Boundary Waters Canoe Wilderness Area (BWCWA)

with Kayaks - My First Visit   -   September 2004

After much too long without an adventure, my backpacking buddy and I decided it was finally time to sneak away again for a bit of solitude and escape from the day-to-day activities that now occupy our time.  Although the adventure was much less physically demanding than most others, the time on the water and in the Northwoods was certainly appreciated by both of us.  But, before providing details of this very worthwhile paddling adventure, perhaps it is important that I explain my recent lapse in outdoor trekking (of one sort or another) over the past it eighteen months. 

After more than 23 years in the same career at the same location, I was presented with a very unique opportunity of a lifetime via a career change.  The advantages were immeasurable - new and exciting challenges building a relatively new program, while the primary disadvantages were starting over on earning vacation time and fostering a relatively new program.  After very minimal consideration, which is not like me, I accepted the offer of a new position.  Even though I gave up my vacation time, I have yet to regret my decision and look forward to going to work each morning.  Now, after nearly a year and a half in my new position, my date book finally afforded me a few days to get away.  A couple of phone calls later and my buddy and I were ready to go to the Boundary Waters Canoe Wilderness Area for a few days. 

Before we could dip a paddle in the water, we needed permits. Our initial route of choice had to be aborted when we learned that all permits had been assigned to other paddlers.  Darren studied a few maps and suggested an alternative route beginning at Mudro Lake.  Our initial itinerary called for us to set up a base camp at Fourtown Lake and move back and forth from our base to the pictographs and waterfalls near the Canadian Border.  We had the options of paddling a loop or making day trips, depending on the weather and our ambition as the trip progressed.

Just as most of Darrin and my adventures include an interesting aspect, this trip was no different.  However, on this trek we didn't quite realize our miscalculations until we were actually on the water. Within a short period of time however, we recognized an important detail that won't cause a problem on any future trips.

We left Tripoli (Northeast Iowa) around 7:30 am, destined for the Wolf Center in Ely, Minnesota where our backcountry permits were waiting.  As usual, we made the obligatory stop at Cabela's in Owatonna to pick up a couple of last minute items and a fishing license for me.  And, just like every other stop at Cabela's, the time went much faster than we realized...precious daylight time we could have used later in the day was spent looking through countless items we had no intention of buying.  Anyway, we made our stop, spent our money, and continued on our way to Ely.  By 4:30pm we were at the Wolf Center and filling out our personal information on the permit.  Then, the telltale question was asked by the National Park Service lady..."Are you heading out in the morning?"  Of course we weren't!  After all, she had just completed the permit.  More importantly, why would we leave the following morning, which would give us all day to reach our destination, when we could instead leave late in the afternoon and challenge a fast-setting sun?  We replied that we were going to drive back into Ely for burgers at Hardee's and then hit the water.  Perhaps the disconcerting look on her face was a clue of some sort.

Following our 99-cent special sandwiches at Hardee's, we started down the path towards our access point on Mudro Lake.  Although every map I looked at made the drive appear to be short and direct, we actually drove down gravel roads a considerable distance to reach the access.  Finally, after a full day behind the windshield, we saw the sign we were looking for: "Chainsaw Sister's Saloon."  The saloon, which by the way is an interesting little bar out in the woods, has a ceiling covered with dollar bills.  Apparently some visitors mark the bills and hang them on the ceiling.  Outside the saloon are some of the oldest and heaviest looking chainsaws I've ever seen.  The saloon offers paddlers an access to Mudro Lake via a narrow, grassy creek.  Since the area had just received rain and since Darrin and I were paddling kayaks, we didn't expect to have any problems with water levels on our way down the watery route.

After unloading our kayaks and the associated gear, and paying for parking at the saloon, we were on our way for what was my first Boundary Waters paddling adventure.  It wasn't that I didn't ever want to paddle the Boundary Waters, but more that I did not want to take the chance of being stuck in a canoe or kayak through 3 or 4 days of wind and rain.  My preference in those conditions was to hike, since I can stay warmer hiking with a pack than I am when I am paddling.  Anyway, we unloaded gear and began with a short portage from the road to the stream. 

Due to the limited storage area our 12-foot kayaks offered, it was very important that each item was placed in the kayak in the correct order and position.  This effort proved to be time-consuming at each portage, but seemed to be worth the trouble for the advantages realized on the water.  With limited time available, Darrin and I didn't take any time to shoot "Beginning of the Trip" photos.  Instead, we pushed and pulled the paddles through the water at a pace any paddling racing team would have been proud of. 

It didn't take too long before we reached the first of several portages on this first evening of paddling.  The hike was short, but a hassle since we left our gear in the kayaks and carried them upright with the handles.  For this trip, anytime the portage was short, we utilized this carry method.  In the future, if our gear packing techniques improve, we will probably not do the same thing, opting instead for shoulder carrying the kayaks on all portages.

