Tuesday, May 23, 2023
Nonstop (mis)Adventure
“Well it’s a rainy night in Paris,
And I’m sitting by the Seine,
It’s a pleasure to be soaking in the European rain,
Now my belly’s full of fancy food and wine,
Oh but in the morning there’ll be hell to pay,
Somewhere along the line.”
~Billy Joel, “Somewhere Along the Line”
I awaken in the darkness of pre-dawn to a chorus of spring peepers chirping. While the portages of my remaining travel days are expected to be less difficult, I have plenty of mileage to cover and want to be off the water when the afternoon winds kick up. Camp is packed up quickly and I am on the water at first light.

When driving up, one of my friends I talked to mentioned how if I could get through the first two days of paddling, I would likely feel very confident about the remaining portion of my trip. In reply, I said “Yes, that will be true. And when one gets confident, that’s when everything REALLY goes haywire!” I had no idea how right we both would be.

One way I prepared for this year’s trip was by researching bird songs I was likely to hear in the wilderness. This was a joy of my late grandma, Boots. Growing up, Grandma Boots taught me how to fish, how to slow down and have a conversation, and how to love nature. After constantly hearing the song of the white throated sparrow last year, I became enamored with knowing what birds were singing all around me. I’m sure Grandma Boots is part of that, too…she continues to influence my life in ways that surprise me. One of the advantages to breaking camp so early is the wildlife are more active during the quiet early morning hours. Being late May, the morning bird songs are simply magnificent during these mornings on the water and portage trails. On these first few portages of the day, I recognize the ethereal song of a Hermit Thrush echoing through the woods. Whenever I hear a new, interesting, or unidentified bird song, I make sure to pause and record it on my phone to research at a later time.
There are active beavers on this portion of the river. I see several of them swimming back and forth in front of me, and hear a few others ker-plunking into the water from shore. The river travel here is wider and easier to follow than yesterday, however there are many large rocks just below the surface in the section east of the Louse river rapids. I run through a little beaver dam riffle in this section, and I let out a little “Whoop!” As I feel the canoe pick up just a bit of speed going through. In addition to the beavers, I spy a dark eyed junco hyperactively flitting about near the shore.
On one of the portages along the river just west of Trail is a steep 18-24” step down off of a boulder, but otherwise these portages are relatively straightforward. On another portage, I find a large clump of sweet gale and crush a few leaves in my hands to inhale its pungent aroma.

The landing for the portage around the Louse River “rapids” noted by McKenzie is located on the left (east) side of the rapids, and is a bit rocky. With the higher water levels, I carefully paddle to a suitable spot before disembarking and beginning to portage. The portage requires a walk through some shallow but rapidly moving water over a smooth but not too slick rock. After a short river paddle, the portage into Boze is up next, which is another portage experience that has been “enhanced” by beaver activity. I encounter a gigantic beaver swamp early on in the portage, and follow my notes which say to expect a longer paddle through the swamp. I run through one beaver dam that likely requires a lift over in low water conditions. The landing to exit the swamp is to the right of the large beaver dam at the west end, and is quite difficult, as it is in some current near some large boulders that sit in the swamp just after passing a sheer rock face.
After the swamp, the portage is a lovely one next to several sets of rapids on the river. I’m feeling energetic and confident as I feel the sun shining and hear the rapids churning far below. When I come across a deadfall jack pine across the portage, I take the time to clear the path with my saw. I also spy a colony of Ground Cedar Clubmoss on this portage. It’s not even 9:00 A.M. and I am making good time through these “goodbye” portages on the Louse. On the Boze end, the landing is also a rough one with deep water and some trees that make maneuvering the canoe into the water more difficult. Fortunately by this point, I am quite used to wet feet. Ahead I plan to stop on Boze to investigate the lone campsite and enjoy my breakfast. All is quite well.
On Boze, the portage is to the left of the rapids, and one could easily land just north of the campsite to avoid portaging through the campsite if occupied. Today, the site is open so I stop to eat my breakfast and snoop around the site. Aside from being right on the portage, the site is open and airy with good tent and hammock potential, and the fire grate has an excellent view of the lake. I’d be happy camping here. The portages to the pond and then into Frond are uneventful. I am able to run the 6 rod beaver dam lift over into Frond. Frond Lake ends up being a beautiful surprise. There are so many different birds I hear and see as I paddle west, including more mergansers and a spotted sandpiper bobbing away on shore. The narrow northwest arm of Frond takes quite some time to paddle through and bears more resemblance to a river than a lake, but I am fortunate to only have one short portage around some deadfall to deal with.
All at once, the waters open up before me, and for a moment I feel quite disoriented. Then I realize after spotting a campsite that I have entered Malberg. My confidence soars even further, having officially completed the Louse River! From this point, a logical route is heading south toward the lady chain, making for some lighter travel days to close my trip. But as early as it is in the day and how well I’m feeling, I choose to stick with the more challenging “plan A” of paddling northwest to Fisher Lake for two nights, doing some fishing in the area tomorrow, then heading back to the lady chain for my Sawbill exit. This will make for some long travel days to finish my trip, but the twin siren song of seclusion and fried largemouth bass filets (a fish I actually know how to catch) on Fisher is too strong to resist.
“Well, I fought with a stranger and I met myself…
Guess I could've made it easier on myself
But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow”
~The Chicks, “The Long Way Around”
I approach the northwest corner of Malberg and begin searching for the portage to River, but am greeted with nothing but a wall of alder. After studying my map, I decide I’m too far south and paddle north around a point to discover more of the same…absolutely nothing. Now I’m really befuddled. I tie the canoe up and investigate the point on foot to search for any possible portage opening. Not here, either. I keep taking compass bearings off of a campsite to the east and simply cannot understand how my maps or my mind could be so wrong, especially after a very determined hour of searching. Eventually, I stumble upon another unoccupied campsite that I hadn’t expected to find. From this, I finally deduce that I turned north into the central part of Malberg, not the western part. I’ve been searching the wrong bay all along! At this point, I’ve come to accept that becoming a bit disoriented is part of the experience. Getting lost eats up valuable time and energy, but the feeling of accomplishment and joy that comes from getting “unlost” sure is exhilarating! I paddle back down the bay, then back to the north toward the portage, and am immediately greeted by a fine sandy landing. Once I exit the canoe, I raise my arms in victory at having found it!

