We woke up on Disappointment Lake to calm waters, gray skies still lingering, and the sweet stillness of not having to pack up and move. It was our first real basecamp day, and we were ready to make the most of it.

John, Kev, and I launched early with one mission: catch breakfast. Luckily, the fish lords smiled upon us. Between the three of us, we pulled in a solid morning haul, a walleye and two healthy bass. The second bass I landed was an absolute brute. A big, beautiful fish that would end up feeding the whole crew.

Back at camp, we got to work. Fish were cleaned with expert precision by Kevin, our unofficial sushi chef of the Northwoods, whose fillet work was as clean and confident as any backcountry pro.

Meanwhile, Matt, our talented and dependable camp chef, brought it all together in the pan: hot oil, fresh fillets, breading, and a finishing touch of lemon, salt, pepper, and dill. The result? A shore lunch feast that had us licking our fingers and refueling for the day ahead.

From there, the day slowed into a perfect BWCA rhythm. We collected and processed firewood, explored the edges of our campsite, and played some catch with a football under the tall red pines. A few of us swam. A few cast lines again. And the whole day was colored by a growing sense of ease, like we’d finally hit our stride out here.

That night around the fire, the mood was noticeably lighter, and more joyful. Bellies were full, weather was holding, and spirits were high. But, something else had happened too. ee had each started to settle into our roles: -Ryan was the lumberjack, constantly hunting down deadfall and processing trees like a one-man wood mill. -John became our fire master, able to coax flames out of soaked logs and keep the blaze steady no matter the weather. -Kevin held it down as the fish cleaner, slicing and filleting with the calm focus of a seasoned pro. -Matt had clearly earned the title of camp chef, turning raw fish and trail food into some of the best meals we’d had in days. -And I had become the fisherman, consistently landing catches that kept the team’s spirits and stomachs hopeful.

We laughed about it, but deep down we knew it was real, the wilderness was shaping us into a unit. Everyone had found their rhythm. Every role mattered.

That night, with the fire crackling low and the stars trying to peek through a thin veil of clouds, we shared our favorite moments from the trip so far. The long paddles, the tough portages, the victories, the little surprises—all of it was starting to form a story we’d remember for years. We crawled into our sleeping spots with full hearts, a good rhythm, and hopes for another day of fish, fire, and simple living.