Day 2: Tuesday, June 8th
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After a restful first night, I’m up at 6:00 and quickly set to preparing my standard breakfast (oatmeal and coffee) and doing a camp break down for what I anticipate to be a longish day of travel. My objective is Mexican Hat Lake, which is over 10 miles and 13 portages away. I’m fully prepared to stop at Jake Lake (roughly the half-way point) and repeat the sequence of stops used in my trip last year, when I was traveling in the opposite direction.
By 7:30 camp is cleared and I off on my day’s journey. My first stop is within sight of my campsite – a short portage to one of a string of no-name lakes until I reach East Lunch Lake. This first portage goes smoothly and I’m quickly across and paddling a short stretch to the next portage. Again, the portage is a quick and simple up and over, although this portage is a bit damper than the first. Paddling on into the third in this sequence of small no name lakes, I obviously began to day dream rather than focus on my paddling activities. I paddled up to a notch that looked like a paddle thru, but I find that I actually have to step out and pull my canoe over a few submerged rocks. (I vaguely remember doing this same activity at this spot on last year’s trip.)
As I paddle on, I know I should keep the shore to the right as I proceed on toward East Lunch Lake. What I don’t realize is that in doing so, I simply paddled around a small island and right back to the portage I just left. As I approach the landing, I question myself … this looks VERY familiar. Then I step out and inspect the area around the landing. Sure enough, I can pick out my own rather unique footprint tread. It’s a real “head scratch” moment, as I check my GPS and confirm that I am indeed back at the portage I just left. Back in my canoe, it’s only a couple of minutes until I’m back at the spot of my navigation error; I look in the direction I paddled last and then glance to the right. It is only then that it occurs to me what I had done … paddled around a small island rather than taking the round to the left of the island that then lead on to the next portage. Error corrected, I vow to “keep my head in the game” from now on.
As I paddle on, it doesn’t take long to reach the point of entering East Lunch Lake. As I approach the portage, I immediately spot a couple (man and wife; father and daughter?) bringing their gear across from the East Lunch side of the portage. As I approach, they wave me forward and return over the short portage to retrieve the balance of their gear. The approach here means a bit of wading to actually reach the portage through some shallows. The bottom is good, but there are enough boulders that it makes paddling through somewhat difficult. As I wade up to the take-out, the couple drop their canoe in the water and we strike up a conversation. They are from La Cross, Wisconsin and have been up on Mexican Hat Lake for several days. They have seen a couple of groups passing through, but have had the lake to themselves for the better part of a week. They are headed to Red Lake, having had their fill of walleye fishing and were in search of some sizable pike. They also mentioned that they had dropped their GPS somewhere along their route from Mexican Hat and asked me to keep an eye out for it.
We wrapped up our conversation as they finished loading their canoe and began to pull away. We each wished the other a good trip as they proceeded on. I then began the unloading my gear in preparation for the short portage into Lunch Lake. However, I’d not proceeded over 30 feet when a miss-step had me sliding down the side of a slab of granite. Of course the canoe came down, but unfortunately, it the gunwale slammed to the rock face, only being cushioned by my middle finger. My immediate response was that my middle finger very definitely felt like I had jammed it. It did remain swollen and stiff for about 3 more days. However, once I got to my feet, I also realized that I had ripped a hole in the right knee of my pants. I quick check revealed a nice strawberry on the knee itself.
I vowed from that moment to proceed on all future portages with extreme caution. Here, in two days, I’d sustained a needless injury because of lack of attention. (My vow must have worked because I had no other falls or significant slips on portages for the remainder of the trip. But unfortunately, you can still manage to cause yourself grief when NOT on a portage.)
I had no sooner finished the portage when the skies began to show signs of cutting loose. I quickly crawled into my rain gear before more than a few sprinkles came down. I guess I’m destined to not pass through East Lunch Lake without seeing it in the rain (which was the same experience I had last year). It is now 9:30 and the rain wouldn’t cease until 4:00am the next day. As I paddle across East Lunch, the rain intensifies. I’ll see squall line after squall like all day interspersed with drizzle and mist. The route through East Lunch is a pleasant winding path through relatively narrow waters. In fact, today’s entire trip is through mostly what would be referred to as “small water” … small lakes and channels.
