The town of Grand Portage is not too well developed. There is the casino, a gas station, the marina, and the national park history center and fort. Verizon has no coverage here at all. There was wifi at the casino hotel, but otherwise communication was very limited- as were things to do. I rigged a clothesline in the hotel room and hung just about all my gear to dry; and the smell was of such wet-dog-meets-locker-room that I hung the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door just so the housekeepers wouldn’t have to go in there and risk death by asphyxiation. I took the fort tour twice from different reenactors and park rangers and watched the film and examined every exhibit in the history center. The Ojibwa tribe had actually given back reservation land to the federal government to create the Grand Portage Monument, which is today co-managed by both the Department of Interior and the tribe. As such, there is almost as much Anishinabe history included alongside the early European history- emphasizing how co-dependent the two groups were on one another during the fur trade era. I learned a great deal about the human beginnings of the place I live in. In the late 1960’s there was a series of archeological digs and dives at both ends of the Grand Portage trail unearthing some quite amazing artifacts surviving from the fur era. I think the historical value to me was so much higher having just completed a paddle from Rainy Lake and walking the Grand itself: It is incredible to think of the relatively primitive methods employed for people making that same journey long ago. Things that might seem an interesting factoid to a casual visitor struck me as very real and vivid. The park staff were passionate about their work, and knew everything: we tried to stump them with history questions but each one provoked a small lecture about life and commerce and politics in 18th century America, Britain, France, and Canada.

  Once I was in the nearshore environment of Lake Superior, the weather improved dramatically: with sunny afternoons and clear nights. Of course it did. BeaV and I decided to stretch the paddling muscles a bit and venture out onto the big lake- trading canoes to test the performance of each other’s canoe. It was beautiful to paddle the gentle swell wearing dry clothes in the sun; and with great care to not go for a swim in the cold water I did even manage to get the boat to surf a little bit.

  Having nowhere else to be: for three consecutive nights we closed down the hotel bar trading stories of past adventures. The forced downtime waiting for the Sunday shuttle back to Ely was enjoyable. Friday evening a husband/wife couple finished a shortened challenge route they had started around the halfway point outside of Ely. Saturday, we received satellite messages requesting a rendezvous with the final paddler Mzee who would not be able to finish that day. GrandmaL and BeaV drove to meet him at a landing close to the Fowl lakes. I thought there might be disappointment at the non-finish, but he was in good spirits and happy with his effort. Even more impressive to me was learning that he is almost exactly twice my age. That’s some inspiration to tuck away for later. That night we all had dinner and drinks as the stories continued (around a campfire by the lake) about our shared-yet-individual adventure. “Where were you when the hail hit? How much trouble did you have finding that portage? Where do you think you passed me along the way? etc etc.”

    Sunday morning was time to depart and after breakfast we met the Shuttle van that collected gear and canoes and drove back to Ely. From there I took off fast and arrived home just in time to see the boys before bed and tell Molly of my adventures.