BWCA Round Lake loop

The background: 

I’ve always had a love for the outdoors. Even in my youth, I preferred the fog lifting off a lake at dawn to the smoke over a bar at closing time (and, yes, I’m old enough to remember when people still smoked in bars). 

I did a ton of backpacking and canoe camping trips while growing up but, as an adult, it has been mostly car camping with the rare backpacking trip thrown in and the last time I tripped with a canoe was as a kid in the Scouts. 

I decided, as I’ve gotten older, that I should transition back to canoe tripping so that the canoe could carry gear and it might take less of a toll on my body and, while looking for places to go, I ran across the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (aka BWCA). I quickly decided that it would be my destination but, without any recent experience, I was at a bit of a loss about how to plan, where to go, etc. 

I started researching online forums, eventually joined one called canoetripping.net, bought both of Robert Beymer’s BWCA route books, scoured the internet, read a bunch of trip reports, pored over paddleplanner.com and, once I had a little bit of direction, contacted a couple of outfitters and even a few people on the forum for insight & advice. 

I have 3 kids and several friends who enjoy the outdoors and I talked to those whom I thought I could enjoy being around 24/7 for a couple of weeks but none had the same vision for the trip that I had. My fishing buddy wanted to go a day or so in and base camp but I wanted to explore, my kids had other commitments (pending weddings, college internships, etc) and it seemed most thought it was too much “roughing it” to have much appeal.

I saved an extra week of vacation, laid out a preferred route and promptly got grounded by covid (the travel restrictions and an overabundance of caution, not the disease). Another year of hoping, fine tuning route and researching online and, finally, in 2021, I decided it was time.

My youngest daughter (the only one who could easily just pick up & join me) was concerned about a solo trip so I bought a Garmin inReach for my family’s peace of mind, learned how to set it up, programmed my 3 preset messages as well as their intended recipients, got my entry permit, two 26,800mAh power banks, took 2 weeks’ vacation and told the boss that, if I wasn’t back in two weeks, to use my 3rd week before considering me AWOL.

Prep: 

As so often in my life, I’ve got way too many irons in the fire so I did little to prepare beyond thinking “I need to take that” and buying a few freeze dried meals. I did take time to flip the bow seat around in the Sawyer so that I would have better trim adjustment options.

I had planned to build a dedicated solo strip canoe for the trip but I had way too much going on and my options turned out to be a We-no-nah Jensen 18 (fiberglass) which weighs around 60 lbs and is very quick on the water or a 16 foot Goldenglass Sawyer (model unknown) whose predominant attribute was stability but wasn’t a burden to paddle either. I’ve never bothered to weigh the Sawyer (as I did not want to know) but it felt lighter than the Jensen while in the backyard yet seemed to get heavier every time I picked it up in Minnesota.

My entry permit was for May 18th (Tues) and I figured it was about a 16 hr drive from my home in western PA. I procrastinated a bit with packing and finally started throwing things in a bag on Sunday afternoon. My camping gear is usually stored in or near my backpack so it was unlikely that I would forget anything (famous last words, right?)

The trip:

Early Monday morning, I hopped in my trusty, rusty Ranger, grabbed my usual large coffee plus a thermos of extra coffee, filled the (somewhat small) fuel tank & pointed myself toward I80 West. (deliberately avoiding the PA turnpike… if you ever travel through PA, do not, repeat DO NOT, travel the turnpike… unless you simply have too much money.)

The plan was to try and knock out 12 hrs on the first day so that I could enter the BWCA around noon on the 18th. PA, Ohio, Indiana & then Illinois faded into the rear view as I headed West and, somewhat surprisingly, traffic was light coming through Chicago. I turned North and made it to Rice Lake, Wisconsin by 8pm, grabbed a hotel and sent the first “Just checking in, everything is OK” message from the inReach.

