Boundary Waters, Days 6 and 7

Thursday, July 19

Thursday already! Time flies on vacation. The morning was calm with a little mist on the water. I had not yet taken any sunrise pictures and thought I’d better get to it. Not many days left!

Morning mist on the bay with rowboat and dock

Sunrise on the bay

Jane gazing pensively into the distance

The water lilies were blooming. The flowers open in the morning and close in the late afternoon.

Water lilies

While I was getting ready, Jane took another picture of the boat framed by the cedar tree.

Rowboat through the trees.

We had a good morning fishing. Jane caught two perch and two bluegill. She used twister tails until she saw a huge bass in the water. She switched to leeches, trying to catch “the big one.” It should be noted that she does not catch as many fish because she rows. She did not get the big bass, but did get another perch. Because I had the fishing glove, she swung it up for me to unhook. I looked in its mouth and saw the whole hook right down to the tip. How was it attached? The barb on the jighead was ever so slightly underneath the skin of the perch’s mouth. I would not have thought it possible.

I caught a couple a bluegill, a small bass, and a bass that was net-worthy.

“Get the net!” I said when it flipped out of the water the first time. I alternately reeled in and released the line until the fish was near the boat. And still Jane did not have the net ready. The net folds up for easy storage. Some assembly is required.

Finally, the fish was in the net. The hook was securely embedded in the lip. I don’t know if fish lips are made of bone, but it sure seemed like it. It was in there! After several minutes, I got the hook out. When we went through our fishing equipment before the trip, I made sure we put a tape measure in the bag that we take with us in the boat. The next task was to measure the fish. Jane held the ruler while I held the fish by firmly grasping the lower jaw. The first number I saw was 26, which was impressive but was also cm. It was 10.5”. As I looked at the pictures after we got home, I noticed that this fish was about the same as the one I caught on Sunday. Might even have been the very same fish.

A 10.5" bass

We fished until lunch and decided we’d had enough. It was a good drying day. When we were still taking canoe trips, this was the sort of day where we would get a campsite early, string clotheslines among the trees, and hang up everything—tents, ground cloths, towels, socks, even sleeping bags if necessary. We would put our canoeing shoes on rocks in the sun. It was a perfect, breezy, sunny, low-humidity day. Not being on a canoe trip, we took the opportunity to hang our towels on the deck rail. They never dry very well in the tiny bathroom.

Getting the towels dry was the only thing we accomplished that afternoon. We just hung out on the deck and talked. Warmed by the sun, I was overcome by sleepiness and took a little nap. When I woke up, Jane asked about the brown spots on the paper birch leaves. 

Brown spots on the birch leaves

I pulled one off for further inspection and saw that there was a worm eating out the inside of the leaf (the mesophyll, as we say in the business) while leaving both epidermal surfaces intact. That’s an interesting niche. When I held the leaf up to the light, I could see not only the worm but all of its frass (insect poop).

A worm eating the middle of the leaf. The black stuff around the edges is its poop.

We drove down to the Red Paddle Bistro for supper. We had our usual “Traditional” burger and fries.

We were back at cabin by 6:30. We played Mexican Train. I went down to check for loons before bed; there were none.

Friday, July 20

The morning was overcast and dead calm. There were few birds singing and no loon calls. Motivation was not high. We ruled out getting more leeches. Too much pressure to use them up, especially if the fish weren’t biting.

I tried casting a few times with a twister tail just to see if the fish were biting. I got some nibbles from the little fish, but nothing that made me want to make the commitment of hauling the chairs to the dock. Jane and I took the hooks and bobbers off and prepared the rods for the ride home. We had fished enough for the week.

We walked to the office to pay our bill, as we would be leaving at the crack of dawn on Saturday. We literally stopped to smell the roses on the way back to the cabin. There was a big rose bush by the shower house, the old-fashioned pink roses with wonderful, strong fragrance. We heard loons close by. Jane spotted them in the sky first. I saw them eventually, first one, then a second and third. Jane thought that was all, but three more suddenly appeared. Six loons! The most we had seen all week.

Jane repacked the kitchen box while I worked on my journal. We played Mahjong until lunch. Jane ate her leftover burger and fries. I made some chicken tortellini soup and ate the last of my yogurt.

It started raining while we ate lunch. It was never more than a gentle sprinkle. Still, I imagined canoers all over the BWCA reaching for their ponchos.

We decided to go to town in the afternoon to get custard one last time. The rain stopped before we left for Grand Marais. The deck and roads were still dry. There had not been enough rain to penetrate the trees. We took our rain coats anyway.

There were not many people at Sydney’s. I saw a girl pick up two cones, look confused, consult another employee, and put the cones down. Not a good sign. Soon a tall, strapping young man showed up with the giant drill and the ice-cream mixing attachment. He commenced mixing the chocolate into the vanilla, as is their custom at Sydney’s. He didn’t do a very thorough job, which was awesome because our cones were extra chocolatey, even if they did have a few spots of vanilla scattered through.

It was 54° in Grand Marais. We sat by the windows in the nearly empty dining room listening to early Beatles songs and watching the numerous Canada geese and gulls. Just as Jane was wondering if loons ever came to Lake Superior, two of them popped up. We were glad to have come to Sydney’s for one last exceptional cone to hold us over until next year.

It was time to get packed. How sad. It does not take long to scatter belongings all over. Still, it’s a small place, and it is quick work to collect it up again. It’s just not as joyous. We were both missing our recliners, however. There would be nice things about getting home again.

We loaded what we didn’t need in the car and settled into our last happy hour. We snacked on cheese, crackers, and summer sausage instead of having a proper dinner.

Last happy hour

The loon came back. We spotted it off to the left (the cabin is oriented at an odd angle, and I have never been able to get a bead on directions). I got my camera and went down to the dock, hoping it would follow its usual clockwise direction around the bay. As I was looking at where it had been, Jane said just loud enough so I could hear her from the deck, “Bev. Behind you.” There it was. Best loon shots ever.

The loon that popped up right behind me

Looking for fish

Posing coyly for the camera

And on Saturday, we drove home.

Boundary Waters, Day 5

On Wednesday, we packed a lunch of summer sausage, cheese, crackers, cherries, and yogurt and headed out for our annual drive around the back roads to Ester Lake.

On last year’s trip to Esther Lake, it rained the whole time, but we saw a moose. This year, the road was dusty, and we didn’t even see many birds. I saw one mammal run across the road. It was brown, two or three feet long, had short legs but was too stocky for a weasel, and a short tail. It was bigger than a martin and had a shorter tail than a fisher. I suppose I’ll never know.

As we approached Ester Lake, we saw another unknown small mammal, sort of like a muskrat, but with a short furry tail. Not a muskrat.

Someone had the nerve of being camped at our favorite lunch spot on Esther Lake. There was also a truck with an empty boat trailer in the little parking lot. We could have parked in the no parking zone at the boat landing and had lunch there but decided to go up to Devilfish Lake campground and see what was there.

There was no one at Devilfish Lake that we could see. We found a campsite with a view of the water and ate lunch there. It was lovely and peaceful. We were serenaded by white-throated sparrows.

Jane sets out lunch at Devilfish Lake

The view of Devilfish Lake from the shore

We’d had enough driving through the dust. In past years, we took Tom Lake Rd. down to Irish Creek Rd. on the way back to Arrowhead. This time, we went back out the way we came in.

Last year I’d read about a trail that went along the Kadunce River that I thought sounded like a good choice for us as it was described as easy walking on fairly flat ground. The guide cautioned against hiking it in wet weather, and that was all we had on that trip. This year, we stopped on our way to Grand Marais and walked a little way up. The Kadunce is a scenic little river with lots of cascades.

Looking downstream at the Kadunce River

Trees on a cliff next to the river

A small waterfall upstream

It was a perfect day for a hike, pleasantly cool beneath the trees. The trail was lined with thimbleberries which had grown enormous leaves in the shade.

