In July, 1995 I took my first canoe camping trip. I was working as an Assistant Scoutmaster with a Boy Scout Troop in Murfreesboro, TN. I was an experienced backpacker but had never undertaken a wilderness canoe trek. This remembrance of that trip was written in 2001.
We gathered in the church parking lot, packed, and headed out. Our contingent consisted of three crews, each with two men and 7 boys. One of the crews consisted of older boys who were making their second trip. The other two crews were 13 to 14 year old boys who (along with their adults) were making their first trip.
Our destination for the first day was the National Guard armory in Beloit, Wisconsin. When we arrived that evening we found the armory locked and no one around. The Scoutmaster went off in search of a telephone to call our contact. About an hour later, as we were laying about on the grass in front of the armory, a Beloit police officer pulled up and asked if we were the Scout troop from Tennessee. He reported that he had called around and made other arrangements for us. In a few minutes Fred returned and we loaded up and followed the policeman to the Salvation Army building, where we camped on the floor.
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We have a hard and fast rule in Troop 538, and that is that the only acceptable shirts are either the official BSA uniform shirt, or the red Troop 538 t-shirt. One of the younger boys showed up this morning wearing another t-shirt. His excuse was that he had worn his red t-shirt yesterday and it was "dirty." This boy was very particular about his grooming and personal hygiene and wasn't too happy about having to dig into his pack and put on a t-shirt that he had worn the day before.
The police officer that helped us last night came around to check on us, then we were off. Destination for this day was the National Guard armory at Chisolm, Minnesota. We arrived about dusk and this time our contact was waiting for us. After settling in, we went in search of supper. We finally found a nice restaurant in Hibbing, just south of Chisolm. We ended up leaving in two groups, and when the second group went to pay, the manager told us the meals for the adult leaders were on the house. Of course, we had to rub it in on the group that had left early!
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Because of the drive time from Murfreesboro, TN to Ely, MN, and the early afternoon check-in time at BSA's Charles Sommers High Adventure Base, we took two full days of driving to put us in the Ely area, then killed the morning of the third day with sight-seeing. We visited the Soudan Iron Mine, now a state park with tours into "The Cadillac of Iron Mines." A very interesting trip, but our older boys (the Rattlesnake Patrol) were a bit too high spirited for the tour guide (and for my taste as well!) and had to be called down several times.
We finally arrived at "Charlie Base" where we were checked in, given a shakedown inspection of our packs, assigned quarters for the night, drew equipment, and fed supper. Some of the boys got a rude awakening during the shakedown. Cologne, large economy size containers of toiletries - mouthwash, toothpaste, deodorant, multiple changes of clothes, spare this-that-and-whatnot. All thrown out. When we drew our portage packs and started final packing, they started doing some shaking down of their own! When Charlie Base outfits a crew, they pack to allow single portaging. This means 3 people to a canoe and all 3 share a single portage pack. In addition, each canoe gets one crew pack (either the kitchen or a food pack) so that on the portages one person gets the canoe, one gets the personal pack and one gets the crew pack. When you have to get gear (including sleeping bags) for 3 people into a single Duluth pack, you really have to cut things to the bone! My crew only had eight people, so one canoe would only have two people. That's my son and I. Even with my backpacking experience, I was still jettisoning a few items to get us into a single Duluth pack.
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The big day! After a good breakfast we grabbed our gear and walked down the hill to the waterfront, loaded up our Grummans, and headed north. About 3 hours later we arrived at Prairie Portage. While checking in at the Customs office, my son made a comment about "girls not being able to do this." The Customs officer didn't even look up; he just reached over for his clip board and started counting lines. Then he fixed a stare at my son and said "Well, six Girl Scout troops have already checked through here today, every one of them ahead of you."
After Customs, we checked in at the ranger station to pay our park usage fees and purchase fishing licenses. While talking with the park ranger we discovered that her husband was the Customs officer. Further, both of them were both Customs officers AND park rangers! They traded jobs every day, one manning the Customs office and the other the park office. What a dream of a summer job!
My crew's entry permit was for Basswood Falls, so after leaving Prairie Portage we started slugging our way down the length of Basswood Lake. The winds were up so we aimed for whatever protection we could find behind islands and points. We got as far as Canadian Point, where we camped for the night.
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It was drizzling as we shoved off, but soon let up, only to be replaced by more westerly winds. Again we worked one island or point at a time. We really had trouble coming out into the wind behind some points. (It wasn't until we returned from the trip that I discovered that my "J-stroke" was really what Bill Mason calls a "Goon Stroke", so I was actually applying the brakes on every stroke in order to correct the direction. Ugh!)
We stopped for lunch on American Point. Some of the boys were a bit upset when they discovered that we are back on U.S. soil. I guess the idea of being "in Canada" was pretty exotic to them. Eventually we reached Upper Basswood Falls and made camp.
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This morning I decided not to put in my contacts, thinking I could get by without my sunglasses. I soon came to regret that decision!
We backtracked out of the entrance to Basswood Falls and headed up into North Bay. The glare of the sun off the water was fierce. There were times I couldn't see anything and my eyes were watering like crazy.
