Thursday, May 15, 2008

Preamble - It all started on BWCA.com trying to get a crew together to go to Wabakimi. “Let’s find a group that wants to kick it up a notch… and head farther north” was the general idea. A few suggested a trial run in the Quetico to meet and test gear. A route was planned with river travel and difficult portages in a fairly remote region, and it was to be called the Red Pine Bushwhack. Red Pine Lake was on the western side of the Quetico appeared infrequently traveled.

It was difficult to organize and orchestrate a crew of four with everyone’s business and family commitments. The crew they finally came up with was Bryan (beemer01), an avid outdoorsman with a keen sense of the cycles of nature (and a brand new titanium and plastic knee)
, Dave (jdrocks), an adventure junkie of about 60 who refuses to give into the rocking chair, traveling the Americas from the Canadian Arctic to South America. Dave was leaving for a Woodland Caribou solo the same day we get back out from this trip Mark (vikinfan), an officer in the Minnesota National Guard, a medical student at University of Minnesota and an untiring fisherman who will spare absolutely no pain or effort to land the big ones. He’d been to Lake of the Woods already this year and was going to Grass River Provincial Park in Northern Manitoba on another fishing trip after this one; and finally Pete (suko), a novice adventurer and Army Master Sergeant counting his days to discharge, learning everything he can about this fantastic form of adventure.

Pete beat the traffic into St. Paul and Mark was waiting and raring to go. They talked about their fishing plans and strategies as they headed up I-35 for Ely to browse at the gear at Piragis and meet up with Dave.

Though Pete and Mark had never previously met Dave, he was rather easy to spot - big diesel pickups with Virginia tags and two LeTigre Souris Rivers strapped on top are fairly rare in Ely in mid May. To finally meet him was surprising because he didn’t look 60(ish), and was in great physical shape and full of energy. He looks like he could a State Trooper. Or a Senior Drill Sergeant. Dave followed Mark and Pete up the Echo Trail for Crane Lake. This was an uneventful drive with the speed gradually increasing until Pete rounded a blind curve on the dirt road and nearly slammed into two moose standing in the road. The moose stared at them as if to say “who’s gonna win this one, a Toyota Van and a pickup… or us?” The moose family must have decided it would likely be a draw so they ambled off into the trees and watched the adventurers pass.

They got to Voyagaire Lodge at Crane Lake, where they'd be spending the night, and started dumping gear for the final sort and purge, covering half of the front lawn. Holy crap! Pete’s food pack alone weighed well over 100 lbs. Apparently, he'd brought enough food to feed his real Army, not just the temporary reserves. We thinned out and split the food and kitchen gear to about 80 lbs per food pack with Mark’s twin 30 liter barrels loaded to the brims. (Bryan and Dave's note - this was still way too much food…)

In the middle of this effort, up comes a vintage BMW motorcycle with a CCS Pioneer pack and a double bent carbon and laminated wood paddle strapped on for the ride. Bryan had ridden up from Chicago on his Beemer in true Adventure Rider style-a big travelin’ bike with plenty of junk tied on. Pete introduced him as they continued to pack and sort. Most of Bryan’s gear took a break this year so he could ride the bike up, a very nice change of pace, thank you.

Bryan is a traditionalist who doesn’t follow all the gear fads, but sticks with what works, proven and practical. Some of his gear is over 30 years old. His pack, however, weighed in at just under 40 lbs. and he barely had to thin out anything. He had, however, upgraded his 1969 down Gerry sleeping bag to a nice new 20 degree Campmor down bag. (Gerry? Never mind, that was probably before your time.)

After getting all the gear in reasonable order, food and beer…and then a few more beers. As out waitress was taking Dave’s order, Pete said “Dave here is a State Trooper.” Without batting an eye, Dave turned to our waitress and said “That’s right, do you have any outstanding warrants?” Well, every drop of blood drained from her face and she croaked out “No”. Hmmm. It had been a long day for all of us, so off to get some sleep.

