Day 3: Entry Day!
Sunday, June 8th, 2025
After a short, tortured night of sleep, the alarm is an unwelcome intrusion on this morning. However, every fiber of our being is pulling us toward the wilderness, so we quickly pack up our bedding and portage our gear to the shore. While later than initially hoped for, we feel good about paddling down the Gull River into Sag at 7:03 A.M. I have assured Andrew that while today won’t feel as frantic as yesterday, entry day is always a day full of challenge and adventure. For now, we are happy to revel in a calm paddle under head nets into Sag. We are underway at last!
Once the river opens up into the main body of Saganaga, we cast out our Rapalas and leisurely troll our way to the west, paying close attention to the compass and our maps. Andrew and I both enjoy the simple pleasure of discussing all the tiny geographic waypoints that are guiding us along on this paddle, and I again feel very glad that he has a map to follow our progress as a fellow paddler, not just a tagalong.
After paddling through a channel south of a nice island campsite in the southeast end of the main body of the lake, I surprisingly hook into what feels to be a nice fish! As it nears the boat, I can see that it appears to be a decent but not huge northern. Unfortunately he shakes the hook shortly thereafter, but this again buoys our hopes that we will indeed have some fishing success on this trip, provided we just keep on fishing! The skies have taken on a steely gray hue, and it appears it could start raining any moment. I don my rain gear before we continue our paddle.
Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight
Got to kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight
~Barenaked Ladies, “Lovers in a Dangerous Time”
While most of today’s paddle is sheltered from the wide open expanses of Saganaga that can get dicey, there are a couple wider bays that could whip up some whitecaps in a hurry if the wind picked up. We pass through the first bay, feeling great about the progress we are making and how we’ve thus far avoided getting disoriented. But as we near a point that guards the next open stretch, the sky darkens and the wind begins to blow in earnest. Soon a steady rain is pelting us, and the occasional white cap can be seen in the bay ahead. We beach the canoe in the lee of the point to reel in our lines, secure the rods to the gunwales, and make one final check of the compass and maps before heading across the bay. I tell Andrew I’m going to need him to paddle strongly through this stretch, but also that I’m not worried about it, because I’ve seen worse, especially during last year’s weeklong solo trip in the wind, rain, and cold.
We round the point and get down to the serious business of paddling steady, strong, and straight through the rollers, while still following along with the map so we can “stay found.” Last year, during our summer vacation in Maine, we were out in similar conditions in the ocean in tandem kayaks. On that day, I was paddling with Kristoff, my youngest child of 6 years, while Andrew was paddling with his 9 year old little brother Emil. When we had to paddle strongly to make it back to the cabin through some larger ocean swells, Emil began to get nervous. Andrew never missed a beat and began singing all sorts of loud nonsensical songs as they paddled through the swells, which helped Emil calm down and enjoy the adventure. Today, as the rain and waves continue to increase in strength, Andrew starts singing again. I absolutely know at that point he’s giving me all he’s got, and that this is a bit more than either of us expercted. But I also know that he trusts me and believes he’s equal to the task that is being demanded of him. Not only am I confident that Andrew will pass this first test of the wilderness and proud of how he is responding to the challenge, but I am very thankful for his strong, capable paddling in this moment! It sure beats paddling solo in such conditions!
We make slow, but steady progress across the choppy waters of the bay with Andrew singing off and on. Most of his lyrics contain some version “I’m glad we aren’t paddling all the way…to Red Rock today!” After crossing the bay, we gain welcome shelter behind a small island or two before sighting the beginning of Devil’s Walk Narrows which extends straight south out of Saganaga. Our navigation has been crisp this morning, with zero wasted time getting disoriented, far better than my first time on this lake just three years ago!
Once we enter the narrows, we are instantly sheltered from the breeze, and the rain stops too. Both of us are relieved at the chance to ease our paddling cadence, and eager to find the portage to Roy, so we can stretch our legs a bit after this long paddle. Before we hit the portage, I would like to get breakfast, though. We haven’t yet this morning and I don’t want to burn all of Andrew’s energy reserves on this little-used portage into Roy. We paddle in search of a campsite to land and eat, but fail to find it, so we decide to head for the portage instead. I take a compass bearing to the south to make sure I choose the correct bay to look for the portage in, and we paddle all the way to the end of the bay, only to find…nothing. There’s plenty of marshy grasses, scrubby brush, and thick woods on a steep cliff. No way do any of these spots contain the portage! So we try the next bay over, trying to make sense of it all on our map, but also come up empty. Andrew is determined that it has to be in the first bay we tried, as am I, but I also know I never saw anything back there, as much as I wanted to. We take a few more compass bearings, trying to make sense of it all, but come up empty. My biggest fear is that we somehow turned down the wrong bay of Sag, considering how easy it is to get lost out there. This possibility is supported by the fact that we never found the campsite we expected in this large southern bay. But everything I can see indicates that we are in the correct bay, very near the Roy portage. Frustrated, tired, and hungry, I tell Andrew we are going to paddle about 8 minutes back to the north in the bay to a large island, stop, and take the best bearing possible to the portage and then follow the compass, no matter what.
One day you’re waiting for the sky to fall
The next you’re dazzled by the beauty of it all
~Barenaked Ladies, “Lovers in a Dangerous Time”
At this moment, after being so strong and tough the whole trip, especially through the rain, wind, and waves this morning, Andrew breaks down. We both agree the bay that the portage “should” be in, but I must have solid confirmation of that before trying again to find it there. I tell him that I don’t want to do much extra paddling either, but that this is just part of the experience, that I’ve always found where I needed to go, and that I’ve been disoriented in worse conditions before. I tell him my story of failing to find the portage north out of Gabimichigami in a steady driving rain last year with whitecaps everywhere, alone, and how worried and tired I was. He says through the tears, “I just want to be in a warm, dry place!”
We reach the island, turn the canoe to the south, and get the best bearing possible from the map and then translate it into reality. The bearing points us directly toward the marshy area again, giving us little choice but to paddle straight back to where we began this misadventure. Within ten minutes, we are back in the mucky bay and my hope is waning, but I decide to keep the heading we decided on until I can’t do so anymore. Just when I’m about to give up hope, I see a tiny channel, about the width of the canoe, maybe less, open up to the right. We follow it and within five strokes a muddy landing comes into view. We did it! What would the Boundary Waters be without the massive self-doubt and frustration brought on by not finding a portage?
We pull the canoe up onto land and we both feel like we’ve passed through a gateway test that separates a Boundary Waters greenhorn from a journeyman adventurer. We are both so exhilarated at finding the portage, we create a new secret celebratory handshake right there on the spot (that we still use to this day)! Andrew is ready to take on his first portage, but I declare that right here, right now, we are sitting down for breakfast and giving our jangled nerves a break after a challenging morning. Even though I’m eager to portage into Roy and beyond, past experience has taught me that pushing too far through hunger and fatigue causes much worse problems down the road.
After thermoses of sweet potato porridge, we slog through some muck then up a short hill through some trees. On the second trip with the canoe, I manage to get the canoe stuck between a couple trees and am forced to readjust a bit, but otherwise this is a nice short break after our long paddle.
The portage ends at a large beaver dam, where we have one more snack before pushing off and casting out our lines to troll the eastern shore toward the south, where we hope to find another very rugged portage to Grandpa Lake.

