CG9603 wrote on Jan 25^th, 2009 at 4:29am:

Ok.  Here's part of what I have written so far …………      I arrived at the Northern Tier National High Adventure facility of the Boy Scouts of America the afternoon of May 26. I met the rest of the crew, Charles and Jim, Karl, Israel, Clayton, and Fred.  We packed our gear, and got ourselves situated for spending the night on base.  I decided to spend the night in one of the cabins normally used by the trail staff.  We interrupted our packing to go into town and have supper.  We went to the Ely Steakhouse and ordered steaks and libations, with the intention of doing the same upon the completion of this trip.        Departure day was May 27.  Away from camp we traveled by car to the Grand Portage National Monument, on the shores of Lake Superior.  Grand Portage National Monument is a trail that goes between the shore of Lake Superior and a waterway named the Pigeon River.  It by-passes the lower 22 miles of the Pigeon which are filled with rapids and three waterfalls. Once on the Pigeon River, the fur traders would point their canoes west toward their far flung network of outposts, going as far as modern day northern Alberta and Saskatchewan each season via the waterways.  By the middle 1780s, the Montreal based fur trade companies, particularly the North West Company would have the head supervisors of each of their posts come from the back country each year during the spring and summer while other senior stock holders would come with the net years’ supply of trade items from Montreal.  The two groups would meet at the east end of the Grand Portage, where they would exchange goods and furs, with the furs coming from the back country going eastbound and the goods heading westbound.  Accounts and debts would be settled, and the business would be attended to.  This was to last until 1803, by which time the North West Company moved its inland headquarters and meeting place to the site of present day Thunder Bay, Ontario, in order to avoid any issues from the newly independent  United States.  The Grand Portage saw its greatest use during the Fur Trade Era of the Eighteenth and early Nineteenth Centuries, when heavily laden fur traders would transport their goods between the West and Montreal along the Great Lakes in canoes.        In our case, we left Ely, Minnesota, by 10 am, took care of some last minute errands in town, and arrived at the National Monument by 4 pm that afternoon.  Our campsite was the RV trailer park adjacent to the casino, as there were no camping facilities at the east end of the Grand Portage.    The weather had been cloudy at Ely, and we encountered some rain along the way to the Grand Portage.  Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, which was a good start for the trip, considering the hike that would take place the very next day.  When we arrived at the shores of Lake Superior, the temperature was much cooler, and there were frost warnings forecast for that evening.  The next day would prove interesting, as this would be the first time going over the Grand Portage with a full load of kit and gear, and only my second time traversing the Grand Portage itself.  I had considerable feelings of apprehension for this trip, but I decided to shake them off as pre trip butterflies in the stomach.  We got to tour the fort, and meet some of the Rangers assigned there.  There was a bagpiper there, and the small interpretive historical staff were all in period costume of of the late 18th and early 19th centuries.  We were among a small number of visitors that day.  The tent pad back at the RV park was hard, and I was glad that I had packed a small air mattress with me, as the temperature that night got down to the freezing point.  That night I slept in my clothes, and wore a fleece pullover as well in order to keep warm.  The air mattress, called a Therm-A-Rest™, proved its usefulness that evening, as my feet were chilly, while the rest of my body was considerably warmer due to the insulating properties of the mattress.  It was bulky, but I found the mattress to be heaven sent during that and the next several nights on the trail.        The next day, we crossed the Grand Portage.  The trail itself is between 8 and a half to 9 miles in length, and what had taken me 5 and a half hours at the end of my first crossing four years earlier now took in excess of eight hours this time, due in no small part to being fully loaded with fuel, food and gear.  This was my second time crossing this particular trail, and it proved to be exponentially more difficult and physically rigorous than the first time.  The first time I crossed the Grand Portage I was at the very end of a trip, with almost no food in the food packs.  I had that crew redistribute the gear out of the gear packs and into the empty food packs in order to better redistribute the weight.  That first time was also done in the middle of August, with summer weather, and going downhill, from west to east.  