After a delicious breakfast of coffee and granola bars, Jon, Jesse, Grandpa and I loaded all of our things in the trailer and were shuttled to 81 Landing where Zach, our tow boat driver, was waiting to take us to Saganaga Falls. This was my first experience with a tow boat, and I was a little apprehensive, due to the amount of money I had paid for it and the way I thought it might affect my perception of the wilderness, as outlined in Sigurd Olson’s “Flying In” in The Singing Wilderness. My concerns were quickly dispelled. In fifteen minutes, we traveled a distance that would have otherwise taken us about three hours and left us tired for our first portage. Although I will only take one when I need to, it was perfect for our needs given our trip goals and Grandpa and Jon being up there in years.

I was back in the wilderness the moment my feet hit the trail of the 35 rod portage between Saganaga Falls and the Granite River. My heart sang every minute of the first portage. I boosted the pack on my shoulders myself in the old-fashioned way, pulling it on my knees, getting my one arm in the strap and tossing it over to my other shoulder. Given the amount of travel that the Granite River sees I was surprised at the condition of the portage. It was very tight, rocky and muddy in places, and on top of that the portage clearing crews clearly had not visited. It was severely overgrown. Still, I enjoyed it. Near the end of the portage the trail crosses a very tricky rock face that descends quickly, so I had to watch my footing. After dropping the pack off at the other end, I headed back, passing Jon, Grandpa and Jesse on the way. The bear barrel was so heavy that Jon and Grandpa were carrying it together, one on each side.

Now came the real test of my portaging abilities: Could I carry the canoe myself? On my previous portaging trip, someone had assisted me in loading the canoe and balancing it while I was carrying it. I grabbed one end of the aluminum canoe and allowed the other end to rest on shore. Then, I turned the canoe over and walked down the gunwales to the portage yoke. After securing the canoe on my shoulders, I headed down the portage, soon reaching the other end. Success!!! I took a picture at the other end and headed back down the trail rejoicing in my accomplishment. I portaged the other canoe the same way, as well as the maiden portage for my Duluth pack. I had come a long way since my first trip two years before.

As we pushed off from the landing with our loaded canoes, the air was still and quiet, and the sun was shining. The only sound came from the white-throated sparrows. This was what I had waited for and dreamed about all throughout the long winter. We paddled the short distance to Horsetail Rapids where our second portage was, observing a nice beaver lodge on the Canadian shoreline. Paddling south against the current was not an issue, as the current is not strong or noticeable except at the falls, rapids, and narrow places (at least at the areas we were in). The water conditions were such that we had to walk the canoes up the rapids to the portage landing. I could not see an easily navigable trail anywhere. The current was fairly strong here so we had to be careful, but made it to the portage landing uneventfully, after maybe a thirty yard walk or so. The 20 rod (probably smaller) portage was much better, and after about twenty minutes we were paddling south down Maraboeuf Lake.

The paddling conditions were perfect, with a gentle breeze, perfect temperature, and the sun shining. I was paddling with Grandpa and had put Jon and Jesse together. About a quarter way down the lake Grandpa asked Jon how he was doing. “I never paddled so hard in my life!” he said, half jokingly and half seriously. Jesse was only eleven and strong for his age, but he wasn’t the paddling machine that I was. Grandpa and I took it easy as we were in no rush, so we stayed together and chatted as we headed for the south end of Maraboeuf Lake, where Deb had recommended a campsite on a little inlet.

As we pulled up, I headed in to check out the campsite. It had a nice fire grate and open area above the water that would be good on buggy nights. The tent pads were large and set back in the woods, and the latrine was in good condition. We decided to make this spot our home for at least two days, maybe more if the fishing was good. Grandpa and Jon set up the big four person Coleman and Jesse and I set up my little (ahem) two person Ozark Trail tent I had bought for thirty dollars. We had transported our tents along with two folding chairs in an old hockey duffel, which worked really well for this purpose. I was interested to see how my little cheap tent would perform. As I was setting up our summer sausage sandwich lunch, Jon headed in skinny dipping, with it being high noon and everything. We all chuckled at his audacity. A few chipmunks were just as audacious as they tried to sneak up on my kitchen counter (a large rock).

After lunch, the rest of us hit the lake for a refreshing swim. I discovered to my chagrin that I had left my swim suit behind. Not being quite as daring as Jon, I decided to just use my underwear instead and give it a good cleaning besides. The water was refreshing and I stayed in for about fifteen minutes before drying up. We then headed out fishing. First we fished the area near our campsite. Debbie had told us about a walleye reef roughly in the vicinity of a very small rock island in the middle of the lake. Jesse got a small bass but that was it. Then, we headed for Devil’s Elbow to the east of us for what we heard was some serious fishing in the currents. We set up our bait and got to work. None of us had any success except for Jesse, who pulled in two huge smallies on a single light green rubber worm. The last of them was the biggest bass I had ever seen. The wind picked up, so we headed for camp and watched some isolated thunderstorms rumble by around us. Grandpa and Jon took a nap.

We enjoyed a delicious dinner of hot dogs over the fire and fresh fish cooked over our stove, with mochas afterwards, a tasty drink created by mixing instant coffee and hot chocolate. Again, I thoroughly enjoyed my surroundings, bugs and all, and identified the songs of more white throated sparrows and a hermit thrush (a first for me). We also heard a moose calling, probably a cow. After a hard fought game of five hundred we headed in to bed. Literally the only downside to our tent pad was the fact that the ground angled, so Jesse and I spent the night sliding downward. I was able to sleep well anyway.