I had decided on the Frost River as Beymer’s books assured me that it was “one of the most remote and lightly traveled areas of the BWCA” and afforded some of the best opportunities to see wildlife. I’ve seen elk in the wild but never a moose and I was hopeful. I’d also heard there were wolves in the BW but I was just as hopeful that they would not be as plentiful as the moose and I would not be terribly disappointed if they were, distantly, heard and not seen.

One of the outfitters I had contacted several times and had found very helpful was Andy at Tuscarora Canoe Outfitters. I had laid out my intended trip and he assured me that it was easily done in 6 days (more on this later but beware taking advice from someone that is easily half your age) but that Cross Bay was a gentler introduction to portaging than Missing Link would be. I had the entry permit changed to Cross Bay and would pick it up at Tuscarora with the intention that I would also be able to pick up a zip lock map bag as well as anything that I’d forgotten.

I finally arrived around 4pm, grabbed my permit, the map bag and Andy once more reviewed the maps and the planned route. He again assured me that the route was do-able and I was off to the parking lot. 

Day 1 (ah, arrogance... thou art not merely for the young):

I navigated the first set of riffles without losing TOO much blue paint, but when I got to the second, it didn’t seem right… I couldn’t imagine outfitters happily loaning canoes to scrape along this rocky stream, so I figured I’d missed the portage. The banks, at this point, were about 15 feet high so I exited on river left, scrambled up the bank to the road and proceeded to make my first portage an unscheduled one that took me back above the riffles.

I arrived at the campsite (#551 on paddleplanner) around 8:30, emptied the canoe, flipped it over for the night (because I think that’s what canoe trippers do) and carried everything else up the hill to set up camp. I scouted the tent pads, found one I liked and then the slow motion train wreck that this trip was developing into continued...

As I mentioned previously, I brought entirely too much gear thinking that the canoe would carry the weight most of the time. Setting up camp, I discovered that one piece of gear that I had forgotten... was my tent. (yep... I didn’t bring the effin’ tent!) 

In anticipation of this trip, I had purchased a used MSR Hubba Hubba from another canoetripping.net member and it came with a vestibule attachment called a gear shed. In the little time that I had used the tent, I discovered that I agreed with the previous owner: the gear shed is a pain in the butt and is not needed as there is room enough in the 2 man tent for a solo camper without the vestibule. When I pulled the “tent'' out of the pack, however, I found that I had brought the gear shed and the tent was still at home in my closet. 

Luckily, the excess gear I was carrying included a 9x12 tarp (that I thought would be useful covering the camp kitchen if it rained) so I set it up as a shelter and turned in. I will admit, at that point, I was seriously considering heading back to the truck in the morning with the thought that maybe the outfitter would have tents and I did not sleep particularly well wondering if I would awaken to a wolf chewing on my face (Then, as now, I know little about wolves).

Day 2 

I managed to survive the night and awakened with decisions to make. A return to the outfitter’s might result in the acquisition of a tent but would also require another entry permit and I was not hopeful that another would be available. 

The route I had planned led South to Long Island lake then turned Northwest down the Frost River and into Mora and Little Saganaga lakes. When I reached Mora (estimated day 3 or 4), I would be what I’d guessed to be about ½ a day’s travel West of the truck and I had planned it this way to give myself an escape route. If I had bitten off more than I could chew, I could bail by heading East, getting in the truck and heading home with the knowledge that “I came, I tried, it kicked my butt”.

Throughout most of the BWCA, camping is permitted only at designated sites and they are defined by cast iron grates over the firepits and the presence of a “thunderbox” in the woods nearby. For the uninitiated; the thunderbox, as one might guess, is a latrine. Here they are made of fiberglass, originally equipped with lids, though only a couple that I saw still had them, and are placed above a shallow pit. There are no walls or roof but it does save one from digging cat holes and reduces the “toilet paper under every rock” problem that seems all too common in many public areas.

Both portages and campsites are marked on the maps but, unlike some other parks, there are no signs or other indicators in the forest. 

