We now were
entering the long, narrow, high sided and deep, clear-water lake
of Kahshahpiwi, which is one of the most attractive lakes in the
Quetico. Early in the afternoon, we selected a very nice, well-used
campsite on an island opposite the remains of the old Ranger Station.
Kahshahpiwi
must be a very deep lake as the water is quite noticeably colder
to the touch. Recognizing this, we took off bit of sinker weight
and trolled up the narrow bay behind the island. Just in time for
supper, we were rewarded with both Lake Trout and Walleye.
The next morning
we made for the portage at the south end of Kahshahpiwi. This portage
would be the first of a series seven or eight short portages that
pass through a string of unnamed lakes ultimately through Isabella,
and into the North Bay of Basswood.
The portage
out of the southern tip of Kahshahpiwi was actually two portages,
thanks to an industrious Beaver. His work now allows you to put
into a shallow swamp and shave off a few rods prior to portaging
around his dam. We then passed through an unnamed lake leading to
a portage into Side Lake and a very steep portage into another small,
unnamed lake where we camped for the night.
The next morning
two short portages took us into slender Isabella Lake and through
a creek we entered into the North Bay of Basswood. As we headed
out along the western shore, things started to look familiar. Over
thirty years earlier, I had often camped in North Bay with my family.
I was amazed to look around the vast bay and recognize the shapes
of the islands and places where we had caught fish. We camped on
an island in the middle of the bay that I recalled had a lovely
sandy beach and protected lagoon. 
It had been
fairly windy and the next morning we set out early in an attempt
to avoid the worst of the increasing winds. Crossing the portages
into and out of Burke Lake we joked that these seemed like superhighways
compared to those earlier in our voyage. It was late morning when
we arrived on the windswept sand beach on Bailey Bay, where Nathan
remarked that it "looks like the Caribbean." 
When the winds
are up, Bailey Bay becomes a frothing sea of whitecaps. Wishing
to be safe and dry rather than wet and sorry, we made for the first
campsite marked on our maps and that afternoon, watched in amazement
as several canoes came and went. We doubted that they were enjoying
themselves, fighting waves and spray that were sure to leave the
bowman drenched and both of them exhausted.
As we departed
in the morning, we knew that it was to be our last day in the wilderness
and we began fishing the short stretch back to Prairie Portage.
While we had caught our share of Walleye, Northern, and Lake Trout
in the preceding days, we had caught only a few pint-sized Smallmouth.
This would change as along the rocky shore leading into Inlet Bay
and Prairie Portage, Nathan landed a huge Smallmouth. It was as
if the fishing gods had realized that we needed one more extraordinary
catch to make us even more reluctant to depart.
At Prairie Portage
we caught a ride back to our outfitter via their tow service and
arrived as several raucous groups of youngsters with adult leaders
were readying to depart. From their attire, (shorts and sneakers)
I doubted that they had a lot of experience in the wilderness. I
noticed many of them looking us over as we arrived and we must have
been quite a sight as our clothes were a bit soiled and fishy smelling
and I had over two weeks of lush beard growth. I imagined that they
were wondering if they would look as unsavory as us after their
trip.
We could not
help but feel a sense of accomplishment and we probably had a bit
of a swagger in our walk as we passed them and sat on the porch,
savoring beverages provided by our outfitter. We sat and talked
of how we would miss the routine of fishing, traveling from lake
to lake, and the extraordinary beauty of the wilderness. We vowed
that we would remember all of the lessons that we were taught for
the trip next year. It was unspoken and neither of us even considered
asking the other if we would return next year. It was automatic,
the planning had started, and the only question on our minds was
where in the Quetico should we go next year?
Harold
D. Rutan
3122 Vinewood Place
Falls Church VA, 22044
Ph: (703) 538-6842(h) or (703 575-7499(w)
E-mail: harold.rutan@ha.osd.mil
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