Day 9
The wind roared around and through my shelter all night but the nylon held out until morning. One of the grommets ripped out (second one I’d lost on the trip) as I was cooking breakfast and that made the “tear down or wait” question a little easier.
Around 7, as I was finishing packing, it started sleeting which helped answer the question of “how cold IS it?”... It felt freakin’ COLD and I could see my breath...ugh! During the sleet, however, the sun shone through and I was treated to a beautiful rainbow. The sleet stopped, the sun and wind stayed and it was time to cross Gabimichigami.
Even early in the day, conditions were only marginally better than the night before and, with whitecaps along the Eastern shore I was again hesitant but, the decision to leave was made and I wanted to get at it. I paddled along the lee of the Western shore headed North until I was across from, and slightly upwind of, a long point of land which formed the Northern shoreline of the bay that was my target. The object was to make the crossing as short as possible, tuck into the lee behind that point and hug the shoreline until the portage into Peter lake.
Unable to watch the compass, the shore, the waves and wind direction all at once, I opted for keeping the boat upright and not allowing it to get turned broadside to the wind. Kneeling down and paddling like heck, I made it to the Eastern shore while still seriously questioning my judgement. Those waves, while not as bad as they had been the previous night, were as close to “beyond my ability” as I care to come.
Once again safely tucked out of the wind, I set about trying to determine exactly WHERE on the shoreline I was and it turned out that I had been blown about half of a lake South of my intended destination. I had missed the bay completely and was just West of Rattle lake. With no desire to attempt paddling upwind in the mess I’d just left, it was time for Plan “C”.
I ported into Rattle, looped around the Northern end of Little Sag, briefly mistook a game trail for a portage (honestly, sometimes I’m a slow learner), retreated to the boat, found the real portage and carried into Virgin lake from the South.
(Interesting side note: There is cell & wifi service at the top of this portage. On the first carry my phone blew up with texts & messenger alerts but, because it had been functioning as a “camera only” for so long, it didn’t even register with me what all the noises were until I went to take the next picture.)
From Virgin through West Fern, Powell and French, I saw no one and only a few on Gillis. This area was burned in the Cavity lake fire in 2006 and I was amazed by both the amount of regrowth and by the desolation that must have remained after the fire.
In researching the trip, I had read that the Forest Service views fire as a natural part of a healthy ecosystem and allows naturally-occurring fires to burn themselves out whenever possible. After the first couple of days, I was surprised that fires were not more common as the woods seemed to be filled with dead white birch and small dead cedars.
I was unfamiliar with Birch trees as my home state of PA is blessed with thousands of acres of hardwood forests but I’ve only ever seen a handful of White Birch. Frankly, I was shocked by how volatile that tree appears to be. A peel or two of bark from the nearest deadfall would roar into flame as if soaked in lighter fluid and there was no need for other firestarters.
I never did cut up a log to see how quickly it burned, although I should have, if only out of curiosity. I felt that the cedar made a nice cooking fire and, while it didn’t last like the oak, cherry and hickory with which I am familiar, it didn’t burst into flame & evaporate like I suspected the birch would.
I portaged into Bat and debated about grabbing a site (all were open and the middle looked really inviting with its cedar grove) but it was early so I pushed on reasoning that, if nothing was open on Brant, I would just finish out and probably reach the truck by dark.
The Brant entry point must be made for mountain goats. Every portage was rocky and uphill and it felt like I gained 200 feet of elevation that afternoon. From Flying lake to Gotter, there was a set of wooden stairs and, with no good place to lift at the bottom, I unloaded onto the lowest step and slid the canoe to the top.
The carry from Gotter to Brant was particularly rough as it was up & down with treacherous footing at times. As I was headed back for the canoe I met a young couple, Aaron & Jamie. She was particularly friendly and chatted away as Aaron stood, smiling, holding the canoe. She was well spoken, very pretty and very personable… With such a companion, I suppose I’d have been smiling too.
The second site on Brant (#545) was open and while I was checking it out, I found a stuff sack full of garbage along the trail to the latrine. My first thought was “how did someone forget that all the way up here?” but then I realized it was nothing but garbage and had been left there so that it was sure to be found and someone else would have to clean up after them.
I hauled it back to the launch, looked through it briefly in hopes that I could find anything to indicate who left it, made a quick wood run (although I always gathered what I would use, this was the first site I’d been to that there was none left from previous campers), set up camp, made supper and hit the sack.