As I moved south I was surprised to find all of the sites on Cross Bay lake occupied and on the portage between Rib and Lower George I ran across an older gentleman fishing for smallmouth bass. He assured me that the well kept secret of the BWCA was no longer a well kept secret and, as he was a veteran of these parts, I asked him how worried I should be about wolves. He chuckled and said that, if I even SAW a wolf, I should consider myself very fortunate indeed. In hindsight, I’m not certain why I trusted a total stranger’s opinion when hanging in the balance was my face being chewed upon by wolves but I did and I slept the remainder of the trip without any fear of becoming wolf chow.

I parked the canoe in a nearby tree, went back for the pack, cut enough of the tree to make it passable (while wishing I had a chainsaw) and from that point on, the pack went through on the first carry and the canoe afterward.

I also quickly learned the secret to finding portages and campsites... One simply had to paddle directly into the wind. 

Day 3

I had decided to keep a journal to aid in writing up a trip report and my morning entry may not need to be edited or rewritten to adequately illustrate where I was physically and mentally at this point. It reads as follows: 

“5/20  Woke up to rain. Not terribly hard, so after dragging my feet through breakfast (and due to a lull in the precipitation), I’ve decided to move on. I’ll check Bologna lake and, if it’s empty, I’ll take a lay-over day tomorrow. I’m pretty certain I’ll be pulling out at Little Sag… I’ve simply brought too much gear and too heavy a canoe”.

There are not many options for decreasing the weight of a pack while in the field but the most obvious is the food pack. I had brought a few freeze dried meals and some oatmeal but mostly rice or noodle side dishes which were intended to be supplemented by fishing. I had also cooked up about 4 pounds of bacon (fun fact: it’s able to be stored at room temp for 6 weeks!), some freeze dried eggs and soft tortillas for indulgent breakfast burritos. In rooting through the food pack, I found that the tortillas were, by far, the heaviest item in the pack so they simply had to go.

It continued raining lightly (not hard enough to warrant rain gear IMO) pretty much all day and with the wind (...still...always...) blowing, fishing was difficult and I came up empty. I gathered firewood along the shores, checked out a moose skeleton (the nearest I would get to a moose this trip, unfortunately), putzed around and enjoyed the solitude. (Although the offer to share the site was genuine, I was not disappointed that no one took me up on it). 

I did find them mildly irritating as they seemed to swarm in areas and would get into your eyes, ears, etc and I can honestly say that I did not appreciate it when I inhaled some of the pests but I fully expected them to be more voracious and “bitey”. Perhaps, like mosquitos, they simply preferred other food sources but I stopped wearing deet for flying vermin and reserved it exclusively for spraying my pants legs to ward off ticks (who, seemingly, have no issues with my flavor... I’ve always been a bit of a tick magnet) and I picked up my first tick at this site. I had gotten up in the middle of the night and it felt like something was crawling on me when I returned to the sleeping bag. Flashlight on and there it was crawling along & looking for a nice spot to bite. 

Day 4

My daily routine appeared to be: wake up, debate a layover day and then decide to move “a little”. Then, several hours later (like 8 or 10), decide that the next open campsite will do just fine and that tomorrow will, almost certainly, be a layover day.

I soon discovered that the camera didn’t survive the previous day. While not hermetically sealed in a dry bag, I had tried to make sure it stayed dry but either I was not diligent enough or it was too flimsy to be suitable for my purposes so I removed the batteries and sealed it in a spare dry bag. I would try it a few more times during the trip but, as I write this, it is on its way to a service center to see if it was water intrusion that killed it or if there is something defective in the camera itself.

