August 30, 2003
11:09 AM
After a four hour drive, I arrive at the door of the Isabella Ranger Station in the Superior National Forest. I tell the ranger at the desk I need an overnight hiking permit for the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. She slowly fills out the paperwork, like she has never issued one before in all her seventy years as a ranger. “….and no campfires allowed. That will be $10.00,” she says. “Do I have to check in back here when I come off the trail?” I ask. She leans toward me, “No. No one cares,” she whispers, as if there was a hidden microphone nearby.
11:41 AM
Seventeen miles of well maintained forest roads lead right to the trail head and the canoe launch for the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness access point. I see lots of pickup trucks with canoe trailers. I feel like I showed up to play golf without any clubs. I just want to walk the course.
12:28 PM
It’s a perfect day; sunny and 70 degrees. There is one other hiker, a man in his fifties, getting ready to start his hike. We chat briefly. There is an awkward moment when it appears we are both about to depart at the same time. Then a Park Ranger pulls up and asks to see our permits. I have mine ready, and I’m cleared to go. The other man is detained for questioning (and I’m guessing a beating). I scamper down the trail to put some space between us.
2:04 PM
I cross several canoe portages (shallow rapids) and several trail intersections and often consult the map folded up in my front pocket. I stop briefly to spray myself with Deet, being very careful not to get it on my palms. This stuff is great at repelling insects, but it will dissolve anything I touch made of plastic or nylon. It’s nice to know this will be on my skin for three days.
2:07 PM
Deet apparently removes the ink off maps too. I’m shocked to find the first two or three miles of the trail are just a smear now, and I refold the map to protect the remainder of the trail route.
4:00PM
Not much I can say about this hike. The scenery is mostly heavy forest of pine and birch, occasionally breaking out into a marshy clearing by a small lake. Basically it’s: “I’m walking, I’m walking, I’m walking, wow an arrowhead! I’m walking, that’s not an arrow head….just a sharp rock. I’m walking, I’m walking, I’m wa…..what was that sound? Is it a bear? Am I gonna die now? I love you Mom. No, it’s just an otter. I’m walking, I’m walking, I’m walking, oh look…..an arrow head.”
5:15 PM
I arrive at Quadga Lake way behind schedule. I decide this is my limit (after about 9 miles) and I find a spot to camp on the shore. I take off my boots, and my feet are killing me. The scenery is amazing. I have this overwhelming sense of isolation. This lake is only accessible by trail or canoe. Even the airspace over it is closed to all air traffic except the fire spotter planes.
5:42 PM
As I set up my tent, I am greeted by a little red squirrel. He obviously knows this spot on the lake is frequented by campers. He comes up to within three feet of me, and sits up and begs. How cute, but I will not feed him. He becomes very persistent, and while my back is turned he finds my pack on the ground and starts working at the straps! I try to shoo him away, but he’s very brave. He’s just like a bum on the street, annoying me until I give him something. But I will not. He let’s out this strange “chack, chack, chack, chack, chack, chack” noise. I actually think he will bite me. I throw a rock at him, but he scurries around and approaches from another angle. Finally I run at him with a big stick and he bolts up a tree, letting out a loud squeal.
6:16 PM
Under the evil eye of the dreaded red squirrel, I finish my fine dinner of macaroni and beef (severed up hot on my Sterno stove). I’m disappointed my stove won’t boil water. I will need clean drinking water, and although the water in this lake is pollution free and very clear, there is a slight risk of bacteria contamination. Boiling the water first is best, but instead I just use purification tablets to make drinking water. I then add lemonade mix to hide that fish poop taste.
7:12 PM
With my gear stowed in my tent (out of squirrel reach), I take my fishing pole over to a rocky overhang and cast my best lure into the lake. On the very first cast, I get a strike! It’s a big one, and I can’t pull this fat boy out of the water. I stumble with the pole in hand down the rocks to the shoreline. It’s a large mouth bass. I grab his lower jaw and carry him back to my tent to get the camera. After a picture, I release him and immediately catch another large mouth. Then another. This is great; almost every cast got some kind of hit. Then I noticed my line is frayed, so I retie the lure. On the very next cast, I hook another big one….and the line breaks! I lose my best lure. I don’t have another like it in my tackle box, so I switch to a rubber worm. Not so much as a nibble the rest of the night.
9:38 PM
Feeling dejected about this major set back, I decide I will turn in early. It’s starting to get chilly. I remove an energy bar from my food bag, and then pull the bag up into a tree using some fishing line. I don’t want to keep food in my tent, since that’s what attracts bears, wolves, and of course, vicious squirrels. I climb into my tent and get all cozy in my sleeping bag. I eat the bar and stuff the wrapper in a Ziploc bag with the stinky socks I wore today. I have this really cool reading light, but I’m too sleepy to sit up and read. I fall asleep to the sweet, haunting sounds of a loon calling in the distance.
