I was in the middle of packing when I got a call from Craig. He sounded a little perturbed and asked him if he was OK. He insisted he was but immediately dropped the bomb: the shuttle service we had lined up for the Namekagon had called him a short while ago and told him that they had been flagged down by National Park rangers who had warned them that they would lose their outfitter license if they’d facilitate anyone getting onto the Namekagon. The Namekagon is part of the St. Croix National Scenic River Way and—as I had to find out after I picked up Wednesday’s Star Tribune—off limits to visitors, along with National Parks and National Recreation Areas for the duration of the federal government shutdown. Craig and I had a quick huddle and made some quick decisions, switching from the Namekagon to the North Fork of the Flambeau. We were disappointed but at the same time we were glad that we had a fallback option. I alerted Joel and Ben, urging them to be a little earlier because of the added distance and kept packing.
Friday, October 4--Deadman Slough to Oxbo Camp
Parting shot at Deadman Slough Landing.
We left on time at our house, around 11:50. Lynn was home and saw us off, warning Ben and Joel of my propensity to boss everyone around and urged them to use the facilities one more time because otherwise they would have to go in a bottle.
Nice to leave at a reasonable time, traffic was reasonable to non-existent. Beautiful fall colors in evidence along the way. I love that trestle bridge between Barron and Cameron.
As we arrived at Deadman Slough around 15:15, we noticed Craig’s car, it turned out that he had beat us by just five minutes. What timing! Craig had been able to line up a shuttle from 9-Mile Tavern, a local resort, bar and canoe rental, which he expected any minute. We quickly unloaded the van and Craig hopped into his vehicle, Joel into the van, and off they were en route to our take-out point. Ben and I packed the canoe, hoping that the shuttle would indeed stick to the estimated 45 minutes. They certainly did, an old truck pulled up and disgorged Craig and Joel. It turned out that our shuttle driver had somewhat of a weighted foot, which facilitated our timely departure greatly at around 16:30. A parting shot with self-timer and off we were. Since mosquitoes were in evidence, homing in on my hands, I applied some DEET. I had just heard that some researchers, going through millions of natural substances by testing them on luminescent fruit flies had found a handful DEET substitutes that were wholesome, inexpensive and without any of the unpleasant effects of DEET. Can’t wait for this new class of insect repellents.
Craig estimated about a one hour paddle and we were close. The skies were gloomy but major rain held off, some light misting was all we had to contend with. The water moved swiftly and we were not bothered by irksome winds so paddling was very easy. Craig had done this stretch with his Indiana group over Memorial Day and the water had been extremely high at that time. Craig, Ben and I had done the same trip in October of 2012, with extremely low water. I had been a little worried about a pectoral strain I had contracted a few weeks earlier but the paddling seemed rather therapeutic.
We arrived at Oxbo Camp at around 17:30. Joel was kind enough to set up the tent while I collected firewood, remembering that when we had been at this camp site in 2010, I had encountered a couple hunting for grouse. After I had enough wood I began with dinner preparations. Just as I had a nice little fire going, everyone seemed to be done with their camp chores and started to drool over the nice rib-eye steaks I had marinating in some olive oil, garlic, lemon juice and soy sauce. After I had enough embers, I threw the meat on the grill and kept Mellie at bay who would have loved a piece of the action.
Steak sandwiches are almost done!
The rib-eye turned out to be excellent, some of the best we’ve had. We washed it down with some individual-sized bottles of wine that Joel had brought along. My blackcurrant Aufgesetzter was not as popular. I think it must be too much cinnamon and vanilla, will cut on this back next year. But if they just realized how healthy blackcurrant are … Actually, Joel insists that he liked it just fine. The meal was rounded out with some chocolate-covered pretzel crisps from Costco and another beer and some conversation.
I turned in around 21:00 and closed my peepers almost immediately. This must have been one of the mildest nights of any of our fall trips. It rained a little but not too much. I woke up only once but went right back to sleep.
Saturday, October 5--Oxbo Camp to Mason Creek Camp
I got up around 6:30, driven by an overfull bladder. I needed to wake poor Ben to find the coffee and pretty soon everyone was congregating around Joel, who was fixing his delicious blueberry pancakes and bacon. I guess the cowboy coffee in the French press must have been a little too strong, both Joel and I suffered later from caffeine jitters.
How about some for me???
Smell of coffee and bacon. Breakfast's almost ready!
Hard to believe that there are arachnids this size outside of the tropics!
While we were breaking camp, we discovered a good-sized wolf spider which had decided to make Ben’s tent her abode. In hindsight I am not so sure what caused Joel’s jitters, caffeine or a bout of arachnophobia.
