Day 6: Day Trippin’
Thursday, June 18th, 2026
I rise early to thrash through the brush for more firewood while Andrew sleeps in. After some modest success, I return to camp to split the wood then ready the canoe for fishing. With the woodpile organized and the canoe prepped for our departure, I turn the weather radio to FM and find a station playing the old song “Why Can’t We Be Friends,” then turn up the volume to go rouse Andrew from the hammock so we can get going. Andrew slept well and after breakfast by the fire grate, we leave the landing at 10:00 for our day trip exploring various bays of the “north arm” of Knife. We troll around a couple of the islands leading to the western portage into Knife, but have no luck.

We have little trouble locating the portage, but once we land, I suddenly remember how it’s somewhat of a pain to go from “fishing configuration” with loose gear at the ready plus stringer and anchor bag looped to the boat to a tidy, streamlined portage configuration. Also, it’s suddenly hot, so we peel off base layers. Once the gear is finally across, it starts raining, so we don our rain gear. Fortunately we don’t have to go too far today, because we aren’t moving very efficiently! Within 10 minutes, the rain stops and we stop to pack it away.

However, once we get lures in the water, we have little trouble finding the fish. I am pleased to discover that I can still catch the small fish I’m used to catching and have a good time, one trophy catch hasn’t ruined me forever. This area of the lake is certainly muckier, weedier, and brushier, and the fish species we catch reflect this. I catch my first Largemouth of the trip, my fourth species, and dub this achievement the “poor man’s grand slam,” since I haven’t caught a Lake Trout yet. Andrew also finds a couple Largemouth today, completing his poor man’s slam.

As we head northwest up a narrow arm of the lake, we have our best action yet in a deeper bay with submerged weeds. Andrew, always the bass master, catches another quality 15” Smallmouth on a big gold Mepps. Then I strike Walleye gold again, boating an 18” Walleye on a chartreuse Syclops. Everyday with a Walleye on the line is a great day! However, dark clouds are rapidly gathering to the west. By the time we realize it would be best to take shelter at a nearby vacant campsite, the storm is nearly upon us. We reel in our lines, don our rain gear, and though it’s hard to come to grips with the fact that our chance to fish this bay is now over, we begin paddling hard for the campsite where we plan to eat lunch. The storm blows in on us, dousing us with the hardest rain of the trip, and even some small hail. It’s windy for a bit, but nothing too bad. In mere moments, we’ve gone from mostly dry and comfortable, leisurely fishing in the sunshine, to cold and wet, paddling through light showers and persistently gray skies. We troll our way to the campsite with no luck, save for one tiny Pike, the size of my hand, easily the smallest one I’ve ever caught. From yesterday’s trophy, back to reality!

We land at the site #1437, which is a lovely one, full of character. The site sits in a wonderfully secluded tiny bay, and the fire grate is perfectly framed by two gigantic white pines. Unfortunately, if one were to try to hammock here, these white pines are just about the only good option for hanging, which would encroach on the lovely little wide open kitchen area, and would render campfires impossible! However, this site is a picture perfect lunch spot. I clean the Walleye, while Andrew uses the latrine. He discovers prolific spiderwebs in the latrine, and uses a nearby brushy balsam branch as a chimney sweep tool to clear it out, then realizes we have no toilet paper. Fortunately, necessity is the mother of invention, so he has no trouble solving that problem on his own too. There’s nothing like the wilderness to provide these important “coming of age” challenges!

With lunch complete, we venture to the second set of bays which wind their way southeast to the eastern portage to the South Arm. Andrew ties on a Perch/Gold Little Cleo, while I switch to a firetiger Syclops in hopes of finding a large Pike. Aside from Andrew catching another Largemouth, all we catch are small Pike. The action remains fast, though, and on more than one occasion, the Pike hit so hard they nearly rip my rod out of the holder. At one point, we had a 3-4 pound Pike on the line, but we weren’t able to get him into the boat. Overall these bays are shallower and weedier than what we fished this morning. I wouldn’t fish this area expecting many trophies, but we have fun with all the action in here nonetheless.

