(Trail Lake, Tool Lake, Noname Lake, Bug Lake, Nibble Lake, Barto Creek, Romp Lake, Barto Lake)

On day three we got kind of a hesitant yet early start. I can’t speak for the whole group, but my nerves run a little over time when we are about to start a bushwhack, especially the first one of the year. This day we were determined to see Barto Lake located just southeast of the middle of nowhere.

We made our way over to the portage leaving Trail Lake and the sky was threatening rain. By the time we made it over the portage to Tool Lake the crew was digging through their packs and getting the rain gear handy. We started across Tool Lake and before we knew it we saw the next portage, or so we thought it was the portage. The trail off into the woods looked just like any other infrequently used portage we’d been on. There was even an old candy wrapper in the mud to add to it. After about 50 yards down the portage there was a downed tree we worked our way around and after that, Chad and Mike veered off to the right ahead of us and Greg and I veered off to the left. I walked what seemed like a quarter mile till I lost the trail right before my eyes. I took off the canoe and my pack and looked around. Behind me it looked like a portage, a little overgrown and rough but still a portage. In front of me was a rabbit path. I did a little scouting down the rabbit path till there was nothing. When I returned, Mike and Chad, whom I thought were ahead of us, were coming up behind Greg. They swore the trail they followed turned into nothing. Then we backtracked down the trail and back up it with compasses and maps in hand till we realized this was in no way a portage, just a moose path that looked even more like a portage now that we packed it down. I guess I feel bad for the next crew that comes through there but its all part of the adventure.

Once we had cleared the false portage up and put the canoes back into Tool Lake we continued down the lake. Greg suddenly said, “Moose” so I put on the breaks. Sure enough, down a small stretch of bog to our east, stood a bull moose. I backed the canoe up behind some brush and signaled for the others to catch up. Once they caught up and cameras were out we rounded the bend and got into view of the moose. The moose paid us little mind at first as it grazed on the bog. It would catch movement from us now and then and started to spook. It eventually disappeared and we assumed that it headed off into the tamaracks. That was not the case. As we made our way through the bog over to the portage I kept looking for the moose up and down the marsh and on the hillside. Chad and Mike were ahead of us watching for rocks as they made their way through the narrow channel. I decided to take a better look for the moose so I stood up and looked around. It wasn’t till I looked at Chad, sitting in the bow of the other canoe, did I see the moose. As Chad was looking for underwater boulders he had not noticed the moose standing, I’m guessing, a mere six feet in front of him. I gasped for a second, only briefly, before giving a little whistle to alert the others. After the whistle, time seemed to slow down. Mike looked back at me, Chad looked back at me, and the moose looked back at me. I pointed at the moose and they suddenly realized how close they were to one another. Chad and Mike halted the canoe and started to put it into reverse using a “Moose paddle”. The moose, just as startled as Chad and Mike, stood up then stumbled on the rocks in the pool it had been standing in. It stopped for a second and you could see it contemplate what to do next, (fight or flight) either stomp the guys in the canoe or retreat into the swamp. Luckily it chose the flight option and it disappeared into the forest. After we all went through our own versions of fight or flight and the event was over Mike looked back and thanked me for the warning.

We made the portage off of Tool Lake onto a small un-named lake at just about the time the sky opened up and poured on us. As we got the canoes ready and put on our rain gear, we had time to laugh about the close moose encounter. The rain let up by the time we reached the other side of the lake and the portage into Bug Lake was uneventful. Bug Lake was true to its name, there were plenty of bugs although some in the group wanted to call it “Drag Lake”. The lake was kind of hard to paddle across because it was full of water shield, an aquatic lily, which pulled at the bottom of the boat. We eventually made it acrossed Bug Lake and got to the portage.

Before starting the portage we taped the fishing rods inside the canoes and put the reels away to get ready for our bushwhacking detour. We had a little snack, drank a bunch of water, and then filled our water bottles. We started the portage and then a little over half way we headed due south towards Nibble Lake. The travel was a little hesitant at first although it started off fairly easy. We followed a stream and down an open valley for the majority of this hike. Shortly before Nibble Lake we ran into thick saplings which we tried to find the best way through until finally giving up and just crashing straight through. On Nibble Lake we took a short break to catch our breath. From Nibble Lake to the southwest the woods were pretty hard to travel through. They were full of small trees that constantly pushed and tugged the canoe over your head while the alders thrashed at our shins. It was easy to keep on course because we were following a valley. We were a little heart broken when the first set of ponds/lakes shown on the map were now just grassy meadows with a muddy stream in the center. It was a mix of jumbled forest and meadows till we intersected Barto Creek. We took a break and feasted on GORP, meat and cheese, and just about finished off our water. It was here that Mike figured out the true origin of the phrase “Man, I’m bushed”. When we reached the Barto Creek intersection we were filled with hope when we saw a piece of water that was big enough to fit a canoe into. There wasn’t much but at least we could take the canoes off of our heads. The next leg of the journey followed Barto Creek and the incorporated ponds along the way to Barto Lake. It was full of beaver dams, downed trees, thick forest, and the occasional canoe-able water. The bug level had turned from bad to insane, every time we would come to the edge of some water and put the canoes in, we stopped just long enough for every mosquito in the vicinity to zero in on us. You couldn’t breathe through your mouth without eating bugs. We would jump into the canoe and try to out-run them but by the time we got moving and free of the swarm, we were at the other end of the pond or stream and were forced to enter another jumble of forest full of hordes of bugs.

On the last stretch of Barto Creek, paddling soon replaced all of the portaging and the travel was easy. We all felt a wave of relieve when we hit Romp Lake and knew we were past the hard part of the day. Romp Lake was calm and quiet and its shores were green but devoid of most trees. We figured a fire had been though there in recent years. Barto Lake was much larger and only a small portion of its shoreline was treeless. On Barto we started looking for old campsites or potential campsites to stay for the night. We checked the main island and around the shores but didn’t see anything that looked promising. As we headed up the lake we noticed a flat area up off the water on the western shore so we checked it out. It was a rock outcropping that was open and nice n’ flat. We constructed a small fire ring and set up camp. As Greg and I were gathering firewood Greg stumbled upon a moose shed. It was the first one we have ever found but after some deliberation we decided to leave it there sitting by our fire ring. 

That night we heard the wolves again. The first time was brief but then at about 4:00am and 4:30am they howled again. Greg and I sat and listened to them for a while. One wolf was calling from the far end of the lake and the other was on the opposite shore from us. It was a little unnerving when I realized that nature was calling for me too. I finally couldn’t take it any more so I unzipped the tent and made my way to the edge of the woods. I tried to hurry because I was a little bit spooked by standing out in the dark while the wolves were howling around me. I don’t know what I would have done if one would have howled real close. After a little bit though I was able to relax and enjoy the situation. I actually believe I was able to translate what they were saying. Wolf 1 was saying something like, “Man, these bugs are relentless” and wolf 2 would answer, “I hear you brother”.