After the light rain stopped mid-morning, the day was absolutely beautiful and the only people I saw were a pair that I had seen on the way into Frost lake. They said that they had spent an extra day fishing there and had done pretty well. One of them (or perhaps it was a group from the previous day) lost a nalgene bottle on a portage and I picked it up. Before the trip was over, I would eventually add half of a broken ugly stick fishing rod, several tent pegs, a couple of rusted lighters and an entire stuff sack full of garbage (that some lazy… let’s say “idiot”... didn’t feel like carrying) to my pack while only losing a lighter of my own in the process. 

The bottle was a boon for fish suppers as it solved the problem of how to easily transport the filets. I carried it empty until I caught fish and, once cleaned, the filets were stuffed through the large opening of the bottle and the bottle was filled with fresh lake water. I would change the water periodically if it was a while before camping then simply rinse the bottle after supper.

In fact, it was so pretty that I had a hard time selecting photos for this report and I’ll include two extras here if you’ll pardon the interruption of the narrative 

The remainder of the day was uneventful but remarkably beautiful. The portage out of Afton, however, had taken a toll and I was thankful for the first open site on Mora. (#527 on PP and a huge site that would be great for a larger group). I hung out a clothesline, rinsed the clothes I was wearing and hung them in hopes that I might have dry clothes in the morning.

I think it was around this point that I scrapped the idea of bailing early on my planned route although I did study the maps closely that night to see if I could minimize the lengths of the portages. 

The weather was perfect that night and I couldn’t ask for more. The “I’m OK” message went out at 8:15 and I was out not long afterward.

The wind started to pick up on Elton but I pressed on to Makwa where it turned into a real nightmare with the wind seemingly determined to drive me into the bank. I paddled like hell, sneaking up the bank to the campsite (#983… looked OK and seemed not overused) when the wind died down quite a bit so I struck out for the portage to Panhandle. Predictably, the lull did not last long enough to make the crossing but there was an island to hide behind around the ½ way point and I rested while watching a loon bob along in the wind as if it were anchored there. As is often the case, I suspect that there was far more going on beneath the surface than what was visible. 

Panhandle lake was next and presented a new twist. I found what appeared to be the portage easily but I was a bit surprised by how rough it was, including a wet foot crossing of a stream. It was obviously not a game trail but neither was it typical of the portage trails that I’d gotten used to. 

Upon arrival at Pan lake, I saw another trail leading away from the landing to my right. I checked the map, found no other lakes in that direction so I decided to investigate. It turned out that this trail was the actual portage and was in far better shape but there was no way to walk the shoreline to get back to my canoe. 

Back down the trail to Pan, I picked up a paddle and took the bushwhack trail back to the canoe, then paddled to the North end of the beaver dam and took the better (and actual) portage trail to the landing at Pan lake. 

By this time, the sky was ominous, the wind had really gotten serious and Pan had been whipped into whitecaps. I debated setting up the tarp on the landing instead of trying to go further. Instead, I decided to sneak along the shoreline to the 1st campsite (#1047). If it was empty, it would be home for the night. If not, I would allow the wind to push me back to the landing and I would sit it out there until I could safely cross Pan.

I made it to the campsite and found it unoccupied just as the skies opened up into a really impressive downpour. Thoroughly soaked even before I could get the rain gear from my pack, I set up camp only to have the rain stop around the time that I finished.  

I gathered wood, set up a clothesline under the tarp, caught a few rock bass and called it a day. I had only seen 2 other people and they had been several hundred yards away and headed in the other direction. 

The tree configuration wasn’t ideal for a tarp and there was a slight slope. As I drifted off, I remember wondering if the tarp was oriented correctly to remain dry and if the ground was level enough to keep from sliding off of the groundsheet…

Day 6

As one might expect, both concerns of the previous night turned out to be valid. The wind shifted during the night and I was awakened by the rain blowing in and the combination of nylon ground cloth plus plastic, inflatable sleeping pad and slippery sleeping bag had me sliding around a good bit. For the first time there (even when worried about wolves), I can say that I did not sleep well.

