Our final morning in the Boundary Waters began early. The group rose quietly and got to work, each of us knowing what needed to be done without much talk. We broke down camp for the last time by packing wet clothes, soaked tarps, sagging tents, and grimy tools into our bags. Everything was damp, heavy, and had the unmistakable smell of four days in the wild. It wasn’t glamorous, but it felt… earned.

With packs cinched down and boats loaded, we shoved off from Disappointment Lake for the last time. And just like that, the clouds parted. For the first time in days, we were gifted truly beautiful weather—sunlight, calm water, and the kind of stillness you don’t forget. The entire lake seemed to glow with peace. As we paddled quietly across the glassy surface, two trumpeter swans soared overhead, landing gracefully near the southwestern shore. It felt like a final, gentle reminder of just how special this place is.

Eventually, we reached the final portage of the trip, the trail from Disappointment back to Snowbank Lake. It had been marked on the map as an L7, and we were mentally prepared for a real grinder. But in the end, the rating felt a little dramatic. Sure, it was long, but the path was relatively flat with a gradual descent, and we moved through it steadily. After all we’d been through, this portage felt more like a farewell hike than a punishment.

Once we dropped our boats into Snowbank, the skies had already started to shift again. Clouds rolled in, the wind picked up, and some solid swells reminded us that the BWCA wasn’t going to let us go too easily.

Then came the final paddle.

Ryan and John, feeling strong, surged ahead. maybe a little too confidently... Instead of rounding the southcentral peninsula toward Snowbank Lodge, they mistakenly paddled southeast deep into Pickerel Bay, adding a fair chunk of distance to their route. After we flagged them down and pointed out the misstep, they pivoted and once again took the lead, racing to the finish.

Snowbank is a big lake, and navigating it under pressure and wind is no joke. We pulled out the map more than once to make sure we were on track. Even on the last day, it was a reminder: in the Boundary Waters, you’re never really coasting. You're always earning it.

Finally, after nearly an hour and a half of steady paddling, we saw the familiar shoreline of Snowbank Lodge. It was a relief unlike any other. We pulled in, backs sore, faces windburned, and muscles humming from the miles.

A round of cold beers from the lodge were cracked as we loaded our soggy gear into the truck and strapped the canoe and kayak back onto the roof. And just like that, the wilderness faded behind us as we called our loved ones and reported we were back to safety.

We made the drive back to Duluth, dropped Ryan and Matt off with a round of thanks and hugs, and continued our long ride south to the Twin Cities. After hours on the road and plenty of silence in the truck, we finally pulled into my driveway around 7:00 p.m.

Kev, bless his heart, kept us safe and steady the entire trip. Chauffeur, paddler, and road warrior in one. After unloading my gear, he still had to drive John home, and then himself. The man put in serious miles, both on the water and behind the wheel.

Tired, stiff, and still half-smelling of smoke and lake water, I stepped inside to see my 10-month-old son’s face light up. His wide, four-toothed smile greeting me like sunshine. It was the longest I’d been away since he was born, and in that moment, as my wife scooped him up for bedtime, I felt it all land: Gratitude. Exhaustion. Wholeness.

There’s something undeniably sacred about the Boundary Waters. A place where time slows down and life simplifies to its most honest form. Out there, beneath towering pines and star-strewn skies, we’re stripped of distraction and reminded of who we are when there’s nothing left to prove. The challenges, wet portages, long paddles, and cold mornings, somehow become part of the reward. Forging a bond not just with each other, but with the land itself. We came for fish, fire, and solitude and we found all three. But we also found laughter in the rain, peace in the stillness, and a quiet kind of joy in every hard-earned mile. To paddle those lakes is to know something deeper about yourself and the people you travel with. The Boundary Waters doesn’t just give you memories, it gives you perspective. And for that, we are grateful for the gift that God has shared with us.

~Disappointment Lake, Snowbank Lake