Day 11 - Trant Lake (Wednesday, August 13) [full index]

8.7 miles, 4 portages (day trip)

Being a little more tired than usual I slept in late. I think my biggest accomplishment all morning was the giant pile of blueberries I managed to gather for my oatmeal. During breakfast I decided to take an afternoon day trip over to adjacent Trant Lake to look for the early Native American pictographs that were supposedly located there.

When afternoon rolled around, I packed up the day pack and headed out onto the water. Getting to Trant Lake required following the hook shaped bay out in front of camp to the northeast where it ultimately ends at two portages separated by a small creek. As I paddled along the bay I observed wildfire damage along the south shore. This was only one of many seemingly scattered parts of Kahshahpiwi Lake that appeared burned, and much of it looked quite recent.

The first, and shorter of the two portages to Trant Lake was just on the other side of a small bay covered by lily pads, many of which were in bloom. Both portages were very messy to access and walk, and both seemed longer than the 20 and 88 rods that were indicated on the map. The small creek that ran between the portages was barely wide enough for a canoe, and the tall grasses that it meandered through made it virtually impossible to see what was just a few yards away. Being all but certain that this was prime moose habitat, I have to admit that I was more than just a little worried about the possibility of turning some bend and coming face to face with a surprised moose. But fortunately, no moose were in the creek that day, and I eventually made it to Trant Lake in one piece.

By now the weather was starting to look a little unsettled, but after just completing those last two messy portages I was not about to turn right around and go back. Greeting me at Trant Lake was an intimate little waterway that was guarded by a number of inuksuit. The inuksuit simply added to an already growing atmosphere of mystery that seemed to surround this lake. Some of that mystery was likely influenced by the darkening clouds, the absolute quiet and the stillness in the water. But still, I occasionally encounter lakes that just seem to possess a special essence that I can't explain, and Trant Lake was definitely one of these.

I paddled to the far west bay of the lake, as indicated on my Fisher map, and began to look around. There were a few rock faces and cliffs that looked like promising hosts for pictographs, but after multiple passes up and down and across that bay I could not find even a single red blotch. By now a light rain had started falling, and I was starting to get really wet. While double-checking the map a frog crawled out from behind my day pack. Was it raining frogs now too? Before long the light rain gave way to an all out downpour, and now I was completely soaked. As I watched the canoe fill with water I questioned my sanity, but after having missed the pictographs on Kawnipi Lake I was determined to find these.

After a while it almost seemed like the lake was playing a game of hot and cold. I'd paddle in one direction and it would rain harder. I'd then paddle in the opposite direction and the rain would ease. I tried to keep the canoe bailed out, but when the water collecting in the bottom started to destabilize it, I finally decided it was time to give up and go back. As I moved closer to the south-central bay of the lake toward the portages back to Kahshahpiwi, the rain began to lighten considerably. Just inside the bay I stopped briefly along the shore to flip the canoe and drain all the water. By the time I was ready to shove off again the rain had stopped completely. As I paddled away I noticed a large granite outcropping about halfway down the western shoreline. Could it be? I went to investigate.

Sure enough, as I paddled along the granite wall I began to see the distinct red shapes of pictographs. My map had simply been wrong, and I suppose the lake had only been using the rain to steer me in the right direction.

I spent a good long time examining the various figures. There appeared to be at least one moose, another deer-like ungulate, something resembling a hare, and a canoe with two occupants. There were some additional figures as well, but I couldn't make sense of them. As I gazed at the faded symbols I was captivated by the thought that I was sharing this same space with some ancient person, separated only by time.

The skies began to clear and the sun emerged as I left the pictographs and made my way back to camp.

While unloading the canoe at camp I discovered that the frog from Trant Lake had hitched a ride all the way back with me. Between dumping the rain water and twice portaging the canoe upside down I was amazed he hadn't fallen out somewhere. I let the stowaway free onto the island and hoped that he would like his new home.

I hung everything out to dry and enjoyed a pleasant evening. Around sunset a lone wolf began to howl very loudly from the western shoreline directly across the lake. It seemed like all other sounds abruptly stopped just to let the wolf be heard. When the howling ended the sounds resumed, and the evening's concert continued with the calls of the local loon population. As darkness fell a nearly full moon rose from the trees and the magical scene was now complete.

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