These thimbleberry leaves were huge--maybe 10" from base to point

We went to the car wash, filled the gas tank, and went to (of course) Sydney’s for custard. The latter was not busy, for once, and we got a seat at one of the outdoor tables near the street. The custard was not as soft as it had been on Monday. We sustained no drips to clothing or persons.

Then it was time to head home. We sat on the deck enjoying our beverage of choice. Jane had a margarita. I had a glass of wine. We watched birds flit around in the treetops too far away to be seen clearly enough to be identified. One flew off straight over the cabin. I noticed something black and white on my pant leg that I thought was a bit of birch bark. I was just about to brush it away when dampness soaked through to my skin.

“Is that bird poo?” I asked. I was beginning to think of this pair of jeans as my unlucky pants.

Jane was still wearing her sunglasses and couldn’t see it very well. She did, however, offer to wash my pants again. That seemed too much to expect even of a best friend. I could wash the bird poo out of my own pants. I wiped the poo off with a paper towel first and then spot cleaned with soap and water. I tossed my pants onto a deck chair and asked Jane to hang them on the railing while I put on my sweats.

Meanwhile, Jane had discovered that her pants were also dirty. Our best guess was mud from the car wash. The pants went back on the deer antlers. Laundry at the cabin.

Somehow it got to be 5:45, and I thought I’d better be making supper. I took the chicken and tortellini leftovers from last night, covered them with chicken stock, and brought it to a boil. Presto! Chicken soup.

Chicken tortellini soup

We ate on the deck but retreated to the house immediately afterwards. The mosquitos were the worst they’d been, probably because there was so little wind. Jane washed up the dishes. We played Farkle until 8:00. We went down to the lake to see if the loons were back. They weren’t, and the mosquitos had not gone anywhere.

It was too early for bed. We switched to playing Marble Chase because our brains were tired of doing the math required for Farkle. We played until 9:00. I checked for loons one last time. Still nothing. There were plenty of calls, though.

Boundary Waters, Day 4

Tuesday morning was calm. We took the rowboat out to fish around the bay. Jane caught a nice bluegill right off the bat. She also caught a fairly nice sized perch. I got lots of strikes but didn’t land anything. I had an exciting moment when I caught something large enough to make us scramble for the net. Sadly, it unhooked itself before I was able to see it. Judging from the way it swam, I’m sure it was a bass. A little while after that, I had a tiny perch on the hook. As I got it close to the boat, I saw a large bass following it. I left the perch in the water, and the bass took it! I suppose if we’d been faster with the net, we might have gotten both of them, but the bass struck hard and fast, pulling the line out of the reel against its will. I released the line so it wouldn’t break. When I tried to reel it in again, both fish were gone, but the leech remained. It was exciting!

Jane caught another bluegill as we were coming around to the dock again. We were both getting stove up from sitting in the boat, so we pulled in. I brought the chairs down, and we fished from the dock until the last four leeches were gone. Jane caught a small perch. I caught a little bluegill and a perch. Mostly small fish bit at the large leeches, making the bobber go down, but not getting anywhere near the hook. Still the leeches had amazing staying power. We got 30 minutes of fishing out of two leeches each. We switched to twister tails and continued getting nibbles with no catches. We decided we had enough at 11:00 and returned to the cabin.

We had steak quesadilla for lunch on the deck. We took showers and got dressed to go out into the world. We drove down to the Chik-Wauk Museum and Nature Center even though Tuesday is Children Free day. It’s not so bad now that they have a designated building for kids’ activities.

The historic Chik-Wauk Lodge, now a nature center

One of our favorite permanent displays at the Chik-Wauk is of artifacts of the old-time fishing lodge.

Artifacts of the old-time fishing lodge

It seems romantic in retrospect, but the reality was a tough way to make a living. While there were exceptions, the general rule was that the husband spent the day taking (generally) men out fishing while the wife made dozens of loaves of bread and numerous pies in a woodstove, cleaned the cabins, washed sheets and towels, and raised the kids, if any. The romantic part is the idea of being in the woods, living rustically, and all the guests dining together in the main lodge at the end of the day, swapping fish stories, and having a sense of community that our modern age lacks.

