BWCA Entry Point, Route, and Trip Report Blog
June 09 2026
Entry Point 9 - Little Indian Sioux River South
Number of Permits per Day: 1 permit every other day
Elevation: 1362 feet
Latitude: 48.1420
Longitude: -92.2079
Little Indian Sioux River South - 9
the short, early april solo
Entry Date:
April 07, 2010
Entry Point:
Little Indian Sioux River (south)
Number of Days:
3
Group Size:
1
left the driveway at about 5:15 am. that was alot later than i was originally planning. oh well, not in a big hurry anyway.
arrived in ely around 10 and began looking for The Great Outdoors to meet jim for the first time. great guy. we chatted for awhile and as i was leaving, i was offered a beer...talk about tempting. i declined though and headed towards the echo trail.
stopped at the ranger station and self permitted, and hit the echo.
i had never gone very far on the echo before, only as far as the mudro turnoff. what a wild drive...i hope it never gets paved. at one point i got stuck behind a road grader. 4 mph for one mile. lost some time there.
arrived at the little indian sioux landing around noon. there is one truck in the parking area...im kinda bummed when i see that.
it seemed to take forever to get the canoe packed and floating. finally, im paddling. within 15 minutes i run into a couple paddling back out from a morning paddle. the truck owners...im happier now. :)
the river surprises me. very wide with expansive marshlands bordering it.
the wind is from the north and no part of the river affords any wind break. its nice having the wind at my back but the river twists and turns so much i often end up battling it.
definitely a wind chill. i caught the forecast when i was in ely. low tonight, 22. low thursday night, 18. now im happy i threw in a 40 degree bag to supplement my 20.
im at the sioux falls portage at 2:30. 
i think it would take me about another 3-4 hours to get to bootleg which would put me in camp fairly late in the day. i decide to take bogwalkers advise and camp at a winter site right above the falls. ill sleep well tonight with the sound of rushing water 30 feet away. 
its now 5 pm and just ate dinner. its 38 degrees right now. i didnt set up the tarp, wish i would have...the wind is ripping thru here now. im shivering so i add another layer of fleece and throw on the raingear.
this is sad. even though there is a ton of firewood at this site, i wont be having a fire tonight. its a winter site, not an official one. not even a fire ring is present. hey, thats ok...its just good to be up north again. ill have a nice fire on bootleg tomorrow night.
for wildlife its just been ducks, mergansers, many robins and one osprey so far.
this is the first trip in years where i dont have a "certain something" in the back of my mind. its a great feeling, one im not used to yet. lol
at the last moment i packed my little grundig radio. i guess that even though i love solo trips i also enjoy the human voice.
sleeping will be interesting tonight. the coldest ive ever camped in before was 28 degrees. tomorrows 18 degree low will be even more interesting.
its difficult to write with wool gloves on. its 35 now. its been a totally grey sky since i got here.
its 8 and without a fire i hit the bags. hope i can stay warm.
[paragraph break] The lake narrows and turns swampy as we approach the portage. It looks like a great place for a moose--in fact most of the areas we've been this trip look like prime moose habitat. I guess I don't think like a moose. We do see--something--though, swimming in the little bay. It kind of looks like a big frog... We get closer and see that there's a lily pad swimming across the lake! Huh? It swims in front of the canoe and now we see a little muskrat with a big mouthful of lily pads. [paragraph break] Just past this is the start of the 270-rod portage to Trout. The sight of a split-log path winding through the marsh is a glorious thing to behold. Past the marsh the underbrush crowds the path and soaks us with dew from the waist down. Compared to the portages we've been on though, a little dew is nothing. Eric fortuitously drops a bag by a patch of blueberries. When we go back to retrieve it, we're thrilled to find a precious handful of very blue blueberries instead of the hundreds of greenberries which have been taunting us throughout the trip. The mosquitoes are enjoying our berry-picking too, so Eric pockets the berries, we complete the portage, and shove out onto the lake to savor our find. [paragraph break] The water in Trout is clear and we can see fish swimming around jumbles of old logs (which we assume are remnants of the logging days). I go from watching fish to watching the ripples circle out from the drips off my paddle. The ensuing conversation flows from wave propagation, to Polynesians navigating the ocean based on the interference patterns created by islands in the path of waves, and all the way to the spontaneous generation of particle pairs and the apparent emission of information from a black hole. Physicists know so much cool stuff. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] We're at the portage to Vermilion in no time. A short carry and we're in civilization again. We realize that we just went an entire trip without meeting anyone on a portage (that's over a thousand rods of trail without seeing another person) and that the only people in canoes we saw were on Pine Lake. We go back to look at the falls and then shove off for the long paddle to the public boat landing. Fortunately it's a calm day so we don't have to battle the wind (though it does make for some warm paddling). It's kind of interesting to see all of the cabins on the shore that are boat-access only. We see a handful of motorboats--mostly fisherman, a couple of powerboats, and one boat towing a water skier--but there aren't nearly as many people out as we thought there would be. [paragraph break] We're the only canoe in sight and I feel a bit conspicuous. The loons certainly think we look like a threat. We come upon a pair of them calling to one another in a narrower part of the lake. Their calls are echoing off the hills so, being a sucker for echoes, I make some hooting noises too. Well. One loon dove under water, came up about three feet behind our canoe and started going crazy--standing up in the water, flopping down to do this weird breaststroke, flapping hysterically, and all the while hooting insanely. I was unaware that the hooting noises I made were Loon for "I'm going to eat your babies." I take a quick picture then we paddle away from what must be their nesting spot. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] The day grows warmer as we paddle down Vermilion. We watch the lake houses become more numerous and notice the boat trailers and trucks appear as we reach the area with road access. There's cell phone coverage so Eric calls his folks to for a ride. We make it to the boat landing, eat a late lunch, and chat with an incredibly bored DNR guy. He's there checking boats for invasive species but no one has used the ramp for hours. He doesn't check our canoe. [paragraph break] Eric's folks show up and it's back to the house for much needed showers. Eric's brother and his family arrived at the house in our absence and they've been out fishing with much greater success than we had. All fourteen of us stuff ourselves on fried fish that night. Dessert is wild strawberry and homegrown rhubarb pie. Adventures are nice, but civilization definitely has its perks. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] The lake narrows and turns swampy as we approach the portage. It looks like a great place for a moose--in fact most of the areas we've been this trip look like prime moose habitat. I guess I don't think like a moose. We do see--something--though, swimming in the little bay. It kind of looks like a big frog... We get closer and see that there's a lily pad swimming across the lake! Huh? It swims in front of the canoe and now we see a little muskrat with a big mouthful of lily pads. [paragraph break] Just past this is the start of the 270-rod portage to Trout. The sight of a split-log path winding through the marsh is a glorious thing to behold. Past the marsh the underbrush crowds the path and soaks us with dew from the waist down. Compared to the portages we've been on though, a little dew is nothing. Eric fortuitously drops a bag by a patch of blueberries. When we go back to retrieve it, we're thrilled to find a precious handful of very blue blueberries instead of the hundreds of greenberries which have been taunting us throughout the trip. The mosquitoes are enjoying our berry-picking too, so Eric pockets the berries, we complete the portage, and shove out onto the lake to savor our find. [paragraph break] The water in Trout is clear and we can see fish swimming around jumbles of old logs (which we assume are remnants of the logging days). I go from watching fish to watching the ripples circle out from the drips off my paddle. The ensuing conversation flows from wave propagation, to Polynesians navigating the ocean based on the interference patterns created by islands in the path of waves, and all the way to the spontaneous generation of particle pairs and the apparent emission of information from a black hole. Physicists know so much cool stuff. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] We're at the portage to Vermilion in no time. A short carry and we're in civilization again. We realize that we just went an entire trip without meeting anyone on a portage (that's over a thousand rods of trail without seeing another person) and that the only people in canoes we saw were on Pine Lake. We go back to look at the falls and then shove off for the long paddle to the public boat landing. Fortunately it's a calm day so we don't have to battle the wind (though it does make for some warm paddling). It's kind of interesting to see all of the cabins on the shore that are boat-access only. We see a handful of motorboats--mostly fisherman, a couple of powerboats, and one boat towing a water skier--but there aren't nearly as many people out as we thought there would be. [paragraph break] We're the only canoe in sight and I feel a bit conspicuous. The loons certainly think we look like a threat. We come upon a pair of them calling to one another in a narrower part of the lake. Their calls are echoing off the hills so, being a sucker for echoes, I make some hooting noises too. Well. One loon dove under water, came up about three feet behind our canoe and started going crazy--standing up in the water, flopping down to do this weird breaststroke, flapping hysterically, and all the while hooting insanely. I was unaware that the hooting noises I made were Loon for "I'm going to eat your babies." I take a quick picture then we paddle away from what must be their nesting spot. [paragraph break] 
[paragraph break] The day grows warmer as we paddle down Vermilion. We watch the lake houses become more numerous and notice the boat trailers and trucks appear as we reach the area with road access. There's cell phone coverage so Eric calls his folks to for a ride. We make it to the boat landing, eat a late lunch, and chat with an incredibly bored DNR guy. He's there checking boats for invasive species but no one has used the ramp for hours. He doesn't check our canoe. [paragraph break] Eric's folks show up and it's back to the house for much needed showers. Eric's brother and his family arrived at the house in our absence and they've been out fishing with much greater success than we had. All fourteen of us stuff ourselves on fried fish that night. Dessert is wild strawberry and homegrown rhubarb pie. Adventures are nice, but civilization definitely has its perks. [paragraph break] 
