What has become an annual July canoe camping adventure in northern Minnesota’s massive Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness had to be rescheduled for late August this year, but the wait was worth it for my wife, Karen, and our son, Brad. He introduced us to this incredible one million plus acre slice of paradise straddling the Canada border in 2021, and we vowed afterwards to return every year and for as long as our bodies and minds would allow.
Our fifth trip began on an overcast Tuesday morning with a boat shuttling us and our gear deep into the northwest section of the BWCAW out of Anderson’s Canoe Outfitters in Crane Lake, Minnesota. The scenic 25-mile boat ride traverses parts of four lakes and through the winding narrow Loon River. Two mechanical portages over a railway-like track are required to end up in expansive Lac La Croix which straddles the border with Ontario. We eventually got dropped off on an island just inside Canada because motors are not allowed on the U.S. side in the BWCAW.
We opted to return to a fantastic multi-level campsite in another lake that we used last year. Getting there requires us to paddle to a portage landing then empty the canoe and haul our packs and other gear across a short and easy 17-rod (about a city block) trail to our destination lake. Brad handles the canoe and the heaviest of the large packs containing camping gear, food, clothing and other necessities.
The campsite is clearly visible from the other end of the portage trail, and we were happy to find it unoccupied. Before setting up camp we took a few moments to simply relax and enjoy the view and the silence that comes with stepping into this wonderful remote area. No cell signal. No city noise. No people (mostly). No trace of the life we left behind at the boat landing.
We quickly noticed something remarkable – we weren’t accosted by swarms of mosquitoes on the trail or in camp. Oh, there were a few around, but nothing like our previous four visits inside Superior National Forest when head nets, bug spray, and Thermacell devices had to be deployed to fend off the blood thirsty pests. None of those bug defenses were necessary for our entire five-night stay off the grid. The trade off was that the wild blueberry season was sadly over.
We enjoyed very comfortable temperatures but dealt with persistent rain showers from Thursday evening through Saturday. We didn’t fish nearly as much as we had during past trips and opted instead to simply bask in the peace and quiet afforded in camp. We mostly read, napped, played cribbage, chatted and stargazed.
The sky the first three nights leading up to Saturday’s new moon was clear and dark. Brad enthusiastically woke us up at 12:30 a.m. the first night in camp with, “You guys have to come see the stars.” Groggy, we crawled out of our tent then laid on our backs to marvel at the glittery sky, brilliant shooting stars, and the massive Milky Way stretching across the endless black mass. Simply amazing.
We fished enough, including a visit to “our” fishing reef back out on Lac La Croix where the first of three eater-sized smallmouth bass went on the stringer for supper. Fishing on foot atop the reef Karen battled a nice smallmouth to her feet where Brad was preparing to land the fish. Out of nowhere a northern pike shot in and t-boned the bass, broke the line, then drifted away with Karen’s fish crosswise in its mouth. We watched it slowly disappear to probably choke to death if it actually tried to swallow its catch.
That evening after finishing up our meal, rain showers fell with peeks of sunshine from the west producing a brilliant full rainbow to the east that reflected on the water in front of our campsite. A second rainbow appeared at times and both came and went a couple of times.
The next evening three more smallies were caught from shore in camp and kept for a meal. There’s nothing quite as tasty and satisfying as taking fish from the water to the frying pan and adding the fillets to a reconstituted Camp Chow meal. Chase that delicious grub with a Trailtopia dessert and you get the perfect wilderness meal.
Our forays into the wilderness by canoe provide an annual reminder of all the things we can easily live without. Life moves at a soothing slow pace that’s good for the soul when you allow yourself to be present there, and your mind drifts away from to-do lists, a busy calendar, and the ridiculous 24-hour news cycle. Yet the day to paddle back to the pick up island and reality arrives much too quickly, and you find yourself wishing for just one more night.
I regret not experiencing the BWCAW until I was 60 years old, but I’m so grateful that my son convinced us that a canoe camping adventure was something we could and, more importantly, should do. During the drive back to Brad’s home in Minneapolis we were already talking about adding that extra night or possibly two for next year’s trip. And we’ll probably opt for August and fewer mosquitoes over July blueberries too.