This time we were also crossing under cloudy skies, with temperatures 30 degrees cooler, and going uphill from east to west.  The first time I crossed I was able to go for forty minutes before having to stop and rest.  This time I found myself having to rest every twenty minutes or so, while carrying the canoe.  We started the trip with one of the Grand Portage interpretive Rangers playing the bagpipes, and giving us a musical, upbeat, and positive sendoff along our way.  Other members of the crew were as heavily laden, if not more, than I was, and together we were all struggling, “feeling the burn,” under the loads of packs that were in excess of 60 pounds each.  Those of us who carried canoes in addition to packs sweated under the additional burden.  Fred and I brought up the rear of the caravan. Our packs felt like they were filled with concrete, they felt so heavy.  I had taken the second heaviest pack, having desired to carry my share of the load.  When we arrived at the west end of the Grand Portage, the site of historical Fort Charlotte, I perceived that the water on the Pigeon River was high.  At the last rest stop I made before arriving at the west end of the trail, I was able to see the shimmer of water through the trees in the distance.  This was a rose amongst the thorns of the heavy packs, exertion, sweat and exhaustion of the trail.  This had its advantages and disadvantages for us.  The clouds had also cleared off by the end of the day as well, and by the time we arrived into camp the sun was out and beaming through the trees.  We would not be scraping the river bottom as I had done with my first Grand Portage trip a few years earlier.        The next day, May 29, we paddled upstream on the Pigeon River, which was in high water.  The current was not that strong, though.  It proved picturesque, and the high water was not an issue in the flat stretches of the river.  Partridge Falls portage proved a bit arduous, but nothing like the previous day.  The river water was quite cold and brisk.  There were two stretches of rapids along the course of the Pigeon River where the portages have been lost to history due to disuse.  We had to ford the river and wade upstream, which proved to be quite time consuming.  The canoes had to be pulled upstream, and we alternated between pulling them via ropes, and pulling them with just our hands and arms.  Walking up the river in the rapids, against the current proved to be so taxing that at times I thought it would be more advantageous to bushwhack a trail alongside the river.  It was quite a workout, but something about which I felt good.  Other members of the crew were challenged as well.  At one point, passing the approximate historic location of Big Rock Portage, Charles slipped in the chilly waters.  The other crrew members were unable to grab him in time as he passed back down river, and he had to swim in the chilly water the ten or so yards to shore once he had reached the bottom of the rapids.  We were all wading in past our knees in the very cool water, and the rocks on the river bottom were slippery with moss and algae.  Charles was pulling a canoe up river with a rope, and we were having to feed the rope to him, when he slipped.  I held on to the ropes when I could, as this was also the location of a canoe mishap that I had on the other Grand Portage trip, going the other direction.        Almost all of the members of the crew felt exhausted and sore, and I hurt my knee, possibly having hyper extended it.  Nonetheless, we arrived at Fowl Portage, over a mile in length, after 6 pm.  The eastern end of Fowl Portage was marked with just a piece of surveyors’ tape hanging from one of the branches of a shrub at the landing.  The landing itself was narrow and grassy, with the result that we could unload two canoes at a time.        We arrived at the easternmost campsite on the United States mainland in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, on South Fowl Lake, by between 7:30 and 8 pm.  Supper was late that evening, and the air cooled off quickly once the sun set.  The crew turned in by 9:30 that evening.  May 29 proved to be one of the toughest, most physically demanding days that I had ever had up to that point in my canoeing experience.  I received a sunburn, but other members of the crew were worse off, with strains, and bruises, in addition to burns and eyestrain.  All of the crew had damp clothing from our trials along the Pigeon River and its rapids.  Hands down, going from east to west along the historic route of the Voyageurs west of Lake Superior is exponentially more difficult, demanding and challenging than doing it the opposite direction.  The first two days we had covered 16 miles.  It had proven to be exhausting.  We were also learning how to get along with one another and gradually gelling into a group.      The next day we went from South Fowl Lake to Rose Lake.  The weather began fair to unremarkable, but turned to a cold rain by the end of the day.  