The weather has cleared and we enjoy a peaceful paddle through the northern neck of Roy. But our peace is soon interrupted when I see Andrew’s rod suddenly arc toward the water and sharply call out “Fish!” Both he and I manage to land three small smallmouth, but you’d never know the size by how excited we are to be out here catching fish together in the wilderness. Maybe this is coming together! We forcibly pry ourselves away from fishing as the obvious portage landing at the south end of the lake comes into view, then manage the challenging landing. Once we unload the canoe and look around, we see…not much at all really. The portage trail appears to run out very quickly in a mess of brush at the bottom of a steep hill. Upon further investigation into the brush, I return and tell Andrew that there is no way that this is the portage. We are again in the portage hunting business. After the last experience, this is disappointing, but considering Roy is such a small lake, we figure it can’t be too hard to find the real portage.

On my past two trips, both of which featured multiple notoriously rough portages, I traveled with many pages of self-curated “portage notes” from comments left on this site. But on this trip? Of course not, we won’t be portaging much, how hard can it be? Also, I’ve listened to the two Tumblehome podcast episodes that discuss Saganaga Lake and the surrounding area in depth more times than I count. During these episodes, Andy from Tuscarora describes a day trip through Roy and Grandpa Lakes, including these portages, so I feel like the notes are engraved deeply into my brain. However, all I really remember is that these portage are rough, longer than expected, muddy, and that one of them has a landing full of basketball size boulders.
Just down the shore is a giant boulder field that couldn’t possibly be the beginning of the portage…or could it? We aren’t certain so we paddle down there quickly to investigate without the packs, where we find that the giant boulder field indeed is the landing to the Grandpa portage. So back to the false portage we go for our packs, where we lay a few sticks in an “X” shape to tell other paddlers that this isn’t the landing.

