Rendezvous in the Bush
by Jim Carrier
En route to Camel Lake, we encountered one extra portage, unmarked on the Fisher Map, as well as a major "false portage" ("Duh, Dad! Please turn ON your fancy GPS!"). It was fairly tough going. "The Bush" was clearly reclaiming these lightly-traveled portages. We celebrated reaching Camel Lake - very close to the geographic center of Quetico Park - by snacking on peanut butter and jelly tortillas. Heading west, we paddled through the narrow channel separating the cliffs at the entrance of Camel's western-most bay. Beaver activity appeared bent upon closing this channel but had not yet succeeded. Arriving in Camel's west bay, we searched for a campsite recommended by one of our Internet friends. Throughout this trip we would make use of valuable information shared by trusted cyberspace personages such as Mad Mat, Quetico Passage, and Tripper. As we glided closer to the eastern shore, however, we began to second-guess this particular recommendation.
"Yikes!" I exclaimed. Fire had evidently swept through a few years back. Vegetation was sparse. The thin, remaining soil of the campsite sat on huge square "blocks" of Canadian bedrock, about the size of freight cars. These were separated by foot-wide fissures, with crevasses up to eight feet deep. Clearly, we would need to watch our step on any "midnight runs" into the woods! After careful deliberation, we finally decided that this site was "suitable... barely" for our purposes. We set up camp and soon found the place was infested by "no-see-ums" and ticks. As bug juice offered minimal relief, we spent most of stay on the water! On the upside, abundant walleyes near camp offered ample compensation for our discomfort. Soon we dined in true Canoe Country style on "walleye chowder", using table-sized stone blocks as our "kitchen".
After dinner, sunset breezes scattered thick clouds and most of the pesky no-see-ums. A golden-orange glow in the western sky hinted fine promise for the following day. A loon serenaded us, echoing a faint call from somewhere beyond the narrow channel to our north. We watched an eagle swoop down to grab our discarded fish carcasses placed on the distant shoreline. The sense of remoteness and solitude on this deep interior lake was absolutely overwhelming. It brought to mind some memorable advice from the legendary John Muir, who once said: "Break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean."