Fiacré's spade: 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.