11:03 PM
God! When will that loon shut up?
Hear the Loon call
August 31, 2003
2:17 AM
I think I was dreaming about the squirrel. I imagined waking up and finding him sitting on my chest, holding a pillow. Very disturbing.
5:26 AM
The phone rings, and it is nature on the line. I must leave the warmth of the sleeping bag to visit the restroom. I check the little thermometer hanging in the tent. It’s 55 degrees in here. Outside it’s probably 40. I put on a fleece shirt, wind pants, boots and a Gore-Tex parka. I crawl outside with my flashlight and walk along the shore and into the woods. It’s just starting to get light in the east. It’s cold and I’m shaking. I’m shaking very badly. On my return to the tent, my hands tremble violently and I almost drop the flashlight. It’s almost debilitating really. I get worried for a second, but I climb back into my sleeping bag and I’m toasty warm within a minute. Maybe the shaking was just luxury withdrawal.
7:24 AM
The moment the sun broke through the trees, the temperature becomes quite comfortable. I begin breakfast, which is a signal for the next wave of red squirrel attacks. I watch as the squirrel ignores me and hops over to my tent. He sneaks around the back, out of my sight, and I hear a scratching noise. I jump up and run around the back of the tent. The rodent looks at me and stands his ground. “Chack, chack, chack, chack, chack…..” This surprises me, and I backed away. I grab a big stick, and my fillet knife, and charge him again while letting out a growl. He squeals and runs up a tree. I hit the tree with the stick. He jumps to another tree. I looked back at my breakfast, just in case this was a coordinated attack from both flanks. But this criminal works alone. I continue for a minute chasing him from tree to tree, hitting the trunks with this big stick. Then I returned to my warm apple cinnamon oatmeal and watched the mist floating across the lake. I loon calls in the distance. So tranquil.
8:52 AM
Still no luck fishing with the inferior lures. Bass are strange. It’s a fact that they will strike the top water lure out of aggression, not hunger. But they only strike rubber worm type lures when they want to eat. I begin fishing for trout with a minnow “spoon” lure. Nothing bites. Stupid lure. I hate you! Why can’t you be a top water lure? The fishing gods are mocking me.
10:03 AM
I explore around the rocky shoreline barefoot. There is a canoe portage directly across the lake from me about a mile and a half away. I see activity there. Through binoculars, I see folks putting a canoe in the water. I have this strange urge to try to get their attention, like I need to be rescued or something. Then I remember the reason I came here was to get away from everyone and everything.
12:15PM
I fall asleep on the rocks overlooking the lagoon to the right of my campsite. The sun is shining, and it’s in the 70’s now. My pole is by my side, a book is on my chest, and my hat is over my eyes. I dream I’m tied to a pole, and thousands of red squirrels are circling me with torches. Okay, I’m kidding, but when I wake up and adjust my hat, I hear that familiar “chack, chack, chack, chack” coming from near my tent.
12:32 PM
The red menace must die. After another chase into the woods, and several minutes of me pounding tree trucks with a large stick, “Satan” returns again to scratch at my tent and then constantly shadows me. I decide I must kill the squirrel. I know this sounds horrible, but it’s survival of the fittest, not the fattest. If I had brought pepper spray like I’m suppose to, I wouldn’t be having this problem. The irony is my food isn’t even in the tent.
3:00 PM
I’m sitting here, doing a lot of fishing, but no catching. This trip was all about solitude, catching and eating trout, spotting a moose or a bear, and basically not having a care in the world. However, I haven’t seen a moose, I lost the only lure that the fish were biting, and now all my thoughts were on formulating a plan for killing a little red squirrel. I felt like the Coyote in the Roadrunner cartoons. “If I use some fishing line, bend that little tree over, then make a snare, bait it with trail mix, he will step in the loop, a trigger will release, the tree will……holy crap! FISH ON!”
3:04 PM
The fish are biting big time. They must be hungry. Forget the dumb squirrel. Life is good again.
5:11 PM
I’m all fished out. I have lost count of the large mouth I’ve caught. I only regret I didn’t catch a trout, or walleye. That would be a nice dinner. I don’t want to eat a bass. I sit back and read my book while dining on beef jerky and trail mix. I make another batch of lake lemonade. I have made three quarts of purified lake water, and I still have almost a quart of the original fresh water I packed in. I will drink that on the hike back tomorrow.
5:37 PM
Occasionally a canoe goes by, and I wave. Sometime, the same canoe comes back by, and I wave again. I’m actually not sure if it’s the same folks, or if a flat bed truck full of canoes and old people in vests and funny hats overturned into the lake.