Blissfully unaware of my photographic failure, I headed off to Alice and met a rather large group at the portage… native Minnesotans by the sound of them. They were base camped on Alice and portaged into the surrounding lakes to fish and said they were headed into Thomas the next day also (I’m unsure why they would want to tackle a 240 rod potage twice in the same day but a couple of the younger men looked pretty strong and to each his own I suppose…)

They were very friendly, remarked (as many did) about the old Sawyer I was carrying and I mentioned modifying the pool noodle & running out of duct tape in the process. One of them immediately started digging in his pack and produced a small dollar store roll, told me to keep it and refused any offer of payment. It stabilized the pool noodle “yoke” quite well and, if by some chance one of them should read this, I offer one more sincere “thank you” for the kindness.

I ported out of Fishdance, caught a couple of nice smallmouth in the riffles below, cleaned them, gathered a few armloads of firewood and then realized that I had one more portage before Alice. I had no intention of portaging firewood so it got stacked neatly near the end of the portage for someone with more energy.

There was not a stick of wood to be found in the woods immediately adjacent to the campsite but, as with everywhere that I traveled on this trip, it was plentiful along the shores within a short paddling distance and there was absolutely no need for splitting tools as I didn’t have to cut anything larger than my wrist the entire trip. (potential pack weight reduction on a return trip: leave the hatchet at home).

I unloaded my gear on the beach, paddled a few hundred yards north to find a nice landing (also sand), went into the woods far enough to be out of sight from the water (freshly sawn deadfalls are remarkably visible), and the canoe was soon filled with branches and small, dead trees. I set up camp, fried fish and kept the fire going awhile just for the warmth and enjoyment. 

The inReach can receive messages as well as send them and it was here that my oldest daughter messaged that one of the cats was not doing well. I was, at this point, about as far from the truck as I would get on this trip so I instructed her to not hesitate to contact our veterinarian (a personal friend as well as a horse shoeing customer) and I would settle up with her upon my return.

I turned in with the feeling that I’d best not dawdle regardless of how wonderfully warm the sleeping bag felt in the chill of the morning.

Day 7 

Day 8

The morning was cool and the routine continued comfortably: Dress, start the fire, drop the bear bag, start coffee, tear down the “tent”, check the fire periodically while packing, cook breakfast when coffee was ready and then linger a bit before lifting the canoe off of the bank and beginning the day.

Up to that point, the daily goals had been pretty loosely defined but now, as the trip was winding down, I decided that I’d loop North to see the falls by the Eddy lake portage (into the South arm of Knife lake) then drop South to Gabimichigami, through Peter to Gillis and try to end the day about a half day’s travel from Round lake & the truck.

He mentioned 2 trails to overlooks: one starting from behind the ranger station on Kekakabic and one from the cliff campsite on Wisini, where you can see for miles around and I regretted not having this information when I paddled past both the previous day. I would have checked out the ranger station trail for sure. The other; probably not as there was a large group camped at the cliff site and, without a better idea of where the trail started, that might have been a bit intrusive. 

He had some truly amazing pictures including a nice close-up of a bull moose in velvet and a picture of a storm where the colors were unbelievably vivid and the scene just looked surreal. He was a bit shocked at my “portage yoke” and told me that the pictographs on Fishdance were actually some of the most vivid while the ones on Kekakabic had fewer colors and had not weathered as well. 

We chatted far too long as he showed me an edible plant (sweet gale) that grows along the waterline of nearly every lake and makes a peppery, and delicious, seasoning for fish and he also offered some advice on the trip out to Round: He said that most people seemed to exit through Peter lake and I might find better campsites and less traffic by going through Virgin, West Fern and Powell. 

As we were finishing our conversation, another solo paddler came down the portage. I failed to ask his name but we chatted about gear and canoes a bit. He was toting the smallest portage pack made by Cooke Custom Sewing, said he loved it but that he was after them a little to make one slightly smaller.

