Boundary Waters Voyage, Pt3

Once past Eddy Falls, the halfway point of the voyage marked the point of no return. It was the long haul forward or no way back. Resting for a bit of lunch at the serene waterfall of Eddy Falls our little vessel dipped into the large waters of South Arm Knife Lake. We soon learned how small and insignificant we were to big waves and open waters. Cutting hard and paddling at 45 degrees to the crest of the waves, we shot due North across the open exposed waters of South Arm Knife to reach safety in the tree sheltered channel ahead. Calmer waters lead us to our longest portage. The challenge of passage continued to escalate until we happened upon our campsite for Night 3, on Pine Island. South Arm Knife is what it sounds like, a force that can chop a person in half.

Completely isolated at this point, it had been days since seeing another person. Our shoreline of ancient granite proved to be a wonderful swimming hole and slide into the cool clean waters for some afternoon enjoyment.

Little did we know, our true challenge still lay ahead.

A casual morning of instant coffee and oatmeal, we took down our tent and packed up the canoe. Weaving between islands and an 80 rod portage we were now in the waters paddling the boundary between Canada and the United States. I forgot my passport. Another 80 rod, portage called “Monument Portage,” marked the official borderline between the two countries. The trail opened out of the woods to a mucky dock swarming with mosquitoes. “Hurry! Hurry! They’re eating us alive! Get in the boat!” We pushed off to what would be our greatest challenge, Lake Saganaga, AKA the Big Sag. (insert dramatic music here).

(This is what carrying a canoe on your head looks like. Here I am, at the monument marking the border between the US and Canada. I carried this big ass canoe all the way here, I wonder who the hell lugged this hunk of heavy stone into the middle of nowhere).

On our merry way, two female Canadian Mounties passed us looking for any US resident illegally crossing over and camping on the Canadian side. We were safe as long as we stayed in the main waters or the Eastern shore. Problem was, all the campsites on the US side were occupied and we were forced to push on into the great open waters ahead.

Winds struck us dead on. Waves crashed head first into our canoe. With all three of us paddling with all our might, we had over two miles to push through high winds and hard waters. If for a moment we stopped paddling to rest we would be pushed back five folds by the winds.

Unfathomable hours later we found a glint of relief in the shadow of an island that momentarily sheltered us from the gale force winds of the Big Sag. I pulled out the bag of home made beef jerky and we all powered up for one final push north into the wind and around the bend of Rocky Point.

From there on out and southeastern the winds would be at our back. We passed the challenge and graduated true Boundary Water survivalist. So much in fact, we continued on past our intended campsite for the night and paddled another 7+ miles through Red Rock Bay and back into Alpine Lake driven by the comforting fact we all might be able to sleep in our own bed in two nights. I’m sure the girls thought of the Internet, and pizza, while I dreamt of a cold beer.

Captain’s Log: Day 4, 5:23pm

“We paddled hard and took the distance making good time. Over 7 hours and 15 miles, we’ve made up over a day’s travel reaching Alpine Lake back in the burn down zone. Tomorrow we should reach the car.”

We had come full circle once crossing through the southern part of Alpine Lake on our second day. Now we camped at the northern peninsula, a campsite we named Shady Grove, where rampant bunnies thumped upon hollow ground all around our campsite in the late hours of dusk and dawn. Their scurrying and scattering keeping us pleasantly wake in amusement.

Captain’s Log: Day 5, 7am

“Is a crow’s laugh any crazier or different than its cry? In the still air its wings make a heavy swish. Its reflection and shadow almost one across still morning waters. A thin veil of mist lifts and burns off the surface in the rising sun. The exposure of the burn down reveals barren rock face unshaded to stare endlessly at the sun. Perfect calm, a clearing of the mind, watching water bugs dance on the surface, they appear to be aggressive towards each other in little clusters or colonies of chatter. Not one lies still, chasing each other off into the depths to become lost easy prey."

“The mist has all lifted and a slight wind blows in from the west. It will be at our backs on our final stint home. We are in no hurry, the paddle will be short in comparison to yesterday.”

“It is peaceful out here, in the morning without any wind or weather, but I am sure at any moment that serenity and security can turn hasty in a storm."

We had three choices for the return route: one, through the unknown winding narrow creek north, two: straight across Alpine Lake as the shortest distance the crow flies to a 105 rod portage to Sea Gull Lake, or three: the long southern dip and double portage through Rog Lake, the original way we entered through. Without being pressed for time, the Captain, myself, decided the 105 rod portage didn’t sound like fun, and one last adventure into unknown territory would be an exciting way to end our voyage. Little did the Captain know what shit really lay ahead.

Rocks and rapids! And we were riding a Kevlar canoe. One little bump on a sharp stump or rock would puncture our vessel and send us sinking, stranded in the wild.

Abandoning ship, we waded through the waist deep waters, steering the boat manually around the lurking dangers under the surface until reaching the final short unused, overgrown portage. There is a reason people don’t go this way. The only thing on our side was the current.

We popped out unscathed and triumphant! Full speed ahead across Sea Gull Lake and to the sleeping car. Joy and sadness were felt at the same time. To leave would mean we survived and succeeded in our quest. It also would mark the end of the adventure.

Captain Log: Final Entry

“Home, under a roof, a real roof. My mind wanders back to laying on the warm flat surface of rock jutting out like a pier into calm waters of early morning, a meditative place with tranquil winds. The sky is the true ceiling, bending cloud to move as it wishes. Now, cicadas buzz, trucks rumble, cars speed by, a train yard never rests, and people walk along sidewalks. The city noise amplified in the still quiet of home where we finally rest floating away on soft mattresses into dreams of the wilderness. The cool controlled breeze of an electronic fan replaces the one whispering through aspen leaves.”

“It rained heavy yesterday. We were lucky to have done our final dock and loaded the boat and gear before it hit. Our window of weather couldn’t have been better. Five days of warm beautiful skies looming fluffs of clouds. Warm nights and dry days. A calculated 42-mile round trip paddling with 16 total portages adding up to 626 rods, over 10,000 feet. I’ll miss the mornings waking to the loon’s call on still waters when nothing stirs in perfect calm, and eternal peace on solid white shorelines warming to the new day’s adventure.”

August 21, 2016

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Boundary Waters Voyage,
Pt1:
https://steemit.com/adventure/@ghostfish/boundary-waters-voyage-pt1
Pt2:
https://steemit.com/adventure/@ghostfish/boundary-waters-voyage-pt2