After dropping my car off at the Moose River North parking lot, my dad and I headed to the LIS entry point. My dad, who introduced me to the BWCA and is now 83 years old, was the one dropping me off. I was greeted at the LIS entry point by the worst bugs I’ve seen in 20 years. The head net I use doesn’t quite cover my neck, so I ended up with several mosquito bites. As I paddled down the Little Indian Sioux River, I could hear distant rumbles, but the storm appeared to be headed more to the north. I passed two groups heading out, and they were the only people I saw for the remainder of the day. The beaver pond on the portage into Shell Lake has returned, so I loaded my canoe and paddled across. It took me about 3 ½ hours to reach Shell and another 20 minutes to my campsite.

I decided to take the middle site on Con Island as it offers a little more protection from the weather (there was a prediction of hail, damaging winds, and even a tornado). The campsite has a nice landing area and cooking spot, though it lacks good tent pads. Nevertheless, it’s suitable for a solo tripper. I got my camp set up and began to hear thunder. It rained for a few minutes as the worst of the storm appeared to be to the south of me.

I got a fire going, as I had a steak to cook along with some instant mashed potatoes and mixed veggies. After eating, I jumped into the lake to refresh my tired body, and then I spent the evening fishing, only catching a few perch. By 9:00, I had another fire going and enjoyed the remainder of daylight. So far, the mosquitoes have been minimal.

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**Day 2**

I had a comfortable night's sleep, but I woke earlier than I wanted to. Instead of getting up, I lay in my sleeping bag, taking in the morning sounds. I finally got up and started boiling water for my coffee. I splurged and bought some instant Death Wish Coffee. It’s expensive but good. I decided to fish for a few hours before breakfast in hopes of adding a walleye to my eggs. Fishing was a bust, catching only a small perch, so I fried up three eggs and three pieces of bacon and heated a tortilla.

After breakfast, I headed out to fish for the remainder of the day. By 1:30, the wind had become fierce, making it nearly impossible to fish. I guessed the gusts were upward of 30 mph. Also, every 20-30 minutes, a squall moved in to drop some rain. Despite the challenges, I managed to catch one walleye. I found a nice spot and fried it up with garlic salt, pepper, and paprika. After eating, the wind became too much, so I was forced back to camp. For dinner, I made pizza. I started by toasting one side of my pita bread, then flipped it over and added my sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. I then flipped the pizza again to fry the cheese and then back onto my plate. Yum!

The wind finally calmed, and I decided to fish a little more but with no success. I spent the rest of the evening by the fire, enjoying my view of the lake. Only two other groups were on the lake tonight.

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**Day 3**

I wanted to stay another day on Shell to fish, but the forecast was calling for strong wind gusts over the next several days, and I didn’t want to be crossing Loon Lake in those conditions. I woke up at 5:00 and got my coffee going—this time it was Starbucks Via. It was a beautiful, cool morning. It usually takes me 2-2 ½ hours to pack up and eat breakfast.

The first portage into Heritage was short but full of swarming mosquitoes. The landing area was also full of rocks, making my pull-out challenging. I’ve fished Heritage before but have only caught Northerns. As I approached Heritage Creek, I noticed a group at the nearby campsite. The creek was quiet, and I enjoyed hearing the chickadees, wood thrushes, and white-throated sparrows that inhabit the woods. The 220-rod portage started flat but quickly got steeper with a few tricky spots. Being solo, I didn’t want to have any accidents, so I was extra careful. Once at the top of the portage, I began to descend with a few more tricky spots. The end of the portage was full of tall, dew-laden grass that completely soaked me. I was greeted by a sandy beach at the end of the portage. Now, to walk back to get my gear bag. As I was walking, I noticed something moving in the tall grass. Out popped a white animal! It took me a few seconds to realize it was the dog I saw at the campsite on Heritage. I breathed a sigh of relief. I met the owner of the dog a few minutes later. It turned out to be 907Tundra. We chatted briefly and then moved on.

Loon was calm, but I was greeted by a motorboat that disrupted my serenity. This is the part of the trip I least enjoy. There was a group camped at the northern site just south of Little Loon, and as it turned out, they were the last people I would see or talk to for the next 12 days.

