This morning, one of our guests, prior to his heading out to Wood Lake for a day of fishing, asked me if he should bring along his .45 caliber pistol for bears on the portage. I said, "nah" because I haven't carried any sort of pistol out there since I was a kid.
When I was 14, I started guiding on Wood Lake, and my dad made me carry an old military .45 semi-auto with me in a leather holster. I used to put it in my pack and upon setting up in the boat at Wood, I would take it out and clip the belt around a gunwale stay on the seat. Every time I did that, there would be the sucking of wind and sputtering by my new clients as to the realness of the gun. "Yup - it's real" I would respond. Upon their questioning as to why I would bring such a gun along in my pack, I would always tell them it was for bears on the portage. That response would elicit "Ooooohhhs" of understanding and then the day would progress like any other day of wilderness fishing in northern Minnesota.
As it turns out, the real reason I carried such firepower was not so much for bears as it was for people. Yes, as shocking as it sounds, my dad wanted me to be scarier to the strangers I was guiding. With no way to know who they really are and locked in a confined space like a small boat with a 14-18 year old kid, nothing says, "Easy there big fella" like a .45 strapped to the seat within the immediate grip of the kid guiding the boat. Sounds cynical perhaps, but a healthy dose of cynicism and pistol makes for a consistently peaceful, fun-filled trip all the time. And, again, the other reason for carrying that 5 extra pounds of weight was bears on the portage. Ironically, I had no idea that my dad had a two-fold reason for bringing and displaying that pistol until I was about 40 years old when he told it to me. I always simply thought it was for bears. I don't believe I ever unholstered it even once in all those times I carried it.
Once I got bigger and stronger as is what happens to kids, plus having seen but never been bothered by a bear ever on the portage, I decided to lighten my load a bit and I began leaving the pistol home. Spending as much time as we did in the woods growing up, if bears and wolves were ever going to be a problem, we should no longer be of this earth any more. Don't get me wrong, all of our family members have had some pretty wild times with black bears here around the resort, but under much different circumstances. I respect bears, but I'm not afraid of them. Give them space, let them pass. Don't smear bacon grease on your chest and run around like an idiot and you should do fine. It's simple common sense and it seems to work since I know of nobody with any bite marks or the more obvious signs of being disemboweled by a bear. Being in the resort business, that is a good thing, I figure. I still get the sense that bears would much rather not be interacting with us and that's just fine with me.
I more or less explained this to my guest about going to Wood Lake. He's from out of state in a large urban area, and I've noted people sometimes are a little on the jumpy side while here in the woods. I always felt it was a bit more than required because we really don't have animals that attack people as a rule. There are no grizzlies and the wolves (so far) have attacked very few people world wide. Now that is not to say that these parameters will never change, but they have been the status quo for the last 50 years that I have been hanging out in the woods. Plus, sending countless numbers of people on canoe trips has only resulted in about a half dozen bear attacks of their food packs only and that is from 1976!
So, bears are not really a problem in my opinion. I suggested he leave his gun at home as it was just extra weight. He hesitantly agreed and quoted "safe than sorry" and I suggested he'd be fine without it.
He drove off to Wood Lake. In 10 minutes I saw his car coming back down the driveway. Did I forget the boat key?...the oars?...nope. He came into the store and said when they got within 150 feet of the Wood Lake parking lot driveway and he was signaling to turn, a large bear crossed the Fernberg road going north right in front of his car and headed right down the Wood Lake portage.
He decided to come back and get his gun. I hope he doesn't shoot his foot off or his wife in that panicky, jacked-up, shaky hands adrenaline rush that one gets when being charged by a large bear.
My money is on him never again seeing that bear. I'll know more tonight.
Free Advice for what it is worth: Unless you have extensive training and experience in shooting charging bears/animals with a pistol, I STILL say, leave the pistol home. Shooting targets at the range and shooting a charging bear are not even closely related. Plus, if you shoot a bear that is not on top of you trying to end you, you may find yourself in a world of hurt legally in Minnesota. I just think its a problem waiting to happen. I don't carry a pistol and have spent a lot of time in the woods. It's never been a problem.
Come get the crap scared out of you by bears at Northwind Lodge (kidding) Click Here
Showing posts with label wood lake portage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wood lake portage. Show all posts
Friday, August 21, 2015
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Another Day on Wood Lake
It was a spectacular day weather-wise and instead of cutting firewood, finishing up a siding job, working on the website which isn't working quite right, designing an ad layout in Photoshop, fixing some known areas that need some repair, cutting firewood and stacking firewood, I decided that I wanted to go fishing on Wood Lake again. I wanted to take advantage of the nice day and my dad agreed to come along with me and Delilah. We were going in search of those big perch we found last week. They were bugging me.