6:29 PM
Nature is calling…..this time it’s the big call. The good news is I’m prepared and so is the campsite. The fine folks at the forest service have built a couple latrines near some of the lakes, and hidden them in the forest near the trails. I spotted one about 100 yards west of my camp while on the hike down to this lake yesterday. The bad news is it’s about five feet from the main trail. It’s basically an outhouse with no walls. I know this is dumb, being 40 miles from civilization, but I actually worried that at the worst possible moment, a family of four from Edina would walk up on me. “Oh, see there Ashley. That’s part of nature too. Quick get a picture before he runs away.”
8:41 PM
Reading by the fading sunlight. My feet are still sore from the hike in, and I have a few blisters that give me trouble. I spent this whole day without wearing my boots. I look over at them. They look evil. I don’t want to put them on, but they got me here. They will get me back.
10:14 PM
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the Milky Way this clearly. The night is clear and cold, and Mars shines brightly right over the lake. The Northern Lights must not be packing much power tonight. I can’t see to the north very well anyway. I scan the horizon for signs of other campers. Nothing. I hit the sleeping bag.
11:52 PM
CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! I don’t believe it. Who is chopping wood at this hour? I can tell it’s far away, maybe the other side of the lake, but it’s still very loud. It’s as if Paul Bunyan himself was out there. I can tell it’s not a woodpecker, or any animal. It’s definitely a person chopping wood. But why? There are no campfires allowed in this area. The chopping stops after 10 minutes. It dawns on me that this area is supposedly haunted by the ghosts of loggers from hundreds of years ago. It doesn’t help that a loon has started that eerie singing again.
September 1, 2003
1:25 AM
Major fright moment! A wolf howls loudly from this side of the lake, startling me from sleep. His howl is very loud, but it’s difficult to tell how close he is. I think a second wolf is howling in the distance too. I unzip the window cover on my tent, leaving the bug screen in place. I shine my flashlight around, looking for the eyes. I have my fillet knife nearby. The howling continues for a few minutes, but gets farther away. It stops and I try to go back to sleep.
7:31 AM
I do not want to get up. The red squirrel may or may not be scratching at the back of the tent. Could just be a bug. I can’t tell for sure, but I rattle whole the tent just in case. I did not sleep well. Between the wolf howling and the headless woodsman, every little twig snap woke me up. Now, I was entering a deep sleep again and the sun was up. I had to break camp and hike nine miles back to my truck this morning, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
9:52 AM
Holy crap! It’s almost 10:00 AM. I gotta get up. What was I thinking? I still have four and a half hours of walking and another four hours of driving to do! I rapidly begin the task of breaking camp and repacking all my stuff. I have a system for packing and everything is loaded quickly. The packing is easier without all the extra food and water. I have one original fresh water bottle left. It doesn’t seem like much, but I’m not gonna make anymore lake lemonade now.
10:30 AM
“Chack, chack, chack, chack….” “Yes, goodbye to you too, you red devil. I hope you get eaten by that wolf.” I cover my blisters with duct tape. This is a proven method of relieving pain and abrasion. And it works great. I make a quick police of the site, and make sure all my pockets are zipped and straps are tightened. I spray myself down with Deet and eat a Powerbar. I’m ready for the long walk back.
11:50 PM
The hike back seems to be going much faster. My feet ache, but my energy is up. I’m really making good time. I stop to take some pictures, while swarms of mosquitoes try to find a weakness in my Deet defenses. It’s much warmer today, and my water bottle seems to be empting itself faster than I would have liked.
12:41 PM
On the lookout for moose. I can’t believe I’m not gonna see one. According to the map, I’ve covered just over half of the trail back. I recognize all the creek crossing, marshes, and rocky outcroppings I passed on the way in. I’m making amazing time, but I’m almost out of water. I actually pass a few hikers inbound on the trail. Oddly, the first two couples I meet (hours apart) both have dogs with them. The second dog even had its own tiny saddle bags.
1:32 PM
I have to admit it: water may be a problem now. The temperature is well into the 80’s. I know I shouldn’t ration water, but I’m only taking small sips every thirty minutes or so.
2:46 PM
I know the signs of dehydration, and I’m not there yet. The Isabella River portage has a bridge crossing, and I arrive there much sooner than expected. I remove my pack and shirt and climb down the rocks to the shallow rapids. I lay in the water, keeping my feet out of the river. My feet are on fire, but I don’t have time to undue my boots, retape the blisters, and put on dry socks. I just cool off and it works wonders for me.
3:14 PM
I arrive at my truck and I don’t even take off my pack. I get out the extra water bottles from the back and start drinking. I almost drink myself sick. I find an extra bag of trail mix and begin eating. As I stow my pack in the truck, and notice the fishing pole on the back has some minor damage to the handle. Apparently I banged it on the rocks at the Isabella portage. Either that or the squirrel tried to eat it.