With the wind to our backs, we rafted up the three canoes and rigged a dining fly as a sail. With this we were able to make very good time and made an early camp in the northeast corner of North Bay.
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From here we headed up the channel leading to South Lake. We had an early start, and it was a "moosey" looking area, but we didn't see any moose. There was a beaver dam pullover, and a muddy landing on the portage to South Lake. A short paddle on South, then a dry "up and over" 12 rod portage to West Lake. My son insisted on carrying the canoe and fell about half-way over. No injury, just hurt pride.
While loading up on West Lake, a couple coming off West had a Labrador Retriever that came bounding up to me. The owner was apologetic, but I assured them that I love Labs and would have felt insulted if he hadn't come up to "say hello."
This is idyllic country and I was hooked! West Lake, Shade Lake, Noon Lake. Fittingly, we arrived at Noon Lake at about noon, and come across our Rattlesnake Patrol coming the other way. After lunch we pushed on . . . Summer, Sultry, Silence. After we completed the carry to Silence, one of the boys realized they had left something at the other end. Les took his boys and headed on to the campsite. My son and I followed slowly, trying to keep them in sight and still be far enough back for the third boat to see us when they got back. This didn't quite work, so Robert and I stopped on the island in Silence to wait for the trailing canoe. I was struck by the fact that my son and I were napping on a small island in the middle of nowhere and not another person in sight and not a sound other than the breeze and the occasional White Throated Sparrow.
The trailing boys eventually showed up and we moved on to catch up with the lead group, which had already made camp.
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We headed north on Silence, came out on Agnes, then turned north again to locate the pictographs which were only a short distance up the west shore. We found them, got out, explored an island, then headed back south down Agnes. We stopped for lunch at a really great campsite, a large flat grassy area above a short bluff overlooking a sandy beach, facing back north up the lake. After lunch we continued down the west shore and portaged into East Lake. Here we found a 5-star campsite and decided this would be our layover camp.
That evening I was out with Robert and Matt. As we paddled past the swamp that drains into East Lake, Matt said "Look! A buffalo!" Well, it was a cow moose with a calf. We stopped and quietly watched several minutes until she led her calf back into the woods.
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This was a layover day. Fishing, napping, laying around, cleaning clothes and gear.
A tough day. We exited the east end of East Lake, back onto Agnes, then south, where we discovered the infamous Meadows portages. We struggled mightily to get to Meadows Lake, just to discover that we were only in the water two minutes before we have to do it all over again! Once back in the boats on Sunday threatening weather started moving in so we grabbed the first campsite. It was a tight little site on a narrow ledge of rock. After the rain had passed and the sun set, it seemed as if the silence lay like a heavy blanket upon the lake. More than a passive lack of sound, it was as if the air and lake were absorbing any potential sounds before they could reach our ears.
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Crossed Sunday, made the Singing Brook portage, and had lunch on the steep side of the last island before the portage to Bayley Bay. As we approached the portage, there was a bull moose grazing in the weeds. He seemed not to be bothered at all and we eventually pulled in and made the portage.
We were way ahead of schedule, so we laid around on the beach at Bayley Bay for some time. While there, a crew of six "mature adults" (the boys would call them "old geezers" - they looked to be in their late 50's to early 60's) came down the trail. In visiting with them, we found that these "geezers" spent last night half-way up Agnes. They had come as far this day as we had in the last TWO days! I was impressed, even if the boys weren't.
Eventually we shoved off again, headed for a campsite on Sunday Island. The winds were really up this time, the worst I'd ever paddled in. I wasn't sure we could make it but the Grumman canoes were surprisingly seaworthy and eventually we pulled into the lee of the island and make camp. While there the Rattlesnake Patrol came off the North Portage from Sunday and made camp on another part of the island.
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We were up at the crack of dawn to beat the winds. Soon we were across Prairie Portage and headed down the Moose Lake chain. The base didn't want returning crews back too soon so that they could devote the morning to getting departing crews off. We were way ahead of schedule again, so stopped on an island for lunch and a nap. Eventually we made the final push (again against headwinds) back to the base.
After checking into the returning crew quarters we were visited by the camp bear. This was the only bear we saw the entire trip, and some boys learned the hard way why they were told to keep their cabins locked. The bear walked into one and started rummaging through their gear. Several items came out with tooth marks. Oh well, they made good souvenirs.
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This was a life-changing trip for me. I have been camping all my life, and backpacking all my adult life. I grew up reading Outdoor Life, Field and Stream, and Sports Afield, and watching Gadabout Gaddis's The Flying Fisherman. But what I read in the magazines and saw on television never seemed to square with my experiences of camping in state parks and fishing in reservoirs in my native Oklahoma. But this trip, my first to the North Woods, was "the real deal." It was the camping trip all my other camping trips had tried to be. I was hooked.
On the way up I had become increasingly worried about all the things that could go wrong. What if someone was injured? (Just in the short time I'd been working with Scouts I'd seen two serious injuries and didn't want any more.) Will we get lost in that maze of lakes? What if? . . . What if? . . . What if? But I came back as the most enthusiastic member of the entire contingent, already promising my son a return trip just for the family. Plans to share this place with my wife, who is also an avid camper. Plans to head up the next troop trip.
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