At last, we are on what we expect to be our final portage of the day. True to form, our first day of travel in the wilderness has provided more adventure and challenge than either of us expected, and we are eager to reach that proverbial “warm, dry place” where we can lay our heads and call home for a few days. The challenge of walking on the boulder field at the beginning of this portage can’t be overstated…this is a rough one. And then it starts climbing! There are three solid climbs on the way to Grandpa, with a long muddy traverse somewhere in the middle for good measure. We both shed a couple layers along the way but otherwise handle it pretty well. Re-configuring our packs last night proves to be a good decision, because Andrew is able to carry a lighter pack with each trip, while I carry the canoe and the heavier pack. Great!

At long last, the glimmering waters of Grandpa are seen through the trees. I reach the landing first, and my relief is quickly followed by disappointment as I look across to the “good” campsite on the lake and see a hammock billowing in the wind! Andrew reaches the landing shortly thereafter and I immediately break the news to him, but also say that maybe the site will be open by the time we bring the second load across. If not, the other site on the lake isn’t highly reviewed, but my research indicates it should still work for us, even though it isn’t our first choice. For the first ten minutes of our empty-handed walk back to Roy, and the first time all week, we are both completely silent. The disappointment in the air is palpable, another “low” in this challenging day of highs and lows. When I finally break the silence, I have no choice but to be as encouraging as I can, to reinforce to Andrew that this is a chance we took, and that this is all just a part of the adventure. There is still plenty of daylight left in the day to find an alternative site on Saganaga or Sea Gull if we need to. For now, all we can do is hope for the best and finish the portage in front of us.
Once we finish the portage and see the hammock is still set up on the good site, I say a quick prayer asking for God’s favor that the other site on the lake be open and suitable for our needs, then we paddle along the northern shore toward the site. While every Boundary Waters travel day is filled with challenge and adventure, there’s no way to adequately express the high drama of paddling for the last campsite on your chosen destination lake of the day in hopes that it’s open. Again, the tension hangs in the air even as Andrew marvels at the beauty of the clear water and meandering shorelines of Grandpa Lake. We round a point and the landing of the campsite comes into view…and the site is open! I land the canoe and Andrew scrambles up the steep landing into the site to scout it out, and quickly says “It should work!” He sounds so sure of it, I can hardly believe it, so I step out to see for myself, and am very pleasantly surprised! There’s some nice open space in here with plenty of suitable hammock trees and a fire grate with a somewhat obstructed lake view. The site backs up to a bog and faces east, meaning there isn’t much wind to keep the mosquitoes down that hang around in the bog, but I am certain that it will work well for us!
The rain suddenly starts again as we are unloading, but in spite of this, I declare that the first order of business is setting up our camp chairs and enjoying a lukewarm thermos lunch. We chuckle at our plight as the rain comes down as hard as it has all day. Properly fueled again, we dive into setting up our hammock tarps, then the CCS tarp over the fire grate as the rain ends. This is my first time setting up the CCS tarp using the improvements we made to it this fall, and I’m floored that it goes up very quickly and easily! Time and effort extremely well spent! The hammocks go up quickly, we fill up the gravity water filter, and then head out to saw some firewood across the bay. After all of this is complete, it’s nearing 6 pm, and I know we should get supper going, but I can’t resist taking the chance to see if we can catch a northern worthy of the frying pan for tonight’s supper.
We head out with Andrew trolling the large size “glass ghost” Rapala X-Rap and I troll the same lure in a perch color, the same thing that worked well for me last year. Soon Andrew has a fish on, and then another! I get antsy and switch to a color that more closely resembles his, a “parrot” X-Rap from Buck’s with blue, silver, and orange, and hope for the best as we troll back toward the campsite in fair weather. Just as Andrew reels in his lure for the night to prepare for the landing, I hook into a northern which we land and deem worthy of the frying pan. Alright!
Back at camp, it takes forever to organize the kitchen for supper, and I find myself cleaning the fish under the light of my headlamp at 10 pm. I am completely exhausted, but the anticipation of this exact meal by the fire with my son has spurred me on for an entire year, and tonight we are going to reach the finish line! The pike fries up wonderfully, and we are both amazed at how incredible this first day was! By the time we wash dishes, tidy up, tie the bear bags to a tree, and clean up for bed, it is past midnight. We squeezed every drop of adventure out of this day!

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 180 | Paddle distance: 7.5 miles | Fish caught: 6 smallmouth, 3 pike | Lakes: Saganaga, Roy, Grandpa