First Solo - Crane to Gunflint - September 2007
by gc428
I'm struck by the cliffs on Ottertrack as well. What a neat lake. As I check out the plaque dedicated to Benny Ambrose, I'm struck by the thought of how lucky Benny and Dorothy were to have been able to spend so many years living up here. Of course, I personally would have probably gone stir crazy, but if Amy were with, it would have been awesome! This and the paddle between their two lakes, of course, made me wonder whether old Benny and Dorothy ever got together to hang out. I mean, picture it, Benny calls Dorothy up on the short wave, "Hey Dot, you wanna hang tonight? We could look at the loons, maybe watch the northern lights…" And then Dorothy would have to go through that mental checklist: "Hmm, do my hair, find a clean outfit, I wonder if Benny has bathed this month, paddle three hours….to hang with Benny." "Yeah, you know Benny, I'm going to have to take a rain check on that one. I've got a broken paddle." Yes, the mind does tend to wander when one is paddling solo!
After Ottertrack comes the 80 rod Monument portage into Saganaga. My question as I headed toward it was why it was named the Monument portage. Then, I pulled up at the portage and spotted the huge pointy international boundary marker. I was thinking "why would they haul all that cement up here so they could name the portage after it?" The funny thing is, I did 125 miles of paddling and saw international boundary markers everywhere. Each one was about a foot high and about 2 inches square. There was probably one every mile or two. Then, I hit this portage, and in the course of a quarter mile, there are THREE gigantic boundary markers…one at each end and one in the middle. Further, on the Ottertrack side of the lake, there is a giant marker about 10 feet away from a little one. Huh? I'm guessing this must have been some type of Outward Bound project, or maybe an Eagle Scout project, or maybe some bored ranger picked up too much cement at Home Depot and didn't know where to get rid of it! The portage itself isn't TOO bad…it has a real steep section in the middle, and a dock at the Sag end, where you have to walk out thirty or forty feet to get your stuff into the water.
Monument Portage on the Ottertrack end (with the little market in case you can't find your way to the big marker)
Monument Portage middle hill (and marker in the distance)
Monument Portage on the Sag end, with the boardwalk
Heading into Sag, I've got some clouds moving up behind me and it gets overcast as I weave through the islands. I'm pleased to see that there isn't much wind, so there isn't a lot of chop on this big lake that has had me a bit worried for a while. I'm down to a t-shirt and shorts when the rain hits. I look behind me and see that there is sun behind the cloud, so I forego the rain gear, thinking it will be a short shower. Five minutes later it starts to POUR. I'm heading out onto the main lake and am shucking on my fleece jacket to ward off the chill when I pass another solo dude in a strip canoe, heading the other way, totally decked out in his rain gear. I comment "nice canoe," and he replies "yeah." And from the look of disdain in his eyes, I suspect he wasn't too impressed with my lack of rain gear during a huge downpour. Oh well, it ended up lasting a little longer than expected, but I didn't get THAT wet.
As I'm heading toward American point, I'm watching a pretty dark cloud form behind me. It's only about 3:30pm, but I'm thinking about grabbing a campsite. The first one looks nice, and has a nice beach that I pull up onto. There's a little stream flowing across the beach, and I sit and relax for a minute, mentally debating whether to stay or move on. I watch the clouds for about five minutes, and realize that the dark clouds are skidding east on the north side of Sag, while most of Sag stays in the sun. Because of that, and the lack of much wind, I decide to head onto Sag toward the campsites on Horseshoe Island, to knock off some of the big lake when its not so choppy. This plan works to perfection until I'm halfway across, and the afternoon wind turns from lightly out of the southwest to strongly out of the south. I am getting broadsided by waves in the 18 to 24 inch range, and I can't turn and run downwind due to the direction I'm headed and more importantly, the fact that the broadside waves are too strong to allow me to turn. So I head straight across them, bobbing up and down in the swell. I'm moving fast (averaging about 5mph according to the GPS), but Homer is handling the big chop very well. I finally hit the island south of Voyageur's Island that purports to have a campsite on the western end. Rather than fight my way around it in the wind, I tether off and walk the circumference of the island. I find the site on the far southeast end, and it’s beautiful. Huge pines, big rocks, just a nice place to stop. So, I stop for the night. Later, I listen to my weather radio and hear the forecast for 20 30 mph winds with 40 mph gusts the next day and almost wish I would have braved the rest of Sag to get across it, because I KNOW I'm going to be blown in with that kind of wind.
