It's a rare weekend at the cabin that doesn't live up to expectations, but this past weekend went beyond: It was perfect in almost every way. Bright sun, blue sky, ripe berries, warm days, and a lake that was begging for play.
We challenged ourselves - but not too much - with a couple of afternoon mountain biking expeditions. We cruised Clearwater's shore at dusk, our kayaks cutting neat Vs through the glassy water. We watched the full moon rise from behind the wooded ridge south of the lake.
And finally, we managed to get ourselves out of bed in time for the sunrise and the ethereal mist that envelops the water on chill mornings. We slipped our kayaks into the water as the fog began to fade. Yet across the lake, it was still thick...so heavy in some places that it muted the sun to a pale orb.
We lazily chased the fog down the lake, paddling into heavy mist, only to watch the trees on shore gain definition and color as the sun began to burn through. By 7:30, the fog was lifting along the whole shore in ragged clouds, as though the sun had finally pulled back the curtains on the new day. We headed back to the dock refreshed - and hungry. (For a photo gallery, click here.)
Like I said...perfect.
And certainly enjoyable. But for the highlight of the trip, you only need read the title of this post: We canoed! At long last, our location, plans, and the weather aligned perfectly for a canoe day-trip. Friends of ours - two couples - joined us for the weekend. Saturday we set out to give them a taste of our rugged eastern corner of the Boundary Waters.
We packed a picnic lunch, then split ourselves by gender (that's usually how it works, isn't it?), three to a canoe, and set off down the lake. With a mile behind us, we landed at a crude trail head and made the sweaty 15-minute hike to the top of one of the Clearwater Lake palisades. Here, atop a windy cliff 400 feet above the water, we had a commanding view of the forested hills surrounding Clearwater Lake.
We quenched our thirst, munched on a few wild blueberries, and gazed at an eagle soaring on the wind currents above. Then it was back down the trail, through the hot woods with the annoying whine of mosquitoes, until we felt the breeze off the lake.
Back on the water, I took a turn in the stern of our "guys" canoe. My J-stroke was rusty, my experience with canoe steerage limited. (I much prefer to sit in front and motor along, enjoying the scenery without having to think about where we're going, or our angle relative to the wind). To my surprise, the nuances of keeping us straight ahead quickly came back. A bit of J-stroke here, a draw stroke there, and the periodic use of my paddle as a rudder kept us on course. Riding the wind, it was not long before the Mountain Lake portage came into view.
Ninety rods later, we were standing on the rocky shore of a quiet bay, exchanging pleasantries with a group just taking out of the lake for the portage to Clearwater. Tree-topped ridges with protruding cliffs towered above. As we paddled from behind the protection of a peninsula, we felt the stiff northwest wind sweeping down Mountain Lake. But our destination was in sight: an island that "may or may not have been in Canada" where we'd lunch. Lunch tastes so much better when you've been working hard in the outdoors.
By mid-afternoon, we were on our way back. Ever thinking ahead, Jenni suggested I shoulder one of the canoes across the portage. Sure, I thought, no problem.
It was easy all the way uphill. Halfway through the portage, the aluminum canoe's weight seemed to double (and it was the lighter of the two, I'll admit). It crushed more on my shoulders with every step downhill. It was never unmanageable, but by the time Clearwater came into view I was looking forward to getting out from under it. That was 90 rods...longer than many of our Gunflint to Ely Canoe portages, but far shorter than the 300-rod beast that would start the trip.
Jenni is planning to borrow a canoe for us through Wilderness Inquiry; I'm crossing my fingers that it will be Kevlar.
Back on Clearwater, I was again in the stern. This time we had the unforgiving wind in our face and whitecaps breaking against our bow. This time, there was no opportunity for me to question my lack of experience or doubt my abilities to get us safely through the waves - it simply had to be done.
We headed for the protection along the northern shore. Our whitecaps did not last long. An hour and a few miles later, we were tying up at the dock and ready for a well-deserved swim. Nearly every one of my muscles was tender the next day, but by our estimate we covered 12 miles - not much less than we planned to do per day on our trip. And it wasn't that bad!
Finally, Jenni and I can notch our first canoe adventure of the year on our belts. But it's probably going to be the only one until we launch for Ely, which is coming up in just two weeks!
We've still lots to do: meal-planning, shopping, packing. And Jenni promises crunch-time physical conditioning in the form of running and push-ups.
So, lots to look forward to in the coming weeks.
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