The portage into Slim was steep and rocky and full of mosquitoes. I made it to the northern campsite on Slim in about 5 hours. I noticed about half a dozen ravens at the site, and I figured something must be dead up there. It turned out the previous campers cleaned their fish at camp and threw the carcasses into the water. This campsite offers a great view of Slim, but it’s too steep to walk from the water up to the actual campsite. There are, however, several nice tent pads and a great spot to go for a swim.

After setting up camp, I fished for a few hours before dinner. I ended up catching four or five nice smallmouths that I returned to the lake. My dinner for the evening was dehydrated pasta with a basil red sauce I had made about four weeks ago. I watched a bald eagle circle and grab a fish from the lake as a crow harassed it.

I stayed at camp for the remainder of the evening, as it was still hot, and I didn’t want to paddle around in the sun. Occasionally, on my solo trips, I get a case of the “lonelies.” They can creep in at any time. On some trips, I never feel lonely, while on other trips, the feeling can be overwhelming. I’ve learned over the years it’s best to keep busy and not get consumed by my thoughts.

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**Day 4**

I was greeted with a gorgeous sunrise, relentless mosquitoes, and a few drops of rain. I planned to get to Eugene and base camp there for a few days. After eating my eggs and bacon, I headed out by 7:00. I was able to avoid the portage out of Slim, as the water levels were high enough to navigate the shallow creek. The Steep Lake portage is, as the name suggests, steep. It’s also a little deceiving; just when you think you’ve reached the top, you’re greeted with a further ascent. It took me about 3 hours to reach the north site on Eugene. Before setting up camp, I ate my lunch, which consisted of a bagel with peanut butter and honey, along with some homemade jerky and dehydrated apples.

I spent 5 hours fishing on Fat Lake and didn’t catch a thing. I had one on but lost it halfway up. I’ve fished Fat many times before, and this was the first time I was skunked. I made dinner on Fat and then, disappointedly, made my way back to camp.

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**Day 5**

The morning is cool and overcast, with plenty of mosquitoes. I woke up at 4:00 a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. The robin has become the bane of the Boundary Waters. They start singing well before first light and don’t stop for hours, and I find their singing most unpleasant.

I eat the last of my fresh eggs and pack up for a day trip to Takucmich Lake. It takes me about 1 hour and 15 minutes to get there. The lake is calm, so I’m hoping for a good day of lake trout fishing. Within 20 minutes, I land my first trout. It’s amazing how catching a fish can change your mood. I was feeling a little down after yesterday's disappointment, but the 20-inch trout I catch is perfect for lunch.

I rehydrate some rice and decide on a lake trout stir fry. Later in the afternoon, I catch another eater-sized trout and fry it up with pepper and garlic salt. I end up catching six more Lakers, one about 25 inches.

**Day 6**

I decide to head back to Takucmich for more lake trout action. It’s a cool morning, and the mosquitoes are just annoying enough. The pollen is so thick that it looks like it’s raining across the lake. This part of the day is what I miss the most when I’m not here—waking up with the sun, hearing the birds start to sing, and sipping my coffee while contemplating the day. Takucmich delivers once again; I catch two trout in the first 30 minutes. I hear some thunder throughout the day, but no storms get close. I wanted to have another trout meal, but all the ones I caught were too big, so I settled for one of my dehydrated meals. Once again, I didn’t see anyone the whole day.

Some years ago, I bought a bug shirt. I’ve carried it for years without ever using it, relying instead on just a head net. The problem with the head net is that it doesn’t quite cover my neck, and I end up with bites. I finally started using the bug shirt, and it’s made all the difference in the world. I can’t believe I never used it before!

I get a fire going and enjoy the evening. I can hear a grouse drumming behind my campsite. If I were here in the fall, I’d be looking to make him a meal! Before bed, I check the forecast; it’s calling for heavy rain tomorrow, so I may be stuck at camp all day.

**Day 7**

I wake up during the night to a thunderstorm and pouring rain. At five, it’s still raining, so I go back to sleep. By 9:00, I’m getting hungry and could use a hot cup of coffee. It appears I have a small window of opportunity to make coffee, breakfast, and take care of my morning constitutional. As I get my coffee going, I can hear thunder off in the distance. I make my oatmeal mixed with dehydrated berries, peanut butter, and protein powder. The thunder seems to be getting closer, and even though I’ve got my tarp set up, I decide to crawl back into my tent. As soon as I get in, it starts to pour rain again. Thankfully, I have books to read. I’m able to start and finish *The Last Portage;* there are some amazing stories in it. Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, bad things can happen.