Camp on Sag:
Day 5, Tuesday September 11, 2007, Saganaga Lake No miles traveled today. I am officially blown in. Huge waves and whitecaps on Sag. I debate whether, with a northwest wind, I can scoot along the back side of the last islands, get around the point and get into the relatively protected waters of Maraboeuf Lake and the Granite River. I decide better to be safe than sorry. The next day this is confirmed as I paddle the lake and see the size of the openings I would have had to cross in the wind. It would not have been pretty.
Whitecaps on Sag (not great pictures of the big wind!)
I take a picture of myself, and I look BAD. Puffy eyes, beat looking:
My journal reads only "This officially stinks. Really homesick, can't do anything about it. Tonight is supposed to be in the 20s. Wind is REALLY blowing. Sleeping in, try to keep warm, rest my sore body." Before I go to sleep, I check out my map, guessing how long I have to get to Superior. I also, though, make some notations on where I can get out of the BWCA if need be.
Day 6, Wednesday September 12, 2007, Saganaga Lake-Gunflint Lake 21 miles traveled, 5:56 moving, 2:54 stopped, Moving avg. 3.4 mph, Overall avg. 2.3 mpg Lakes: Saganaga Lake, Maraboeuf Lake, Gneiss Lake, Granite River, Clove Lake, Pine River, Magnetic Lake, Gunflint Lake Portages: 34 r. Sag Falls, 27 r. Horsetail Rapids, 25 r. Devil's Elbow, 25 r. Gneiss Lake, 25 r. Granite River, 72 r. Swamp, 40 r. Granite River, 100 r. Clove Lake, 30 r. Wood Horse, 13 r. Little Rock Falls
This was a tough day. I started out fairly early, heading east toward Sag falls from my campsite around 7:30am. I didn't take me long to get around to Sat falls, noticing on the way all the fire damage on Sag. Given how far north I was, I didn't connect this fire damage with the Ham Lake fire (and from what I've read later, it may have been an earlier fire), but pretty much the entire day was spent traveling through fire damaged wilderness. It was interesting to see, and I've never been through this type of area, but I will not choose to travel through a fire damaged part of the BWCA in the future. I can't even imagine trying to camp on some of the sites that were still open, with the lack of trees and the barren moonscapes. Pretty bizarre. I had a thought as I traveled across a portage and noted the size of the some of the trees that had burned and fallen, that never again in my lifetime would this area look like it had just 4 months ago.
Burn on Saganaga
The weather was ok. Most of the day after mid morning was sunny, although I doubt if the temperature broke the 50 degree mark. Even through a day of paddling and portaging, while I ended up in my t shirt, I wore my long john bottoms all day. Most of the wind was from the south, and it was supposed to shift to the southeast by afternoon. My experience was that it was pretty much in my fact for most of the day, although it wasn't too strong, as I was pretty well protected by being on the river and narrow lakes. By the end of the day, when I hit Magnetic and Gunflint lakes, I was working my butt off heading straight into a pretty strong wind that had a good distance to get its speed up.
The Sag falls portage was pretty flat, although the southern end had a pretty good rock and not much landing. I carried my pack over, and then walked back to get the canoe, carrying the camera to get some pictures of the falls and the burned area with its flowers. There was one beat down trail that went out to the falls for photos, but I wanted to get a shot from further downstream of the falls, so I headed into the brush. Two steps in, I happened to look down and notice that I was standing in a pretty healthy patch of poison ivy! I could almost hear Homer yelling "D'oh!" from the end of the portage. I scrambled out and took my photos from the beaten path, got the canoe and then, after setting it down, spent a few minutes scrubbing my shoes with mud. I am a bit of an expert on poison ivy, as I've had it pretty bad over the years (one time missing a week of school after having it on 90% of my body after burning it in a bonfire). This summer, I had gotten the poison ivy vaccine, which is a bit untested, but seems to work in anecdotal tests...that is, no one the doctor has given it to has gotten poison ivy! Anyway, as I type this, I am free from welts and itching, so I think it must have worked for me, too.