Like the barefoot fellow, he was carrying a boat in the 30 lb range and I mentioned that I’d been trying for the past 2 years to get everything in order to build a dedicated solo strip canoe. We talked over some options for a few minutes and he highly recommended the Freedom solo from Bear Mountain. While I acknowledge that he is likely biased (he said he helped design it), he made a strong enough case that I will be ordering plans as soon as I can find (or build) a heated shop.

After the falls, I turned South through Jenny lake and at the portage to Mueller I met Chris and Jack, a father and son tandem from Chicago. The trip was Jack’s 16th birthday present even though he was now 17 (he too had gotten the trip pushed back due to the whole covid thing) and, even though they were a couple days into the trip, his enthusiasm had not waned and he was obviously in his glory while Chris, being a bit less agile was, understandably, more subdued but seemed thrilled nonetheless to be able to share the trip with his son. 

He noticed my inReach and said that he had rented one from his outfitter but he was a bit concerned that the battery seemed to be fading faster than he would have liked and he was down to 30% in just 2 days. He had a battery pack of suitable capacity but lacked the USB cord to link the two.

Among the extra items I had packed happened to be an extra USB cable that fit neither my cell phone nor my Garmin and, although Chris needed a bit of convincing in order to believe that it was, indeed, merely an extra that had somehow managed to be included in my pack, he tried it. His inReach was able to recharge and they headed North toward Eddy Falls and the South Arm of Knife.

From there it was off to Powell lake & a fish dinner… until the wind got going. Some of the strongest wind yet and it seemed to be coming from every direction but mostly from behind.

By the time I reached Gabimichigami lake I was very hesitant about the crossing but the Sawyer had proven extremely stable and seaworthy in the past and I started across. This was, apparently, not acceptable to whomever was controlling the wind and the waves as I had only gotten across the lake far enough to think I’d gotten in way over my head when the wind increased even more and I had whitecaps intermittently breaking over the gunwales. I leaned back as far as possible in an attempt to get the wind to catch the bow, turned as quickly as I could and paddled like hell back to the safety of the shore.

The lack of larger trees also made hanging the bear bag impossible. In addition to hanging, all food, toiletries and any other items that had unusual odors were stored in odor proof zip lock bags (I use Opsak brand). I had tested them in the backyard with some bacon where the neighborhood cats ignored them but I wasn’t sure about just leaving them on the ground for a hungry bear (is there any other kind?) to sniff around. Without any other options, however, I scattered the bags a bit outside the campsite & turned in.

Overall, the site didn’t work too badly. It was certainly small but there was firewood everywhere (I didn’t venture back onto the water to gather it away from camp as I’m supposed to as I’d had quite enough of that nonsense for one day), the row of trees did a nice job of slowing the wind that continued to rage even as it was getting dark and I wound up with a couple of really nice pictures as the rain slowed and eventually stopped.

I did not, however, get my fish for supper so I shredded the last of my bacon into some wild rice and finished off the last of my (contraband) Lays potato chips. (for any unaware, plastic is only allowed in the BW in the form of reusable containers and my blue sleeve of salty indulgence... well; it just did not qualify).

Day 9

The wind roared around and through my shelter all night but the nylon held out until morning. One of the grommets ripped out (second one I’d lost on the trip) as I was cooking breakfast and that made the “tear down or wait” question a little easier.

Even early in the day, conditions were only marginally better than the night before and, with whitecaps along the Eastern shore I was again hesitant but, the decision to leave was made and I wanted to get at it. I paddled along the lee of the Western shore headed North until I was across from, and slightly upwind of, a long point of land which formed the Northern shoreline of the bay that was my target. The object was to make the crossing as short as possible, tuck into the lee behind that point and hug the shore until the portage into Peter lake.

Unable to watch the compass, the shore, the waves and wind direction all at once, I opted for keeping the boat upright and not allowing it to get turned broadside to the wind. Kneeling down and paddling like hell, I made it to the Eastern shore while still seriously questioning my judgment. Those waves, while not as bad as they had been the previous night, were as close to “beyond my ability” as I care to come.