Here is a marked up map of the trip (click to view large version):

Friday, May 16, 2008

16 miles of paddling, 2 portages (80, 140 rods) Man, everyone was in high spirits and anxious to get paddling. We didn’t know at the time that someone would almost die on the very first day of the trip, but heck, let’s start at the beginning.
The mountain of gear was loaded into one of Zup's tow boats with the assistance of 'Northwoods Jan', a capable operator who then proceeded to fearlessly whip her 200 hp fast attack tow boat around islands, over rocky reefs and up swollen rivers.

This was no scenic cruise for Jan and she was trying to hold to a tight schedule. Chatting with the guys as they came off some big water, the engine hit that high turbine whine and we realized Jan had the engine fire walled at almost 6000 rpm, pushing an ounce of fuel a second through the injectors as we rocketed up a narrowing channel. Eyes intently fixed and unblinking, she blasted this 8' wide boat between sentinel rocks at 40 mph and through a chute of fast water; the hull skipping across the riffles. With less than 2 feet of draft, she was dirt tracking it.

The tree lined rocky shore filled the windshield. Hang on to your hats! No, just hang on! Suddenly Jan whipped the helm 75 degrees to starboard, prop starting to lose it’s grip, skidding the stern of the boat to port as we entered the pool above. Clang went the gunwales of the canoes against the rack above. The icy spray on the windshield was barely disturbed by the sweep of the lone wiper blade lazily moving back and forth. No margin for error here… or someone goes home freight. As she relaxed her shoulders, Jan straightened the helm and backed off the throttle. “I’ve been doing this for nine years, but you never know what to expect on these early spring high water tows - got pushed backwards by the current there a while back”, she spoke casually. “Hey Jan, want to go camping?” In Pete’s mind’s eye she was dutifully frying up some fresh caught walleye as he tended to the flames. "Sorry guys, gotta work." Jan says with a friendly smile. Oh well.

We arrived at Zup's Lodge and Resort on LLC where Mark, the owner, threw the proverbial monkey wrench into months of planning. The route that we had planned and researched since January had to be scrapped. Gone. Done. Over, and just that quick.

Zup told them the near record high water levels on LLC (due to heavy winter snows and near record fall rains months earlier) and the resulting rampaging Namakan River flowing out created a bad situation. Mark reported that our planned route would have virtually guaranteed multiple fatalities if they were to try it. The water flowing out of Lac La Croix was more than ten feet higher than last May, and portages around the various falls and rapids (that Bryan knew from previous trips) were now completely submerged by the blasting river which forms the Western edge of Quetico. The prospect of being carried over Snake or Ivy Falls appealed to no one. We would find other means and places to tempt fate, but who knew then?

New maps were purchased and Zup graciously helped us craft a new route in about 45 minutes. Maps and notebooks in hand, campsites and fishing hotspots were marked….. and a brand new adventure was born at that sun warmed table. Who needs months of planning? Turn on a dime and head off on a route in the opposite direction. No fuss, no bother. This is easy stuff if in the right frame of mind, and we were. Jan was given our revised starting point. We reboarded, Jan lit the fuse and we blasted off to the southeast end of LLC and Bottle Portage, eventually skidding the boat into the nearly submerged Bottle portage landing at 12:15 PM. With Zup’s the objective is speed, not economy. Hold onto your hat because if it blows off, she ain’t goin’ back for it.

Bryan had warned that this particular portage was ALWAYS wet and muddy, even in a drought. Pumped to get this adventure rolling, we slogged our way over, getting to know the packs that would be our lifelines for the next week and a half.

Bottle Rapids was crashing violently over its deep and twisting course, dampening the surroundings with its mist, current and rolling thunder.

Stopping at the top to take in the view, we checked the maps and continued east to Curtain Falls, paddling briskly away from the treacherous top of Bottle Rapids.

