Tuesday, October 08, 2013

We finally awake to blue skies! Of course that means the air temperature is a little crisper as well. For anyone who likes to travel in canoe country in the fall, today’s weather is exactly the scenario a person envisions when daydreaming prior to the trip. A hardy breakfast of bacon & eggs is on the menu this morning. And we’re gonna need a full tank today, because the plan is to head up to Pemmican Lake.

Since we pulled up short yesterday, it was a longer paddle this morning. Not long after getting under way, we stopped at the site I had wanted yesterday, to take a short break. This was an unspectacular average site whose main attributes were the small rock stairway leading up to the main camping area & a border marker, obviously protruding out of a large boulder, just a short ways down the shoreline. Vickie felt our site was quite a bit nicer & was happily contented with the way things had worked out.

Every map I’ve ever seen shows a portage trail running up to Pemmican Lake just east of the campsite located below (north of) the western edge of Pemmican. This portage is no longer there. (I’ve searched in vain on prior trips.) The portage actually runs right through the middle of the aforementioned campsite #722. In fact, it’s merely an extension of the trail up to the latrine. [paragraph break] And quite the steep trail that it is. Just getting up to the latrine requires a nearly herculean effort. Evidenced by the toilet paper carnations that have been in bloom near the perimeter of camp each time I’ve stopped here.

After passing the (left) spur off to the latrine, the trail becomes more overgrown & has several large windfalls to go over, under & around. The trail isn’t overly well established, and the recent fallen leaves aided in camouflaging the actual path. I’ve done a number of steep portages, and what sets this one apart from virtually all others is the fact that it is so twisting & narrow that the canoe just barely squeezes through in many sections. This often prevents a person from being able to choose the best foothold on some of the toughest sections. You simply are given no choice as to where to plant your foot, so you have to cautiously make due. Often times having to repeatedly experiment to find exactly the right angle to turn the canoe to get through. Slow & steady wins the race. (Or, at least, gives you the best chance at being able to cross the finish line.) A person unequivocally earns their stripes getting up to this little gem.

Surprisingly, there is actually a pretty decent – expansive, put in on the Pemmican end. Undoubtedly, most people probably climb the trail, sans canoe, and fish from shore, thus (over time) opening up the landing. A stiff east wind blew for the duration of our visit here. While we enjoyed the change of pace paddling on a small, intimate lake such as this - we were concerned about how the wind was affecting Mountain Lake, so we left a bit prematurely.

As a side note: While Pemmican lake was not part of the historic Voyageurs Highway, it still owes its’ name to that colorful history. Pemmican was one of the most important staples in the Voyageurs diet. I’m particularly fond of the description the scientist Kennicott (who traveled with Voyageurs back in the day) gave. (His quote below is from Grace Lee Nutes’ book, “The Voyageur”.) “ Pemmican is supposed by the benighted world outside to consist only of pounded meat and grease ; an egregious error; for, from experience on the subject, I am authorized to state that hair, sticks, bark, spruce leaves, stones, sand, etc., enter into its composition, often quite largely.”

Once back down on Mountain we find our worries were all for naught. The big lake was still quite placid. We rested a bit at the campsite before heading back. One positive thing we did have to show from the Pemmican portage was some extra birch bark for starting our campfires.

A large white pine served as a towering center piece to our campsite. Not that we had any particular navigational problems, but this solitary sentinel was easy to spot from the lake & acted as our ‘lob tree’ - guiding us home. It also meant that much of our site was coated with a thin, auburn hued, pine duff blanket. There was also an old bear rope hopelessly hanging from one of the high limbs and, just below this giant, was a large, flat stone that had names chiseled on it from a group who had apparently stayed here back in August of 1968.

Once again we gathered some firewood on our way back to camp. I set about processing it while Vickie started supper.

Vickie had really outdone herself on this trip, as our menu was absolutely stellar from top to bottom. She had dehydrated some hamburger as well as several different vegetable combinations to deliciously supplement our usual table fare.

While the sun was still in the sky we checked out our campsite a little more closely. The latrine area was something of an emerald oasis, as lush moss blanketed most of that immediate area. There were also several unique fungi garnishing the perimeter, as well as a few hardy asters.

We eventually converged at the campfire where Vickie, once again, worked her magic, baking some mixed berry muffins. It was a quiet, peaceful evening that afforded us an, always eagerly anticipated, opportunity to enjoy the extra special treat of viewing the pulsating Aurora Borealis. (The first sighting in the BWCA we’d viewed since our trip to Big Moose 2 years ago.) Which while in warm embrace, reminded us of our own special little light back home.

Mountain Lake, Pemmican Lake