What’s more demoralizing to the wilderness canoe tripper than a 30mph headwind? We’ve all experienced it before—you feel as helpless as “Paddle to the Sea,” handicapped by an invisible force. For your every one stroke forward, the wind takes you two strokes back. And here I was, setting off from sprawling Seagull Lake to mystical Ogishkemuncie Lake (“Kingfisher” in Ojibwemowin), deep in the BWCA, with just such a headwind roaring straight at me from the southwest.
I knew I was in for a long day as I launched on the morning of Friday, May 15. It felt like the Sahara Desert had suddenly relocated to the Canadian border: our cold, late spring had turned instantaneously into a dry, hot windstorm. Problem for me was, I was aiming to meet up with six friends to celebrate our buddy Truman’s birthday that very night, five lakes away…
War with the wind
If only I was in a sailboat, I kept thinking to myself. I could tack back and forth, zigzagging upwind to make headway. But sailing rigs aren’t allowed in the Boundary Waters. You know what is allowed? Common sense and smart planning; my friends have those qualities. They wisely entered on Thursday morning, in three tandem canoes, and got to “Ogish” before the forecasted wind went wild. But my pathetic workaholic self? I tried getting by with taking just Friday off. Now I was paying for it.
My first leg skirted Threemile Island—a natural windbreak. Upon passing the island, I hightailed it to the lee south shore, and darted between small bays until I made the Rog Lake portage.
The first portage of the season was idyllic – a sun-filled stream of runoff snowmelt flowing freely down the trail. Thankfully, I took waders for this trip, knowing from local outfitter reports that water levels were still super high. Springing through the crystal clear, ice cold runoff raised my spirits, as splashing in puddles does for boys of all ages.
But Seagull, as it turned out, had been just the wimpy warmup. The real wind ratcheted up a few notches right at noon. By then I was on Alpine Lake, and had to fight harder and harder to reach captivating Jasper Falls. It felt like the canoe was being lifted right out of the water in some gusts.
I crossed Alpine with the last of my strength, and by the time I portaged into Jasper, I was cooked. I quickly concluded my only safe option was a siesta.
Reunited with friends
After a three-hour journalling session, combined with hot lunch and lots of filtered drinking water, I was ready to go battle the wind again. Had I not had friends out there, somewhere in the distance, with Truman’s birthday celebration to spur me on, there would have been no way I got back on the water that day.
But motivation is everything in life, and I wanted to see my friends: three couples, all younger than me, who have incredible group camaraderie, not to mention a penchant for fishing success. I couldn’t abandon them and stay alone in the Jasper burn-zone.
This area was burnt to the ground in the 2006 Cavity Lake Fire, and there are still barren landscapes all around. Think landslides and bare rock. Together with the Saharan winds, Jasper was making me uneasy. I made up my mind, and set off for a final push.
Cresting through whitecaps, I managed to reach the portage into Kingfisher Lake. I crossed that little windy beast, then finally did a fifth portage on the day into Ogishkemuncie.
The sky was already darkening as I launched on Ogish. I was surprised to pass four occupied sites (everyone had the same idea as us to fish ice-out lake trout?), before finally running into my friends at their peaceful campsite in the mid-lake narrows. I felt on the verge of collapse. The whole day was a testament that life gives you the strength you need, no matter how big the challenge is.
Altogether it took me 12 hours (plus a 3-hr siesta) to do a route that Seagull Outfitters says should take half the time: “It takes a group 6 hours travel time to paddle/portage to Ogish from our dock on Seagull Lake,” according to their website.
The red fish of Ogish
The next morning, we set out for the “honey hole”—a place that Truman and his wife Becca had first found a couple years ago. Here, a gushing river drops down into Ogish, a big eagle’s nest fills a white pine’s crown, and the native lake trout come in shallow to feed. Truman and Becca were enthralled by the hungry lake trout and spectacular scenery, and their stories back home in Duluth were epic. We all signed on, and “T&B’s Guide Service” was born.
Within ten minutes of casting, we had our first lake trout on the stringer. A gold and orange spoon lure with a hammered finish brought a heavy hit for my friend Joel. “It’s my old reliable,” he laughed, as I unhooked his 19-inch native “laker” in the net. It was a thick fish, and we knew there was special meat on those bones.
See, the lakers of Ogishkemuncie are known for their bright red flesh. It looks more like that of a coho salmon, or a chinook. Meanwhile, a few miles away on Seagull, lake trout have a pale, almost transparent flesh. So what’s going on here?
Matt Weberg, MN DNR Area Supervisor for Finland Area Fisheries (and previously the DNR’s Grand Marais Area Fisheries office) says the theory is that flesh color difference comes down to a lake trout’s specific forage in each particular Boundary Waters lake. “It’s very possible that Ogish lakers are mainly feeding on zooplankton and insects. Seagull Lake, meanwhile, is known for its strong population of dwarf cisco, which provide the lakers there a piscivorous diet,” explains Weberg.
Whatever the case, human piscivores will enjoy keeping an Ogishkemuncie laker or two for the fry pan. Filleting these fish provides a visual lesson in fish adaptation to their environment. But let’s be honest – feeding on zooplankton and bugs isn’t exactly living off the fat of the land. Growth comes slower for these Ogish fish than their lucky Seagull neighbors, and keeping conservation in mind is key when harvesting these vulnerable trout.
Coming of age
With Truman turning 28, and the rest of the group (besides me) all hovering in their late twenties, this trip had the vibe of young paddlers in their prime. Case in point: Brett got up at 4:30 a.m. on our last morning to catch a beautiful haul of sunrise walleyes. Or my friends all single portaging, while I triple portaged my excess “accessories.” I learn so much from these guys; today’s paddlers have me beat.
Most of all I was thankful that Truman and Becca invited us all out together for mid-May camping and fishing. Our hangs around the campfire each night were full of rich, high-flung storytelling.
Each night I slept under the stars; no tent necessary with clear skies and no mosquitoes. The Northern Lights flickered above in the remnants of the Sahara winds, and the cacophony of bird calls at daybreak gave me sweet dreams each morning.
I also learned from my younger friends that I make things harder than they should be. I could have simply heeded the forecast, like they did, and eliminated my war with the wind.
On our way out, I followed their lead, and ran the short rapids from Alpine Lake down into Seagull. It took guts. It felt awesome. The best memories come from overcoming adversity (those Ogishkemuncie lake trout are my adversity role models now), and from sharing special moments with friends and loved ones. This trip gave plenty of both: the Boundary Waters way.