Once again safely tucked out of the wind, I set about trying to determine exactly WHERE on the shoreline I was and it turned out that I had been blown about half of a lake South of my intended destination. I had missed the bay completely and was just West of Rattle lake. With no desire to attempt paddling upwind in the mess I’d just left, it was time for Plan “C”.

I was unfamiliar with Birch trees as my home state of PA is blessed with thousands of acres of hardwood forests but I’ve only ever seen a handful of White Birch. Frankly, I was shocked by how volatile that tree appears to be. A peel or two of bark from the nearest deadfall would roar into flame as if soaked in lighter fluid and there was no need for other firestarters. 

I never did cut up a log to see how quickly it burned, although I should have, if only out of curiosity. I felt that the cedars and jack pine made a nice cooking fire and, while it didn’t last like the oak, cherry and hickory with which I am familiar, it didn’t burst into flame & evaporate like I suspected the birch would.

The carry from Gotter to Brant was particularly rough as it was up & down with treacherous footing at times. As I was headed back for the canoe I met a young couple, Aaron & Jamie. She was particularly friendly and chatted away as Aaron stood, smiling, holding the canoe. She was well spoken, very pretty and very personable… With such a companion, I suppose I’d have been smiling too.

The second site on Brant (#545) was open and while I was checking it out, I found a stuff sack full of garbage along the trail to the latrine. My first thought was “how did someone forget that all the way up here?” but then I realized it was nothing but garbage and had been left there so that it was sure to be found and someone else would have to clean up after them.

I hauled it back to the launch, looked through it briefly in hopes that I could find anything to indicate who left it, made a quick wood run (although I always gathered what I would use, this was the first site I’d been to that there was none left from previous campers), set up camp, made supper and hit the sack.

Day 10

The morning was unbelievably cold again and when I went to the clothesline to see which pair of socks was driest, I found that yesterday’s were almost frozen and the other wasn’t too bad... No contest there.

I had run out of coffee the previous morning and was reduced to the backup supply of instant. Two thoroughly terrible cups later, some frozen socks and my daughter’s elderly pet sick enough to be at the vet’s… It was time to go.

The rest of the trip to Round lake went as expected… paddle, carry, repeat. 

As I was leaving camp, four young men paddling tandem passed by, both paddling on one side of the canoe then both switching to the other, disjointedly zig-zagging their way down wind, while chatting loudly and seeming to thoroughly enjoy what was likely just the start of their trip.

The trusty, rusty Ranger fired up on the first crank of the engine, just like it had for the past 290,000(ish) miles and, just as I was ready to back out, I heard “Hey, Steve! I thought that was you…”  Chris and Jack from Chicago (and the Ogish to Mueller portage) had pulled in beside me and Chris returned the charge cable I had given him. We chatted a bit about how the rest of our respective trips went and Jack assured me that his 16th birthday present was everything that he’d hoped it would be.

I drove back to the landing, hoisted the Sawyer and the pack one final time and, after a quick stop at the Marathon Station in Grand Marais for a large cup and a thermos full of unremarkable yet completely delicious coffee, I was Southbound down 61.

A few gas stops later, I holed up for the night in Tomah, WI. 

A hot shower, a comfortable bed, climate controls right there in the room… Life was indeed good.

The wrap-up:

While I fully understand the “it’s not WILDERNESS” criticisms, I thoroughly enjoyed my BWCA trip and will likely return once I renew and save my vacation time at work. 

I really did like the fact that there were no signs to mark portages or campsites. Not only did it add to the wilderness feel but it made the experience feel like a one million acre scavenger hunt with maps & compass for clues. Sure, I got turned around a few times but the mistakes we make are often the most interesting parts of our stories...

I will bring less gear next time and I resolve to pack as if I’m backpacking. 