We had an early departure at around 9:30 for the fairly short paddle to Mason Creek Camp, which we completed in less than two hours. Even so this morning’s trip did not go without a few adventures. When I tried to reign in the sleeves of my parka which were dragging in the water I bumped my hat over board. And during one scary moment Joel and I broadsided a submerged boulder in one of the many swifts and took in a couple fingers of water. Not much in terms of wildlife. I did see a pileated woodpecker, the obligatory bald eagles, Canada geese and frogs. No mammals but one fun sight in various locations along the river were swarms of which I am pretty certain to be riffle bugs (Veliidae). The reason for my identification is their small size. Unfortunately, I did not take a photo. They were busily running about the water surface. We did have a few showers but nothing too bad.
There goes my hat!
A very easy morning on the river.
We disembarked dry at Mason Creek Camp but did not have a chance to set up our tents when it began to rain quite heavily. This was the heaviest rain we encountered while awake and we quickly erected Craig’s gigantic Noah’s Tarp. Even folded over to half its size it covered the picnic table and some additional area and we huddled underneath until the rain let up. Fortunately it took not too long before the rain stopped and we erected tents, set up kitchen and collected firewood.
The worthwhile team effort to get out of the rain.
After chores we did some resting and reading and then went for a walk along the grassy service road that connected our camp to the outside world. We met a couple, they were on the way to the river for some fishing. The woman really enjoyed Mellie, she had lost her chocolate lab in the previous year and was just thinking about getting another dog. Her husband told us about paddling opportunities on the Chippewa River Flowage. Might be another good fallback option for emergencies.
Always important to have a good book along!
Craig working on his Reuben Soup
When we returned, I started the fire and Craig began with dinner prep. He was making Reuben soup, a delicious concoction of Reuben ingredients. I will make this a staple in my kitchen, easy to prepare, hearty and delicious! For dessert, we had gourmet marshmallows with Ghirardelli dark chocolate. Joel and I were the only takers.
Starting to rain, time for bed.
As we finished dinner with some wine and blackcurrant liqueur it started raining again and we made a quick retreat to our tents. The rain increased in intensity and did not let up until early morning. I was glad for the liner tarp on the inside of the tent because even a good tent seems to never protect perfectly from water seeping through from the bottom. Joel did have some issues with a Chinese water torture-like drip right where his head rested on his pillow and needed to move some. As far as we could tell the rain stopped after 2:00. Other than the sound of heavy rain drops and the chorus of snorers the night was quiet though both Ben and Craig insisted that they heard heavy footsteps in the woods and something crashing through the underbrush. But neither was 100% certain since the rain noise made sounds hard to distinguish.
Sunday, October 6--Mason Creek Camp to Hwy W Landing
The aftermath of a rainy night
Joel and I got up around 7:00 and Ben and Craig soon followed for a strong cup ‘o joe. Ben made a fantastic sausage omelet with toasted bagels for breakfast. Since everything was too wet to lounge about or to light a fire we broke camp (see funny time lapse) and departed around 9:30.
We were on the river for only another hour. I had the camera running the entire time. Unfortunately, the lens fogged up. Initially I thought that water had entered the “waterproof” camera but I stumbled over the fact that waterproof cameras have an issue with moisture condensing on the inside of the lens if outside conditions are cold. The moisture appears to be evaporated by the warmth generated by the camera’s electronics and condenses on the cool outside surfaces.
When we approached Hwy W landing, Joel and I noticed a boy with bb gun stepping out of one of the cabins. He looked up into one of the trees, took aim and shot. Then he pumped up his air rifle vigorously, which caught Mellie’s attention since this can only mean one thing: squirrel! The boy’s swagger cracked me up, I felt like he was putting on a show for us.
Landing at Hwy W was easy and we quickly loaded up everything. A quick farewell to Craig and off we went for the non-stop trip back to St. Paul.
At Joel’s we were able to congratulate Anne on her Twin Cities Marathon finish. She was still overwhelmed by the experience, bringing back memories of my only marathon in 1988.
During the week following the trip I removed about 20 ticks from Mellie. I did not find any on myself.
On this last morning we woke up to sunny weather, still air and frost. Our freshwater supply contained more ice than liquid water and I had to ask Mellie to sit on Craig's jerrican for a while to melt enough water for coffee. We took our time, got our potluck breakfast going. Pressed the griddle back into service, this time making eggs over-easy, which was less challenging than beaten eggs. Craig had provided some little-sizzler-like sausage which provided the grease coating on the pan.
As we were taking down camp after breakfast we noticed that the wind was picking up again, coming from a southerly direction. That meant another day of headwinds. Ben and I were more concerned about having to face some Class I water with little space to maneuver. But we took off undeterred. We saw bald eagles, kingfishers and a variety of waterfowl along this stretch. Not sure whether they are a little more active in nicer weather or simply more visible.