The adrenaline rush is short-lived. About 25 rods into this 65 rod portage, I come to…yet another beaver swamp. Just when I thought I was done with these! I consult my portage notes, and yep, surprise, this is indeed a swampy one. No problem, I load up for another short swamp crossing, and soon am back walking the portage to Kawishiwi River. At the landing, the river looks a lot smaller than I anticipated, but I check my compass bearing and head north. Within just a few strokes, I have a strange feeling and look to my left to find the continuation of the portage trail again! After getting disoriented, then being surprised by the first swamp, now I’m going to have to unload/load AGAIN to navigate the rest of what I was so sure was going to be the first of several blissfully easy portages! The sheer hilarity of all of this truly makes me laugh out loud. What an adventure this one has been.

Fortunately the landing to River is very straightforward and I am again on my way. The wind is picking up a bit now, and I sure wish I had that time back I spent lost on Malberg when it was less windy, especially on this wide open section of river. After spending the last few days on much smaller water, the Kawishiwi River looks huge, and is not a place I would want to be on a windy day.

After my Malberg misadventure, I took the time to read through my portage notes for Trapline and Fisher Lakes. Most said that the portage into Trapline is totally unnecessary, and I expect that to be the case today, given the higher water levels of early spring. I bypass the obvious portage landing and keep paddling north into Trapline, dodging a rock or two below the surface. Ahead is a tiny, insignificant riffle to paddle up to gain access to Trapline. But as I draw nearer, it’s clear that I’m not making much headway. “Watch this!” I proclaim to my audience of no one at all as I begin furiously paddling up the riffle. Sure enough, I get right to the middle of the heaviest current before realizing (like some old looney tunes character about to go over a waterfall) that I am making zero progress while paddling with all of my might. Finally I give up my heroic attempt to run the almighty riffle into Trapline and float back down to take a very uneventful 26 rod portage, laughing at myself the entire way. It’s likely I could have just stepped out of the canoe and pulled it over, but that thought never occurred to me. So, two “easy” non-Louse portages down, and both have been total bloopers. And to think, only an hour ago I had raised my arms in mock “victory” thinking the world was my oyster!

