In which we haul our belongings across the waters

Last Friday we and some friends loaded up a couple of canoes and took the long drive up to Grand Marais for a trip to the BWCA.  We didn’t realize that it was the weekend of the North Shore Dragon Boat Festival and we ended up spending too much on motel rooms for the night.  But the motel owner guy was super nice (as they are in that part of the country) and the beds were comfortable.  We grabbed some expensive Summit EPAs at a local rooftop bar and watched the dragon boat teams practice in the bay on the night before we disembarked. 

Bright and early the next morning we headed up the Gunflint Trail to Hungry Jack Outfitters to rent a solo canoe for our odd-numbered group, a couple of sleeping bags, and some other odds and ends.  We shoved off from HJO’s dock and did our first portage to Bearskin Lake.  Husband and I had never portaged before.  I have been camping on the Gunflint, but that always involved driving back into the woods and being able to haul useful things like coolers and boomboxes with you.

Portages are measured in rods, where each rod is 16.5 feet, which is completely nonsensical and useless until you are actually hiking the portage with 85 pounds of gear strapped to your person.  That first portage was around 20 rods and crossed a road and a parking lot.  It had some rocks and roots but was relatively smooth.  Since we had five people and had to haul in all our tents, kitchen gear, food, and clothes, we had to make two trips each at each portage.  I carried the kitchen pack, which was probably around 50 pounds, and our clothes pack, which was around 25 pounds, on the first trip.  Then I went back and got the food pack, which was probably around 70-80 pounds.  I was feeling good and barely broke a sweat.  Bearskin lake was absolutely still and like glass and had the clearest water I have ever seen.  Unfortunately there are a bunch of cabins on that lake that were grandfathered in when the BWCA boundaries were decided, so motors are allowed there.  Douchy McDoucherton was driving his Doucheboat around (Husband has a way with words) while we were paddling to the next portage point to our target, Daniels Lake.

I had checked the weather that morning and it said there was a 30% chance of scattered strong storms in the area.  But the sky was blue and the lake was calm as we started off on the second portage of the day.  This one was 60-some rods and was quite a bit more hilly and rocky than the previous cupcake portage.  The theme of the weekend was "Don’t Get Eaten By A Bear" so we made sure we made a lot of noise along the path as we went.  The first trip down the path was a lot longer than I expected.  I was wearing my steel toe work boots that were nice in that I didn’t turn an ankle or gash myself on the sharp rocks (something that happened to one of our companions last year), but they sucked in that getting back into a canoe absolutely requires you to wade into the water.  I wore my sandals for the remainder of the trip.  By the second trip back and down the trail I was seriously winded and wheezing slightly.

Daniels Lake wasn’t nearly as clear as Bearskin but it was just as calm.  What I wasn’t prepared for was having to use only specific BWCA-designated campsites.  Each campsite has a fire grate and a latrine.  You are absolutely prohibited from creating your own site.  We had decided on a campsite that was marked out on our maps and paddled in that direction hoping that it was empty.  Alas, a couple of canoes came into sight as we rounded the bend.  As we started across the lake to a different campsite, dark clouds started rolling in.  This campsite was... less than ideal.  It was tiny and far away from the water and the latrine was a long, overgrown hike up a hill.  We’re not entirely sure why or how it’s even a “real” campsite.  We got all our packs under a tarp and waited out the storm and listened to the thunder echo through the bluffs.  When the rain died down we sent out a scouting team with a tent to find and claim another campsite. 

Another thing I was not prepared for was the sheer number of people we saw.  Campsites were filled and canoes were everywhere in the BWCA.  Shit is busy.  There is, thankfully, plenty of space on the water but not a ton of places to park your tent.  When I go camping I kind of expect to not see or hear anyone, ever.  I’m told we have to go to Quetico for true isolation in the BWCA.  So I guess we’ll need to work on getting our passports for next year if we go that direction.

The scouting mission was a success.  “If this site is one star,” said our friend, “that one is four.”  We reloaded and paddled to the far side of the lake to spend two blissful days in the sun.  Then we went back to Bearskin and rounded the corner to the 80 rod kill-me-now portage to Duncan Lake.  If Daniels was like a county road, Duncan was like a damn freeway.  The portage was super busy and we had to whisper our plans and hustle to our next campsite before the people behind us go there first (assuming they were trying to camp on Duncan) and get out of the way of the people who were waiting to exit through the portage at the same time.  We ended up on a somewhat high point that overlooked almost the whole lake.  It was there that we had a run-in with a Forest Service ranger with a pierced nose who checked our permits and made sure our latrine was... I don’t know, in working order?  I’m not sure what can really go wrong with a shitter sitting in the open air in the middle of the woods.  Props to the rangers though; they have to paddle in a canoe just like the rest of us.  She told us that the Stairway Portage would be busy that day and reminded us that there shouldn’t be more than 9 people in any given area at any given time.  She also let us know that there may be storms in the area that night.

After we got the tents set up two of our crew stayed behind and the other three of us went across Duncan to the Stairway Portage. It involved paddling back into a windblown tree graveyard area and hiking 90 rods over hills, roots, rocks, and down a ton of stairs.  This is not anything I would ever consider portaging gear and canoes in either direction, though two of our group did it last year.  We chilled out on the shore of Rose Lake for a while before reluctantly heading back up the 90 rods.  By the time we got to the top of the stairs my legs were burning and I was gasping.  I was wearing a dorky fanny pack with a couple pounds of emergency supplies and even that seemed overwhelming by the end.  Carrying 80 pounds of gear up that trail?  I’m usually up for a challenge but this is just not for me.  Unfortunately the wind that was at our tails for the trip over was now a vicious headwind that was whipping up small whitecaps (“think of them as lake kisses!”) and it probably took 3 times the time and effort to get back to our campsite.  Our friend was in the solo canoe and I was seriously concerned for his safety.  We all made it back in time for a delicious dinner of chicken and gravy over English muffins before the sun set and I had a quick swim to cool off after the hard paddle.

We got the promised storm that night and none of us slept very well.  I ended up on a root or rock and our tent was on a barely discernable slope and Husband was up almost all night reading on my Nook with a flashlight.  And it was hot.  So we were all pretty bleary-eyed that next morning as we packed up for the last time.  We were rained on as we made our way back to Hungry Jack but everything cleared up by the time we got to Bearskin.  Thankfully we didn’t have to deal with any wind that morning and all the lakes were like glass again.

All in all the trip was satisfying, if a bit expensive.  The rental sleeping bags were great (super warm and they packed down to nearly nothing) but a bit steep at $6/day each.  Each person had to pay a $16 entry fee.  And gas in a truck hauling hundreds of pounds of gear and a canoe was painful.  But we had a good time -- fish were caught (nothing edible), good food was eaten, much whiskey was drunk, and sun was soaked up.