Friday, September 04, 2020
Up early; our third day is a travel day. Cerberus and I have a permit to stay in Sundial PMA – Zone 5. Sunday Lake is our target, so this will take us up through Thunder and Beartrap, then river travel on the Beartrap.
We breeze through to Thunder, and pass a few groups heading south. Thunder and Beartrap Lakes are quickly dispatched, and then I pull a bit of a Charlie move. I glanced at the map and erroneously made the assumption that the 1153m (intrepid reader, that’s rods aplenty; 229 to be exact) began at the outflow of Beartrap Lake. Nope! Next bay North… But there is a portage at the outflow – seems to be on the wrong side (river left) but as it’s a decent enough trail by the Canadian standards that I am used to, off we go. This works well enough – let’s call it a ‘shortcut’! There are three quick portages and a beaver dam or two along the Beartrap in this stretch, prior to the point where the Beartrap meets Spring Creek. On the last beaver dam I make a rush job of reentry into the Magic, and find myself much wetter than intended. Cerberus also had her enthusiasm dampened. But it’s a two minute delay, no more, and a lesson for your muddy minstrel.
Well over an hour after leaving Beartrap Lake, we get to the Spring Creek/Beartrap River junction, and turn North. Another portage is coming up – once again a single portage (931m – okay, 185 rods, but kind reader, I’ll have ask you not to be so picky) on the map; however it is actually 3 short ones, perhaps 500 meters (a CentuRod) in total. The last section of paddling has a couple beaver dam pullovers and is very meandering. We finally enter Sunday lake after about 4 hours of travel.
Sunday lake is not the most scenic lake in the BWCA – very little exposed rock and not a whole lot of topography. It’s small with no islands and the most mundane of geometries. But on the other hand – solitude! There are two campsites ‘established’ on the lake. The one on the eastern shore was probably nice at one point but half a dozen significant blowdowns have rendered it pretty useless. The other site is small but has a decent landing, nice fire area, and room for one tent. Or in our case, one hammock and a tiny dog tent.
We delegate tasks: Setting up Camp and Chasing Red Squirrels. Cerberus quickly demands we switch roles and then she puts the fear of Dog into the camp robbers. I was not going to say anything, but her skills with hanging the tarp are poor at best.
Then a light lunch, but Woe! I find that my gorp (Trail Mix, for the culinarily-challenged) is wet! And, I realize, wet from mucky beaver water. Not good. I was counting on that – not much extra food to be found in my lightweight pack. Rats. But wait – inspiration – or possibly early-onset Beaver Fever! I decide that a little water, plus beavergorp, heated to a rolling boil…ought to do the trick. Luncheon is served. And while this one might not win any awards for a James Beard aspirant Chef, it got me some needed calories. This was to be lunch the next day as well.
Out for some fishing in the late afternoon – a nibble or two but it’s slow. After dinner, a similar result. The stars are vivid that night; we have a relaxing evening and retire.