Fully Alive and Well: Solo on the Frost River
by YardstickAngler
Monday, May 20th, 2024
When I rise in the pre-dawn darkness, I hear one single wolf howl, then more pumping from the friendly neighborhood bittern. I leave the campsite on Frost under overcast skies with my rain gear on at the ripe old hour of 5:15. It’s less than ten minutes to the portage landing which is just left (south) of the rapids leaving Frost Lake, but I somehow miss the bouldery landing the first time around which adds a few minutes. As I approach the portage, my spirits are lifted again by a Bald Eagle flying directly overhead in the direction of the Frost River.
When I flip up the canoe at the landing to put on my pack, quite a bit of water dumps out of it, and this causes me some anguish for the next 20 minutes. I’ve been as gentle as possible on this canoe, but I can’t help but wonder if it somehow has sprung a leak. The only other possibility is that I slopped in some water when I left the landing at camp and when I got back into the canoe after getting out at the “non-portage” landing before this one. This portage is uphill early on, then some rocky spots, then back down. Really it’s not too bad albeit a bit rocky on the river end. With less traffic through here, there’s more great birch bark scraps to be found! Along the way, I hear the “Che-BEK” song of many flitting Least Flycatchers, and the hyperactive tittering of a Winter Wren. There are many upright club mosses on this portage, too, which again remind me of the less-trafficked Louse River portages from last year. When carrying the canoe across, I decide I will pause for a few minutes with the boat in the water to closely monitor if any water is leaking into the canoe. When faced with such a situation, it really makes one appreciate all the tiny little things that have to go right in order to complete the journey. After this pause, no water accumulates, and I say a prayer of thanksgiving that I will continue on down the Frost River!
After a short paddle down the river, the water suddenly opens up and I’m on Octopus, having unknowingly skipped the portage. It’s raining steadily at this point, but the rain gear is keeping me dry and the gloom adds to the mystique of this oddly-shaped lake deep in the wilderness.
The portage from Octopus to Frost River has an unclear rock landing right of the falls, with some large boulders.
Then there is a large beaver dam/falls to portage around, though I got into the boat above the falls and had to get back out to finish the portage.
I run my first beaver dam of the day.
Then a portage around another falls.
There are giant birch trees at the Chase end of the river to Chase portage, and plenty of wolf scat. There’s also a bad deep water boulder landing on one of the ends, but this could probably be said of all of the Frost River portages.
It’s 8:00 and I’m on Chase Lake. At this early hour, with near-continual light rain showers, but otherwise great traveling conditions, it doesn’t make much sense to go to Bologna today. Someday I’ll get there. The bug presence is also near-continual, in spite of the rain. I’m getting in plenty of headnet time today.
The Chase to Pencil portage landing is right of the falls right below a large boulder with a steep initial incline. The landing on the Pencil Side is extremely steep and hazardous. Be on your guard here.
I then find myself totally flummoxed by the Pencil Lake to Frost River portage. I paddle to the dam, then head up the steep incline to the right, but it’s a total brushy bushwhack after that. So I tried heading up the steep incline to the left of the dam, but the trail is non-existent there too! Now what?! I bushwhack through some dogwoods to the left to see if I can make a way, and soon find an immaculate portage trail through. I review my portage notes and see that this portage has been moved due to a fallen tree, so I paddle upriver and at last find the tiny little landing. It’s on the south shore about 50 yards before the beaver dam, on the left as you travel downriver. If you get to the beaver dam, you’ve gone too far!
Pleased to have another portage goof behind me, I pause a few moments to enjoy some warm peach crumble for breakfast as I admire the upcoming narrow section of the Frost River.
As others have stated, this section of the river is the main attraction, very narrow, with plenty of turns to keep you on your toes, and an occasional but not too difficult “Which way is the right way?” moment. In most of these places, it matters little which way you go, though one is usually easier than the other. When in doubt, a simple check to see which direction the grasses below the surface are bent will help one discern the flow direction of the river. It reminds me of exploring a cave that has a long section of tight squeezes in order to reach the next room, then another, and another. Each time I squeeze through a narrow path in the hummocks, it feels I’m drawing closer to the beating heart of the wilderness…unless I’m just getting more and more lost!
I run two beaver dams, then lift over a large beaver dam.
Then I take a short, obvious portage.
I run another fun beaver dam, down a very fun little drop that gives me a little boost! I think I like this!
Then, it’s two more portages, the first a short and obvious five rods, and then a 12 rod portage just above a small rapids.
After that, I run ten dams in succession, most of which are super easy, some likely runnable even in lower water. There are also three barely noticeable dams that I paddle through, either old completely blown out beaver dams or new ones that are a long way from being completed. I was in such a groove that at one point I decide to run a very short, tame rapid which probably isn’t the smartest thing to do, but it goes alright.
Just before Afton, there’s one beaver dam to lift over, the final goodbye to the Frost River. And just like that, I am back in lake country.
Closing thoughts on the river itself:
While the Louse River was difficult last year, even with the higher water, I believe the Frost is more difficult, due to all the in/out and unloading/reloading at the short portages. They just keep coming, and few if any of the landings are easy ones. Somehow my pack is pretty lopsided today too, due to an unruly cook kit.
You will be wet, get used to it (Especially if it’s raining!).
There’s no real way to follow along with the turns on the map. One could follow along with the portages kinda well, but even that is a lot to manage. I diligently counted portages and beaver dams to provide more clarity to the route as noted above, but even that was a lot to take on.
