As the adventure grew closer, I started feeling nervous excitement inside. I’ve always felt it when I’m about to attempt something that is just on the edge of comfortable (or maybe that I know is well beyond comfortable). I felt it in the weeks leading up to our Voyageur Challenge, before each bushwhack adventure, or night-paddling excursion. It’s that deep-seated longing to be pushed outside my comfort zone within the arena of wilderness, where the unexpected hardships, unrivaled beauty, and the self-reliance forged by remote isolation are ever reliably refining the pilgriming adventurer. It’s a feeling I crave. So when the Legend moved the trip date for me, I was hooked. It’s a different type of trip than going with friends, since it was clear that I would be the sherpa this trip. We agreed that I would carry my gear, the food, and the canoe -- double packing our way across this insane route of his. 

We met up bright and early at his home and drove over to Sawbill, where our adventure would begin, hitting the water just before 9:00. Our first stop would be the Smoke Lake portage, to see a new lake. I had only been there on my trip earlier this spring. We would criss-cross my spring route a few times this trip. From there, we headed back onto Sawbill and northward. Due to the portage-heavy nature of this adventure, this trip report will be rather literary with few visual aids. The camera that I bring on EVERY wilderness adventure stayed home in the hopes that shedding some weight eased the burden on this “no-longer-quite-in-guiding-shape” pack mule. On the water, the Legend and I cruised, passing by other groups left and right. We ran into another group on the portage out of Sawbill, where the Legend shared our aspiring plans. It’s funny how out of scope the challenge routes feel for the average group: blank stares all around or the occasional “that’s nice.” Haha! We portaged through Skoot and up to Cherokee Creek. This was another moment of recollection. The last time I was here, we were pushed back by a frozen creek, forced to try another route out of the Temperances, and eventually found myself paddling bow through an after-hours whiteout on Brule. (Read the Trip Report Here) The weather was markedly more temperate this day. We stopped at a rock slope on Cherokee to enjoy lunch and some of the Legend’s stories about Sig Olson and Bud Heinselman, heroes whose lives never intersected with mine, so hearing the stories firsthand was special. We talked about the lake before us, where a singular island held old White Pines. The rest of the lake is a rusting mess of beleaguered Balsam interspersed with aging Aspen. He quoted Heinselman when he said, “Islands are a glimpse into what the lake was before.” Good words to memorize for the ecologically curious. The old fire that stripped the pine forest from this lake lost intensity as it approached Gordon, a beautiful lake that I had forgotten about from my singular previous visit. Then we headed onto Unload and Frost, and treasured memories of trips past came rushing back. It’s a decent portage out of Frost and then the familiar routine of small river travel: short paddle & short portage. We reached Chase Lake and pondered whether the singular campsite on Bologne is occupied. It was sitting open and available, though, and provided a nice respite for the evening. I do wonder why it sits in the back bay when a lovely open rock face with an expansive view of the lake sits just to the South? With clouds of mosquitoes, I spent more time on the rock than at our site. We pulled in around dinner time and went to bed early. Day two was the day with the most looming questions.~Sawbill Lake, Smoke Lake, Ada Lake, Skoop Lake, Cherokee Lake, Gordon Lake, Unload Lake, Frost Lake, Octopus Lake, Chase Lake, Bologna Lake