Day 1: Daytrip
Saturday, May 18th, 2024
But did you imagine it
in a different way?
Everything Everything, “Regret”
I blissfully sleep straight through the night to the music of a passing rain shower and the roaring rapids of the Gull River. I of course end up tearing down camp in the rain, and it stops as soon as I’m finished.

I head back down the Gunflint Trail to Tuscarora and arrive at 7:05 A.M. behind one other group to watch the permit video, check out, and make some last minute purchases of another isobutane fuel canister (this makes three 8 oz canisters in total, one of which I noticed is more empty than I thought when cooking supper last night), a pint glass to replace the one that got broken almost immediately at home two years ago, and one more dry bag specifically for my hammock and down quilts, to keep them completely segregated from my wet tarp. Unsurprisingly, it takes me a while to get everything fully squared away for my day trip, mainly due to needing to repack the hammock with the new dry bag. A hard rain shower rolls through while I’m accomplishing this from my trunk in the parking lot, but I take this as something worth getting used to sooner rather than later, given the weather forecast for the week ahead. I haven’t even taken a paddle stroke, and I’ve already used the rain gear more than the entirety of last year’s Louse River trip.

Once the pack is squared away, I set up the canoe, using BDB’s to lash my fishing pole and spare 52” bent shaft paddle to the thwarts. The pack fits well behind the seat, but that means I will need to be ready to add weight in the bow for the windy paddles that surely lie ahead of me. But for now, the conditions are calm enough to not need any extra rocks in the bow.

At 9:10 A.M., I paddle away from the landing on Round Lake, which is a full hour earlier than last year. My elation is quickly quelled when I realize 10 minutes in that I forgot to fill out a day trip permit before leaving the landing, and have to return to do so. With my permit filled out, I once again head for the portage to Missing Link in hopes of a campsite break for breakfast and some fishing.

The first thing I notice about this canoe is that the seat sits much lower than I expected, and apparently much lower than last year, because my paddle once again seems too long. It’s not too bad, but it looks like for this canoe, a 50” paddle would be best for me. Aside from this, the canoe handles well. It feels just a bit more “sleek” than last year’s Wenonah Wilderness, though still plenty stable for my skill level and easy enough to turn.

I reach the portage to Missing Link behind a group of four and it feels like I’m right back in the parking lot again…discombobulated, disorganized, and outmatched. The thwart bag is always a tough thing to figure out how to portage since it flops around and can block my view. I end up attaching it to my pack today so it doesn’t affect the balance of the canoe. The pack just feels insanely heavy today. To make matters worse, this is quite the portage to deal with for my first since last year. Uphill right away, rocky, and muddy. What am I doing out here?! Fortunately the canoe feels super light on my shoulders on the second trip across, though I get a surprise when the yoke falls off near the Missing Link end. But I spend some time fiddling and learn how to secure it better.

In the northeast bay of Missing Link, a fly fisherman is fishing and says he has caught a couple trout, which is good to hear. The rainy morning and the challenging portage have worn me down, and I look for an open site to enjoy a much-needed breakfast break. The only one open on the lake is the one nearest the portage to Tuscarora, and it’s a rough-and-tumble site with a steep landing, lots of brush, and a hungry horde of mosquitoes…more than I’ve had to deal with in the past two years combined. Between the rain and the mosquitoes, I sense that this year is going to be one where I earn my stripes as a paddler! Also, after hauling my pack up the hill to the fire grate area, my leather belt snaps in half. I think this is because I was carrying my birding binoculars on my belt and the pack strap was putting pressure on all of it, stressing it to its breaking point. Oh well, I never liked that belt anyway. While eating breakfast, my weather radio sounds an extremely annoying and loud whooping alarm for several minutes. This has happened multiple times already today, and with the radio buried in my pack, there’s little I can do about it out here without a total unpack/re-pack sequence. For now, I add it to my list of annoyances that need to be fixed and stoically bear it.

Back on the lake, I toss out a jointed shad rap in perch color to halfheartedly troll the south and east shores of Missing Link, but don’t have any luck. It’s nearing noon at this point, and Andy at Tuscarora had advised me to get back early from my day trip due to the afternoon forecast for a strong thunderstorm or two. So I head back to the portage to Round to return and settle into my bunkhouse for the night.

It’s humid and the sun is shining directly on me as I portage back to Round. In addition to the increasing heat, this pack still feels way too heavy, and I think I’m still recovering from the strain of my all-night drive to get up here. But these problems pale in comparison to the humbling annoyance of portaging without a belt in my pants. Without a belt, my pants fall down around my knees after three steps, unless held up by my hand. With one hand solely dedicated to keeping my pants up, I wearily trudge back to Round, wondering how I can possibly handle the challenge of the Frost River if this first portage has caused me so many problems today. I vow to leave the extra bulk and weight of the tarp in the car, given how heavy the pack feels.