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
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
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Delilah's First Boat Ride
Alrighty, then... Just got back from Wood Lake - at 8:03 PM. The same party of lodge guests was there today, four in two canoes and two guys in one row boat. The four in canoes...who had been there before, all came back at 3:30 PM. I waited for the two in the boat to come back until 7:30 PM, but no sign of them availed itself. The fact that we're burning daylight puts me in full alert mode. I went to check with the rest of their group at their cabin and asked if either of the two guys had ever been to Wood Lake before. No, was the answer. I was a bit incredulous at the sheer lack of planning, but I had a gut feeling that this would be the case when I went to visit them. In fact, that was why I went to see them. Wood lake is a a 453 acre lake in the BWCA. It's easy to get turned around and I supposed that if they were lost, they weren't terribly lost because tonight was a nice calm evening. Nonetheless, I'd rather have extra time on my side than not enough so I make the decision to go immediately.
One of the younger guys (age 69) volunteered to join me in crossing the portage and heading out on the lake. I grabbed my guiding oars (I never lend them to anyone, ever), some PFD's, the boat key and Delilah. I didn't want to leave her home as Annette was visiting a friend and the concept of cleaning up the house after the little dog went nuts was less than appealing. Cookie was her usual sound, calm self, but she has no control whatsoever over Delilah. (I don't think she really even tries. She's a bit lackadaisical in areas of guidance and counsel and running far and moving for approaching cars, etc.)
With Delilah snarling at the strange-to-her guy in the truck, we took off. Got to the Wood Lake parking lot and their vehicle was still there. Bad sign Number One. I take my oars, the guy grabs the PFD's and off we go. Delilah is on the leash and as I'm moving fast, I'm really wondering if this was my smartest move of the evening. She's never been in a boat before. Cookie freaked out last time I put her in a boat. I figured I might have to tie Delilah to a tree and go. I get to the water's edge some 210 rods later and see Bad Sign Number Two: no boat with two guys in it.
I unlocked our second boat and pushed it out and my partner piled in. That guy moves pretty well for a 69 year old for his second round trip on this portage in one day. I loaded Delilah and he took the leash. After a some initial bouncing around, she stood on the floor of the boat like she's been doing this forever. Whew! I turn the boat around, pull on my oars and head the boat down the river towards the opening of the lake. I just round the first "S" turn and am about 200 feet out in the river and there they are. Whew, again. I didn't have to row very far this evening. My partner asked if we could just say that we were "out for some exercise". I smiled and said "Sure!" I turned the boat back around and brought it in to shore where I locked it up. That was a really short trip. We were happy to see the two newbies coming in completely intact with no issues. The one guy had two walleyes and lost a third having had no landing net.
I locked up the boats, and told the three guys that I would be heading back, One of the guys in the boat asked me if we were the "scouting party". I said that I was "just out for some exercise". I'm pretty sure he didn't believe me. I took off up the trail, oars on my shoulder, dog on leash. Nothing like the Wood Lake Workout to burn some calories off of my layer of winter fat.
One of the younger guys (age 69) volunteered to join me in crossing the portage and heading out on the lake. I grabbed my guiding oars (I never lend them to anyone, ever), some PFD's, the boat key and Delilah. I didn't want to leave her home as Annette was visiting a friend and the concept of cleaning up the house after the little dog went nuts was less than appealing. Cookie was her usual sound, calm self, but she has no control whatsoever over Delilah. (I don't think she really even tries. She's a bit lackadaisical in areas of guidance and counsel and running far and moving for approaching cars, etc.)
With Delilah snarling at the strange-to-her guy in the truck, we took off. Got to the Wood Lake parking lot and their vehicle was still there. Bad sign Number One. I take my oars, the guy grabs the PFD's and off we go. Delilah is on the leash and as I'm moving fast, I'm really wondering if this was my smartest move of the evening. She's never been in a boat before. Cookie freaked out last time I put her in a boat. I figured I might have to tie Delilah to a tree and go. I get to the water's edge some 210 rods later and see Bad Sign Number Two: no boat with two guys in it.
I unlocked our second boat and pushed it out and my partner piled in. That guy moves pretty well for a 69 year old for his second round trip on this portage in one day. I loaded Delilah and he took the leash. After a some initial bouncing around, she stood on the floor of the boat like she's been doing this forever. Whew! I turn the boat around, pull on my oars and head the boat down the river towards the opening of the lake. I just round the first "S" turn and am about 200 feet out in the river and there they are. Whew, again. I didn't have to row very far this evening. My partner asked if we could just say that we were "out for some exercise". I smiled and said "Sure!" I turned the boat back around and brought it in to shore where I locked it up. That was a really short trip. We were happy to see the two newbies coming in completely intact with no issues. The one guy had two walleyes and lost a third having had no landing net.
