Portage 175 m
South Cone Lake (558m)
Portage 145 m
Mid Cone Lake (558m)
Portage 10 m
North Cone Lake (558m)
Portage 740 m
Cliff Lake (584m)
Portage 95 m
Wanihigan Lake (580m)
Portage 75 m
Winchell Lake (579m)
Camp: closest site across lake, NNE of portage.
One of the rules highlighted by the rangers was to wait for a party to finish at a portage. Now the landing is not quite a portage, certainly plenty of room. But it was amusing to see how everyone was scrambling for position on arrival. I was the first to arrive on an empty landing, parked and immediately started untying the canoes. Shortly thereafter came a Hummer (“flex-fuel,” can you believe the gall?) with four ladies, Jim, and the family we had seen at the station. There was also a party that came in from the lake after a few minutes. Within a very short time, the landing changed from almost deserted to a pandemonic center of activity, not much in way of waiting ones turn. But it worked, and soon we were all packed and ready to go! We must have learned something during the three previous trips since our packs were well organized and ready to load. The other parties were still struggling with their gear while we pushed off. Our initial canoe pairings were Max and Colin, Jim and James, Jack and Dave, and finally, John and myself.
I did notice after I finished packing that I seemed to have less stuff than in previous years, despite having one additional crew member. While I attributed this to greater experience, and in spite of reading and re-reading my checklist, I could not quite shake a nagging feeling that I might have forgotten something important. Tonight I would find out.
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| From 2009_52_BWCA Crossing Brule Lake, heading NNW towards Cone Bay |
Shortly after leaving the bay where the landing is located, we saw our first eagle: a juvenile bald eagle. A gentle ESE breeze provided a welcome push to make it across Brule Lake in good time. Navigation was easy and we soon were in Cone Bay. Portages were different from the ones we encountered along the lakes off Echo Trail: big boulders inconveniently spaced, so you had to watch every step. On the upside, hardly any muddy stretches. And they were short. We double-portaged most, hardly a need to triple up on any. The Cone lakes were a nuisance, but a beautiful one: Short stretches of paddling followed short portages until we reached the major challenge of the day: a 740 m portage between North Cone and Cliff Lakes. I described the typical portage surface above, this one was not any different. In addition, we climbed about 26m over its length. I carried one of our large SeaLine packs and a canoe, and I have to admit that I did not quite have my portage shoulders yet. Three quarters into the portage I positively felt like I was dying. But I made it, we all made it! I got a whiff of how much stronger everyone was this year, as our 13 year-olds and 16 year-olds passed me with their own heavy packs and left me in the dust. At the end of this portage we broke for lunch.
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| From 2009_52_BWCA |
Cliff Lake was the first of a series of lakes typical for this area: long, narrow and oriented east to west. The steep banks were heavily wooded and rose to respectable hills. Occasionally some sheer cliffs interrupted the shoreline. There were a good number of mature white pines mixed in the vegetation and the firs looked lush and healthy. The water levels were high but not did not overflow the banks. JuDave and Jack, hung back to investigate. I believe they never found out what it was.
Just two more short portages and we would be at our destination for today: Winchell Lake, a beautiful lake with high hills falling steeply to the shore along the south side. Somehow, it reminded me of a quiet river in a narrow valley. Just in time, as the sky became increasingly darker and a light rain began falling as we came to the end of Cliff Lake. The rain grew steadily stronger until it ceased, just as we arrived at the campsite we picked for tonight, the closest to the portage from Wanihigan lake.
Fortunately there was a lull in the rain which permitted us to pitch camp in relative dryness. He site was a lovely place, on top of a large rocky outcropping which would have made an ideal bathing spot had the weather been any better. After all tents were pitched and the tarps spanned between ropes, some firewood gathered it was time for a swim. Mostly to wash away the grime of the day, but also just to frolic in the water and soothe those aching shoulders. I swam across Winchell Lake, my goggles allowing me to see the splashes of the raindrops from below the surface. The water was cold, but not so cold to chill me. I made across and took a breather standing waist-deep on top of a submerged boulder. Just as I was leaving for my return lap, two canoes pushed off from the nearby portage. They came within about 30 meters and I shouted a hearty greeting in their direction. I was thinking that I should have met them to tell them that I was the early adopter of a new extreme sport: traveling the BWCA clad in nothing but Speedos and surviving on algae and pine cones. That thought buoyed me until I made it back to camp.
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| From 2009_52_BWCA |
After drying off and putting on some fresh clothes, I started the traditional first night dinner: steak sandwiches. Soon, we had a nice fire going and the steaks on the grill were spattering away. The delicious scent brought the boys, who had been busy playing BS since we were done with setting camp, from their lair. Everyone ate heartily and nothing was left, not even for Mellie. In the meantime, the rain had picked up again and was growing gradually stronger. Dave, Jim and I finished the night with a spot of Quetsch, a Luxembourg rot-gut plum liquor which I had bought in 1984 while serving with the Belgian Army in Cologne, Germany. Just the right occasion for such a libation. We even got a little tipsy.
We crawled into our sleeping bags and fell asleep to the pitter-patter of drops on the rain fly.
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