We paddled across Iron Lake, and soon were at the outflow from Curtain Falls. Zup had warned us about the swifts below Curtain Falls, very STRONGLY recommending that we lift over American Island and paddle the few feet to the start of the portage. The temptation, however, was to just run up the swifts and stay in the canoe.

Bryan and Pete looked at the sweeping current and figured that given enough speed they could push right through to the calm waters just feet above. They paddled hard, approached the current and it turned them broadside. Instantly. And violently.

Bryan went to brace right and the current snatched his paddle and pushed it under the canoe. Pete leaned hard left and backstroked hard, pointing the bow downstream ….and they floated away, barely breathing. The canoe had rolled right to the gunnel. It was a surefire capsize that somehow didn’t happen. 40 degree water and an 8mph flow. Dave and Mark would have not reached them before they were hypothermic in that water.

Wow! Life is short. “Want to try it again Bryan?” Pete queried. “NO!” Bryan gasped. After returning to our senses, we unloaded and lifted the canoe and gear over the island and reloaded just eight safe feet away on the other side. Mark and Dave smiled smugly and calmly lifted over without a snide remark. Later, Mark and Dave said they had discussed what was about to happen and it played out on precisely as they thought it would. They were too far away to do anything other than watch. Another push across a tiny bay and the crew unloaded the canoes again for the Curtain Falls portage. Not a difficult, but a long, wet and muddy portage, especially this spring.

The views of the falls, however, were fantastic.

We went in five days after ice out… arriving even before the migratory song birds. The forests were largely gray and silent as they headed deeper into Quetico. Except for a lone canoe in the distance on Robinson, the canoe they saw below American Island would be the last for five days.

Bryan, the eternal stern paddler/navigator felt very strange paddling bow, depending on the navigation skills of Pete and Dave, and seldom knowing where he was. (Due to the change in routes, he hadn't loaded this section into his Garmin.) He just kept paddling and paddling, leaving the navigation to Pete and Dave. Dave’s custom map set designed around the original route was also useless. So between the two canoes, we had about a overview map and a half. GPS, but no GPS charts or waypoints. Hey, just like the old days. No problem, let’s go.

The first day we paddled fifteen miles and portaged over one mile, all in the afternoon, aiming for a campsite that Zup circled as a five star site on Gardiner Bay. The sun was low in the western sky as we arrived at the campsite Zup circled. We put Dave’s Purcell Guide Grill on the fire for a KC Strip and Single Malt Scotch dinner. Dave exhibited his fine campfire culinary skills (the team silently voted him head chef at this point), and the steaks were soon devoured with garlic potatoes, fried peppers, mushrooms and onions. The food was inhaled and the booze was sipped…mostly.
It was a small campsite with the fire ring right on the lake, it was good, not great, but we were too tired to either fish or explore further so we cleaned up camp and dozed off to a glowing sunset as the sky cleared. (Note the five star site Zup had mismarked on the map was a scant 100 yards further down the shore, a fact that we wouldn't discover until we departed the next morning)

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Fortunately, nobody died on the first day, so it was a surprise (to say the least) when somebody almost died again the very next day, but we’ll get to that. We were back on the water in the morning after a hearty bacon and egg breakfast…to a day of cold boggy portages and blowdowns. Mark led the way down one Craig Lake 'portage' that turned out to be merely a game trail. It took some time and effort to discover that the 'portage' petered out and led nowhere, so we reversed course and got back onto Craig.

The weather seemed to go from bright and sunny to wind, rain and hail about every fifteen minutes. Out of nowhere came a major squall on little Craig Lake. Pete and Bryan’s canoe went broadside between breaking waves and absolutely would not steer out of the cresting beam sea. Bryan's calls to head for near shore were lost to the raging wind. All they could do was aim for the more distant steep rocky shore ahead and try and hang on until the storm passed. On reaching the jagged shore they were tossed from the frying pan into the fire as they struggled to keep their canoe from being destroyed on the rocks, even as they were pelted by wave after wave of stinging hail. The cresting waves relentlessly worked to loosen their grip and slowly started to dump the packs into the wet and icy crashing waves even as they tried to stand on the slick sloping shore rocks.