Two or three portages later, due to low water and tree-strewn paths, we reached the longest portage of the trip: 104 rods.  Unfortunately, at the same time, we were reaching the end of sunlight for the day.  Both Darrin and I were realizing what the NPS lady was hinting at when we mentioned our starting time.  The portage was a challenge in the near darkness...up and over a log crossing the path at waist level, up and down a rocky trail only feet from the water, and finally the paddling water at the end -- after two trips on the trail for both of us.  One trip was to carry a kayak, the other to carry gear.

By this time darkness was clearly upon us and we did not have any idea where we would be setting up camp.  Did I mention that neither of us had ever been to Fourtown before? As we loaded gear back into the kayaks after the portage, we made what I felt was a key error for my boat - we shoved the gear in how ever it would fit without considering where I would place my legs.  Instead of stopping and correctly arranging gear in my kayak, I sat cross-legged as I attempted to follow Darrin's course on the water. 

Darrin was clearly the lead paddler of the evening and my cramped position made it difficult at best to paddle efficiently.  I recognized why we were pushing so hard and rather than complain, I did my best to stay on the same course as Darrin.  Had I explored on my own, sitting cross-legged in the kayak, and hit a rock, I may have dumped every ounce of gear in the dark of night with little chance of recovery.  Instead, I paddled as quickly as possible to remain within a shadowy view of Darrin.

Finally, around 8:15p.m., which was 45-minutes after the sun had set, we reached what appeared to be a designated campsite on Fourtown Lake.  After wandering around in the dark and confirming that yes, we had found our home for the night, we used our headlamps to put up tents and hang our bear bags.  It is probably not necessary to say that little else happened that evening worth adding to a journal.  We paddled...we portaged...we paddled...we portaged...and on and on.

Our first morning was cloudy with little hint of the sun breaking through for much for the day.  Cloudy weather was tolerable, I just didn't want rain.  After a light breakfast, we decided to spend the day paddling and exploring the lakes to the north and west of our base camp.  It is important to note that before we left home, I added an extra deck cord on my kayak specifically to mount a GPS (Garmin Geko 201).  Each time we paddled, I would turn the Garmin on to record our tracks and create a breadcrumb trail to avoid getting lost.  Such was the case on this morning as we paddled toward Boot Lake.  Water conditions were acceptable - some wind, minor waves, with overcast skies that broke occasionally for photos.  As we moved across Fourtown Lake toward Boot Lake, Darrin and I would fish any location that appeared promising. (Important Note: Just because a certain location on a lake looks good for fishing does not guarantee you will catch fish!)  Within what seemed like mere minutes we had reached the first portage of the day - a short jaunt through the timber on a twisting trail to Boot Lake.  Before doing the portage, we both took the opportunity to shoot a few photos of the huge boulders and fall colors that decorated the trail.  For whatever reason, when I did the portage I followed a moose trail rather than the well-worn portage path.  Other than a snapped fishing line and bit of embarrassment, all was fine and our trip continued up Boot Lake.

From my brief exploration of the Boundary Waters, it seemed that all lakes, coves, rivers, and streams appeared similar.  Not that that was a bad thing, just an observation.  I noticed the same thing with Boot Lake.  Plentiful, colorful fall foliage lined the shore while countless "ideal fishing hotspots" enticed us to toss lure after lure in search of a pike, walleye, musky, or most anything else that was in season.  As usual, we washed nearly all of our fishing tackle without so much as a small strike.  Being the impatient one of the bunch, it didn't take me long to put my tackle away and concentrate my efforts on paddling, photos, and just enjoying the stunning scenery.  For the record - Darrin did not catch any fish on Boot Lake either.

Our only certain destination on Boot Lake was the short portage on the far end that led to Fairy Lake.  Although we had no intentions of paddling Fairy Lake, we did want to take a look at it and record the waypoints on the GPS for any future trips.  That short hike went off without a hitch and before long, we were on our return trip back across Boot Lake toward Fourtown Lake.

Following our return to our camp at Fourtown Lake, we used the remaining hours to valiantly attempt to catch just one fish for supper.  Please, do I need to go further???  No, we didn't catch any fish.  Yes, supper was plain and sorely lacking in substance - just noodles that would have tasted much better with fresh fish.

The remaining daylight hours were spent around camp exploring and fishing.  Just as we had hoped, the evening was uneventful and very relaxing.  Our only excitement was limited to two events - the brief interlude of wolves howling and the mouse or two that visited our cooking area.  Apparently the rodents are well adjusted to human presence since they knew exactly where to look for a stray morsel of food.  They'd even search the kayaks, which meant it was very important that we dumped the boats over before entering them to make sure we didn't take a mouse on the water with us.  Neither of us wanted to test our reactions if a mouse would suddenly appear in the boat with us while we were in the middle of the lake.

I hesitate to add this next paragraph for fear it might discourage some from visiting the area.  When I camp, I use a very small bivy (Eureka Gossamer) for sleeping.  To avoid condensation problems, I sleep with the rain fly open as much as possible.  On this second night, while lying in the Gossamer and with my head against the bug netting, a mouse ran up the netting, across my head, and up the tent.  After I realized what it was, which didn't take long, the critter was quickly slapped off the tent and my night of sleeping began.  From what I have learned, there are some people who might prefer not to endure a close visit by a Boundary Water rodent.