Sag Falls
I head south to the Horsetail rapids. The portage there is another Canadian side one of 25 rods. I paddle up to the base of the rapids, and can only spot a light trail that appears to dip in and out of the rapids! The rapids itself is a beautiful little spot. The main rapids are separated from the smaller rapids on the Canadian side by a cedar covered island. The smaller rapids are then surrounded on both sides by cedars, which form a cozy arched walkway. The water on the smaller side looks less than a foot deep and not too rocky, so I head up it, tugging the canoe by its rope. This works fine, with no issues. Today I am trying out my sealskins water socks over a liner sock with my tennis shoes, because of the cold. I get my feet pretty wet here, and discover that one of the socks has a leak in it. Sweet. Even though I'm wet, the socks do keep even my wet foot warm.
Heading down Maraboeuf, I pass a group of 7 in 3 canoes, heading north. They are outfitted by Gunflint lodge, so I ask how long it has taken them to get this far, thinking it will give me a better sense of the distance. They've been in for 2 days, though, so they aren't much help on that front. They ask about the portages, and I mention that the falls one is ok, and that I've just walked up the Horsetail rapids. They give me a mildly horrified look and say "That's the one our outfitter says to absolutely NOT run." I suggest that their outfitter is probably right, but that the right side as they go downstream is where I came up, and that I walked it, I didn't run it.
The next group I encounter is at the 25 rod portage across the point into the devil's elbow area. They are moving pretty slowly, it is their third day in after coming up from Gunflint. They warn me as I pull up that the portage is pretty bad. We chat for a while, and then I head out. They are right. The portage is composed of a huge rock bed, 20 yards or so wide, and basically the length of the portage. Across the rock bed, filled with boulders that you have to pick your way over, are strewn burned trees knocked over in the fire or before it. This is not a fun portage to pick across. The landing on the other end is fine, so once you make your way through, its ok, but I would NOT want to double pack on this trail.
Devil's Elbow Portage:
The Granite River portage is pretty scenic in the beginning, but again heads through a burned out area. I seem to be portaging some smallish rapids on a few of these, and wonder if it had been a nicer day if I wouldn't have been able to line the canoe up them. The swamp portage is also pretty easy, traveling along a large rock at the beginning. At this point, I am feeling ok for the first time today, but not sure if I'm going to go on after Gunflint. I'm trying to calculate in my head what time I will get to Gunflint, and how much further I have to go to get to North or South Lake. I had hoped to get to Gunflint by 2pm, leaving the option of moving forward still out there. It was 2pm by the time I reached the 100 rod Pine portage, however, and I had marked the campsite after that portage on my map as the last until the east end of Gunflint lake, 8 miles and two more portages away. I figured it would be at least 5pm by the time I got to the east end of Gunflint where campsites start showing up, and another two hours past there to get to North or South lake. This was basically decision time. And I decided to press on, leaning toward the idea that I would take out at Gunflint unless I made super good time getting there.
So, with all of that running through my head, I was walking the beginning of Pine portage when I looked up from checking where my feet were landing…and realized that the portage went straight up a hill, with some logs thrown into the sides to minimize washouts and create rudimentary stairs. So not only was this a sort of long portage, but it was going to be a pain in the behind, too.