Dave and Mark suddenly appeared like the rescue team in the midst of the gale. They had managed to land at the actual portage and bushwhacked and crashed through over 300 yards of undergrowth and bush like a couple of angry moose to help secure the packs, canoe and paddlers - leaping thigh deep in the icy waters of Craig Lake without hesitation to save Pete, Bryan and their gear.

The storm passed quickly, followed by still another bright sunny calm. Pete and Bryan reloaded their canoe and joined Mark and Dave at the portage, once again soaked and humbled by nature. This next portage was complete with many blowdowns, knee deep bogs and steep rocky inclines. Bryan sawed through the larger obstacles with Pete’s Corona, clearing the way for future adventurers, and continuing his decade long 'ad hoc' Quetico portage clearing campaign.

Midway up Robinson Lake, we found a beautiful island campsite in the afternoon and decided to pitch camp and to Mark's delight, go fishing. This campsite is clearly marked by a cairn of small rocks. Someone had taken the time and effort to engineer a fantastic fire place, elevated to the perfect cooking height, the rocks fitting together neatly. (Dave referred to it as the Granite Viking Range). Campers from the previous season had also kindly left a supply of cut and seasoned cedar and birch bark. Clearly, there was a group that base camped here.

The crew returned this favor at every camp as they journeyed through the awakening wilderness.

Other than a delicious Laker that Dave caught, the fishing was unremarkable.

They discussed the next day’s route over that grilled Laker, as well as ham and potatoes cooked in Mountain Dew, an excellent recipe Pete had discovered somewhere. Never leftovers on this trip.

Pete was clearly intent on a bushwhacking adventure. Mark, on the other hand, was focused on fishing - this would lead to a few 'conversations' between the Lt. and the Sergeant about differing goals, but it all worked out.

As Pete studied the next day's route, he put his grimy finger on McIntyre Creek. Figuring that the waters would be high, he proposed saving hours of paddling and portaging by taking this surprisingly unmarked shortcut. Everyone agreed and hit the sack.

The second day they had paddled 8 miles, and but crossed 4 portages (48, 24, 73, 70 rods). Pete and Bryan had nearly drowned a second time in as many days.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

This day started early. Paddling to the north end of Robinson Lake, the intrepid paddlers quickly found the mouth of McIntyre creek and began to thread our way through trees, deadfalls and undergrowth, slowly making our way up and back blocked channels… not an easy task with loaded 18.5' canoes.

Bryan eventually found the main channel and we lifted over the first of many, many obstacles. Once past the initial sweepers, we indeed found the main stream, a very strong current nearly waist deep blasting its way south between steeply cut banks with the dark canyon like walls echoing the sound.

Mark quickly assessed the situation and leapt waist deep into the icy stream, pulling a loaded canoe behind him while the others logically tried not to get soaked. "It's not that cold" he shouted of the 41 degree rushing water. “and we’re losing valuable fishing time.”

Every sweeper and fallen tree presented a unique challenge and puzzle to be solved. Fording the stream at any point was a very tricky proposition. Keeping your footing on smooth slippery rocks with 3-4 foot deep icy spring currents working to sweep your feet away, combined with occasional pockets of fine tumbled river sand that tried to suck the boots off your feet is no simple task.

No shortage of bushwhacking adventures here.

Based on Bryan's input and experience, most of the crew had decided the Chota Brookies teamed with the Chota Trekkers, were the footwear of choice for this trip. This setup has a waterproof sock comes up to the knee… and they were certain of only two things; wet portages and icy water. The Brookies kept their feet dry… until they went in over the tops. Even then it seems they insulate the water inside and heat it to roughly body temperature quickly. By most estimates they are a definite plus. Dave, on the other hand, wore the NRS Storm Boot; a quick draining paddling/portage boot with lots of support and protection from rocks. He is of the opinion that no matter what, your feet will get wet, so just make sure you have good support, traction, protection and drainage. Apparently, 40 degree water didn’t concern him the least.