Finally, I reach the Lunch Lake portage. I can tell my energy is beginning to flag a bit, so I throw down a few handfuls of GORP before hoisting my load for the portage. The portage goes without incident and I soon paddling across the somewhat more expansive Lunch Lake. The winds are mostly light and variable, so being on a larger chunk of water really makes no difference in terms of managing windy conditions. But shortly, I’m back in more channel-like conditions. I know that I have two more portages to go before reaching Jake Lake, a stop-over point on last year’s trip. I’m thinking I’ll knock these two off and have lunch.
I do reach Jake Lake around 12:15, but my energy level is still good so I decide to push on. There are three portages in the next set before I hit something more like a lake. Maybe I’ll do lunch after I take those three. As I paddle across Jake, I’m quickly to the point of last year’s campsite. My group occupied a west-side campsite, while Kingfisher’s group occupied one just across the narrows on the east side. (Also a portage crew occupied one of the campsites just north of us.) These memories passed through my mind as I continued in a generally northerly direction. Soon, I began a northwest swing around a couple of islands before reaching the first portage in the 3-portage set. The portage was relatively quick, so I’m soon over and reloaded in preparation for portage #2.
At this point, I did something that I can only classify as STUPID. As I approached the second portage, I looked down the “stream” and it looked easily manageable. It was not particularly swift and the grade to the next flat water section seemed to be an extremely gentle, flat decline. And it was … that is until you reached the flat water section again, where the water dropped about a foot into 3 standing waves (none of which was visible from the top). Needless to say, I dumped! It wasn’t so much that I wasn’t set up correctly to take on the waves, it’s just that a Prism is relative round and with tend to roll like a log if you lean the wrong way at the wrong time, which I obviously did.
Well, the good news is … although I’m in the water and swimming to shore pulling my canoe full of water … all of the gear is still inside (at least at this point). It takes a minute of two to get close enough to the edge of the outflow that I can stand. However, at this point, my food pack manages to free itself and head downstream. I have no choice but to bail as quickly as possible, remount my canoe and chase my food downstream. Bailing goes quickly after a few seconds to locate and unlash my bailing bucket, but I’m soon off in hot pursuit. The last time I’d seen my food pack, it was riding high and merrily following the flow downstream and was, by now, out of sight. I had little concern about catching my runaway grub because the third portage was still some distance away. I did have some concern about the pack sinking, although the pack itself was supposedly waterproof. The mental picture I painted for myself at this point was loosing my food on Day 2 of a 10 day trip – OUCH! However, as I rounded the first little bend in the stream, all my fears were allayed as I spotted my food pack snagged against a slightly submerged stone. I quickly paddled up and hoisted my runaway into the canoe.
I counted my blessings as a proceeded to paddle on toward the next portage. Then I started a bit of reflection. There were so many ways that this could have turned out badly, I didn’t care to enumerate them. However, I made another vow … when it says portage, you PORTAGE! I did not break this vow for the remainder of the trip. (But then there is always the unexpected, but that’s later in the story.)
As I pulled up to the next portage and unloaded, I was immediately aware that all of my packs were now decidedly heavier than when last lifted. Kitchen pack … heavier! Gear pack … heavier! Food pack … heavier! Fishing gear pack … heavier! Although many of these packs were “waterproof” they turned out to be more like “water resistant.” In fact, when I finally arrived at my campsite for the evening, I’d find only 2 completely dry items … sleeping bag and tent. Everything else was either saturated or at least damp. The good news in the food pack is that everything was wrapped in plastic. So even though there was a small amount of water penetration, all the actual food items were dry.