We stopped at Trail Center story/restaurant on our way to the cabin. We hadn’t been in there for many years. The store is tidier than it used to be and stocked to the gills with dehydrated meals. The whole front part is floor to ceiling with shrink-wrapped food organized by content. I would not have guessed that there was a market for them, as my assumption would be that campers would either bring their food with them or get it from their outfitter.

I got a chuckle out of an old phone booth outside that was empty except for two cans attached by string on a shelf.

A phone booth equipped with two cans attached by string

I had poached half a chicken and frozen it in the poaching liquid before the trip. It got to the cabin still mostly frozen, so I put it in the freezer until we were done with the steak. I took the chicken breast out of the stock and sliced it. I sautéed mushrooms, garlic, and thinly sliced broccoli in butter and added wine and chicken stock. I added the chicken breast to warm it through and served it with tortellini.

Chicken breast with tortellini, broccoli, and mushrooms 

The wind died and the lake got smooth. We watched tiny circular ripples that looked like rain but could not be as the sky was clear. We figured they were insects, but what were they doing? I went down to investigate. It turned out to be small water striders that our friend Huck named “nellies” on a trip many, many years ago. The nellies only moved once and stopped. While I was down at the lake, I saw a loon and two babies far away. I ran up to tell Jane. We got the binoculars and saw that the babies were quite large, which was good. A few years ago, we saw babies that were much smaller, and Nancy told us that they were not likely to survive the winter. These chicks would probably be ready to fly by autumn.

The pictures did not turn out well because of the great distance. With a little imagination, you can see that the adult is feeding a chick in this picture.

Long-distance photo of loon feeding chick

And here’s another one that wasn’t too bad.

Another far-away shot

While I was in the bathroom, Jane saw one of the adults catch a fish right in front of our dock. I took my camera back down to the lake and got a pretty good picture of the two chicks.

Two chicks closer to our cabin

One of the parents popped up nearby. The chicks swam toward him/her and right into the light from the setting sun rippling on the water. The picture didn’t turn out well, but it was cool to see.

Chicks swimming toward a parent

Boundary Waters vacation, day 3

For breakfast on Monday, our third day of vacation, I sautéed mushrooms and green onions, poured in beaten eggs, and when the eggs were set, sprinkled chopped cheese curds on the top. Yum. Eggs with stuff.

Monday breakfast: eggs with stuff

It was quite blustery, ruling out any boating or even fishing from the dock. A few years ago, we took the Summit Express Gondola ride in Lutsen when the lake was fogged in. I know, I know, it was a stupid idea, but we kept thinking that the fog would lift by the time we got to the top. It did not.

We resolved to go down to Grand Marais and see how the lake looked. There was no hint of fog anywhere.

There were a great many more people at the ski resort where the gondola ride was located on a nice day than on a foggy day. The parking was further limited by construction on the bridge just before the entrance. The bridge was completely out. End of the road out. We got to the gondola on a walkway next to the construction.

The bridge was totally out before the gondola ride.

We found street parking halfway between the gondola and the Alpine Slide. The last time we were here, I’d thought about doing that too. It’s a luge course that I assume runs in the winter as well, probably with different sleds. It was $12 for a single ride. The gondola had a senior discount. The Alpine Slide did not. I wonder why. I wondered if I was already too old. But you know, I have done the zip lines in Belize. I could handle it. The brochure said you could control your speed. I would only be older next year.

The girl selling tickets spoke with a Russian accent. She explained that I could get a single ride bundled with the gondola ride for $30. That was not in the brochure. I had to sign a waiver for the Alpine Slide. This was the first time I wrote “59” in the blank next to “age.”

The girl did not judge. I don’t think she even looked. She took the money and printed the tickets, a receipt, and two coupons for $3 off burgers, sandwiches, or salads at the restaurant across the road.

The Summit Express was not so crowded that we had to share a gondola. 

Gondola loading platform

It was a beautiful day. The gondola swayed gently in the wind. 