The portage back to South Arm is uneventful, aside from spotting a painted turtle sitting on a log. Both of us are ready to get back to camp to dry off and rest while enjoying those Walleye filets. We stop to look at 2 campsites that we pass on the way. Site #1436 is thick with pine duff, and this, combined with its secluded location up in this bay, make for a very cozy feel. It would work for three hammocks, but probably not many more. Site #1434 has all the makings of a Boy Scout wilderness palace, with open woods that would work as perfect hammock trees continuing back into the woods indefinitely. The fire grate even has an “auxiliary” log bench or two, making this site perfect for a large group. After passing this site, the sun once again makes an appearance through the clouds, brightening our mood and energizing us for the trip back to camp. Though camp sounds wonderful at this point, I convince Andrew (and myself) to make a brief stop on one of the islands for firewood scavenging, and manage to find some of the best logs of the trip. Ever the fishing optimist, I can’t help but beg Andrew for one last pass around the bay north of our campsite with the Walleye Wizard and his Little Cleo. In spite of my optimism, we are unsuccessful, and at last reach the landing at camp. This was a fun adventure today. But we are cold, wet, tired, and hungry. But we are home for the night, with two perfect Walleye filets ready for the frying pan!

Since we’ve passed the midpoint of our trip and are famished, we decide to put a good dent in the food pack stores tonight. We immediately start a fire for warmth, drying, and general ambiance. Our fried summer sausage and cheese appetizer is followed by bannock and chili, with perfectly fried Walleye filets on the side. We finish off with apple crisp. With our stomachs full and feet dry, all is right with the world once again. Another comforting camp ritual is listening to the weather radio. Once we obtain the updated report tonight, we make plans for when we will leave this site to return to Voyageur via the way we came. We plan to leave this site on Sunday, spending tomorrow (Friday) trolling the Syclops all over Knife, hunting for another giant Northern. Saturday will be dedicated to chasing Smallmouth in hopes of finding steady topwater action and my first quality Smallmouth.

We would like to stay and fish on Ashdick on our way back, maybe for two nights, depending on the weather. We want to avoid paddling to the exit on Sag in whitecaps, so we are going to keep monitoring the wind forecast as our exit day nears. A near-daily discussion has been whether or not we will take on the adventure of the “not recommended” Ashdick to Swamp portage on our way out. In fact, the dire warnings received about this portage over the years have only served to attract our attention, rather than repel it. We are confident in our abilities, the packs will be light, and the mud can’t be much worse than what we experienced on the Monument Portage coming in. I issue my own dire warnings to Andrew, that I feel like I could scale a cliff face on a portage if I had to, but I don’t want to get him into an experience that would cause him to have a miserable time. He remains steadfastly confident in his abilities to handle the challenge, and I can’t help but wryly smirk at how much I look forward to taking on this portage with him. With the maps out, we discuss my solo trips down the Louse and Frost Rivers, both routes I would love to visit again with him someday when he is ready.

“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty…I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.” ~Theodore Roosevelt

Last night’s concerns about how we would react to a “normal” day in the park after yesterday’s “once -in-a-lifetime” day prove to be unfounded. Today’s fishing was modestly successful at best, we got caught in a downpour, and we spent our energy reserves sawing wood and portaging. But at day’s end, when we finally sit by the fire, blissfully fatigued in a way that I never feel in the civilized world, we are in our happy place. The fatigue, effort, and challenge is an integral part of this happy place I am in both physically and spiritually. Why is this true, not just for me, but for virtually all of humanity? Why must the physics of our existence work this way? If we know it’s true, and continue to experience this truth, why are we so often suckered into an easy way out that leaves us dissatisfied? How can seeking out challenges and sufferings become a part of life back in the civilized world, where we are perpetually surrounded by ease, comfort, and easy ways out? Am I mentally strong enough to choose the strenuous life over the easy, well-trodden path? Is it really worth it? Will facing such challenges provide me with the same deep gratification that I feel when huddled around the glowing embers of a Boundary Waters campfire?

The questions in and of themselves are a joy to discover. On the Tumblehome Boundary Waters podcast, the hosts likened sitting in front of a campfire to dreaming while still awake. One’s mind sorts, organizes, and makes connections that could never be made otherwise. These questions, in and of themselves, stretch out before me like an endless winding road stretching out to the horizon. While I may not know where they lead, they are like a steadfast beacon, guiding me on the right path, for reasons I don’t understand.

Our bodies cry out for the unspeakable comfort of stretching out in the hammocks. And yet the questions remain. I may never know the answers, but I don’t have to. I am a simple man with a healthy, tired body and a gloriously complex, yet simple mind. Far-reaching answers to these infinite questions aren’t nearly as important as the clarity I’ve gained on where I should place my next step on the path. As I douse my headlamp and close my eyes, I know that is more than enough for today.

Stats—> Portages: 2 | Portage rods: 93 | Paddle Distance: 4.0 miles | Fishing time: 5:00 | Fish caught: 13 (1 SB, 4 LB, 8 NP, 1 W ) | Lakes: South Arm Knife, Knife | Top lures: #2 Mepps Syclops (Firetiger), Mepps #5 Gold (yellow skirt), ? Little Cleo (Perch/Gold)