The poor nights of sleep had begun to take its toll and I was easily able to sleep in past 7 am. Breakfast consisted of biscuits and gravy. I couldn’t decide between Mountain House or PackItGourmet so I had packed several servings of both on the trip. We were unanimous that while Mountain House was decent, PackItGourmet was much better and would have been a great breakfast in the comfort of our own kitchens.

We hung out around camp for a few hours debating what to do with the day. A day trip seemed like a good idea and we studied the map for a worthy destination for the day. Our eyes were drawn to Raven Lake which Dave had marked at a spot good for lake trout fishing. Grant had been talking about catching a trout since we landed in Minnesota. Davis was less convinced. Still weary from the prior day’s travel, he elected to stay at camp for the day and get some much-needed R&R. It wasn’t a decision made lightly, and you could tell he didn’t want to miss out on an adventure. We told Davis half-heartedly to send out a search party if we weren’t back by 7 pm.

Grant and I loaded up the tandem for the day trip and left camp around 10:45 am, making note of the time it took us to reach our destination. I was anticipating maybe two hours to get up there. Depending on the route, you can take the 9 rod Fraser to Shepo portage, followed by a 20 rod into Sagus Lake. One more 31 rod portage would bring us into Roe Lake. The winds were still pretty strong and we thought the smaller lakes may make the trip a little more manageable. The portages weren’t too bad and with nothing to carry but the canoe/paddles, fishing gear, and Grant’s camera case, we made it without too much trouble. We weren’t exactly setting record pace, but it was going on 2 and a half hours when we reached the mouth of the small stream heading from Roe to Raven. Roe lake seemed very shallow and littered with lily pads.

The far eastern side of the lake turns borderline marshy with several mud mounds rising above the water by an inch or two. We reached the mouth of a very small stream that based on the map, weaved through a marshy wetland for about 2/3s of a mile before dumping you in Raven Lake. Grant and I were already starting to get tired when we reach the end of Roe. We talked it over briefly but given the time it had already taken us to get this far, by no means were we going to call it quits.

The stream was no more than four to five feet wide in most spots and some of the sharp turns made it difficult for the 18-foot boat to navigate. It was also well between 80 and 90 degrees out. We came upon a somewhat poorly maintained portage that couldn’t have been longer than 10-15 rods. As we went deeper, it was if the black flies emerged from a hibernation and began to swarm around our heads. Grant donned a mosquito head net while I cursed under my breath for the stupidity of leaving mine back at camp. The tougher it became, the more determined we were. The conditions had been so dry (hence the fire ban, the recent storm notwithstanding) that water levels were much lower than typical. We found we couldn’t paddle effectively and used the narrow shorelines to push ourselves further. Sometimes you’d hit solid ground with the blade of the paddle, but more often than not, the blade would sink into heavy mud and emit a smell of putrid foulness. Grant mentioned that had a dog pooped, eaten it, and regurgitated it back up, it would have smelled mild by comparison. We nicknamed the day’s adventure “Deathmarch to Poopland” and joked that if the Boundary Waters had an anus, this was most certainly it. The deeper we went, the smell also grew worse. Given the narrow channel, we joked we couldn't turn back now even if we wanted to.

With every turn we told ourselves it had to be around the next bend. About half a mile in, we turned a corner and the stream disappeared into fifty yards of dense mud. Grant put his paddle into it just to see if it would hold our weight. The smell that was birthed as the paddle sunk a foot below the surface was all the answer we needed. I pulled out my phone acting as a GPS and gauged we maybe had 200 hundred yards to reach Raven. It was not going to happen in these conditions. The only saving grace, as if by some divine miracle, the stream widened slightly into a murky pool as it ended into the mud pit. There was no room to spare as we were able to swing the canoe around and begin the trudge back to Roe. The black flies, as if sensing they were losing their prey, increased their attack. It was one of the lower moments of any Boundary Waters trip I had experienced thus far. It had taken us over three hours to reach that point and with the prize so close, we certainly felt cheated having to turn around.

We caught our breath once we returned Roe and filtered some water. I asked Grant to pass me a granola bar. That morning, we had discussed packing some for the day. He assumed I had grabbed them and I had assumed the opposite. It was laughable and terrible at the same time. No snacks today. We decided to make the slow trek back to the portage and I tossed a Rapala in the middle of Roe as we slowly made our way across. It seemed the wind had calmed somewhat but would still gust occasionally sending our boat off course. I quickly snagged a Lilypad and tried to slow our advance to retrieve the lure. With my drag set way too high and the rod firmly affixed to the rod holder, a quick gust of wind hit at the wrong time and I didn’t react quick enough as the flex of the rod met its limit. The rod quickly snapped two thirds of the way up. The line broke off as well and the tip of the rod disappeared into the dark depths. I was already in a pretty foul mood and this was icing on the cake. Thankfully I had brought two rods for the trip. A few expletives later on my part and we decided to start the trek back. Despite the shortened nature of the rod, I was still able troll and jig so all hope was not lost. We headed back into Sagus and slowly fished the northern shores. As the lake narrows on the north side, we landed a few walleyes in about 25 feet of water.

Exhausted from the day already, we decided cleaning fish wasn’t on the agenda for today so we sent them back to the depths. We decided to take the longer 57 rod portage from Sagus straight into Fraser. Despite the slow troll back with four lines in the water, we didn’t have any success and made it back to camp just shy of 7 pm. We were beat down and so tired. 

Davis must have seen our tired expressions and felt a bit of relief as we recounted the terrible trek and relative lack of fishing success. We heard about his relaxed day at camp filled with naps, reading, and shore fishing. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of jealousy and made a mental note that tomorrow I would take it easy. The entire day in the sun had really taken its toll and that night I was rewarded with a massive migraine despite multiple Nalgenes of water and 4 tablets of Ibuprofen. A bowl of chili was a good call for dinner with minimal dirty dishes and just add water for preparation. Dinner helped the headache immensely, as did a cigar with a small glass of Bulleit. Sleep soon followed and I didn’t get several pages into my book before exhaustion took over.

~Fraser Lake, Shepo Lake, Sagus Lake, Roe Lake