of a mile. It was probably better I didn’t know starting this portage.

Having learned my lesson about portaging in Keens, I dry off, put on my SmartWool socks and tie up my hiking boots. Dry socks = true pleasure. I carry a daypack, and my 16ft Penobscot, with seats, extra paddle and rods all BDB’d in. My son has another daypack with our water bottles, the small tackle pouch and the paddles. Experienced BWCA dad is taking the huge waterproof blue pack, and the 17ft Penobscot. He won’t allow anything to be tied into the canoe when carrying. Hmmm… I am start to wonder if I should be following others examples. Regardless, this left Extreme fisherman Dad carrying the airy Kevlar MNII. The pads and weight of that canoe fit better on his once dislocated/broken collarbone/shoulder.

The portage started nice enough, it crossed some low areas bridged by timbers, perfectly spaced with enough room to get a foot caught in it, although we all crossed it unscathed. A few minutes later the fauna starts encroaching, and we start going uphill. Sunscreen and deet are sweating into my eyes, it is getting hot. I start rotating what hand is balancing the canoe, every now and then I place the opposite hand on my hip to help bolster the weight, then switch, which seems to cause a new pain in my shoulders. Maybe if I hunch down a bit it will change things up? Slide it back a little? No, forward? Not even ½ way yet... I seemed to have drifted off or blanked out my memory, the next thing I remember is passing experienced BWCA guy who is upset at his giant dry bag pack that doesn’t fit anyone. The boys are yelling ahead, we are crossing the hiking trail finally. They are tired and I pass them by. Muddy… downhill… green… hot… hey, that’s poison ivy isn’t it? Is that a snake? No, just my shoelace in the mud. Crap! Untied shoe? I don’t think I can solve this problem with my load. In my exertion induced insanity, I start dreaming a woodland creature will help tie my shoe. I ask the dog on his portage patrol to help, he doesn't. I swear to double tie my hiking boots, at this point I may as well be wearing my soggy keens Some jubilant solo kayaker? is skipping up the hill at me, smiling, with the smallest, lightest shell of a boat I have ever seen, no pack. “It’s all downhill from hear!” he says with a smile. I try to say “I wish I could tell you the same.” But I think it came out “Blahjsie #@!*^% auwkblad youferistic blod!”

With 40 feet of portage left, I start beckoning the Extreme Fisherman for help to get this god forsaken canoe off my shoulders. He jumps up from his rehydration moment and saves me. I am now 2 inches shorter. My son is there, tired, standing in the lake fully dressed. I mutter as I retie my shoe.

A quick drink, and back up the portage to find the other boys, Experienced BWCA Dad and offer some help. The kids stumble down the hill, and BWCA dad is moving smooth without the hellish blue dry pack.

It sounds like we have left a few stashes along the portage so we will call this an unintentional portage and a half. It feels great to have my right shoe tied, still didn’t double knot, idiot. After about 300 feet, portage shepherd is checking on me. Another 10 feet and damn it all, if BWCA dad isn’t jogging on the portage “Just to hurry things up a bit”, he says. I feel the same about him right now as the happy skipping solo Ultra light kayaker dude. I gather what the kids have dropped and he takes on the hated blue bag. When we get back, and yes, my other boot untied during this carry, idiot!, everyone is now standing in the lake.

There is a camp site here, wind is blowing in and a nice spot by the lake to have lunch so Fisherman dad does up a shore lunch with the Laker they caught. He rules! Supplement that with the usual Bruegger’s Bagels, sausage, cheese and such. The kids play king of the rock in the water until it appears injury may result, so we move on. Here moving on means a 5 mile canoe trek on beautiful Pine Lake. Most campsites on the north side are awesome. A couple sites are filled with canoes converted into catamarans, I suppose that makes a lake this size safer in the wind, or easier to carry mass amounts of beverages?

