Past
Travels
Canoeing Minnesota's
Lakes
I
just got back from a week in Minnesota. I spent 5 days in Minneapolis
at a conference, then my dad flew in and we drove up to the
wilderness lakes near the Canadian border, just past the town of Ely,
Minn. We've been to this area many times. When we lived in Chicago,
my dad would go up to these lakes with his uncle Mike and they'd
spend weeks camping and fishing. When I was a kid they brought me and
my mom and we stayed at a fishing resort that had rustic cabins. In
1985 my dad, brother and I had come here and gone portaging on some
of the back lakes, camping out and fishing. This time our plan was to
stay in a cabin at the resort and make a day trip to this one back
lake where we had caught lots of Walleye in the past.
The cabins were all in this bay on
Snowbank Lake. We had a cabin on the very end, a nice place with 2
bedrooms and a kitchen. Also a screened porch. On our first day I
just walked around the area, remembering how things had been when I
was small.
We decided to get up at 5:00 the next
day to head for Adventure Lake. But my dad had never changed his
watch from Eastern Time, so when he woke me at 4:00, it was pitch
black out. Luckily I thought to check my watch. Went back to sleep
for a very quick hour, then rose and ate oatmeal. Loaded gear into an
aluminum canoe we had rented for a short paddle to the first
portage.
My dad took all the gear (fishing
poles, net, duffel bag, minnow bucket, paddles) and I hoisted the
canoe to my shoulders. I walked the whole way to Parent Lake without
resting, about a quarter mile, which was unwise, because my shoulders
were killing me when I got there. It was cool enough so that the bugs
weren't yet up.
We loaded the canoe and then pushed it
into the cool, still water. Paddled into the rising sun to the far
end of the lake. Found the portage. Again I carried the canoe, though
this time I paused half way and put it down. I had to carry it across
a stream on a wooden bridge that had partially fallen down, so I had
to balance on a single board, which was tricky. But I made it without
difficulty.
We put the canoe into Lake
Disappointment, a very long lake with many islands. Again we paddled
into the sun, which reflected off the water into our faces. Because
my dad liked the back, I had to take the front, which is not my best
position. We paddled for a half hour or so, passing the island where
we camped with our family once, and seeing number of people camping
out along the shores. We reached the portage and carried the boat
over together since it was short. Canoed across Ashub Lake, and down
a winding, marshy passage to the next portage. Two canoes sat there
and their owners quickly appeared on the trail with the remainder of
their gear. Again we carried our canoe together to Jitterbug Lake. We
paddled across this lake to the final portage. I carried the canoe
solo over to Adventure Lake.
Here we baited our hooks, put the canoe
in and started fishing. In the past we had caught tons of Walleye
here. Today, this was not to be. We fished for about three hours and
my dad caught one Walleye. I caught a small Northern, which we threw
back. We stopped on a rocky point of land to cook up Dinty Moore
stew. The wind kept the black flies away from us mostly.
I used to think of Adventure as a lake
that was far from civilization, since you had to portage 5 lakes to
reach it. But today, at least 5 parties of canoeists came through
while we fished. Some were very loud and shouted at each other the
whole time. It ruined some of the illusion of seclusion.
At 2:30, after no more strikes, we
headed back to our cabin. It took us 3 hours to get there, but going
back was harder because not only were we tired, but we had to go
against the wind. My dad hadn't done this kind of thing in a long
while. As a result, I carried the canoe myself on all remaining
portages, and went back for the large duffel bag on each portage
after dropping off the canoe. Now we were paddling into the setting
sun. Still, I took time to look around as we went, enjoying the sight
of the pine and birch trees, and watching the loons dive underwater
to escape us as we approached and then resurface far away. We waved
at other canoeists, and tried to keep out of the wind by going out of
our way to get behind islands and peninsulas. Whenever we got too
close to land, though, we'd be joined by a swarm of bugs, who stayed
with us till the wind drove them away. We stopped once on
Disappointment to rest and have a snack.
For the portage to Parent Lake, we wore
our bug nets. I brought the duffel first, then went back for the
canoe, which I had to lift myself. Rested once on the way, and had to
climb over some fallen trees on the trail. The last bit of paddling
across Parent Lake was a real kick in the ass, because the wind was
much stronger now and it was whipping up whitecaps for our enjoyment.
As the sucker in the front of the canoe, I got drenched as the waves
crashed over the sides. We put our heads down and plowed forward
across the lake, making very slow progress. Finally we reached the
portage. Again I took the pack and came back for the boat. I was
getting pretty worn out by now. I stopped twice en route. Did the
short paddle to our dock. What a grueling day.