The first two unnamed rapids did not provide much of a challenge and we barely touched ground. During the calm stretch between the two, we came upon three otters having a little shore lunch, munching on a fish. They did not seem in the least bothered by our presence. They'd probably read about their cousin's attack on a swimmer in the Duluth area and knew that we humans would keep a respectful distance.
Three otters having a little shore lunch.
Negotiating Porcupine Rapids. Not much of a threat but we wanted to avoid
wading.
Porcupine Rapids 1 and 2 were fun to run and the only stretch giving us a little trouble was Porcupine 3, which was very wide and very shallow. This was the only place where I had to drag the canoe free. As we exited Porcupine Rapid #3, we started looking for Camp 41. I thought it was close to the big boulder river right but it was another 200-300 m farther downstream. No trouble landing here and good teamwork carrying everything to the car. After a parting photo I finished bringing our gear up while Ben and Craig did the shuttle. Craig would head for home after dropping Ben off at Dix-Dox.
After I was done organizing the gear, I took my ritual post-canoe-trip ablution in the Flambeau's cold waters and read in the warm sun while waiting for Ben. No trouble on the way back home, we made it back to St. Paul by around 1900. Another great fall trip!
When I drifted from sleep to doze I kept hearing precipitation hit the tent. It seemed too loud for snow but was lacking that certain wet smacking sound so I thought "sleet" and drifted back. At one point I needed to use the facilities and zippering up on my return I heard Ben's startled and sleep-groggy voice "Christian, is that you? Oh good, I thought it was some animal." Morning came, and with it coffee and breakfast. There wasn't much snow but enough to be noticeable.
OK, where's my breakfast?
Craig has smelled the coffee.
Ben made a terrific omelet with sausage, bread and bagels. My newest acquisition, a griddle fitting over both of my Coleman stove burner did an adequate job. The lip around the surface is just not high enough to contain liquid egg batter. It didn't help that the stove was slightly off kilter and that thus the egg pooled and eventually ran over in one corner. But after a while Ben got the hang of it and we all got plenty of egg and sausage.
Route and weather data for today. More info can be found here.
By the time we finished breakfast and were done with the dishes, most of the snow had melted. There was noticeably less wind this morning and we were glad for it. We made quick work of breaking camp and were on the river by 1130. Today's progress was not slowed by wind but rather by gravel banks lurking barely under the surface of the slow moving streams. Craig did much better than we and I want to say that this was due to the extra 5 cm of draft we had but it could just as well have been due to his greater ability to read the current. Either way, I got out of the canoe to drag at least a dozen times.
A little sun and blue sky makes a big difference!
Craig suggested breaking for lunch at Cty Rd W bridge. However, low water made access here difficult if not impossible. When we were able to pull over a few hundred yards further downstream the bank was mucky and covered with black, unsavory ooze. We moved on, like yesterday we did not have much more than 10 km to cover. Indeed, soon we noticed something that looked like bright yellow canoes near where we thought the campsite to be. Instead, it was an erosion run-off prevention fence near what looked like some earth trail work in progress. George's Island campsite was less than 100 m farther downstream and the first thing we noticed was a Caterpillar backhoe in the middle of a three-site camping area. Not very scenic but this was the last option before finishing the trip at Camp 41 tomorrow.
Almost breaking a sweat while unloading in the sun.
So we unloaded, this time under mottled sunshine which made everything appear more beautiful. There were some suggestions on how we could press the Cat into service, like using its arm to provide a support for a tornado-proof wind shelter. We ended up leaving it alone and erected the tents around it. A word about my tent: I started using this lightweight Nemo backpacking tent last summer and was initially disappointed. It was easy enough to set up but the take-down seemed iffy. However, with every setup, I found something else to like. It's sturdy, well thought out and the hangups for the take down just were items that required some getting used to. I am warming up to it!
George's Island campsite comes with its own Cat. No more worries digging
a latrine, collecting firewood or dousing hot embers with dirt.
There is the Rat Pack and there is the Snack Pack, in the proposed new Olympic discipline, synchronized snacking. Craig and Ben both have work to do on their makeup and their grin.
After the camp chores were done, we went for a hike to explore the vicinity. We walked along West Ln, which connects CR W to Camp 41 Landing and then struck out cross country towards the river and the trail our backhoe was breaking. The forest had a haunted quality, which was further enhanced by a light mist fallen trees, pale sphagnum moss and abundant pitcher plants (Sarracenia purpurea). Craig pointed out some rhododendron (likey Rhododendron groenlandicum) to me. Always good to take a road (or no road) less traveled.
Haunted woods.
Watch out, Mel! Carnivorous plants like young dogs on
a bed of sphagnum moss.