Moving past blowdowns, sweepers and rapids, Bryan reconnoitered ahead on a streamside game trail which showed occasional evidence that other human fools… many years (or decades) before… had come through on this route. Ahead there was a huge beaver dam… with an enormous unmelted ice and snow field still nestled high into the ravine high above. Beyond that, Bryan could see another beaver pond… and perhaps light at the end of the tunnel… a drier portage/game trail.

Everyone was enthused to be portaging “normally” again when we heard the report. We soon reached the pond and reloaded the canoes, paddling north again amidst the awakening forests. This placid pond was terminated by still another beaver dam; an absolute engineering marvel with a large sluiceway in the center.

The Souris Rivers were pulled over fully loaded, requiring all four men to lift them over to prevent damage.

The ordeal was finally over and the canoes and crew got to McIntyre Lake more or less unscathed. With visions of the huge Walleye on Conmee Lake, the apex of this new route, Mark urged the others on. It was almost 1:00 PM and we haven’t cast a lure much to Marks chagrin. McIntyre Lake disappeared into history. We were making up for lost time spent on this 'shortcut'.

Brent Lake looked interesting though. We decided to find a camp and explore. Pete just wanted to set up camp and start some coffee. The others went fishing. Mark and Dave got some strikes and landed a few Lakers and walleyes. Again nothing spectacular, unless you count the huge pike that tried to yank one of Dave’s Lakers off the stringer. “Tomorrow we strike camp early and paddle into the Promised Land” Pete declared. Mark opined that thus far this trip had to darn little fishing time.
10 miles, one hellacious bushwhack and 2 portages (4, 18)

Monday, May 19, 2008

Day 5 was the easiest day of travel on the entire trip, an quick paddle to the top of Brent Lake, and two short portages (20, 25) and up into Conmee Lake. Conmee is a large and winding lake full of islands, bays and shallows, fed by several creeks and bogs. It sure looked like the perfect walleye lake. We pitched camp quickly and headed back out, Mark and Dave to the North and East, Bryan and Pete to the West and South. The weather however, was not cooperating. A cold snap kept the fish lethargic. Conmee, the famous lunker lake only offered up a few small walleye and smallmouth. They had to decide whether to work it harder or move on. Dave made an improvised repair on the bow seat of his Souris. In fact, the seat had broken in half. Mark claimed it must have been defective and had nothing to do with his ah…heft and girth.

That evening the temps dipped into the high 20's, icing over everyone's soaked gear.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Day 6 We rose early, had quick breakfast and were back on the water heading for Argo Lake, It was a long run, but our paddling muscles were soon warm. Two quick portages and we were back on Brent, when from the East appeared a solo canoeist - the first person they'd seen for days. Pete steered in to interrogate the lone paddler. It was Denton Doc, a moderator from the Quiet Journey forum and he said he was point man for a party of four, miles behind. He was casually trolling the bays of Brent Lake with the about same limited success we'd had. After a few pleasantries we left him and headed west for the long run to Argo Lake. Only a mile or two West we passed a party of at least four that appeared to be just cooking breakfast at their camp along the North shore. A wave and a quick “How do you do” and we kept paddling. Strong winds were on again, off again so particular attention was paid as to how to traverse the larger bays and expanses without getting into another Craig Lake style predicament.

Getting to Argo went quickly, but astonishingly it seemed many campsites were occupied. We paddled for miles… seemingly with the wind always against us. The paddling muscles were running out of gas. We paddled into the teeth of the wind to the Darky Lake portage and finally there was a large sunny elevated campsite on a small bluff facing west. It looked great from the water, but on closer inspection it was found to have small streams of spring water or bog run off all across it. If it rained it would have turned to an elevated mud hole. Bryan followed a hunch and began to explore the white pine forest to the north. Walking thru it he began to see a perfect gypsy campsite emerge. He sat down and pointed out the potential tent pads, well placed trees for hammocks, and most importantly a sheltered fire area backed by well placed boulders.