Storm after storm rolls through during the afternoon, varying in intensity. I love the sound of Boundary Waters thunder as it echoes across the land. I ended up skipping lunch and finally had dinner around 5:00. It’s still raining, so I’m forced to make dinner under the tarp, with the mosquitoes keeping me company. Every year, I bring ramen noodles as a backup dinner, but tonight I’m finally making them. I boil two packages, add some mixed veggies, and toss the flavor packs away in favor of my dehydrated salsa mix. Sitting under the tarp in the rain for the rest of the evening isn’t very appealing, so I crawl back into my tent and read until 9:00. I start reading *The God of Wild Places* by Tony Jones; I highly recommend this book. I go to sleep to the sound of rain hitting my tent.

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**Day 8**

I wake up at 5:00 to a cold and dreary morning, unsure of what damage all the rain has caused. Although there is no rain in the forecast, it still looks like I might get more. Nevertheless, I’m packing up and heading to Ge-Be-On-Equet Lake. Halfway through packing, it starts heavily misting, and I’m forced to eat my breakfast under the tarp. As I leave, I take one last look to make sure I didn’t forget anything. A sadness comes over me as I realize I may not be here again—the beautiful red pines, the snowshoe hare that came within a few feet of me each morning as I ate breakfast, the amazing sunsets I’ve witnessed.

The second half of the portage into Thumb has a stream running down the middle. There are many moccasin flowers, Clintonia, and twinflowers lining the portage, along with many blueberry bushes. I pass through Little Beartrack, Beartrack, Thumb, Finger, and Pocket without seeing anyone. Finger Creek is flowing high and fast, and I’m forced to wade through about two feet of water. Ge-Be-On-Equet Creek is flowing high as well, and the beaver dam has a section that is breached, so I’m able to paddle through without any trouble. It takes me about five hours to reach the lake, and I take the first site on the west side. The skies have cleared, and it’s turned into a beautiful day.

After setting up camp, I head out to do some fishing in hopes of catching some walleye. I’ve fished here four or five times in the past few years and haven’t caught a walleye since the first time when I caught two 25-inchers; I hope I’m not stymied again.

I manage to catch only a few bass before it’s time for my dinner of dehydrated BBQ beef, Spanish rice, and mixed veggies. I stay at camp for the remainder of the evening, starting a fire and enjoying the calls of the white-throated sparrow, the wood thrush, and the drumming of a ruffed grouse. I am the only one on the lake tonight.

**Day 9**

Sometimes, my body trumps my ambition, especially on a solo trip. I want to get up early and start fishing, but the morning is cool, and my body is tired, making it difficult to get out of my sleeping bag. I finally get out and make my coffee and prepare dehydrated scrambled eggs with bacon. The morning is calm and sunny, and I’m hoping for a walleye lunch. I spend the entire day fishing, but I only catch bass and a few small northerns. I like eating northern pike, but they are too small. I take some time to marvel at "the chairs" and watch a family of trumpeter swans glide across the lake.

As evening settles in, the mosquitoes are pretty bad at times, so I get a fire going and make dinner. Eventually, the mosquitoes settle down, and I can relax and enjoy the evening.

**Day 10**

It was another cool night on Ge-Be, and I woke up at 4:00 a.m. again, but I didn’t get out of my tent until 5:00. The sunrise was spectacular this morning, but the mosquitoes seemed especially pesky as I began to pack up and head to Oyster. I would have liked to stay another day here, but the weather isn’t looking favorable tomorrow, and I want to make sure I have at least three good days of fishing on Oyster. There are 30 mph wind gusts forecasted in the coming days.

I pass through Green, briefly stop at the pictographs on Rocky, and make it to camp a little after 10:00 a.m. After setting up camp, I spend the rest of the day trolling for trout; unfortunately, I catch nothing. Once again, I don’t see anyone else on the lake. I spend the rest of the evening by the fire, watching a downy woodpecker stalk insects around my campsite.

**Day 11**

I wake up early to a few raindrops, but nothing more comes of it. I make my coffee and get on the lake to fish. I spend two hours without a bite. I head back to camp and fry up my pre-cooked bacon and dehydrated eggs along with another cup of coffee. I spend the rest of the day fishing, but once again, I catch nothing. I’ve never been on this lake without catching a trout. I have chicken stir fry for dinner this evening.

