Can you folks remember your first solo trip, and think back to share your thoughts and feelings as you finished loading that canoe, and took your first paddle strokes heading into the wilderness on your own? What kinds of trials did you face and have to overcome during your trip? Did you persevere, and finish your planned route in it's entirety, or did you change course for some reason and finish the trip prematurely? I thought this would make for some interesting insight and reading.

Kawishiwi Triangle

My First Solo was the Kawishiwi Triangle in the late summer of 2003. 

Starting out I got a permit from Farm Lake as the permits from Lake One were taken for the day.  I departed from Kawishiwi Lodge, cut through the channel, past the Lake One Put In, and quickly made it to the Confusion Lake portage.  I got lost on Confusion.  I found the portages to the Kawishiwi River and paddled to an Isle Camp Site.  I made camp early and did a lot of reflecting.  It took a lot of soul searching for me to make the decision to do a Solo.  My dog, Oliver was along, yet in my mind still a Solo.

As the water lapped on the rocks of my island camp, I did a lot of reflecting.  I did a lot of thinking of my father that had passed two years earlier.  For a moment I thought I felt his presence as some of us like to imagine after we lose some-one.  I made it a point to talk with my dad and say all the things I wish I had said, or could say about life, how things were going, and so on.

Later on in the day I noticed Oliver left my side, had stopped his usual roaming about the camp and slightly beyond.  He had decided it prudent to take refuge behind my gear pack.  I heard an eagle and looked up.  He was perched high on a pine across the river looking down on us.  Hence; an understanding of why Oliver was in hiding came to me.

It was fair weather the next day as I paddled down to Little Gabbro, passed through the rocky channel, and set up camp and set up camp at the first site on Big Gabbro.  It was there that I began to feel the reality of being alone in the woods and the solitude began to have its way with my soul.  I realized the danger of myself making a possible mistake or a mishap and not making it back.  A new sense or maybe older primitive sense of thinking came of duty to task of solo in the wilderness.

The moon was full that night and our only companion.  She was beautiful, full of mystery, glowing, and slow dancing across the heavens.  The clouds moved in and she hid, and reappeared again and again without warning until she was gone.  The air chilled and I slept.

I imagined a bear in camp that night close to my tent, sniffing.  Imagined or real, I'll never know.

The morning brought wind and more clouds.  It was a day to appreciate nothing and all.  It was day to be still, a day to fish from shore and catch nothing mattering none.
Day four came with good weather as I made way through the next leg of the triangle.  Remembrance of how hard it was for me to quit smoking a few years back as I spied a cigarette butt while portaging and looking down for sure footing.  I took a picture of my dog in my canoe after he had jumped into my canoe as had become routine for him after I had finished the loading.  It remains to this day one of my favorite pictures of Oliver in the canoe on the portage shore of Rice Lake.

A year or so latter DB borrowed that picture for the POD on April Fool’s day.  At my first attendance of Copia I noticed a computer mouse pad for sale that had a picture of that exact spot, less my canoe and Oliver.  I whispered "Rice Lake".   The man selling the mouse pads said "Yes".   I then learned then his name was Nibbi Mocks, Translation, Water Snake, if my recollection is correct.   I believe Nibi is now retired from his day job and has became a proffesional photographer of the North Woods.

As we made it through Rice, Clear, etc, back into the river I made some of the portages pulling the canoe through rushing water instead of on packing carrying and packing the canoe and packs.  Latter it began to rain and then pour.  My dog and I were drenched, cold and hungry.  It was time to make camp.  Every site we found was taken as the day went from early afternoon to late.

I made a decision.  I made camp high up on a hill on a slope as it was what it was.  Far back enough to be hid from the river yet I could still see it myself.  I felt it a necessity with the time of day, and the need to get warm, dry, fed and ready for the coming nightfall.  It continued to rain into the night.

Braking camp in the morning the skies were clear.  I caught a Northern while trolling, first fish of the trip.  I didn't get lost on Confusion on the way back to Lake One.
Arriving back at Kawishiwi Lodge I felt a new sense of accomplishment, humbleness and appreciation for the company of good people.  I bunked again at the lodge as I had the night before the put in.

Morning came, time to go home.  As always, it was heart wrenching to leave.  Passing through Ely, Tower, etc... until next year.. I  knew then, God willing, I'd Solo again.


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My first solo trip was too much.  I planned it like I planned all my other trips, except that there was nobody to help with the work!  It ended up being very long days.

By day 3 I had a narsty blister and was dead tired.  Heck, I hadn't even smoked any of my pot yet!  So I took a rest day, relaxed, read Steppenwolf.  Ironically that's the book I read on my last solo!  ~15 years have passed, so it was interesting to re-read it as someone entering middle-age.

The next day I woke up early and knew I was done.  There were still a few days on my itinerrary, but I was done.  So I packed up my gear and checked the map for the most direct route out.  It was further than any of my previous days, but I was motivated and made it home that night.

My first solo trips were all shorter than planned.  Each longer than the previous.  Something inside always says, "Time to go!"  I think my maximum is 9 or 10 nights, that was in Q 2 years ago.  My minimum is 2 hours, I just wasn't feeling it.

Other things I remember about that first solo was overpacking. 
Way too much food.  I just don't eat that much when I'm alone.  Sometimes I have to force myself to eat for nutrition, not for hunger.
I also packed a lantern, what a waste - a tool that simply ruins my night vision.  Used it once, carried it for days.