Headwind. a long persistent head wind. Well, it will be easier getting back… We take breaks on fighting the wind and fish our way down the lake. We have lots of Small Mouth success here and we make it to the west end where there are canoes and people all over. There are plenty of people around Johnson’s falls this afternoon. It feels like a National Park but without the Europeans everywhere. One group leaving recommends fishing where the stream runs into the lake as they could see, literally, hundreds of fish. We spend more than an hour, giggle fishing. This is where you catch so many fish, you just laugh. Every or every other cast is a bass, most small. There are some bigger ones farther out and Northern Pike patrolling as well. These were found as they fed on a couple of the Smallies we reeled in. One looked like a shark on the Discovery channel diving over a dragged fake seal.

The afternoon is running out so the kids reluctantly give up fishing and hike up to the lower falls. The kids play in the pools well downstream from the falls. They aren’t the smoothest rocks to slide down through the rapids but the bruises and scrapes aren’t felt until that night, too much fun.

Visiting the upper falls, amazing. The kids find a small pool where water rushes in about shoulder/neck height and they get a free cold spa treatment. Again we are reluctant to leave an activity, but do so as it is getting on towards evening.

Back at Pine lake, the kids beg for more fishing at the mouth of the stream. OK, you're only here once is the concensus. The bad part is, our steady wind is starting to dwindle. Our expected downwind paddle back becomes less using the map for a sail and more smooth lake paddling.

The portage back to West Pike… ugh. It is meaner on the way north. A long uphill to start. We decide to double portage with a pretty light load on the 2nd trip. Extreme fishermen head off up the portage followed by my son and followed by our portaging machine leader and son. I pick up the rear. The dog is here, it has started checking on me more often. I wonder if I smell like the start of a heart attack. Nice dog, I appreciate the concern.

Jeesh, it is still hot. I start spotting bits and pieces falling off the guys in front of me. Drat! One was even the leach pail the fishermen were using. I still have the spare paddle, seats and rods strapped in the canoe. Still haven’t learned there. I can’t fathom the possibility of putting down the canoe and pack, or cleaning the leeches up with them on my back. I trudge on and go into pack mule mode again. Zero thoughts but focus on the finish to forget about the pain. My son ends up meeting me on the portage, he is going back to get more stuff following the jogging portage fitness dad and his son. I finally drop the canoe off, help the Extreme fishermen out onto West Pike and head back to help the others on the double portage. No help needed for the BWCA dad he jogs on by. I think he was even smiling, so I continue farther to help the kids. They are happy to have saved the leeches and have a lot of other tackle, rods and bags with them. I ease their burden and follow my son. His feet are skimming ½ inch of the ground stumbling into every rock he doesn’t see. He has bonked, with ½ mile to go. I encorage him to march with high steps, to focus on each foot placement. Two tripping incidents later we get to the wooden walkways over the marshy area. Hmmm… His foot does fit perfectly between the two boards! It is stuck. He is not happy. Glad he doesn’t use playground words around me. After foot extraction with no injury, we finish our portage and happily set off on our home lake. I pull out a surprise mint dark chocolate bar. It melted once in its journeys but it is solid right now and we split it, as a reward for that portage. It is the best chocolate ever. Energy levels rise and things are looking up.

When we reach our island, the fisherman dad has been making some linguini alfredo, bacon gets added and again, things are looking up. We are hot and exhausted. Swimsuits are found and we soak away the day’s grime. Revived, it is dusk and mosquitos have come out in numbers never seen on this trip or in any other time of our life. After changing in the tent, long sleeves and pants and bug nets. An attempt is made at eating. Mmmmm… bug net alfredo. Not so easy. We cut is short, euphamism’s are flying about the bugs. S’mores are called off, we franticly clean up, hanging the food and garbage in the swarm is the worst and we dive, literally, into the tents for the night. The running around heated us back up after the swim. Hot and sweaty again. Sleep doesn’t come easy. Haunted by mosqito noise. Is that mosquito in our tent or just by my ear on the screen? I am too tired to figure it out. West Pike Lake, Pine Lake