Today was a day that truly changed my trip. I was beginning to wonder why I hadn’t seen anyone for eight days. I managed to get a signal on my phone and learned that several entry points were closed. My concern now is the water levels on the Moose River, which is my exit point. Will I be able to get out? Being connected now has me worried about my exit; I’ve lost my "being present" mode. I go through various scenarios of what I may have to do. Will I get on the Moose River only to have to turn around at some point? Should I consider exiting where I entered? Do I have enough food and fuel for one, two, or three more days? These questions will dog me for the next few days.

**Day 12**

I wake up at 4:00 a.m. to the sound of an annoying robin that seems to be chirping right above my tent, nonstop for at least an hour. I get out of my tent at 5:00 to get my coffee going and filter some water. I received a gravity filter for Christmas, and it works great at camp, though I’m not sure if I like traveling with it. There have been a few times when, while filling my bottle, I’ve forgotten about it, and all the water drained out.

The trout once again stymie me, and I have no trout for lunch or dinner. My mind is becoming preoccupied with my exit day, and not catching fish isn’t helping either. It’s another day of having the lake to myself.

**Day 13**

Another morning of fruitless fishing. I’ve trolled, I’ve jigged—nothing seems to be working. By lunchtime, the winds have picked up, and I’m forced to stop fishing. I end up fishing the west basin, as it’s more protected from the wind, and I catch a few bass. By 10:00 p.m., a storm has moved in. The thunder is booming, but the lightning appears to be all up in the clouds.

**Day 14**

It’s supposed to be another windy day, so I get up early to fish. Once again, nothing. By early afternoon, the wind gusts force me off the lake. I managed to get a hold of someone at the Forest Service, and they told me to expect whitewater conditions on the Moose River. I’m a strong paddler, but I don’t know if I want to take the risk. Little Indian Sioux (LIS) seems like a better option, but I’ll need to coordinate a pick-up because my car is at the Moose River entry point. I call my dad, and he’ll be able to pick me up. My parents live just south of Ely, so it’s about an hour and a half drive for them.

By 5:00 p.m., the winds abate, but I’ve had it with fishing. Tomorrow, I’ll head back to Shell to stay for the night, then exit on Friday morning. As I’m cooking dinner, I finally see another canoe—it’s been 12 days since I’ve seen or talked to anyone. They’ve come from LIS, and while they say it was challenging, it’s doable. I’m now convinced I’m making the right decision.

**Day 15**

I wake up to a loud thunderstorm around 3:00 a.m., but thankfully, the lightning appears to be cloud to cloud. The rain finally lets up by 5:15, and I get my coffee going. I’m packed up and ready to go by 7:15. When I arrive at the portage into Hustler, the rain returns but stops by the time I get there. The 320-rod portage is relatively flat, with some ups and downs and a partially underwater section.

No one appears to be camped on Hustler, though I notice a canoe fishing on Ruby. I’m used to doing these portages from the other direction, so it’s nice to be going mostly downhill, as is the case on the 270-rod portage into Lynx. As I load my canoe on Lynx, I see the most canoes I’ve seen on my trip. Two of the campsites are occupied on Lynx, as is the site on Little Shell. I don’t think I’ve ever passed through Little Shell without that site being occupied. I was surprised to see the south site on Con Island open, so I decided to take it. It took me about five hours of double portaging to get to Shell. By late afternoon, five of the ten sites are occupied. After eating lunch and setting up camp, I do a little fishing, but with no luck. I’m pretty wiped out, so I build a fire and spend the rest of the day at my site.

**Day 16**

I wake up to another cool and foggy morning—my last sunrise in the BWCA. I was paddling by 7:00 a.m. and had told my dad to be at the parking lot by 11:00. I’m shocked at how high the water is on Lower Pauness. The boulder where I ate lunch on my first day is completely underwater. I passed a few groups on the way out, and the consensus is that the final portage entry is the most challenging. The river flows fast and high, but it’s not too difficult. Elm Portage is flooded at the top, and I have to wade up to my knees to load up and get back on the river. Below the rapids, the current is moving fast, so I know I’ll have to be careful. Paddling up the current is a challenge, but I can tuck into the now-flooded landing area safely. When I bring my gear pack up, it’s 11:00 a.m. on the dot. My dad is 20 minutes late!

My dad drops me off at the nearly vacant Moose River North parking lot, and we head to Ely for lunch before finally returning to their farm in Embarrass.

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