Day Three in the Boundary Waters broke with what appeared to be ideal paddling/fishing weather.  Partly cloudy skies allowed temperatures to warm to a comfortable range while dressed in t-shirts.  With promising weather, Darrin and I decided to use the day to paddle to the pictographs and waterfalls near the border with Canada.  According to the map, we had a generous 6-miles of paddling each way, with one long portage (320 rods) and several shorter portages.  Our route would take us up Fourtown Lake to Horse Lake via a couple of small ponds. From there, we would follow the Horse River toward Quetico.  The route is certainly possible, but not in the conditions that developed as we moved toward the Horse River.  It didn't take long, maybe by mid-morning, for the wind to build to nearly unpaddleable conditions.  By this time though, we had completed several short portages and were near the Horse River.  Within a short time Darrin and I knew we needed to make a decision.  Would we continue on our route or change our plans to avoid possible stormy weather.  While enjoying our lunch at the closest campsite to the Horse River, we made our decision - it just wasn't worth the risk of being caught in a storm or darkness to paddle to the pictographs.  We may attempt it again earlier in another season, when it doesn't get dark so early, but not on this trip.  Neither of us were too disappointed since we could clearly feel the demands the wind was placing on our paddling muscles.

For the first time in the paddling adventure, Darrin and I split up.  Darrin had carried his fishing tackle with him, while I left mine at camp.  As we worked our way back to our base camp, Darrin finally found a small pond where a few bass were hitting.  Unfortunately, the season on bass was closed, which meant all were released.  Anyway, after seeing Darrin was catching fish, I chose to paddle back to camp to grab my fishing tackle to take part in the fishing.  What we didn't realize was that after we left the protected coves, the wind had grown even stronger and our return journey was directly into the wind.  I was alone as I paddled back and was very thankful I had a GPS breadcrumb trail to follow.  I was also wishing I had a two-way radio with me so I could advise Darrin of the changing weather in the open area of the lake. The paddling back to camp was some of the most difficult paddling I've experienced.  Waves not only lapped over the front of my kayak, but occasionally over my spray skirt.  The conditions were much too windy for canoes to be in the open water and almost too much for kayaks.  However, we had no choice but to work ourselves back the nearly two miles to camp.  Although the portages were more difficult with kayaks, the ability to paddle on the rough water with a kayak made it a fair trade off.  Had we been in canoes, we probably would have been forced to stay near the Horse River until the weather settled down.

I made it back to camp within an hour or so and actually felt the early onset of seasickness.  A quick visit to the open-air latrine took care of all that made my stomach queasy and I decided that Darrin would have to catch all the fish since he was still in the protection of the cove.  I simply was not going back on the water until things settled down.

Over the years of hiking and paddling together, Darrin and I have developed a fairly reliable sense of what each other is capable.  In this case, I knew Darrin would be able to do the paddling, but I wasn't certain if he had recorded a trail on his GPS (Garmin E-Trex). As the afternoon wore on, the wind did subside some by the time Darrin returned to camp.  He commented that for a brief period, he was uncertain of his location, but figured things out.

As Darrin unloaded his boat, it was obvious that neither of us had caught any fish for supper.  It was time for me to pull out the extra special reserve food supply - chunk chicken in a pouch.  Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good with my 97 cent noodles.   The chicken wasn't as good as fresh fish, but did hit the spot.

As we ate our meal, a foreboding sky was brooding across the lake.  Darrin estimated we had 41 minutes before the storm hit.  There is a reason Darrin is not a weatherman...the storm hit about 20-minutes early.  Gusty winds hammered us - winds strong enough to pick up and roll Darrin’s kayak uphill toward our tents.  Needless to say, we wasted no time stowing gear and retiring for the evening.

Unfortunately, Day Four began as the night before ended - cold, windy, and rainy.  Although we had no specific plans or routes for the day, we could both tell our plans were likely to change.  As we ate breakfast, the discussion revolved around our options. We could stay and wait out the rain, we could pack up and start paddling back to the saloon, or we could fish in the wet conditions.  It wasn't an easy decision, but an obvious call - we felt that if we were going to paddle in wet weather, we might as well paddle back to the Chainsaw Sister's Saloon.

Mother Nature looked pleasantly upon our paddle efforts back to the saloon, but only occasionally.  Every now and then the sun would peek out between the dark gray clouds to light a most beautiful fall landscape.  During those sporadic moments, we both grabbed our cameras and exposed a few frames of film.  Otherwise, we paddled in rain or drizzle.  By late morning we were back to the saloon and packing wet gear in the truck.

As I think back over my first experience in the Boundary Waters, I find that I understand why visitors to the area feel a special affection for it.  Even with wind, rain, drizzle, and mice, the adventure was worthwhile and certainly worth repeating.  Will I paddle the Boundary Waters again?  I certainly will!

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