We showered and ate pork chops. Then my
dad passed out. I sat on the screened porch and looked out at
Snowbank Lake. The sun had just set, leaving an orange glow in the
sky, that was reflected in the water, which was, ironically, now
still. The only sounds I heard were the chirping of birds and the
faraway cry of a loon, echoing across the lake. I saw a movement in
front of the cabin and I looked to see a red fox run past. He stopped
and sniffed at our cabin, smelling the aroma of our dinner, no doubt,
then he circled the cabin, as I dashed about inside to watch him
through various windows.
The next day, the lake was windy, but
we paddled against the wind and the waves to Pickerel Bay, where we'd
heard the Walleye had been hitting. We drifted around, casting
mostly. My dad caught a largemouth bass. We crossed and recrossed the
bay. Then, just as I had finished reeling up and was about to take my
line from the water, a smallmouth bass bit and I landed him. Within a
few minutes I caught another one. A third followed later.
We returned to the cabin for a lunch of
Dinty Moore stew. Then my dad filleted the fish. We both crashed for
an hour. My dad didn't want to fish any more, so I took the boat out
by myself. I just paddled leisurely along, going into each bay,
looking at the plants, the fallen trees sitting on the lake bottom,
the rocky cliffs. Twice I saw a bald eagle fly away at my approach.
Pretty cool. Even though Snowbank is a well-traveled lake, the coves
that I was visiting were not likely seen too much. I thought about
how remote all of this was from the majority of the people in the
world. I kept exploring and getting farther and farther
away.
Getting back proved difficult. The wind
was full force against me. For much of the trip I could stay near
land and stay out of most of the wind, but I had to cross one section
of open water and it was a struggle. The very last 500 feet were
torture. I was paddling furiously, but I was moving so slow that a
baby on shore could have crawled right past me. I eventually made it
back to the dock.
Later on, after dinner, I went out
again. The sun had set, leaving a crimson hue in the sky. By now the
wind had died down completely, and I couldn't resist taking a last
paddle out into the lake. I left the bay and headed into open water.
Without the wind, the bugs now had no reason to leave me alone, and a
group of them stayed with me as I paddled. When I was sufficiently
far from shore, I stopped and sat silently in the bottom of the
canoe, listening to the silence all around me (and swatting flies).
It was so quiet that I could hear the voices of people camped out on
the other side of the lake, maybe a half mile away. A loon let out
its haunting cry into the coming darkness. Behind me the full moon
rose over the treetops. I drifted slowly, pushed by a gentle breeze,
looking up at the stars as they began to appear in the sky. It was
amazing, I thought, that there were people jamming the sidewalks in
Times Square right now, crowded together and listening to honking
cabs. And here I was, alone on a wilderness lake with nothing but the
call of a loon to keep me company. I sat there for a long
time.
The next morning we made the long drive
back to Minneapolis and flew home.
Back to
top
The Waterfalls of
Ricketts Glenn
I
had a great weekend camping with Felicia at Ricketts Glen State
Park in northern PA. It's west of Wilkes Barre. The park has a
picturesque trail that goes along the edge of a river, which flows
over a cascading series of waterfalls. Some of them are quite
spectacular to see. 0ne is 95 feet high. Many are over 30 feet. I
went behind one waterfall, which was pretty cool, though cold and
wet. Some of the falls had deep pools at their base, which you wanted
to jump into and swim around in.
The trail is steep as it descends down
with the falls, and sometimes rock steps have been built to help you
climb down. On either side of the trail, the land rises up steeply,
so you're down in a narrow valley surrounded by rock walls and lush
vegetation. There were other people there, but it wasn't hard to find
a quiet spot next to a fall and sit and admire it.
At the bottom, another river met up
with the first one, and another trail went up that river, crossing it
on wooden bridges at times. We encountered a dozen more waterfalls
along this stretch, and hardly any people. The waterfalls are so
hypnotic. Many times we'd just stop and stare at their
beauty.
At the end of the day, we had to climb
back up to get out, which was tiring, but not too bad. We camped in
one of the established campsites. As sites go, it was pretty bad--all
out in the open, in clear view of RVs and other people's sites. The
ground was packed hard, so there was no way to get a tent peg in
(fortunately they're not essential with my new tent). But we cooked
on my stove, walked to a lake to watch the sun set (just missed it),
got wood and had a fire later, and slept fairly well, except for the
raccoon that woke me up going through our trash bag, which I'd
foolishly left on the ground.
On Sunday we walked to a few other
falls that we hadn't seen. In all, a great weekend.