So, pack up and head out we did. My pack is a Kondos day-type pack and absolutely the perfect size pack for this kind of stuff. I use it all year long and it goes everywhere with me from riding in the cargo sled behind my Skidoo to sitting in the bow of our Wood Lake boats. It's been in -30 below to 90 above and covered in frozen slush and summer rain. My dad has the same pack and he loves his, as well. For the price, nobody wanted to buy them when they were on the shelf in Red Rock. Customers deemed them not to be "fancy" enough for the price when for $29 you could buy a cheap, multipocketed, multi-colored, book-style pack made in China.
Our Kondos Outdoors packs made by Dan & Vicki Kondos of Ely are bigger and far more useful than a number 2 Duluth pack and very comfortable to carry. They have a snorkel top with a draw-cord and a cord lock. You can overstuff them and still get the main flap over the top if needed. I've discovered a new use for them as well.
The portage today was really bug-laden and Delilah got really chewed upon yesterday, particularly her belly. She's a tough little dog, but those bugs really made a mess out of that soft puppy skin. In order to not make the little dog sick or devoid of more puppy blood, I stuffed her in my Kondos packsack. I pulled the drawstring closed around her neck and put the pack on my back, with her cute little dog head sticking out and looking over my shoulder as to where we were going. No bugs were going to chew her up on this trip. Once settled in the pack, Delilah seemed to think it was an acceptable way to travel and nary a peep did she make.
I trotted down to the boats and bailed one out while my dad negotiated the trail in his 82nd year. Of course there was approximately one million gallons of water in the boat. I found it amazing how boats are like insulation in your house. If it's working properly, it keeps stuff in or out without discretion. A boat that won't hold water won't float, either. I'm sure there is a paradox in here somewhere, but this boat floats really, really well.
My dad arrives just as I'm floating the bailed boat and getting organized. We pile in and head out to where those those jumbo perch were last week. This time, being armed with Ugly Ducklings and ultra-fine finesse steel leaders, I figured they wouldn't have much of a chance.
Upon arrival, and dropping our lines in with Ugly Ducklings and about twenty feet of trolling, my dad caught the first jumbo perch. A few more landed in the boat and the northerns were in there marauding as well. That's fine because we both like them and my wife Annette also likes northerns. So, less perch, more northerns, made no difference. Fresh fish from our cold water in northern Minnesota is all good.
While cruising around the lake a fast as trolling about 1.5 miles per hour will take us with oars, a walleye, a nice smallmouth bass, and more northerns joined the stringer. Despite the beautiful day with white clouds in the azure blue sky I had to aim the bow back for obligations waiting at Red Rock and Northwind Lodge. Of course, apprised of our homeward intentions, the wind has to pick up from the south and make its presence be known to the guy dunking the oars. Nonetheless, despite the wind poking me with a proverbial stick, we cranked up our lines and I thumb my nose into the wind's midsection and pick up the pace of that boat.
Upon the final turn round a point, a canoe approaches, heading out into the main part of the lake. The paddling men greet us with a friendly "How's it going?" We said something about it being "fine", "nice day" and other pleasantries of paddling on a wonderful day in the boundary waters. Then, I noticed that something was not quite right with that canoe and it's paddling duo. Their canoe was an older Wenonah Champlain and they were moving at a fair pace with bentshaft paddles that have been used for a number of years. They were still in good condition, but showing wear and tear brought on by years of use and landing on rocks and rugged terrain. They were both Bending Branches paddles - BB Specials, 14 degree bentshafts.
I yelled after them, "Hey, guys! You are both holding your bentshafts backwards. You are in effect 'shoveling' water and not pushing it."
"Really?" they asked.
I said "Yup" and they turned their paddles to the correct position. We chuckled, but in fairness, I did the same thing the first time I picked up a bentshaft paddle 25 years ago. It just looks like you should be using it that way until you analyze it. Not everybody analyzes what they do, however. Given the wear on those paddles, I was certain that these guys have been holding them backwards for a long time without even the slightest analysis. But that wasn't the real surprise. They flipped their paddles around and then I noticed the relatively "unbelieveable" part. Their canoe was sitting strangely in the water as it moved by us. Holy buckets - now I'd seen everything!
"Hey, guys! One more thing." I yelled into the crosswind. "You are paddling the canoe backwards!"