Trapline is a surprisingly lovely, secluded paddle that reminds me a bit of paddling down the long arm of Frond earlier. I spy a pair of goldeneyes here as well as a large painted turtle basking in the afternoon sun. I consider stopping at the lone campsite to eat lunch, but decide to push on in hopes of making my camp for the night. The portage into Beaver is blissfully uneventful, offering a much needed respite from my comedy of errors. When I pull out onto Beaver, the afternoon winds have the lake whipped up into near-whitecaps. While I’m quite tired and had thought I might spend the next two nights here on Beaver, the southern campsite doesn’t look at all special from the water, and I choose not to investigate further. The portage to Fisher is a bit difficult to find, as there is a false landing exactly where the portage is indicated on my maps, but I had read that this was the case, so I wasn’t too surprised. After briefly investigating the false portage, I place some “X” sticks on it for anyone who might be coming by after me. The actual portage landing is about 1/2 mile paddle further west, on the south shore of Beaver near an island or two. With the chop on the lake and a very long day of travel bloopers behind me, my energy is flagging. I know that portaging into Fisher with its lone campsite is a risk, but the seclusion and bass are calling me in. Immediately, there is a waist high jack pine to deal with across the portage. Too large to walk around, too thick to saw, and too high to portage over. So, I roll my misshapen pack under the log, horse the canoe through the same way, and continue on my merry way. While an inconvenience and another reason to laugh, I see the deadfall as a positive sign that Fisher probably hasn’t seen much traffic recently. After the deadfall, the rest of the portage is easy enough to follow and not too difficult.

Fisher Lake is a sight for sore eyes. The shores are littered with beaver chews and this bay is protected from the north winds that had Beaver rocking and rolling. I can see the campsite just across the lake, and it looks open! Again energized, I dip my paddle into the clearest waters I have seen this entire trip and begin to make my way toward the site. But wait! Multiple largemouth bass of decent size are following the boat, right there, clearly visible! I hurriedly pull off to shore to launch a few casts with my Rapala, a plastic tube, and a Jitterbug top water lure. The bass keep swimming around acting interested, but I get zero bites. Since I’m already on shore, I spend some time gathering firewood here to take to camp. Right away, I find a mother lode of dry cedar, and spend an hour in the woods sawing up a prodigious pile of firewood. This has been a long travel day of misadventure, and I will be comfortable in camp tonight! But the park is not done with me yet. There is one more test yet to come.

“Does anyone know where the love of God goes,

When the waves turn the minutes to hours?”
~Gordon Lightfoot, “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”
My pack has been riding up front in the bow of the canoe for this whole trip, which offers the best stability when traveling with or without a wind, while sacrificing a bit of speed. Since my pack is too wide to lay flat, it sits upright. I load my firewood stash behind the pack, just ahead of the portage yoke. In doing so, I have made two serious miscalculations. One, the wind is blowing much stronger out on the lake than it is in my fishing bay. Two, the firewood is significantly heavier than my pack, moving the trim of my canoe significantly aft. Eager to finally reach camp, I paddle straight for the open site across the lake, yet another error. Once out in the open, the tailwind doesn’t push me toward camp. Instead, it keeps turning the boat broadside to the waves. The aft trim is the culprit, but I don’t know that. I think that if I can slide my pack just a couple inches further back, I will have more steering control. Carefully I reach forward and move the pack back a bit. As I sit back down, the canoe lurches to one side, exacerbated by my heavy pack that is standing upright in the bow. By the grace of God, I avoid tipping over by mere inches. It’s still probably 1/4 mile or a little more to camp, and I paddle with every ounce of survival instinct I have in me. The boat is still extremely difficult to control, but out here, I have few other options. At some point, I gain a small degree of shelter from the wind from a nearby point of land, and paddle madly all the way to the landing. Once there, I frantically toss gear, pack, and firewood out of the canoe, eager to safely set foot on dry land. I am wet. I am exhausted. I am shaken (and shaking). And I am ALIVE. In some ways, more alive than I’ve felt in years.
By the looks of it, I am the first visitor to this campsite this year, since the fire grate has plenty of pine duff in it. The site’s openness and clear view of the lake is a blessing and a curse, since it faces directly into the chilling easterly wind blowing off the lake. With the temps cooling and the skies showing signs of impending rain, I choose to forgo my arrival lunch routine to set up camp. After setting up my hammock, processing firewood, and organizing, I am finally ready to sit and eat my lunch of “Reuben soup” (pastrami, sauerkraut, and grated potatoes). Shockingly, this spartan lunch is delicious! I choose to save half of it, which I then integrate into a hot bowl of chili for a truly soul-warming supper. Dessert is pumpkin spice apples. In spite of a roaring fire and hearty warm food, the wind and drizzle make this the coldest night yet, a far cry from the blissful conditions experienced last night on Trail Lake. Tomorrow I am taking an off day, which my frazzled nerves desperately crave.

Paddle distance: 8.3 miles|Travel time: 9 hours, 15 minutes
Portages: 10+1 beaver dam+3 beaver swamps|Portage distance: 404 rods, 1.3 miles
Boze campsite: 3 stars|Fisher campsite: 4 stars
~Trail Lake, Louse River, Boze Lake, Frond Lake, Malberg Lake, River Lake, Trapline Lake, Beaver Lake, Fisher Lake