This natural formation of rocks provided the perfect windbreak for the fire and there was indeed room to set up the tent and hang the hammocks. With setting camp completed, it was time to fish. As we trolled the north shore the tactic was to bump the rock bottom with deep diving minnows, shadraps and hammered spoons. Finally decent fishing flourished.

The Lakers were up in as shallow as ten feet of water, nearly surfacing at times. Back at camp that night Dave prepared Lakers fillets grilled over an open fire, unscaled skin side to the fire with his secret marinade on top. The feast lasted well past 11 PM and not a bite was wasted.
Today’s damage tallied at 17 miles and 5 portages (25, 20, 90, 180, 42).

Wednesday, May 21, 2008 Day 7 Fishing was good and their gypsy camp was beautiful so they stayed another day. As much as people got nervous about Pete swinging his little hatchet they always woke up to a fire and hot coffee. It seemed like Dave waited to get up when he heard the wood stop splitting because he would go straight to the fire and go to work on breakfast. Dave’s seminar today was on the fine art of cooking Hippie Pancakes. He broke out the Sturdiwheat mix, whipped it up with his whisk and added soaked dried fruit. Leaning over the fire, Dave advised, “If you really want fluffy cakes you let the batter sit about 20 minutes and it will rise in the mixing bowl. All the pancakes have to be cooked before anyone starts to eat so you need a steel warming plate set near the edge of the fire...” Dave insisted on some type of meat with every breakfast, so it was normally ham or summer sausage after the bacon was gone.

Pete had the second 50 oz. French Press of Espresso roast ready by that time and everyone again ate their fill. Mornings went like clockwork. Pete got up at 6 and got the fire and the coffee going, Dave would cook breakfast and Bryan and Mark would be breaking down camp or rigging poles and canoes getting ready for the day's events. We ate a hot calorie packed breakfast every morning, washed the dishes, packed up the food pack and got out on the water by 8 almost every morning. If we weren’t fishing, we were moving.

May 22, 2008 Day 7 – We broke down our gypsy camp including the fire ring and left the site completely undisturbed. One long portage and we were on the legendary Darky Lake. As we paddled to the campsites indicated at the north end we saw canoes and campers everywhere. The western shore offered a secluded site overlooking the lake from a high bluff. Camp was set with Mark’s hammock high on the bluff and Bryan's right on the water. The poles and canoes were rigged and they were back on the water. Constantly on the lookout for streams feeding the lake they started working Darky River on the East.

Pete started pulling in some hefty smallmouth. “Throw them back”, says Mark, “we want to fry up some walleye.” Frustrated, Pete let them go, thinking how spoiled these Minnesota natives were. Some of those would’ve been mounted on a wall back in Kansas.... the lucky angler who caught one of these monsters in Arkansas would have had a street named after him!

The day ended with assorted fish fillets and Bryan’s famous hearty tortellini chowder, a secret recipe concocted with Bear Creek Potato Soup. Looking across the lake to the distant camp fires, Dave said, “See Pete, that’s why we need to head north.” Prior to this trip, Dave hadn’t seen a canoe in the last 250 miles of paddling. – 6 miles, 1 portage (126)

May 23, 2008 Day 8 On the water at 8 AM, we headed off for Minn Lake, following the Darky River 9 miles north. Most of the trip was more of a lazy float, aside from a few sweepers and swifts to negotiate and three portages (45, 33, 11) with tricky landings. Due to the sweepers, we had to create one of these portages. The river was scenic and largely undisturbed, except for a small campsite about halfway to Minn.

To be perfectly accurate, there was a large volume of water flowing down the Darky - the rapids we portaged around were turbulent and treacherous.