"SERIOUSLY?!!!" , replied the truly surprised bow paddler from his cramped position sitting backwards in the stern seat. It HAD to be ridiculously narrow for his knees.
"Yup!" I replied. "You need to both turn around and paddle it forwards with the bow up front or you are gonna drown if it gets rough out."
By now, our opposite-traveling distance (and our amazed giggling) didn't allow for any more water-borne conversation with the backasswards canoe paddlers. It really looked weird that the bow of that canoe would be about 10 inches high with the bow paddler seated right up to it and the stern would be about 22" high and a solid six feet behind the stern paddler. It looked really strange because it really was strange. As I continued to increase the distance between us, I watched that canoe move in zig-zags and confused circles as if they no longer knew what to do with themselves in that canoe on the water. They ended up paddling in all directions of the compass and finally faded from view around the point. It was like they lost all control in realizing that literally every move they made in the past 15 minutes has been completely backwards. All they needed to do was pull up along the shore, get out and re-sit in the seats the correct direction. Instead, they literally spun out of control like a robot with a blown directional servo-thingy. We both marveled at how it is that there are not more deaths in the Boundary Waters. But our day was not yet done with the portage still to cross.
We got to shore, locked up the boat and observed a HUGE pile of camping paraphernalia next to the water sitting on the ground. It was the multicolored extravaganza of city folk going on a camping trip. There were big folding chairs with cupholders, a screen tent, overstuffed packs, fishing equipment, a big propane camp stove, and assorted other heavy gear that some enthusiast carried for 210 rods (a rod is 16.5 feet in length) over rocks, and mud, and through swarms of mosquitos.
I get Delilah into the pack and this time Dad is going to carry her because I have the fish in my pack. As he takes off with the dog, he runs into two women who are dressed from head to toe in screened bug suits. They looked like space aliens. One lady had stuffed into her wearable screen tent, a bright yellow and white neck cushion - the kind you see people using on an airliner to sleep - a can of bug dope, a fanny pack and a bunch of other stuff that made her suit billow out like she had a few extra pounds on her. The other woman was stuffed similarly. When both saw Delilah with her cute little head sticking out of the pack, the woods came alive with adorable-ness and female words of admiration. If we weren't both happily married for many years, that dog in a packsack could have been the perfect "chick magnet".
Continuing on up the portage, I pull ahead of my dad to get to the truck to unload so I can double back and grab his pack. Once I unload my oars and pack, back down the portage I go to grab the pack with the dog in it. Then I head back to the truck and wait for Dad who's taking a slower pace.
At the truck, I unpack Delilah and put her on a leash. Another truck pulls up with a stubby little tandem canoe and two guys hop out. One wants to know if it's busy on Wood lake. I say "yeah" because I just passed the screened-in women with their boxcar load of gear, the guy from their group who was hauling in the canoe, the two guys paddling their canoe backwards on the water while holding their paddles backwards, the four guys we saw on the point where we caught the perch, the canoes in the distance, and the camp with someone making sun tea on the northern site. So, yeah - it was busy.
The shorter guy groaned at the prospect of others being on the lake. I noticed he was dressed "Disneyland Style" for going into the bug-laden woods and I commented that he appeared "ready-to-go" with his bug-screen pantaloons on over his short pants. He hesitantly replied that he'd "heard that it was buggy on the trail". I said , "Oh", thinking to myself that if one would only wear regular long pants instead of shorts, none of this "wearing bug-screen-harem-pants like MC Hammer" would be necessary. I mentioned that the two women on the portage were all dressed up just like that as well. As, I said that, the mosquitos were swarming in the grass in which we stood, but upon hearing that he was dressed "like the women ahead of him", he quickly removed his screened-in pants, wadded them up and stuffed them somewhere. At that point, no less than 5,000 mosquitoes charged up those Disneyland shorts and made him twitch a little - well, maybe a lot. He sure as heck wasn't going to show it however. "Real men don't wear bug screen pants" was the message I got out of this. The laughter inside me wanted to come out SO badly, but I repressed it gallantly. I think I may have pulled something.
OK, YES - I was messing with him. And it worked really well - for me. Anyway, my dad arrived, we said goodbye and good luck to the two new guys and back to Northwind Lodge we went. Delilah, as per her usual self, enjoyed the ride all day long. Another day on Wood Lake has passed.
Visit Northwind Lodge's Website
Visit Red Rock Outdoors