After our return it was lounging by the fire, chatting and reading. After a while, Craig started with dinner preparations and became rather frantic when he could not find the potatoes he had packed in foil to accompany his chops. We told him not to worry as we had enough bread to feed an army. He gave up after a little while and we had pork chop sandwiches which were excellent. Like yesterday, I made some mulled wine for an after dinner drink and night cap and like yesterday, I was the only one to indulge. A cold beer on a cold night just didn't seem that attractive to me.
Sometime after 2000 we called it a night and sought refuge in our tents and sleeping bags.
As usual I awoke early and got up to feed my every-hungry dog. I don't know, the way she behaves she appears to be in constant starvation mode. Yet she is and looks fairly well fed. After dog it was coffee for my human companions and me. A French coffee maker was "pressed" into service, extra coffee was poured into a preheated thermos, which because of the cold forecast I made triple-sure to pack. Craig joined me quickly and after we had a couple cups'o'joe we went for a quick survey of the vicinity. We took the interpretive trail down to and along the lake and on one of the signs we read that the area had been devastated by a wind storm in 1977. Many of the old-growth pines had been toppled but we were amazed how much the new trees had grown in just 35 years. Some of them must have easily topped 10-15 m.
When we returned we were met by Ben. After some more coffee, a light breakfast and doing the dishes we broke camp and got on our way. Craig would have liked to stop for a cup of coffee to study the map out of the wind, but all establishments were closed. I stopped at the Flambeau State Forest Headquarters on Cty Rd W, just across the street from Red's Big Bear Lodge. The friendly DNR program assistant Judy and a local guy informed me that the water levels were low and that the last dam opening had been before Labor Day. They both suggested to paddle downstream from here. Since I seemed undeterred, Judy asked if I would mind phoning in a report after we were done.
After a quick consultation with Craig and Ben, who had remained in the cars, we headed for Dix-Dox Landing just next to Oxbo Resort. We made quick work of unloading and the water level actually did not look all that bad. We helped Craig to get his canoe ready and set Ben's and my gear near the water. Ben and Craig left to drop off a shuttle vehicle at Camp 41, our finish point which gave me time to load my canoe and set up my cockpit, with compass, map and Garmin FR305 watch.
Looking downstream from Dix-Dox Landing to recreational trail and Hwy 70 bridges
After I was done, Mellie and I were headed for the recreational (speak ATV and snowmobile) trail just downstream from the landing. As I crossed the parking lot, I was greeted by an oldster in camo. Ed, an 84-year old retired butcher from Chicago was hunting grouse. we chatted, he came up here regularly to spend time in his late brother's house and enjoy the outdoors. He showed off a neatly gutted and plucked grouse he had shot earlier with his Belgian-made (as he pointed out when he heard that I was originally from there) Browning over-under. We parted, he headed for the only car in the lot and I headed for my bridge for some pictures.
Trunk Hwy 70 bridge across the North Fork of the Flambeau. When we went under this bridge two years ago, most of the boulders were under water. The car driving across is grouse hunter Ed's.
Ready to take off. Mellie (her tail), Christian, Ben and Craig at Dix-Dox
Craig and Ben did not make us wait too much longer and we shoved off. As we paddled down the river we became quickly aware of two facts: the strong westerly winds and the shallow water. It did not take long for Ben and me to get hung up. A couple of guys of around 80 kg each and 35 kg of solid black lab plus gear (even though we left a bunch for Craig to take) took their toll on our draft. But we managed.
Craig, closing in on the camp site near Log Creek. In 2010, Ben and David got hung up on one of the now fully exposed boulders, possibly the one top right.
Our first stop was the campsite near Log Creek. Craig likes to visit it because it reminds him of a past trip he guided with a group of kids from the Red Cliff Chippewas. They had a close call, this camp, at which they had planned to pitch their tents had been devastated by a tornado. I remembered this location for a different reason, this is where David and Ben hit a sleeper rock in 2010. Fortunately, unlike today, on that October 9, the temperatures were downright balmy. Today, many of the rocks that had been covered by water were fully exposed.
About 45 minutes later, after a failed attempt to stop for lunch (too muddy), we landed at the chosen campsite for today, Mason Creek. Total paddling time for the 10 km today was little more than 90 minutes but I am sure that Craig would beg to differ that this was an easy paddle. Where Ben and I were sharing paddling duties, he had to face the wind alone. Our only concern had been getting stuck in the shallows. Near the end of today's leg I had to wade and drag the canoe free several times.
Craig, arriving at Mason Creek campsite.
Ben, lugging up our stuff.
Once at Mason Creek camp, we carried our gear up the hill to the spacious and level area, picked our tent sites and set up camp. Craig and Ben took some time to erect a wind shelter since it was still blowing pretty hard from the west. There was plenty of dead fall in the woods around the camp site and soon we had a respectable wood pile that should last us through the evening hours and tomorrow's breakfast.
