Friday, July 18, 2025
After a great night's sleep we awoke to yet another stunning northwoods morning with bright sun and smooth as glass waters. After a yummy bacon and egg breakfast we planned out a day trip to Thunder Point which would include a little fishing and swinging by Dorothy Molter's Isle of Pines on our return. The forecast said rain was coming so before leaving camp we got a tarp up and secured the rest of camp as needed.

About a third of the way to Thunder Point a gentle rain did begin so we took a quick break from paddling to don our rainsuits before continuing on to our destination. Upon reaching Thunder Point, we decided that a lunch break would properly energize us for the climb to the top. As we finished up, a Boy Scout troop from Texas decended the hill and enthused to us that the hike was worth it and we would surely enjoy the view. I mentioned to them that I'd been to the top once before, 29 years ago. Their leader, a gentleman who looked to be about my age, laughed, "The climb will be different for you now!" He was right as the hike up was more work than I remembered but his Scouts were right as well--the view from the top of Thunder Point was well worth the effort, even in spite of the persistant rain.

In addition to that rain, the wind had now picked up from the west and was creating some rollers out on the lake. Paddling right into that wind on our return from Thunder Point was going to be some work. Our strategy was to island hop until we got to the little cove formed by Isle of Pines and nearby Robbins Island where we would try the fishing. This worked well and our trip back west from Thunder Point was not as bad as I'd feared it would be when I saw those rollers. The fishing, however, did not go as well with two almost-tiny bass being the only fish we had to show for our efforts. I was pleased to find Dorothy's "ribbon rock" but with the continuing rain and slow fishing, we decided to skip any further exploration of Isle of Pines and just return to camp.

Once we got there the rain did quit and we enjoyed a few peeks of sun. This meant that more fishing was in order and we were succsessful right off the shore of our campsite. Kirby managed a 17" smallmouth and I had one on the line that was at least that size but which snapped the line just before I could lift it out of the water. We added a couple more 12' smallies to the stringer which gave us enough for Doug's delicious fish chowder to supplement our freeze dried entrées.

As we finished supper, the mosquitos started to increase and then got steadily worse. And then worse. And worse. With still an hour or two before dark, there were now unescapable clouds of them everywhere and the repellant we'd brought didn't seem to make any difference. Nor did the permathrin soaking that Doug had given his clothes before the trip. My headnet (the first time I'd ever actually put one on) helped some but even after dozens of previous BWCA trips I will call this the worst mosquito experience I've ever had and we were drivin into our tents for the night. Even well into the night they had still not diminished as a brief trip outside to pee resulted in many of them sneaking into the tent even though the door was only opened for several seconds at the most. Oh, well--it did make for another good BWCA story!