I locked up the boats, and told the three guys that I would be heading back, One of the guys in the boat asked me if we were the "scouting party". I said that I was "just out for some exercise". I'm pretty sure he didn't believe me. I took off up the trail, oars on my shoulder, dog on leash. Nothing like the Wood Lake Workout to burn some calories off of my layer of winter fat.
Bullets, Boats, and Bears
Well, spring is in the air I think. Yesterday morning was 25 degrees F when I got up and standing water had ice on it. However, Jasper Creek is really ripping hard right now and the water everywhere is high. We are at the point where it'll be good to see the leaves starting to come out as they drink up a lot of water. The ground in the woods is pretty wet yet.
Two days ago, I went to Wood Lake to check on our boats. I took Delilah on a leash to get her used to seeing new things and still remain with me or as least near by. Good thing I had her on a leash. I walked a fast pace over that 210 rod portage, skipping around big muddy sections, looking for rocks to land my feet on to keep dry. Delilah followed along in a trot but every now and then she would blast off in a direction of a squirrel or "perceived" animal of the woods. With a firm grip on the end of the leash, she would wind up doing an undignified backflip when she accelerated herself to the end. She remained unflappable (and unable to learn, apparently) in the whole "running out of rope thing" as she did it several times. She's still a puppy.
After about 12 minutes of walking on last year's leaves on top of this year's mud, we made it to the hill above the water. Only at this time of year with no leaves on the branches, can one see out into the endless muskeg towards Wood Lake from the overlooking hill. I could see that the water was really high. There is a waterfall behind the hill that comes out right where our boats are locked up and it, too, was roaring loudly. Delilah was obviously having a ball with so many new sights and sounds in focused oblivion smelling every scent of every animal that came this way.
I made my way down those same rocks that I have now crossed for an entire lifetime. At the water's edge, I turned starboard to use the little path that takes me to our boats and tied Delilah's leash to an alder branch. I flipped the boats upright and checked them over to make sure nobody shot them up over winter.
As a young lad, when we had our boats down there and Deer Trail Lodge had theirs, I remember the constant struggle with their lodge guests using our dock because it was built better than Deer Trail's. Then, their guests in utter laziness would sometimes simply lock a Deer Trail boat to the back handles of our boats so when our guests would get there, they "could" go fishing but would need to drag along a Deer Trail boat which was generally frowned upon as a viable option. Our lodge guests would have to come get us, we'd have to call Deer Trail. They'd have to send somebody down the portage with their key. We'd have to go there as well. It was a gargantuan pain sometimes. Everybody ended up doing a whole lot of walking because of one clueless individual with a lock.
Those boats from the other resort would truly drive us nuts. One year, the owner took his four green boats in the fall and stacked them upside down in a pile directly across the end of the portage. We were simply astounded by the apparent lack of concern for anyone else using that portage, namely in the winter. Lots of people would snowmobile to Wood Lake to go ice fishing as did we. Coming off the portage with a "gate" built out of 14 foot long, steel, green boats made for some fancy maneuvering and cussing by a lot of people forced to crash through the surrounding brush with their snowmobiles. A clear, open portage would have worked a lot better. That winter, those boats didn't fair too well. They ended up riddled with bullet holes -lots of them- through all the important parts and not one fired by us. Apparently, someone took out their anger - boat rage - on those Deer Trail boats. Based on the caliber, we're pretty sure we know who shot them up but we didn't have proof and nobody was terribly surprised that this happened. (Plug the portage with boats, somebody shoots up the boats? Nah!) Well, except for Deer Trail Lodge - they had to do a lot of repairs - they were probably upset. After that incident, however, he always flipped them over off to the side and had no more trouble with bullet holes. And, that is one of the things I think about coming down that hill to look at our own boats. Over the years, we've had bullets holes and shotgun blasts with birdshot from fall grouse hunters who couldn't find a bird so they shot a big red steel boat. We've always done our best to keep them tucked away off the beaten path and have been fortunate to not have a lot of vandalism. They were fine on this trip as well.