Today's weather made a wind break de rigueur.
Craig tells a story
We shared a beer and some stories around a mid-afternoon fire and then the short hike to Mason Creek along the grassy ATV trail in the woods. Several times we stirred up game birds. They took off too fast and all I could see was a longish beak on a smallish bird but based on habitat in the woods rather than wetland and the length of the beak I assume they were American woodcock (Scolopax minor) and not Wilson's Snipe (Gallinago delicata). It amazed me that Mellie, who was allways exploring ahead would not see or stirr up the birds and it was us, literally stepping on them who would get them to take evasive action. I guess Mellie is not a flusher.
Stroll to Mason Creek
After we returned, we spend some time reading, tending the fire and chatting. Around 1800, I set up the grill to cook the steaks. As usual, I got some nice marbled New York strip from Widmer's, the best meat market in St. Paul. Since I had re-sliced the steaks to make them thinner and easier to eat on a sandwich, they were cooked very quickly and soon, three happy campers were munching. The marinated tomatoes were an excellent topping. Note: it was so cold that the olive oil in the marinade had congealed.
Time to turn in.
As darkness fell, the snowflakes that had been dancing down sporadically throughout the afternoon began falling more regularly and around 2000 they drove us into our tents. In previous years, Mellie, who is after all a spoiled city and indoors dog had shivered and shattered her teeth throughout the night to a point that she kept Joel awake. This year I had come prepared and covered her up with a fleece blanket and my rain coat. No shattering and shivering this year. I read for a little while, but was soon lulled to sleep by the whispering of snowflakes on the tent walls.
With a new job this year I just could not help with planning and preparations as I had in years past and Craig had to do it all. He did not need much coaxing and jumped right into it. The drought in the Upper Midwest did not leave us with too many options and when Craig suggested either the Namekagon or the Flambeau, we quickly decided on the Flambeau since we thought that the regulation of water level by dam would provide some more regularity in water flow.
Our group of the past few years was pared down, too. Joel was dealing with his dad's recent passing and his mom's move to Colorado. David had a conflict, too and so did Paul, who is running for Inver Grove Heights city council. Tom, who had not been along but always wanted to had his anniversary and Jim, my past companion of four BWCA trips was headed for Lake of the Woods. That left just Craig, Ben and myself, of course including my faithful lab and partner in adventures Mellie.
By now we are old hands on putting together this fall trip and picking a location is probably the most complex task. The gear list is a no-brainer with variation for weather being probably the other major variable. That left planning for meals. We decided to meet at Lake of the Pines Campground in the Flambeau State Forest on Thursday night, so we'd have three dinners and three breakfasts. We decided on the following meal schedule:
Thursday:
Everyone for themselves. I volunteered to bring a prepared meal from home, one of my favorites, kale-potato-sausage stew.
Friday:
Breakfast-potluck snack
Lunch-potluck snack
Dinner-Christian: steak sandwiches with marinated tomatoes and fresh mozzarella
Saturday:
Breakfast: Ben: omelette with sausage, bacon and a variety of breads
Lunch-potluck snack
Dinner: Craig: pork chops with baked potatoes
Sunday:
Potluck breakfast with eggs, cheese, tacos and whatever leftovers everyone had.
On Thursday morning I was frantically finishing up everything, even though I had been fairly well organized. My employer had decided not to renew my contract the week before so I had had quite a bit of time to prepare and most everything was packed. Still, when Ben arrived punctually at 1300, I was just finishing up the kale stew. But that was pretty much it. We packed up, Ben reading through my check list which reminded me of grabbing the paddles which are NOT on my paddling list. We left a tiny spot in my Pontiac Vibe for Mellie to curl up and were on our way.
We stopped in Turtle Lake for a quick pit stop and Made it to Lake of the Pines by 1700. We set up camp, paid the fee and said hi to our neighbors who had just erected a gigantic Cabela's dome tent. They invited me to take a peep and while the tent could probably hold about eight guys in sardine-can arrangement, the two cots seemed to make this a comfortable two-person camping installation.
Craig arrived around 1845 and after he pitched his tent, we ate a quick but delicious kale stew dinner and crawled into our sleeping bags, away from the brisk wind. I'm always worried when sleeping under tall trees during a windy night and indeed I heard a branch break off and crash to the ground nearby before I dozed off.