We got off to a bit of a late start, not departing camp until approximately 9 pm.  Getting to Rose Lake took almost all day, we were on the trail until about 6 pm.  Nonetheless the crew capably covered the 25 miles between South Fowl and Rose Lakes.  I was the last one across the two mile long “Long Portage,” slogging through the mud and crushed gravel of the former railroad bed, while many of the others forged on ahead.  Israel came back, despite the discomfort he was feeling from the first two days, and took the canoe from me for the last several hundred yards of the trail in the rain.  I had to stop and rest.  The others had arrived ahead of me and had loaded the canoes with the exception of my canoe and the gear I was transporting.  The rain was increasing in intensity as we pulled into camp, and we had to set up our tents in the rain.  Supper this night was tasty, with Fred doing the majority of the cooking.  I shared the cleanup chores with Jim, Charles’ brother.  We had lunch on the easternmost campsite of Mountain Lake, a lake as picturesque as any in the eastern part of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. It took a couple hours to paddle from east to west past the stately and impressive cliffs that rose dramatically several hundred feet above the water’s edge        Jim and I were able to get along with one another for the amount of time we spent on the trip.        The next day the weather was overcast, and we again proceeded to get up later than I normally would on the trail.  We finally departed camp between 8:30 and 9 in the morning.  I had come to look forward to the cups of coffee flavored with hot chocolate.  The caffeine helped to get me going in the morning, and helped me to deal with the heavy pack that I again chose to carry across the trails.  Gunflint Lake proved to be calm when we reached it.  The campsite we stayed at was unremarkable but okay for a lake within the motorboat zone.  The breakfasts were deliberately light, which translated into me feeling like I was running short of energy by the middle of the morning.  The following day we paddled through the Granite River, which was recovering from a forest fire of the past year.  By the time we reached the eastern end of Knife Lake after 5 pm, the sun had returned.  We camped on the second campsite past Little Knife portage.  What I remember about that day was beginning with overcast and breeze, seeing the mansions and second homes at the west end of Gunflint, contrasted by the knee high brush that was growing in the wake of the previous years’ forest fire, then getting through the Granite River despite there being little to no sign of where portages were. Having the sun break through around Maraboef Lake, and clouding over by the time we reached the west end of Saganaga Lake.  It remained cloudy until we reached the west end of beautiful Ottertrack, and then we had to dodge the rain clouds until we reached camp.  It was warm and sunny enough to make the sunburns feel uncomfortable, but once the sun began to set, the temperatures began to drop again to what they were at the start of the trip.  There were chances to exchange stories, and also to exchange ideas about how to guide Scout groups, and also cooking recipes.  Unlike Eric Severied or Scott Anderson, our group chose to follow the Minnesota and Ontario border as we camped.        Many of the lakes that we camped along our route had been used in the centuries previous as waterways by the fur traders and indians. As such, many of the names of the lakes, rivers and portages have been translated from Indian languages or the French.  Names such as the Fowl lake, Gunflint, Rose, Watap (Ojibway name for Spruce Root), Mountain, Saganaga (translation: “Lake of Dried Berries”), Ottertrack, and Knife lakes all came from the Indian language, Anishnabe Ojibway.  The name for Knife Lake stems from the time when Indians had to use stone tools.  The granite of Knife Lake was obsidian, of such quality that when it was quarried it could be made into stone knives.  Indeed, as we walked around camp that evening we had to take care where to step as many of the outcroppings had sharp edges.  Despite our late departure that morning (between 8:30 and 9 am), we reached camp in time for a brief period of rest and relaxation.  Then it was time for cooking.  We had divided up into pairs, with three pairs meaning that each pair would take turns in either cooking, cleaning, or hanging the bear ropes and tending the fire that evening.  We were also paddling 20 miles per day at a minimum so far.  The weather was good enough so that we did not have to lay over anywhere along the route, so our group was able to cover a distance of over 120 miles in approximately four nights.        The next day, June 2, we arrived back at the Scout Base, covering a distance of between 20 to 24 miles.  We had good weather, meaning that it was not that windy along the wide portions of Knife, Carp, Birch, Newfound, and Moose Lakes.  