After a short paddle across Afton, the notorious portage to Fente awakens me from the carefree pace and short portages of the Frost River. The landing is just past the campsite on the northern shore, and the whole works is just…special. It’s an insanely steep climb up, then somehow an even worse descent into Fente down a rock face, which is plenty wet and slick today. To boot, there are more than a couple trees that come into play on the descent, making it all the more difficult to continue on a safe line down the cliff, and all the easier to hit your canoe against a tree, and lose your balance.
It’s noon when I’m paddling across Fente toward the portage to Whipped. This ends up being an uneventful, easy portage, though I do spot a lovely Northern Parula here. Whipped is another nondescript paddle, though I do spy a Ring-necked duck on the lake. The portage from Whipped to Mora ends up being a very pleasant surprise. The woods on this portage had a very prehistoric, untouched feel to them, dotted with numerous club mosses and fiddleheads. There is a stretch of shin high mud to deal with in the middle, but this small hardship is more than offset by the surrounding beauty. I also hear a Blac- throated Green Warbler on this portage, as well as the slow staccato drumming of a Sapsucker.
I’m paddling on Mora at 1:20. I have targeted this lake as a possible “earliest” stopping point, but I’m still feeling strong so I plan to paddle on to Little Sag. The mostly unburnt shorelines of Mora are positively loaded with cedars, which would make for a great campfire if I chose to stop here. The island campsite looks very inviting with a picture perfect kitchen area located in a cozy cedar stand next to the lake, but I stick with my plan to paddle through, and head onward toward the northwest. This feels like the right call until I realize I misread my map and have paddled quite far into the northwest corner of the lake, which is a total dead end. This mistake burns an hour of my time and energy. I keep telling myself to just let go and enjoy the surrounding wilderness, but I can’t help but feel a bit frazzled by the time I finally set foot at the landing of the portage to Little Sag.
My portage research was filled with words of high praise for the beauty of this 48 rod portage, and it doesn’t disappoint. While most portages take a bit of energy away from me, this one does quite the opposite. The portage is an elevated path above many enormous boulders with multiple raging rapids and waterfalls. The power of the water, the sound of its rushing, and the intoxication of having this singularly stunning corner of the world all to myself for just a few moments provides just the jolt of energy I need before beginning my final paddle of the day.
At 2:45, I am paddling northbound on the perfectly glassy waters of Little Saganaga. The rain has stopped and even the bugs have abated. I am targeting one of several campsites on the northeast end of the lake, which means I have a fairly long paddle ahead of me. I’m feeling lucky enough to troll a Rapala along the eastern shoreline as I paddle along, but don’t have a single bite. Once reaching the northeast end of the lake, I am dumbfounded by the beauty of the campsites there. The first site on an island has a fire grate area so large and elevated, it is visible from very far away, but I paddle on further north to check out a couple more. The next one I land at is wide open and gigantic, with a solid water view, but it appears to have been heavily trampled, as there’s hardly any ground vegetation present at all. Though I am more than ready to call it a day and settle in, I decide to check out one more campsite across the water.
I pull into this site at 3:55 and immediately know I’ve found home for multiple nights. The site has an immaculate, shallow landing with a perfect “canoe garage” area tucked away from the main site. The fire grate and kitchen area is incredibly spacious and has an elevated 180 degree view of the lake from a 5 foot rock promontory. It is a bit more exposed than I would like considering the weather forecast for the coming days, but I know I can make it work, even if it means spending a bit more time huddled under the hammock tarp. Options for hammock trees abound here, with multiple healthy groves of cedars offering the perfect blend of shelter and openness. Even though I’m positively starved and exhausted, I head around the corner to saw some perfectly dry cedar and fill up my water filter bag in the lake. After processing the wood, it’s at last time for a quick lunch on the point, while gazing at the maps and listening to the weather radio. The forecast for tomorrow holds steady with awful winds and heavy rain moving in tomorrow afternoon, though you wouldn’t know it today, because Little Sag is pure glass this evening.
I set my hammock between two cedars near the fire grate and somehow I get it right on the first try, which never happens. This whole site just feels charmed. As a bonus, the path to the latrine leads me up a fairly steep rock face, which offers a panoramic view of the lake.
With all of the positive qualities of this site plus the weather forecast, I decide that I am definitely staying here all day tomorrow to rest and hunker down through the weather. It’s been a challenging couple days, and a rest day sounds pretty good, too. I had hopes of getting to Spice Lake tomorrow and then spending a rest day there trying to catch fish, but by the sounds of it, even if I get to Spice tomorrow morning, the conditions for fishing will be lousy during my time there, even if I spend an extra night. A Bald Eagle flies right over the site soon after making this decision, and for me, that is always a reassuring omen that I am in the right place, doing the right thing.
I do try to fish a bit before supper from the rock ledge, but have zero bites. Even so, it feels great just to relax at the site and leisurely fish as the light fades from another magnificent day, one where I saw zero sign of man from start to finish. While I’m not usually a fan of larger lakes, having one of this size and beauty apparently all to myself feels euphoric. There will be much to do to prepare for the storm tomorrow morning. But for now, this place and this moment are all I could ever ask for.
Stats—>Lakes: 9 (8 lakes, 1 river)|Paddle distance: 11.9 miles|Portages: 14 + 2 beaver dam lift overs + 14 beaver dams run + 3 very small dams run + 1 rapids run|Rods: 524 (1.6 miles)|Travel time: 10 hours, 40 minutes
~Frost Lake, Frost River, Octopus Lake, Frost River, Chase Lake, Pencil Lake, Frost River, Afton Lake, Fente Lake, Whipped Lake, Mora Lake, Little Saganaga Lake