Might seem totally obvious but...most of those who really love to solo are introverts at heart.  You have to be comfortable on your own for hours and days on end with very little interaction with other canoeists.  If you are an extravert, plan a short trip to start with and don't get down on yourself if you exit early regardless.

I'm an introvert.  My first solo (with 30 years of tandem tripping experience under my belt) was a 9-day trip where the weather turned windy and cold halfway through the trip and never let up.  Nevertheless, I relished every day of the experience and was a little bummed when the last day came.  Of course, once I got out of "tripping mode" I was delighted to get back to my family but as long as I was "in the zone" I enjoyed the solitude.

My route was ambitious.  I entered at Prairie Portage and went up the S-Chain as far as Silence, then veered north thru a small chain of lakes that led to Trant Lake.  Then down the creek to Kashahpiwi and across to Joyce, Marj, Burt, and into Suzanette where I layed over.  From there, I deviated from the original plan which was to drop down thru Brent and Earl to Ted, and then bushwhack my way to Robinson via an unnamed lake and creek. From there I planned to go to Kett and then back into Basswood with hopefully a layover day to spend fishing around the English Channel.

By the time I'd gotten to Joyce I'd developed a nasty blister on my foot and I realized I'd brought WAY too much crap that I didn't really need soloing, so I opted to take a different route out of Suz and headed to Kett via Brent, McIntyre, Sarah, and Tuck to minimize the portaging a bit.

I'd never been in a solo canoe in my life prior to shoving off from Prairie, so the butterflies were churning pretty good.  I'd rented a double-bladed paddle and started with that but the motion was very unnatural after a lifetime of single-blading and I could tell it was going to take many hours or days to adjust (and probably some very sore muscles to boot) so I quickly switched over to the single blade and found it to my liking.

Doing ALL the camp chores was less of a bother than I'd feared.  I kind of enjoy them all anyway; it was just a matter of adjusting my schedule to allow the extra time it takes to do it all yourself.

The push from South Lake (first campsite) to Trant in one day was brutal.  At this point I knew I was overpacked but nothing to do but either cache gear and scrap the planned route to allow a return to pick it up or else just suck it up and make the best of it.  I sucked it up.

Lost my canoe briefly on a (fortunately) small beaver pond on the creek from Trant to Kash as I was scouting the portage.  Lesson learned!  When solo, secure the boat at all times.  I was just glad it happened where I could easily swim out to retrieve it.

Got my blister from a pair of socks that rubbed me in the wrong spot on a day where I continually had wet feet and nasty portaging.  Duct tape makes a good substitute for skin.  Shoulda stopped and fixed it much earlier than I did.

Fishing solo is fun, but wind is a problem unless you troll, so did a ton of trolling.  Fish pictures are also a problem (since solved with a Go Pro camera with a suction mount on my canoe).

My modified route took me straight south on a very windy and rainy day but again, perserverance won out and I made it from Suz to Kett in one day as I'd decided that an extra couple of layover days fishing Basswood would be just the ticket to reward me for carrying way too much crap around that loop.

The confidence I had from my day in the wind was nearly my undoing on Basswood as the wind was howling but the fishing holes of the English Channel called me incessantly onward.  I misread the true direction of the wind as I entered Basswood, electing to follow the US shoreline which entailed a hair-raising crossing, fully loaded.  Once I hit the US shore, I found it to be windier than the Canadian, so I crossed back in heavy seas, broadside to the wind not by choice but because I simply could not set my load corrctly to allow me to keep the wind to my stern.  I did a lot of praying...and prying.  Stay loose and stay low was my mantra as I rolled in the heavy surf.  Once more crossing, this time more out of the wind and I was home free.  But I learned that day to never, ever, take chances like that again.

The final 2 days on Basswood I camped by the English Channel and tried to stay out of the wind.  The evening of my final night I called La Tourells on my sat phone and arranged a Washington Island pickup as it was clear that the wind wasn't going to die overnight.  Bring a means to contact help because you just never know.

The trip was both liberating and exhilerating.  It freed me from having to ever worry about missing a trip again due to my favored partners' inability to make a trip with me and also freed me from having to try to scrounge up someone else in that event.

The following spring I bought a solo of my own and used it that same year as part of a 3-man trip.  This year, I will be back in the park on my own again, this time for 10 days.  Can't wait!

Good point. I wholeheartedly agree w/ the introvert/extravert difference. One thing that gets to me after a while on a group trip, even with just my wife, is not enough alone time. Group or solo I start missing her and the kid after about two weeks now that the kid is older.

A good friend of mine went in one night early before our second school trip. He joined us on his second day and the guy did not shut up about his incredible solo experience for two days! Granted, he was a city boy so pretty much everything was new and wonderful to him but man he can talk.

For me there is that little extra perverse pleasure derived from just about everything, rain, fish ... you name it, knowing all my friends are missing it. Especially times when I know they are AT WORK and I'm NOT! I do enjoy watching people catch fish more than catching them myself though so I'm not totally heartless.

I like the short, planned rendezvous somewhere. The, let's meet for a day or two and then go our separate ways again. Those can be especially nice if they are coming in with fresh food (pizza!) when I'm on my way out.

There's a time and place for everything I guess. On a canoe trip, paddling down some crooked river, some shoreline or just hanging 'round camp, it pays to be quiet. (What's this site called again?) I can talk and party with my friends the other 50 weeks a year and when on a civilized, city type trip, I love doing the group thing. I'd truly hate doing a hotel type trip solo. Yuck. That'd be awful and I feel lonely just thinking about it.