We landed at the Scout facility prior to 3 pm, having departed camp at approximately 8:30 that morning.  Once we reached the Scout facility, we laid over until June 5, when we departed yet again.  the reason for the layover was primarily to resupply, but also to exchange or replace gear that was unnecessary.        We also had to drop off the Satellite phone, which had become inundated with water during the first few days of the trip, and order a replacement.  The satellite phone was a complete loss.  The water probably got on the phone during one of the first days of the trip, when we were going upriver against the Pigeon River and one of the canoes partially filled with water.  So, we  were going to have one rather expensive strike against us very early in the trip.  We were going to have to pay its replacement cost.  Ordering a replacement phone led to some tension between Charles and I, as we discussed the situation with the phone rental company, but the individual on the other end of the line was quite cooperative.  The replacement phone was to be transported to us at our next layover and resupply stop in International Falls, a week and some 160 miles later.  First, the replacement phone had to be transported to the Scout Base in Ely, though, and this most likely complicated things.        I was to learn at the end of the trip in August that the first satellite phone was lost or misplaced after we departed westbound, and the company never received it.  As I was responsible for renting the phone, I had to cover the replacement costs of some $ 1500.  It was very upsetting to first learn of the failure of the waterproofing in the phone package, and then to learn that the company never received the first phone after they had sent a replacement.  The second phone was placed inside something known as an Otterbox, which was a brand of hard plastic container with a rubber seal around the edges of the openings, as well as a clasp to keep the lid on tight.  This would provide ample protection for the satellite phone, provided that the clasp was snapped shut in the correct fashion.  Failure to snap the clasp shut would mean that the container was no longer fully watertight.  This failure was to be a second expensive error on my part at the end of the trip, however, after we departed International Falls, the replacement sat phone was dry, and fully functional.        We departed Base on June 5, having dealt (or so we thought) with the challenges.  We were in good spirits as we made it northbound to Prairie Portage in under two hours.  Paddling across Basswood was like shaking hands with an old friend, and we camped adjacent to Upper Basswood Falls at the U.  S.  campsite closest to the Horse Portage landing.  the next day would prove to be our first delayed start, as the wind was blowing boisterously across Basswood.  We single portaged through the Basswood River portages, while the wind continued to blow.  The wind was not much of an issue because we were protected from it until we reached Wednesday Bay of Crooked Lake.  There was a dead moose just off shore from the Horse portage landing, all smelly and emaciated in appearance.  We made it to the edge of Thursday Bay, the eastern edge where the wind was blowing ferociously.  We decided that we had no other safe option but to camp on the Canadian border.  The wind was blowing from the west southwest, which meant that we had to land and unload several yards upstream of where the campsite was.  This was all right by me, as Charles and I were in the same canoe and I was tired.  The landing was prior to 3 pm, but the wind was blowing so prodigiously that any further attempt to continue westbound would have been futile.  It looked as though we had entered the area just after a front had blasted through, and the atmosphere was still roiling from the storms.  The wind continued unabatedt into the next day, and we were forced to do all our cooking inside an area only after we had erected makeshift windscreens from some of our tarps that we brought along with us.  On June 7, we continued westbound towards Sunday Bay, following the border.  The past several days we had been paddling on bodies of water that I was so familiar with I did not require a map, but once we got west of Sunday Bay and Iron Lake, that was to change.  Sunday Bay was wide enough so that the wind could howl across without impediment, and we were encountering whitecaps.  We even had to follow the shoreline of the bay almost to the southern end, because it was far too windy and dangerous to paddle straight across.  It was as if the wind was testing us to ascertain if we were worthy of the trip, and we had to earn the rights to a smooth crossing of Lac La Croix.  We came across either a fawn or a doe on Curtain Falls portage, where we had stopped to take pictures.  Despite crew members of several years experience, some of the crew had never been to Curtain Falls, so we stopped to take a look at the 30 foot cataract.

whew

thebutcher