At last back on Round, I decide to troll my shad rap back to the landing but again have no bites.

I reach the landing around 2:30 P.M. and it feels good to have one more night in the civilized world to sleep in a bed and consider what my short “shakedown” paddle has taught me today. First off: I must find a belt in town before closing time tonight. Andy recommends some places in town which sets my mind at ease that I won’t be spending the week portaging with one hand while the other holds up my pants. He assigns me bunkhouse 7 for the night and I move my gear into it. I’m famished and quickly eat the lunch from my thermos, then unpack my gear onto the floor into various piles: Things I know I’m bringing, and things I need to think about leaving behind. By the time I recombobulate, it’s past 3:30 and I need to motor into town to find a belt before the stores close and then go to Mass at St. John’s.

On my way back down the Gunflint Trail, I realize I forgot to request to swap the 52” spare paddle for a 50”. Fortunately I am able to call and Ada swaps out my spare paddle that I left in the bunkhouse while I am in town. Once in town, I go to Stone Harbor and find a canvas belt that is built to last. I somehow have just a few extra minutes before Mass begins, so I drive down to Artist’s Point and call home once more. They’ve been busy socializing with friends at graduation parties all day. I catch them up on my daytrip misadventures and say one last goodbye before going to Mass. From Artist’s Point, I can see a giant thunderhead building somewhere west of town over the Gunflint area. This makes me really glad I didn’t push too hard today!

After Mass, I head back to Tuscarora with plenty of loose ends to tie up. First, I need to better situate the load in the canoe for balance while portaging. I flip my fishing rod around so the heavy reel and line will be in the bow while portaging, and use BDB’s to attach my shorter spare paddle to the other side. I then attach the thwart bag to the rearmost thwart behind the seat and flip it up, and it works beautifully! This removes a nice chunk of weight and bulk from my pack. Next, I listen to the weather radio while tending to my gear in the bunkhouse, searching for any amount of weight worth leaving behind. The forecast is for plenty of wind and rain the entire week. Especially tomorrow and Monday. In spite of the annoyance, I have to bring the tarp. The binoculars weigh 20 ounces and would be an easy way to cut some weight, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Discovering birding has brought me much joy this year and so they’re coming along. I do choose to leave ½ pound of cheese behind, but really that’s about it. Then the weather radio starts blaring again, sounding its siren that seems intent on destroying the peace of everyone within a two mile radius. My solution is to remove the batteries after every use since I find no way to shut off the siren. It’s a pain, but it will have to do. At last, as the sun sets, I cook up a curry chicken supper with some pumpkin spice apples for dessert, and catch up my journal with the events of the day while wearing my headnet and swatting mosquitoes. I text back and forth with my wife a few times about a home repair proposal for our failing siding that was sent to me today.

And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't
So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope
Florence + The Machine “Shake It Out”
By making the time before my entry date for a day trip, I was able to work out numerous kinks that would have cost a lot of time tomorrow, namely the belt issue, improving the canoe loading for portages, and improving my pack loading. In a pinch, I could have fashioned a belt with spare cordage in the park. But that wouldn’t have been much fun to deal with multiple times per day. “I’m just going to take a day trip today!” Sounds so footloose, so carefree. In reality, this day greatly challenged me, especially mentally. A daytrip means there’s a schedule to keep of some sort outside of the wilderness. And of course, the farther you go, the longer the return journey. For me, it causes an unsettling “half in, half out” feeling between two worlds that really don’t jive with one another. No matter where I went today, I constantly thought of where I needed to be next, and at what time. While my body stands perched at the edge of the icy cleansing water of these pristine lakes, eager to jump in and rinse the world’s stresses away in an instant, the home repair issues that I have to deal with (and will have to work extra this summer to pay for) cling to my brain like a mess of sandburs on shoelaces. In spite of all the planning I’ve put in, I can’t help but wonder, “Am I really supposed to be all the way up here right now?”

Night falls, and in spite of my frantic efforts, I won’t have much time for sleep before dipping my paddle into Round Lake at first light. Sure, I could sleep in. But the afternoon winds would surely make me pay for it. I need to close my eyes and stop thinking, if only for a few short hours. Tomorrow awaits with its challenges, and each day that follows. And whether I like to admit it or not, these challenges are a quintessential part of what keeps drawing me back to this place. As I’ve aged, I’ve come to realize that the physics of human existence necessitate a slow, meandering trudge up a rough and tumble uphill road of suffering in order to reach any glorious reward that one seeks. Rest up, my weary soul. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

New, notable bird songs heard today were: Northern Parula (my favorite today), Pileated Woodpecker, Eastern Wood Peewee, and Least Flycatcher. These bird songs have been my favorite part of the whole trip so far.

Stats—>Lakes: 2|Portages: 2|Portage Rods: 276 (0.9 miles)

~Round Lake, Missing Link Lake