I will certainly take a lighter canoe. The old Sawyer served me well but I’m sure I can build a stripper significantly lighter than it is and, because I built it, I would consider it more disposable and not stress out about the scratches as much. (rocks were omnipresent and every campsite and portage seemed to require you to leave a little paint to mark your passing.)

I would probably spend a little more time exploring the areas and make doubly sure the trip had a little less of a “checkpoint-to-checkpoint” feel. While I tried to be fairly loose about schedule, there were a few times that it seemed like I was pushing to the next “checkpoint”. Perhaps a third week or a full month to complete the trip would lessen that feeling. I suspect that, if I can get total weight, with the canoe, low enough to single carry, this issue may resolve itself.  (I have NO idea why one would want to complete the loop in 6 days as Andy suggested was possible but I certainly would not want to even if I could). 

I will take more coffee... While I was close with my “this should be enough for 10 days or so” estimate, the instant that I took as backup was nothing short of foul. I can offset the weight reduction of the lighter canoe with additional coffee and consider that trade to be the best since the Detroit Tigers acquired Max Scherzer. 

I will take less fishing gear. I took two spinning rods (which still seems right) and a ton of different plastics with which to fish various techniques (drop shot, ned rigs, wacky worms, etc). All I really needed were a handful of lead head jigs and a package of green pumpkin Mister Twisters. If fishing to reduce pack weight by living off the land, I’d bet you could catch fish with this set-up by tossing into the tailrace of almost any beaver dam you came across.

Note: If you’re after walleye or trout specifically, you may want to take something else. I did not catch either but I did have success with smallmouth, rock bass, yellow perch and northern pike. (I released the pike as, being solo, I did not need nearly that much food and they’ve never been a favorite any way... I really would have liked a walleye or two).

I would not hesitate to go solo on a return trip. With the inReach as a security blanket of sorts, I never felt that I was in any danger (well, at least not after I learned that wolves were unlikely to chew on my face while sleeping) and not having to worry about anyone else’s enjoyment but my own was very liberating.

At the same time, I would also not be opposed to a partner if we were on the same page about trip agenda/goals and I was certain we could spend 24/7 around each other regardless of circumstances. We each remember things a bit differently and, I feel that reminiscing a shared experience with someone might enrich my own memories (added benefit: it would lessen the amount of times my kids have to hear about the trip).

I will absolutely activate and carry the inReach. I didn’t use it much for navigation (although one could) but I liked being able to give those at home a little peace of mind and I cannot believe how many customers / family members checked multiple times a day to see where I was. Most tell me they had a ball living vicariously through me. It was also good that the kids could reach me if they needed to.

On the next trip I will share the mapshare link on this site so that any interested parties may follow along as well. Honestly, I’d thought about it prior to the trip but thought, if it kicked my butt and I bailed on day 3 of a planned 10 day trip, it would be a bit embarrassing. (funny how social media works like that… worried about disappointing or being embarrassed in front of people that I am unlikely to ever meet in person… welcome to the 21st century...)

I will continue to hang bear bags wherever suitable trees are found. I liked the extra security of an odor proof bag but I’m not sure I trust them completely just yet. I’d much rather throw a line and hang the bag than to (potentially) go hungry for days.

I will, most likely, take a tent. 

I’ll certainly take a tent if it’s early or late in the year as the additional windbreak of the tent walls would have been welcome on multiple nights. If I were to take the trip later in the summer, however, I might just go with the tarp. Weighing both when I got home, the tarp weighed in at 1 pound 6 ounces while the tent is listed at 3lbs 8oz but, for whatever reason, tips my scales at 4lbs 6oz. Most likely, I’ll use 3 pounds of the canoe weight savings and cut into the coffee stash a little by carrying the tent but one never knows…

I’ll let you know after the next trip. Until then… Be well, keep your head between the gunwales and, by all means, get out!