Day 9: The Bass Master Reigneth
Sunday, June 21st, 2026
The alarm sounds at 3:30, and we leave the landing at 5:30 A.M. The water is glass, and we set a steady, comfortable pace across the lake. We entered this lake several days ago in similar conditions, and I was enraptured by its beauty. I leave feeling no less awestruck, and now have a few more fish stories to share. Aside from snapping a few photos of Andrew paddling in the bow as the eastern sky brightens, we mostly paddle in silence, as if even a clumsy, splashing paddle stroke would be an affront to this incredible sanctuary of the Boundary Waters.

After 75 minutes, we reach the portage to Hanson, which is just as beautiful as it was the first time. Before I turn to leave this final view of the lake, I snap a photo or two, knowing it is likely to be a while before I can return. On the Hanson side, we once again eat our thermos breakfast in the canoe floating out on the lake to keep the mosquitoes at bay, then continue our steady progress across the lake, motivated by the prospect of having time to fish on Ashdick tonight. I have Andrew paddle stern, and this change, combined with the impeccable paddling conditions, invigorates us. It’s Fathers’ Day today, and I can’t think of a better way to spend it than doing exactly this! As we slice through the tranquil waters, our conversations easily flow from where he wants to go to college, where he would like to live, and what characteristics make for a beautiful lake. Surprisingly, we pass just one occupied campsite this morning between the South Arm Knife and Ashdick. Ester is completely empty, and we can’t help but land to check out the palatial site on the south end of the island, site #2008, a site I’ve never seen vacant. This truly is an amazing site, perhaps the best I’ve ever seen, featuring a gigantic elevated fire pit and an endless supply of semi-open red pines which would make for a hammocking paradise. But even though Ester is a stunning lake, our goal today is to camp on humble Ashdick Lake. The portage to Ashdick is quite overgrown with below average footing the whole way, but overall it’s just a fun challenge, nothing too tough. Even though we are here just a week later than last year, the difference is very noticeable in terms of how much thicker the foliage is both on the trees and on the ground.

With our final portage behind us, the anticipation again builds to see if the “better” site (#333) on Ashdick will be open. Along the way, we make a brief stop at the “lesser” (#334) site on Ashdick, and marvel at its brushiness and rough and tumble nature. It would be pretty tough to hang two hammocks in here. Hopefully the other site is open…and it is! I am very excited to be spending a night here. The landing is a mucky notch below a steep brushy cliff that leads up to the main area of the site. There are two decent tent pads, one of which we will use for both of our hammocks. The fire grate area sits atop a steep incline that leads down to the lake, making for a somewhat cramped kitchen area. The fire grate itself sits sideways to the lake, which works but is also a bit strange. We consider all of these oddities interesting character qualities rather than flaws, though. We have a terrific view of the water on our choice lake, and will be able to pitch our hammocks without too much trouble. That’ll work!

The unsolved mystery of the trip has been “Where did the stringer go?” Over the past several days, we have concluded that it either had to be at the landing leaving Ashdick for Ester, or at this campsite, where I cleaned the bass last week before hustling back to Rabbit in the storm. We land the canoe, and Andrew makes his way to where I cleaned the fish, where he immediately sees the stringer and tells me to go down there and look with a knowing smirk. I go down there and don’t see a thing, until he tromps down and laughs at me while picking up the stringer laying right at my feet. This day just keeps getting better! If we can catch some fish, I won’t have to tie knots to keep them!

We engineer a creative combined tarp setup and have our hammocks set up in under an hour. My confidence that we’ll be able to find firewood near the campsite is ill-placed, but we manage to find just enough to get by for one night. For some reason the wood here saws hard and wears us both completely out! This initial hard push to get camp set up has taken me from “amped” to just “antsy.” It’s a stunningly beautiful day, but if we don’t get this work done and get out there fishing soon, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind!

Fortunately, after some tidying up around camp, we are at last able to hit the water. I take about three paddle strokes before Andrew hooks into his first bass, and our spirits instantly lift. There’s just nothing better than camping right next to good fishing. For the next 90 minutes, Andrew positively smokes the Smallies and Pike. I change to a lure very similar to what he is using, but of course I don’t have nearly the same measure of success. Fortunately I’m used to this, and don’t mind my role as the net man. He even starts to feel bad after a little bit and lets me cast off the side of the canoe where he’s been catching all the fish. This opportunity gains me precisely one snag, and then he casts out that same side and promptly begins slaying the bass once again. All we can do is laugh at my misfortune juxtaposed with his skill. His haul for the night includes 16” and 17” Smallmouths, a 16” Largemouth, and a fat 27” Northern, the fastest action of the entire trip. We keep a couple of bass for the stringer for a final fish fry, then slowly troll our way back to camp.

Andrew is a pro at running the stove at this point, so while I clean the fish, he preps tomorrow’s travel meals, then gets tonight’s meals going. I of course leave the stringer on the ground in the same place where I lost it previously, but Andrew sees my mistake and keeps me from losing it once again. A gigantic snapping turtle is a constant presence in the water just below the site here, so this probably wouldn’t be a great site to leave a stringer of fish in the water for very long.

As we sit in the oddly confined, uneven area next to the sideways fire grate atop a precarious steep drop off, swatting bugs and frying fish, we couldn’t be more pleased with this day. Somehow, our discussion turns to the vision quest, the Native American coming of age ritual where a young man goes out into the wilderness alone to fast and seek out spiritual guidance and meaning that he will carry with him the rest of his life. Before I ever brought Andrew on my trips to the Boundary Waters, I knew God had placed in my heart an enchantment with the wilderness that gripped me from a very early age. While those early trips were deeply satisfying, they failed to settle that question of “Why is this so important and meaningful to me?” But now, it is different. I tell him that while not everyone really understands why we go on these trips together, he and I both know why, even if we aren’t able to fully articulate it. While it’s possible to go on retreats or carve out a time for quiet prayer back home, there is no substitute for purposefully leaving modern conveniences behind and forcing ourselves to live a more spartan, simple life out in the wilderness, even if only for a short time. The wilderness allows us to get back in touch with something ancient within ourselves, something hardwired into our DNA and brains by our Heavenly Father, a part of ourselves that is always there, though often lying dormant beneath the surface in our modern lives.

Leaving our distractions behind forces us to lock in and focus on the present moment with a laser focus that is nearly unattainable in our busy lives back home. We leave these trips knowing more about the world around us, the people we love, and the people we are deep inside. That is my whole vision for these trips with him, and I share that with him tonight. His very presence has made that vision infinitely more clear. I tell him how proud I am that he is willing to take on the struggles that a trip like this requires, and that it says a lot about who he is as a young man. I mention how I know our chances to be out here together won’t last forever, but I intend to do all I can to keep making it happen. No matter what happens during this year or the next ten years, we will always have the deep bond that is forged between two people who share a wilderness campfire together, a bond stronger even than death.

We know this trip is nearly over, and can feel it in our bones as we take in each moment out here. However, we quite literally aren’t out of the woods yet. Tomorrow will bring the long-anticipated “not recommended” Ashdick to Swamp portage, followed by another chance to paddle across the mighty, temperamental lake known as Saganaga. We douse the fire and turn in for the night, confident that no matter what challenges lie ahead, we will persist and conquer them...together.

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 120 | Paddle distance: 6.7 miles | Travel time: 5:45 | Fishing time: 2:00 | Fish caught: 15 (11 SB, 1 LB, 3 NP) | Top lures: Z-Man 3” Tickler (coppertreuse) | Lakes: South Arm Knife, Hanson, Ester, Ashdick