Going down the valley

Here's a view of the cables and the oncoming gondolas.

The gondola cables

We went over a river cascading through the valley.

The river in the valley

We saw a deer amble through the clearing underneath the wires.

A deer heading for cover

And then we went up the mountain.

Up the mountain

We sat out on the deck admiring the clear view for a little while. I could see all the way to Grand Marais.

Lake Superior from the top of the mountain

Grand Marais in the distance

Jane on the deck

Me looking pensively into the distance

And we went back down.

Then it was time for my Alpine Slide. I was more than a little nervous. There were lots of small children riding down with their parents, so it had to be pretty safe. Right? Here I am with my ticket.

Before the Alpine Slide: me with my ticket

Jane walked up with me. We were delighted to find an observation deck where she could sit down to wait for me and take pictures.

I had never been in a chair lift before. That might have been the scariest part. A young man told me I would be in side one, pointing to a 1 painted on the deck, hold the center pole. The chair came up. I grabbed the pole and sat down. “Pull down the safety bar!” he shouted. Bar, bar, where’s the safety bar?  

Bar, bar, where is the safety bar?

I looked up, saw it, and pulled it down in front of me. I was off!

Up, up, and away!

Another young man caught the seat as it arrived at the top and directed me to put my feet on the shoe prints painted on the deck leading off to the left. I exited without injury. Whew!

“Your first time?” the man said.

“Yes,” I replied, wondering if I looked nervous.

He instructed me quickly on how to use the sled. Hold the handle in the middle. I thought he said pull up to go faster and push down to brake, which seemed counterintuitive. He showed me the best places to hold the sled to carry it to the track.

I’m bad at estimating distances, but it was farther to the beginning of the run than was comfortable while carrying a heavy sled. I was, thank God, alone at the top. I put my sled in the track and waited for a green light. And waited. I couldn’t see very much of the track from where I was. I assumed there was a sensor somewhere that changed the light when the previous sled reached a safe distance.

The light changed, and I pulled on the edges of the track to get started. I may have heard the instructions wrong, or the man may have misspoken, but the control went down to go faster and up to brake, which made much more sense. I was so glad to be alone on the track. I took it easy around the curves until I got more accustomed to how the sled responded. I got more daring toward the bottom, whizzing through a series of turns without braking at all. Soon I was approaching the bottom. Jane took some pictures of me, and then it was time to climb not very gracefully out of the track and lug my sled to the sled return.

Here I come!

Whee!

Look at me go!

I had done the Alpine Slide! I was proud of myself. Also vaguely nauseated, but I was sure that would pass.

Jane wasn’t very hungry either. We decided to have custard at Sydney’s for lunch.

The cones were ready soon and were alarmingly soft. It was a very windy day. Before it was all over, a big drip of custard landed in three places on my pants while more spattered my forearm. Jane fared better laundry-wise as she got sustained only one small dot of custard on her shirt.

We got back to cabin at 3:00. I was, as Jane would put it, “all gone” and had to sit with my feet up for a bit.

Jane volunteered for laundry duty and washed the custard out of my pants and the fish blood (from the perch that swallowed the hook yesterday) out of hers. She hung them over the backs of the dining chairs to dry. 

We had to grill the second steak, which had now been thawed for three days. I made a foil pack of new potatoes and an onion from the garden. While Jane grilled, I sautéed mushrooms in garlic butter. 

Monday supper: steak, foil pack potatoes, sauteed mushrooms

“Where did you put the pants?” Jane asked.

I pointed to the deer antlers mounted on the wall. I’d moved them from the chairs when I set the table, and my options were limited.

Drying laundry on the deer antlers

We played Marble Chase on the kitchen table after supper and had the last of the blueberry/peach cobbler for dessert.

Boundary Waters vacation, days 1 and 2

I have just returned from my annual trip to Hungry Jack Outfitters and Cabins near Grand Marais, MN with Jane, my best friend for 30-some years.