When we got to Minn, we immediately found the campsite at the mouth of the Darky River. It was well used with a bit of mostly older trash from years of use, but it was right next to a prime fishing spot, the mouth of the Darky River. Another architecturally correct Dave engineered fire ring was constructed, good anchorage found around the opposite side and tent and hammock spots were established. The smallmouth action was steady, but walleye was on the menu so they headed off for the North end of the lake.

The Northerns were also scoring hits… but the walleye remained stubborn. Lots of fish were caught and released but only two good eating size walleye were caught and sacrificed to the campfire god. The day's grub consisted of biscuits and gravy with dried apricots on the side (coffee always), summer sausage and Swiss cheese on German pumpernickel washed down with lemonade for lunch and walleye dinner with wild rice, peas and carrots and reflector oven banana bread for dessert. (Now you see why we gained weight on this trip)

This camp deserved another day so they washed up the dishes and polished off the rest of the whiskey and hit the sack. 5:30 AM and there was Pete out there with his favorite toy, chopping up a storm. “I couldn’t sleep Dave, the sun was up and it’s a beautiful morning. Why don’t you start up some of your famous blueberry hippie pancakes?” Pete called out.

Bryan and Mark smelled the coffee and rolled out of the hammocks. Mark, having hung his hammock right next to the water, starts fishing with his first cup of coffee. Huge aggressive smallmouth simply annoy him. It has to be walleye. We enjoyed a beautiful morning fishing and exploring followed by a lunch of PB&J Tortillas and Lemonade, beef jerky and leftovers. A huge lake sturgeon surfaced right in front of Mark and Dave. Quite a sight.

In the afternoon there was time to review the gear selection. There were too many pots and pans. That 12” GSI steel frying pan from Piragis that claimed to be nonstick, was false advertising, and was too heavy. Mark’s 10” nonstick aluminum saved the day. Utensils got to be a hassle keeping track of when cooking because Pete kept them in a zip bag in his food pack and was constantly searching for one item or another. Bryan recommended a utensil roll like the one on his Camp Kitchen. Also his ordinary nylon spatula wasn’t holding up to the heat of the fire. Dave said the high temp silicon spatula can take the heat (600F) and not scratch the cookware, and no paddling gourmet should be without a whisk, silicon basting brush, and stainless tongs.

Dave was holding the good stuff with his 10 liter hanging water filter. Let gravity do the work. Pete’s hand pump ceramic made about 10 liters and it worked all right until he started filtering tannin stained water and it slowed down to a trickle. He should’ve listened to what Bryan had told him. Wrap a coffee filter and nylon stocking around the inlet hose.

Dave’s Purcell Trench Guide Grill was a definite winner, large and lightweight, he packed it with a cutting board cut from 7MM luan plywood slightly larger than the size of the grill. This kept it from getting damaged when tossed in and out of the canoes on all the portages. Don Tryon quit making the Guide Grill, his largest one, but he’s one of those American craftsmen that will pull the blueprint out and weld one up if you ask him. (http://www.purcelltrench.com/grills.htm)

Mark and Bryan did very well with their Hennessey Hammocks (especially given the often icy temperatures.) With an insulating pad they slept comfortably with a minimal footprint and hassle of trying to find a flat spot on the ground. They also saved a couple of pounds in their packs. Pete’s Mutha Hubba weathered a couple of storms without a problem, though none were too fierce. The Souris River Quetico 18.5’s were seaworthy load haulers and light to portage, but take some effort to maintain over 4 mph on the water. Nevertheless they are stable platforms in rough water and can withstand the beatings of rocky shallows.