I finished this portage with a heavier burden than before and I could tell that my energy level was beginning to drop a little. I’d also probably exhausted the adrenaline “high” of my swimming adventure. So I stopped and actually ate lunch. After a brief rest following my meal, I was off again. However, this time, my energy level hasn’t rebounded as before. I’m getting tired and the exertion of extra energy of my capsizing hasn’t helped that situation. I have three more portages before I’m at Mexican Hat Lake. Surely I can manage three more portages. Yes, the final one is longish, but it’s mostly downhill. There aren’t really any decent campsites in the area, anyway, so I decide to press on … just not get into a hurry and/or do anything stupid.
It doesn’t take long to reach the next portage. I’m also grateful that all my portage length estimates that I’ve marked on my map so far are OVER estimated, some by as much as 50 percent. The upcoming portage is no exception. I’m quickly across -- one down and two to go. The next portage is also a quickie, not much more than a long pull over, but I still have to unload and load before proceeding. As I do so, I am again and again reminded … my packs are heavier-- two down and one to go!
Soon, I’m approaching the last portage of the day, but I’m a bit confused. Last year, I remember launching from a flat rock section on the WEST side of the stream running down to the rapids at the Mexican Hat Lake end. Yet, as I inspect my map, it is clearly marked to the EAST side of the stream. I distinctly remember one section on this portage where you have to cross from the west to the east side of the stream what fording some rather swift water. Perhaps the EAST side starting point is a remedy to avoid that problematic ford. As I get closer, my questions of “which side” evaporate. I can clearly a streamer of red flagging tape marking a spot on the EAST side. As I get even closer, I also see a cleared area for landing and some evidence of recent “brush-back” activity.
I’ve soon unloaded and decide to start down with my canoe and back load first (which is the reverse of what I’ve done for much of the trip to date). It’s the heavier load and with my energy waning, I want to get it out of the way so I know I can finish this one off before I’m exhausted. As I start out, I quickly step off of a dry platform into a swampy area. It’s only a few steps across, but then I have to check the next direction. It’s a bit of an S-turn to the left, but I can see that I’m being lead in the direction of a shallow stream perhaps 15 feet across. I step down into the stream and my foot sinks perhaps 4-5 inches in the bottom. I repeat another step and get about the same depression, a couple more steps and my right leg disappears in a hole to my crotch. So, with my gear pack on my back and canoe overhead, the only extraction that seems to work is to drop the canoe, heave myself out and then drag the canoe to the other side and re-hoist. This I manage with a little difficulty, but at least I’m across with no further bottomless pits “discovered.”
As I proceed along, it doesn’t take long to reach the spot where the “former” trail crosses the stream. And, yes, it still looks like it could be a bit tricky crossing with the load I’m currently carrying. I’m glad that I do not have to make that decision this year. The carry down to Mexican Hat Lake is on the order of 80 rods and is mostly downhill, yet it seems endless. I know it’s just a matter of being tired. After all, its late afternoon and this is portage number 13! One more factor is more readily apparent when I near the end of the portage of much of the portage trail is over slabs of granite. It has been raining all day and this stuff is slippery. When I finally reach the end of the portage, I don’t even try to place my canoe on or near the water. There is a rounded slab of granite here and one miss-step and you’ll be in the water. I drop my canoe a few yards back on some duff where it won’t slide forward and return for my last carry of the day.
On my return trip, I travel at what seems like a snail’s pace. This is partly because I’m tired, partly to conserve energy and partly just to be careful in these wet conditions. When I finally reach the bottomless pit stream section, I carefully test each step as I go across. This time, my track is just a little to one side of what seems to be the center of the trail. I find no sink holes here, although I’ll have to be careful of a bit more submerged brush in the water. Back to my remaining packs, everything is strapped down and ready to travel. I cautiously approach the problem area in the stream, but this time cross without incident. This load is lighter and I’m in much less agony and I trod down the trail to Mexican Hat for the final time.