We left Friday and drove as far as Chippewa Falls, where we met our friends Pat and Julie for dinner and Connell’s Supper Club. Julie had read about their legendary onion rings on the website and requested a half order, which turned out to be enough to feed about 15 people. It was fish fry night. Pat asked for his fish fried while Jane and Julie got broiled. I don’t like fish. I had ribs. The baked potatoes must have weighed close to two pounds. After all the onion rings, I ate two ribs and two bites of potatoes and took the rest with me in a carryout box. We’d find room in a cooler somehow.

The Art Festival was in full swing when we got to Grand Marais on Saturday afternoon. There were cars everywhere. And it was hot! We came up to get away from the heat. The forecast had been for highs in the 60’s and lows in the 50’s. I packed long underpants, for heaven’s sake.

We were lucky enough to find a parking place near Sydney’s. I got in line for the cones while Jane went around to see if our bench by the lake was available. She came back shaking her head. The bench was gone! Our bench! Gone! Sydney’s had expanded their indoor dining room and replaced our bench with an impossibly low bench across the front of the building. We walked across the street and ate at a picnic table overlooking the harbor.

Jane and I got to the cabin at 4:00. It was 84°. We worked up a sweat unloading the car. We drank big glasses of water followed by big glasses of grapefruit margarita. Jane made steak on the grill while I used the leftover baked potato from the previous night’s supper for hash browns. I peeled one of the cucumbers I’d brought from the garden and mixed it with the leftover sour cream that had come with the baked potato.

Saturday supper: grilled steak, hash browns, cucumbers in sour cream

The next morning, I made blueberry pancakes with peaches on top.

Sunday breakfast: blueberry pancakes with peaches, maple syrup, and bacon

Thinking that it might be hot later in the day, I made peach and blueberry cobbler with the cream scones I’d brought.

Peach and blueberry cobbler

After breakfast, we got our fishing licenses (now $44, up from $39 last year)

I put leeches on our hooks and immediately got a perch. It swallowed the hook. I hate that. I couldn’t get the hook out, so I handed it over to Jane. She managed to free the fish, and it swam away sideways. Still, not an immediate kill.

It’s bad to have the first fish swallow the hook. It leaves me rattled and less than enthusiastic about fishing. But it was the first fish, and it didn’t seem right to quit. Soon we both lost our leeches. Jane switched to a twister tail. I put on another leech, which I quickly lost. After the fish incident, the leeches were creeping me out more than usual. I don’t ever catch anything on a twister tail, but then I wasn’t that keen on catching anything. Jane was getting lots of strikes on her line, so I too put on a twister tail. I got strikes, but no fish on the line.

“I think maybe the tail is blocking my hook,” I observed.

“You are supposed to move it up so it catches on the barb on the jighead,” Jane answered. “It’s supposed to keep the tail from falling off.”

I took a good look at the jighead, and by God, there was a little barb on it. If I had noticed it before, I had assumed it was an unintentional and functionless artifact of manufacture. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?” I asked. Jane was the person who first introduced me to twister tails.

Twister tails on jigheads: Top, right; bottom, wrong

“I thought you knew. Aren’t there directions on the package?”

“’I thought you knew,’” I said mockingly. “I learned to fish with bare hooks and worms. How would I know?”

“I’m sorry I held back on you all these years.”

Dang--there are directions on the package. Note: NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION

Well. With the tail correctly positioned, I caught a good-sized bass. “Take a picture!” I told Jane. “It might be the best fish we catch all week.”

Not-so-bad bass

I followed that up with another little perch.

Small perch

And a very tiny perch that was hooked from the outside of its lower lip in. I’m not sure how that happened.

Ridiculously tiny perch that was hooked from the outside in

Jane continued to land nothing. We fished until noon and then went up for lunch.

That was it for excitement/activity for the day We took showers and hung out on the deck enjoying the cool breeze. It was, thankfully, much more pleasant than the day before. We opened a bottle of wine. I made steak quesadillas for supper.

Steak quesadilla on the smaller plates

We played games after dinner, forcing ourselves to stay awake until 8:45. My, we are getting old.