Pine Portage from the top:
With nothing to do but cross, I headed up. It turned out to not be as bad as it looked, but I think contributed to the general weariness I had. This became a bigger factor at the next portage, the Wood Horse portage. Here, when you paddle up, you are confronted with one of those big rocks that doesn't show wear no trail portages. So, I hiked over it for a bit, and found the other end, found a reasonable path (after the initial scramble up the steep rock face) and headed pack for the pack. My usual mode of operation was to grab the pack and my camera bag and paddles, put the GPS around my neck so that it would record the miles, then leave everything at the end of the portage (thus the high "stopped time" on the GPS when I was doing a lot of portages). I loaded up this way and headed over the portage. At the landing at the other end is a huge sloped boulder you would walk across. If you are tired, even though the rock is smooth, this might be the point in the day where you lose your footing. Which is what happened to me. I slipped and went down hard on my front. I was able to keep my face off the rock, and had my life jacket on, which helped cushion my fall. After laying for a few seconds and doing a mental inventory to make sure I was all there and all right, I rolled over and stood up, which is when I noticed the big crack down the face of the borrowed GPS that I had just landed on. I did not think good thoughts for a few minutes there. (Postscript on the GPS: I now own a GPS with a cracked face, and my friend Tom owns a brand new matching model. D'oh!)
Frustrated and tired, I went back for the canoe and then hopped in to head to the Little Falls portage, or Magnetic Falls as some people refer to it. One map indicates this is a 13 rod portage, the other that it is a 130 rod portage. So, I'm not sure what to expect. I can see the falls as I work my way up the Canadian shoreline, but no sign of a portage path. I get closer and closer until I am at the base of the falls, pulled up on a rock. "This must be the 13 rod variant," I'm thinking. I hop out, and scramble up the face of the 20 foot cliff in front of me (well, steep rock anyway) and find myself at the top of the falls. Huh, I guess this is the portage. I haul the pack over without too much trouble, then stand pondering the canoe and the narrow path through some rocks at the base of the "cliff." After some wandering around, I see that I can avoid the top half of the cliff by angling off up the face to the right. I will still have the scramble at the bottom, though. Oh well, I'm game. I hoist the canoe, scramble up the rock, and haul it around the side trail. Two minutes later, I'm done. There that wasn't too bad.
Picture of the portage trail at Little Rock Falls, heading straight up to the right of my paddle, along the line the paddle points out.
Little Rock falls, from a distance and up close.
At this point the sun is out pretty strongly, but it still feels like it's in the forties, temperature wise. In my mind, I'm debating whether I'm going to keep going on this trip or be done today. It’s the trip of a lifetime, but as I mentioned before, I'm not having a lot of fun. I decide to take some pictures while I mull things over. Dawdling around the falls, trying to capture the flow of the water and the sun dancing on the bubbles, I'm convicted by the fact that this is what I love about the BWCA, and what I haven't been doing. It is basically then that I decide I'm going to stop at Gunflint Lake. It's already 3:30pm, and I'm at least an hour from the west end of the lake, probably at least 3 hours from the next available camp, and not feeling up to a lot more movement. Knowing that I'm going to stop at Gunflint, I unstrap my fishing rod for the first time and tie on a top water popper to fish for bass at the falls. I don't catch any, but the relaxation generated in that ten minutes of fishing reminds what I SHOULD have been doing all week.
I load up and fight my way back to Gunflint Lodge. I'm about an hour or two straight into a strong wind down Magnetic Lake, through the gap and across Gunflint. I pull up at the lodge, tie off at the dock and head up in search of a phone, a meal and a shower. On the phone, Amy asks me a few times whether I'm sure I'm ready to be done, and I can barely keep my composure as I assure her that I have nothing left. The tank is empty. She assures me that she's proud of me and what I've accomplished, and I tell her I will see her in a few hours. My next call is to my father-in-law in Babbitt, who graciously agrees to come pick me up, bringing my car down to 61, so that when we leave, I can drive straight home and they can head back to Babbitt. After 4 hours of driving (and in spite of my reassurances that it will only be a couple hours from Babbitt to here), they arrive, and we head out. I get back home at 3am Thursday morning. Amy is awake and we talk for a minute before I sink into sleep in my nice warm, soft bed.
Epilogue
This was my first ever solo trip, and my first fall trip. I'm glad I did the trip, but I don't think I'll ever do another solo. And I will probably not do another fall trip unless I know its going to be warmer. I grew up in northern Minnesota, in Hibbing and Grand Rapids, so I know what cold weather is all about, and I know that I much prefer camping in warm weather!
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