Once I arrive at the end of the portage, I have to derive a strategy for launching over the rock surface. I finally decide that the safest approach would be to move toward one end of the rock, where there is a small patch of turf. At least that spot should provide the best footing available. I move all my gear to that point and then the canoe. It’s a bit of a hassle, but ultimately all the gear is loaded and I cautiously lower myself into the canoe as well. FINISHED!
Now, all that is left is a relatively easy paddle westward on the lake. I have two campsites in mind for my destination (and layover day tomorrow). My first choice will be the campsite my group occupied last year … tucked back into the trees somewhat back from the end of a long peninsula. This is a large site, but its open, I’ll take it. My other option is a descent site just a bit further on, on the south side of the lake. It is an OK site, but the landing isn’t quite as nice. As I approach the preferred site, it is difficult to decide whether or not it is occupied. The rain and haze make peering back into the woods a bit difficult until I’m nearly there. However, I soon determine that no one is home. It is 4:30 as I pull up and unload. This will be home for today and tomorrow.
Since the rain is continuing, the first order of business is to erect the rain fly. I quickly spot a suitable area which can also serve as the kitchen and set about the task of pitching the fly. It is soon up so I can begin to extricate the contents of individual packs. Next step is to pitch the tent. I make the decision to initially pitch the tent under the rain fly. It’s either that or pitch it in the rain and wind up getting the interior of the tent at least damp. I quickly erect the tent under the fly and then move it as a complete unit to my selected tent pad several feet away. (You just got to love those free standing tents on occasions like this.)
It is only at this stage that I deduce that the only other completely dry item in my possession is my sleeping bag and the reverse side of my sleeping pad. I carefully move each of these two items into the tent to maintain their dry status. My continued inspection clearly indicates that all other clothing items are from drenched to damp. So, there is no need to consider changing into dry clothes … there aren’t any. This means that I will have been continually wet from my “dunking” right up to turning in to bed. Well, not my first choice, but at least the minimal breeze and overcast hasn’t driven the temperature down to a chilling level.
As I begin to inspect other components of my gear, I spread a few items out and wring out others so at least some minimal drying activity can begin. Yet, it is clear that nothing will be dry until tomorrow when I can hopefully hang things on clothes lines to dry. So, my attention then turns to dinner. Something quick and hot is in order. Chicken with Fettuccini noodles should do the job. With wet stoves, it takes a bit of doing to get one cranked up. But before long, water is boiling vigorously and the meal preparation kicks into high gear.
As I sit to consume my dinner, I appreciate the inner warmth it produces. It helps to ward off any chill and with the injection of food, I can feel my energy level beginning to rebound. Maybe this isn’t the best meal I’ve had in a while, but it comes pretty close to being the most welcomed.
After dinner, I make quick work of dinner clean-up. I confirm that the canoe is safely tucked in and lashed down and I pull as many items toward the center of my rain fly as I can manage … just in case of a complete deluge over night. It’s still a bit early, but by 9:00 I make the decision to turn in. As my level of activity around camp drops, I can also feel a little bit of a chill start to set in due to less physical activity. I carefully slide into my tent in small stages, pealing wet layers of clothes and placing them either under my tent rain fly or along the interior edge of the tent to make sure nothing wet comes in contact with my bedding. Finally, I slip into the tent and zip it shut with only skivvies and tee shirt remaining. These are also wet, so I strip to the buff before sliding into my sleeping bag. In a relatively few minutes, the chills are gone and I can begin to feel a bit of warmth returning to my body.
It’s been quite a day! However, I’ve been very lucky in many ways. However, at this moment I cannot help marvel that the only items that are dry at this moment are the two most essential to have a descent nights sleep … a dry sleeping bag and a dry tent! I can only imagine how uncomfortable this night would be if these two items had not escaped the dunking. But I don’t imagine for too long before I drift off to a welcomed night of peaceful sleep.
Next: Day 3 (Layover): Time for a spot of fishing and drying of gear.
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WCPP Solo: June 7-16 (Read 30858 times)