Like every time I load two canoes rather than one I struggled a bit before figuring out how to route ropes and straps around canoes and bars, but as always I figured it out. The result was my Galyan's Woodsman III and Paul's brother's Old Town solidly welded to my trusty Yakima rack. Since I had started putting the canoes on the car before everyone was there we had to finish loading the car the hard way, i.e. stuffing the Odyssey through the side doors. Ben volunteered to sit in outer Siberia, in the sole third-row seat. In spite of the various logistics challenges we managed a punctual departure at 10:00 sharp. We stopped for lunch at the Turtle Lake Subway and resisted the urge to gamble away our shuttle money at the St. Croix Casino. After one more short map reading stop in Winter, WI, we arrived at Big Bear Lodge 1:33, just a few minutes after Craig.
Note the Big Bear Protecting the Lodge
Shuttle
Upon arrival we loaded the canoe trailer with gear and canoes. Craig and I followed Al TePaske, owner of Big Bear Lodge, to Camp 41 Landing and dropped our cars. Then we returned to the lodge, switching to the shuttle vehicle for the drive to Deadman's Slough. Al told us of a hatch of arctic mosquitoes that had survived three consecutive nights of frost and warned us of the beer ticks. He could have said bear ticks or deer ticks, too. Was a little worried that my fleece pullover would fall out of open canoe bag and end up on the road. Loaded canoes under war sun, just after some muskie fishermen took off in rowboat.
Ready to shove off at Deadman's Slough
Deadman's Slough to Oxbo Camp
Left the bank at Deadman's Slough at 3:00 sharp. Swift currents carried us along and made for easy paddling. We passed the muskie anglers, it looked like they were casting beer cans for lures (after our return, Lynn heard a news report about a guy from Ladysmith catching a 51" albino muskie). We saw little wildlife, not even birds. Maybe everyone kept a low profile because of the frequent shots.
Gorgeous Indian Summer PM on North Fork of Flambeau River
Most of the leaves were gone in this part of Wisconsin. Amazing, since this is barely further north than the Twin Cities. Must be because the most common trees are poplars and birch. The odd hemlock and maple were lit up in blazing yellow or orange. After only 1:07 hrs, a little after 4:00, we arrived at Oxbo where we put up camp for night one. This is the same camp site where we pitched tents in the pouring rain 5 or 6 years ago with Carlos.
Al's warning of the mosquitoes proved accurate, everyone was soon doing a slapping dance. A good cold beer helped a little, at least to quench our thirst. Gnats or not, we needed to gather firewood.
Hunting Couple and Firewood Gathering
I started to bushwhack away from the water in search of firewood. I almost immediately chanced upon a recently fallen dead tree, the branches still dry and not yet rotted. My pack saw made quick work of the long branches still attached to the mighty trunk and Joel dragged them off camp-wards. All of a sudden I heard dogs barking and a female voice beckoning the dogs to stay near. I spotted a black lab on the service road, noticing immediately that it was not Mel, because of the red collar. Pretty soon I also made out the owners, she in jeans and a shirt and he in blaze orange with bird gun. I wondered whether to hit the ground or to announce myself. I quickly decided for the latter, started waving my arms in the air while yelling "I'm not a deer, I'm not a deer!" These were serious people or else they did not get that I was just jesting, they greeted me with poise and gravitas and ambled on, still yelling for their dogs, the aforementioned lab and a golden retriever, who were befriending Mellie.
Steak sandwiches from Widmer’s
Since we had enough firewood I returned to camp and started dinner prep, which was not really much. Craig had gotten the fire going and the pre-mixed Martinis were waiting in a row. Since nobody volunteered to sit on the half-frozen steaks, I dipped the zip-loc bag in the river and just waited, moved Joel's tripod grill to the fire and waited some more.
The good steaks from Widmer’s introduced us to the "Word of the Trip," which Joel remembers as dilateral. However, it was sagittal, referring to how I cut the steaks to make thinner, more edible slices. It turns out that this was only partially correct as sagittal cuts divide a body with bilateral symmetry into slices. In anatomy, this would be the plane passing through midline defined by e.g. the navel and spine. "Transverse cut" dividing an item into superior and inferior parts might have been more accurate. I just hope that everyone had the “superior” portions of the steak. I assume my steak seasoning, a teryaki-like concoction I prepared at home found general approval since the bbq-sauce offered as a condiment was scoffed.
Nice rib-eye in the transverse or saggitarious or whatever plane.
While eating the various cookies Ben had brought for dessert, we discussed various topics and turned in when the chill of the night finally got to us. I distributed some ear plugs and retreated to the tent, Mellie and Paul in tow. Joel shared his tent with Ben and David while Craig, ever concerned with his loud breathing and everyone else's night rest retreated to his very expedition-looking mountaineering shelter. Soon, the silence of the night was only interrupted by various loud breathers.