Another thing I think of when I get ready to walk down that final hill is a story my dad told. When HE was a kid, some of his guests went to Wood Lake for the day back in the 40's. Back then, personal flotation devices were not required but people brought along those old kapok boat cushions because even in the 40's, the seats got hard after a while. Sitting in one of our floating boats were some of our guests who were just getting ready to start the motor and head out to the lake. They suddenly heard a loud shot and felt the impact as a 30 caliber bullet tore under the middle guy's backside cutting a 14 inch groove in the seat under his boat cushion and then making an exit hole out the side of the boat 4 inches below the gunwale. It missed him completely. Everybody ducked, squirmed and yelled when they realized that someone actually took a shot a them with a 30-30 Winchester! What the...? It was spring time - NOT deer season! Who the heck is out there shooting and why?!
As it turned out, there were two escaped convicts from some faraway prison who were on the run. For actual motives unbeknownst to my dad and grandpa, they fired one round at our guests and narrowly missed a seated man's hip and butt by mere inches. Then they took off. It made no sense -shoot at unarmed people once without warning or robbing them and then take off into the woods. The authorities eventually apprehended these guys and caught them with the rifle. Initially, nobody could figure out what they were doing at the end of the Wood Lake portage in the middle of nowhere. Then it was surmised that they were interested in taking the boat and heading to Canada with an ill-planned escape trip. It made sense because we're are pretty far north and the border is only a hop, skip and a jump away. However, one would need canoes to quickly cross the portages at Hula and Good Lake to get to Basswood. Maybe they only had one bullet left and missed killing the guy so the other two would not have been very cooperative. Who knows? It made for an interesting day of fishing in the area that was eventually deemed God's country by the federal government or AKA, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness some thirty-plus years later. Unbeknownst to the vast majority of visitors today, many things happened in the BWCA when it was a just a mere wilderness instead of a federally-designated wilderness - which the same but with more rules. To all of us at those times, it was just rocks and sticks and water in the middle of nowhere without all the government restrictions and the fancy title.
This story, and my dad running into bears on the Wood Lake portage resulted in me carrying a .45 cal. 1911 pistol for the first several years of my guiding career on Wood Lake. As a kid, I used to pull that heavy pistol out of my pack and clip its army-issued leather holster around a gunwale bracket of the boat right next to me.
My new clients would usually gasp audibly and then stutter as they asked if the pistol was "real". "Yeah, it's very real" I would reply.
"Is it loaded?", they would query hesitantly.
"Yup!" would be my answer. "It's ready to go."
I would always tell them it was for bears on the portage. Some of the clients would nervously smile or show facial trepidation to their buddy on the other seat. Then, after the shock of having a 15-year-old with a loaded cannon sitting next to him in the boat subsided, they would ask incredulously as an after thought, "There are BEARS here?"
"Well, of course", I would reply and then tell the Cliff notes version of how my dad and his friend John Butorac had a big momma bear chasing them around in the dark one night on the Wood Lake portage. Coffee can of gasoline wired to a forked stick for a torch, stumbling through through muskeg, wet up to their armpits, feeling with their hands for the portage in the pitch black, not knowing where that 350 lb. angry bear was, etc. Fun times! It seemed that nobody ever lolly-gagged on the Wood Lake portage on the way out.
Since I was young and guiding many "off the road" people (who weren't staying with us and we didn't know them), I never told them I carried that .45 mainly for them. Nobody messed with me ever, not that I ever felt that any of my clients would. But who knows - I had a .45 right next to me a all times so it could have been a real disincentive. For the most part, they were all nice people. When I finally grew bigger and surlier, I left the .45 at home. It was extra weight that I happy to live without on the portage. An oar would have worked pretty well, had I needed it.
So, I checked the locks, floated the boats and untied Delilah. Back up that hill we went with the little brown dog tirelessly sniffing the ghosts of many seasons past. There were leaves to be raked, water lines to be turned on and remnants of a hard winter that needed to be put to rest at Northwind Lodge so we headed home. Our first people would be arriving tomorrow.
Two days ago, I went to Wood Lake to check on our boats. I took Delilah on a leash to get her used to seeing new things and still remain with me or as least near by. Good thing I had her on a leash. I walked a fast pace over that 210 rod portage, skipping around big muddy sections, looking for rocks to land my feet on to keep dry. Delilah followed along in a trot but every now and then she would blast off in a direction of a squirrel or "perceived" animal of the woods. With a firm grip on the end of the leash, she would wind up doing an undignified backflip when she accelerated herself to the end. She remained unflappable (and unable to learn, apparently) in the whole "running out of rope thing" as she did it several times. She's still a puppy.
After about 12 minutes of walking on last year's leaves on top of this year's mud, we made it to the hill above the water. Only at this time of year with no leaves on the branches, can one see out into the endless muskeg towards Wood Lake from the overlooking hill. I could see that the water was really high. There is a waterfall behind the hill that comes out right where our boats are locked up and it, too, was roaring loudly. Delilah was obviously having a ball with so many new sights and sounds in focused oblivion smelling every scent of every animal that came this way.