Saturday, May 24, 2008 Day 10 they started across Minn Lake and planned to take the river to Martin Bay and Lac La Croix where Jan would pick them up the next day at noon. Dave and Mark took the lead and steamed off. Completely out of character, they didn’t check their compass for a while and when they stopped, found they had gone several miles south rather than north. Dave blamed it on lack of a map, and heck, who uses a compass anyway? (Bryan's note - Pete and Bryan knew exactly where to go and Dave and Mark were oblivious to our shouts, whistles and calls) Luckily they could still get to LLC by way of McAree Lake and a couple of relatively easy portages so there was no real time lost. When they got to LLC, there was Jan, zooming new groups down to Bottle Portage. 12 miles, 2 portages (14, 64) and they found Campers Island… the prearranged pick up point. We observed numerous small sunken islands - the high waters submerging bushes and trees.

The first thing reaching Camper's island, Mark took a run and a flying leap into the icy water to celebrate this trip.

He didn’t last long. One dive and he was off to get some dry clothes. We found a few things cached on the island, including a roll of chicken wire. This appeared to be another long used base camp site. Camp was pitched and Pete whipped up some Chicken & Parmesan Angel Hair Pasta for dinner. Everyone enjoyed reminiscing the events of the last ten days around the fire when a serious storm started blowing in. It was a fast moving and powerful but they only caught the southern edge of it. There was a lot of wind and rain… but nothing to cause damage. The nice thing about a good storm is the deep sleep you get.

May 25, 2008 Day 11. The crew woke up early, fixed breakfast, packed up camp and waited in the cold sporadic drizzle for Jan to show up. The fire was built up to hold the damp chill at bay - the crew watched attentively for Jan's return the brightest color packs positioned for easy identification in the blowing mists of morning. While waiting, we found that Pete’s Roselli hatchet could sprout wings and fly, although erratically. Close, but no first aid required.

The Zup's boat came into view, and Jan spun her around – eventually nosing the boat through the brush and finding a landing spot on the high water LLC. We were able to load our packs and canoes in fairly short order, relaxing against the cushioned seats for the speedy ride back to civilization at Zups. On the tow back to Zups was a father/son team and we discussed routes and lakes. When asked what his favorite lake was for fishing, he replied “Redpine”. Hey, that was supposed to have been our lake. The father said that this was the first time he had been able to get his 15yo son to go on a canoe trip. They had much better luck with the walleyes than we did.

Back at Zups, fresh coffee, cookies, muffins, and good cheer…and a beer. Pete decided to try out his “Want to go camping?” line on the cute 20something gal at the counter. To his utter surprise and shock, she whips around, looks him straight in the eye, and says “When?” Pete, the ol’ charmer was caught red-faced and speechless. The rest of us were not speechless, and when the riot finally died down, we got back underway. Mark talked about her tattoos for the next hour straight and finally decided to get a new tattoo himself when he got home. After 10 days in the bush, that girl was inspirational.

The route back differed from the route in and included a long, rugged cross country truck portage - several guys with beaten and abused Chevy Suburbans with trailers loaded up our gear and strapped the canoes onto the racks helped us across a logging road that permitted no speeds over 4 MPH- all part of Zup's excellent service. We think this portage is where old Chevy Suburbans go to die. Loads of junk in the woods along the road. Our driver was from over by Thunder Bay and commented that many people going back and forth across that truck portage treated the drivers like indentured servants. Our guy was fun to talk with and took great care with our gear, so we gave him a tip.

After dealing with the surly customs agent at Crane Lake, gear was separated and stowed back in the vehicles and on the BMW. Time flies on these trips and it seems only yesterday that they were standing at the same landing, ready to go out. Farewells, all around. Pete and Dave would meet up again in the Wabakimi this season, but as a group only through good fortune would we all be together again. Regardless, the memories of this trip are cherished.

Summary - a great adventure. During this trip, we could observe an almost daily greening of the hillsides as the deciduous trees sprang to life. The quiet forests of Quetico quickly came back to life with returning migratory birds, flashes of welcome color and singing the songs of the springtime forest. Group chemistry is so vital to trip success, and this assemblage of four essential strangers into a cohesive team was possible only because of common passions, interests and the forum created by Adam and BWCA.com. It worked flawlessly - I'd travel with this crew anytime.