Day 2: October 9, 2010
Mountain Breakfast in Dutch Oven
I awoke 6:00 or so when the plug fell out of my left ear. I snuggled in my sleeping bag for a few more minutes until the pressure in my bladder got to be too much to bear. Mellie was all in favor of getting up, too, so up and at 'em, before sunrise. I got coffee water going and was soon joined by Joel, who busied himself around the fire. During these morning chores Joel suggested a snoring-level rating for the various sleepers. Ben scored a gentle 2, David a slightly better 2-3, preceded by Paul with a respectable 6 and Craig's freight train-like performance scored a solid 10, both for volume and consistency. It was later suggested to bring recording equipment along to document these nightly performances.
When the aroma of freshly brewed Joe wafted through the chill morning air, the rest of the group quickly emerged. This year we had dueling French presses between Craig and my own. I was using Ben's Dunn Bros. Kenyan and Craig was brewing something from the South Shore of Lake Superior with a hint of hazelnut. Between both of us we kept the group well caffeinated.
Dutch Oven Mountain Breakfast in the Making
Craig and Ben started an amazing culinary production called Mountain Breakfast, from Craig's Dutch oven recipe book. From what I recall it was a cocktail (meaning layered) of pork sausage, hash browns, eggs, peppers and cheese. When the still slightly frozen pre-beaten eggs were added I wasn't so sure, but appearances can be deceiving, especially before cooking. The final result was as delicious as it was substantial, laying a solid foundation for the day's activities. I think everyone had seconds and I volunteered to finish off the leftovers. Take no prisoners, as my grandma used to say.
We made quick work of breaking camp and were on the river by 10:30. After the morning coolness, it promised to be another warm fall day. Our little convoy moved towards Hwy 70, enjoying the swift current and the occasional bald eagle. When the highway bridge came into view, a gang of at least 20 four-wheelers passed the parallel bridge for the recreational trail and we were glad that their route crossed ours instead of going along the river.
Spill South of Hwy 70
Reloading the canoe after spill on sleeper rock
We had barely gone a few hundred yards when disaster struck. As mentioned before, the river was high and many rocks and gravel banks were submerged. Except for few swifts and riffles the river had a smooth and quiet appearance, even in places where the gradient was a little steeper. This tended to hide some of the rocks that were just below the surface. The inverted Vs downstream of these boulders were almost invisible when approaching. Paul and I had just passed one of these sleepers and alerted the others. Craig and Joel passed but Ben and David weren't able to avoid a collision. The middle of their canoe got stuck, making it difficult to slide off. Slowly, the canoe tilted upstream and the strong current soon pushed water over the gunwales. David and Ben found themselves in the water and we all went into rescue mode. Craig shouted instructions and guided our unfortunate companions to the river's edge while Paul and I retrieved miscellaneous items. The canoe was quickly emptied of water and reloaded. In spite of our suggestion to change into something dry, Ben and David insisted that it was warm enough for them to let their clothes dry on their bodies. We relented because, according to a formula cited by Craig, the sum of water and air temps were not in the danger zone, i.e. below 120F. With an air temp of well above 70F and a water temp of around 60F, we were well within the safe zone.
During the stretch that followed we checked in with David an Ben but they kept insisting that they were drying alright. Craig wanted to show us one of the sites that had been obliterated in 2003, while he was camping with a group of young teens at a different site nearby. He is convinced that they avoided disaster by a hair, they could have easily picked the site hit by the storm, or the storm could have passed through the site where they stayed. When we closed in on the site, two muskie fishermen were working that side of the river. When we asked whether we could sneak through to get to the site, they said they had already decided on that same spot for their lunch. Since we weren't going to arm wrestle them over it, we kept going. We stopped at a different site, and had a quick lunch and stretched our legs. I decided to pass on lunch because breakfast had me still sated.
Camp 2 at Boy Scout Camp, South of County Road W
The paddling stretch after lunch passed very quickly. We went under the CR W bridge and passed Big Bear Lodge. Craig suggested we pick the first or second camp site as they were nice and open and would provide some sun to dry the wet clothing and gear. We decided on the second site, Boy Scout Camp 2, because it was just that much further away from CR W and the road noise. Our first find was a beer bong fashioned out of a hose and a bottomless plastic water bottle. It lay neatly curled around the fire pit as if the previous users intended to return for some more funneling. Far from using it for its intended purpose, we pressed it into service for dog feces removal when Mellie decided to "go" a little too close for comfort. The sturdy plastic hose was great to fling the excrement far into the bushes. We made sure to leave the instrument in a handy spot in case some other traveler or the original owners had an urgent need for it.
Pitching tents at this level and roomy location was easy. Firewood was plentiful and soon the camp was set up. Ben had most of his spare clothes in a simple duffle, consequently, they wer soaked and some water had found its way even into David's dry bag. Our camp site was thus transformed into a drying area for all sorts of items. The fire we had lit was alos helping to dry and in the case of some socks to roast some of the wet gear. Lesson learned: Good to take an extra precaution by wrapping fresh clothes in an extra layer of plastic, be it a simple garbage bag or one of those fancy Ziploc 5 gallon bags that David had sparing him the extra work Ben had had to deal with. The mid-afternoon heat (I can't believe I am using this expression in October) made more than one of us drowsy and some retreated to their tent, if only to escape the gnats. When the sun started setting, David began with dinner preparations.
David's Most Excellent Chili
He had prepared a hearty chili with meat cubes, based on a recipe from Alice's Restaurant Cook Book which we heated on the Coleman two-burner stove in the two biggest pots we could find. It looked and smelled delicious and tasted even better. Again, cookies, this time Paul's, for dessert and a shot of Luxembourgish Quetsch, a local rot-gut plum spirit. The biting insects fled the chill of the night and we were able to enjoy some stories, political discussions, an incredible starry night sky and coyotes yipping in the distance undisturbed. After this bucolic and by any measure satisfying evening we turned in and soon, the coyotes were outdone by the snorers.
Mellie isn't so sure about the coyotes in a distance
Day 3: October 10, 2010
I spent a good night, probably thanks to the well seated ear plugs for my tent mate Paul was in fine form, maybe courtesy of the firewater and chili? Later, the others would rave about the coyotes they heard all night long. I only heard the one during the previous night while sitting around the fire.
Boy Scout Camp, just South of CR W. Note the foggy center of the lens,
courtesy of the chilly morning and my inattentiveness.
I got up a little before 6:00 and mounted a little wood gathering expedition. I dragged some nice dry branches out of the woods. During my first wood run out I heard a great horned owl (Bubo virginianus) and on my second a truck with a pack of bear hounds drove by. When I returned to camp, Joel was up. I started the fire and busied myself with the coffee press while Joel began his blueberry pancake breakfast preparation. Like on the previous morning, the smell of coffee got everyone to emerge from their cocoons. Joel prepared three packs of bacon in the dutch oven and fried cakes in the griddle on the Coleman. The second burner kept providing us with more hot coffee water and breakfast was another great success. We kept eating until everything was gone.
The Girl Who Played With Fire--Literally or Literary?
Even or rather especially during short trips it is amazing how the packs get smaller and lighter. It seemed like we were down by about 1/3 of bulk and weight when everything was packed and loaded. Of course it helped that we got rid of unnecessary bulk, like e.g. the read and water-logged 2/3 of The Girl Who Played With Fire.
We were back on the river before 10:00, for what we anticipated to be a 2:00 hr. paddle. I had finally figured out how to set up the little GoPro HD Camera and made good use of it as we were moving towards Porcupine Rapids. The guide books rated them as C1-C2 but we did not know what the high water would do to them. If anything we felt like we needed to be prepared for more sleepers under the surface.
En route to the rapids we saw a good number of bald eagles, an eagle's nest and king fishers. a tree crashing into the forest river right startled us and we paddled by a few cabins. On one of the larger islands stood an abandoned cabin. The rapids were indeed a little larger than the ones we had seen during the previous days but they were still quite tame. Craig led the way and he was an excellent guide. Needing to pay attention for submerged rocks kept this stretch interesting and following the line drawn by Craig's canoe kept us out of trouble. It seemed that we saw the sign of Camp 41 Landing much too early, but there it was, the end of this year's fall trip.
I do have to say that traveling with a larger group has its advantages. Moving gear and canoes to the cars seemed like child's play. much easier to load the car before lifting the canoes on the rack and fortunately, I had not forgotten how to rig the canoes to the carrier. Within about 30 minutes we were ready to take off. We decided to stop at CR W landing for one last picture. We bade farewell to Craig and were homeward bound as well.
Homeward bound, not quite. Joel had sparked my curiosity about an American icon in nearby Phillips, Concrete Park when he told me about a bike trip on which he and Peggy had stumbled over this place.
When do you get to rub shoulders with a genuine copy of Silver?
Concrete Park, Phillips, WI
We decided to take the 15 mile detour and were glad that we did. We were much amused by Fred Smith's sculptures though Craig, who wasn't along, thought we might have been abducted by aliens upon seeing the photographs.
Prehistoric Mammals? No, a moose family including
papa moose, mama moose and suckling moose.
As an epilogue we need to mention the many welts we had sustained from the arctic gnats and skeeters. However, nobody had it as bad as smelly Mellie, I picked at least two dozens of beer or deer or wood or dog ticks from her during the week following our adventure.
Mellie and Bear Hounds at Fred Smith's Concrete Park
that David had sparing him the extra work Ben had had to deal with. The mid-afternoon heat (I can't believe I am using this expression in October) made more than one of us drowsy and some retreated to their tent, if only to escape the gnats. When the sun started setting, David began with dinner preparations.