I made my way down those same rocks that I have now crossed for an entire lifetime. At the water's edge, I turned starboard to use the little path that takes me to our boats and tied Delilah's leash to an alder branch. I flipped the boats upright and checked them over to make sure nobody shot them up over winter.
As a young lad, when we had our boats down there and Deer Trail Lodge had theirs, I remember the constant struggle with their lodge guests using our dock because it was built better than Deer Trail's. Then, their guests in utter laziness would sometimes simply lock a Deer Trail boat to the back handles of our boats so when our guests would get there, they "could" go fishing but would need to drag along a Deer Trail boat which was generally frowned upon as a viable option. Our lodge guests would have to come get us, we'd have to call Deer Trail. They'd have to send somebody down the portage with their key. We'd have to go there as well. It was a gargantuan pain sometimes. Everybody ended up doing a whole lot of walking because of one clueless individual with a lock.
Those boats from the other resort would truly drive us nuts. One year, the owner took his four green boats in the fall and stacked them upside down in a pile directly across the end of the portage. We were simply astounded by the apparent lack of concern for anyone else using that portage, namely in the winter. Lots of people would snowmobile to Wood Lake to go ice fishing as did we. Coming off the portage with a "gate" built out of 14 foot long, steel, green boats made for some fancy maneuvering and cussing by a lot of people forced to crash through the surrounding brush with their snowmobiles. A clear, open portage would have worked a lot better. That winter, those boats didn't fair too well. They ended up riddled with bullet holes -lots of them- through all the important parts and not one fired by us. Apparently, someone took out their anger - boat rage - on those Deer Trail boats. Based on the caliber, we're pretty sure we know who shot them up but we didn't have proof and nobody was terribly surprised that this happened. (Plug the portage with boats, somebody shoots up the boats? Nah!) Well, except for Deer Trail Lodge - they had to do a lot of repairs - they were probably upset. After that incident, however, he always flipped them over off to the side and had no more trouble with bullet holes. And, that is one of the things I think about coming down that hill to look at our own boats. Over the years, we've had bullets holes and shotgun blasts with birdshot from fall grouse hunters who couldn't find a bird so they shot a big red steel boat. We've always done our best to keep them tucked away off the beaten path and have been fortunate to not have a lot of vandalism. They were fine on this trip as well.
Another thing I think of when I get ready to walk down that final hill is a story my dad told. When HE was a kid, some of his guests went to Wood Lake for the day back in the 40's. Back then, personal flotation devices were not required but people brought along those old kapok boat cushions because even in the 40's, the seats got hard after a while. Sitting in one of our floating boats were some of our guests who were just getting ready to start the motor and head out to the lake. They suddenly heard a loud shot and felt the impact as a 30 caliber bullet tore under the middle guy's backside cutting a 14 inch groove in the seat under his boat cushion and then making an exit hole out the side of the boat 4 inches below the gunwale. It missed him completely. Everybody ducked, squirmed and yelled when they realized that someone actually took a shot a them with a 30-30 Winchester! What the...? It was spring time - NOT deer season! Who the heck is out there shooting and why?!
As it turned out, there were two escaped convicts from some faraway prison who were on the run. For actual motives unbeknownst to my dad and grandpa, they fired one round at our guests and narrowly missed a seated man's hip and butt by mere inches. Then they took off. It made no sense -shoot at unarmed people once without warning or robbing them and then take off into the woods. The authorities eventually apprehended these guys and caught them with the rifle. Initially, nobody could figure out what they were doing at the end of the Wood Lake portage in the middle of nowhere. Then it was surmised that they were interested in taking the boat and heading to Canada with an ill-planned escape trip. It made sense because we're are pretty far north and the border is only a hop, skip and a jump away. However, one would need canoes to quickly cross the portages at Hula and Good Lake to get to Basswood. Maybe they only had one bullet left and missed killing the guy so the other two would not have been very cooperative. Who knows? It made for an interesting day of fishing in the area that was eventually deemed God's country by the federal government or AKA, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness some thirty-plus years later. Unbeknownst to the vast majority of visitors today, many things happened in the BWCA when it was a just a mere wilderness instead of a federally-designated wilderness - which the same but with more rules. To all of us at those times, it was just rocks and sticks and water in the middle of nowhere without all the government restrictions and the fancy title.
This story, and my dad running into bears on the Wood Lake portage resulted in me carrying a .45 cal. 1911 pistol for the first several years of my guiding career on Wood Lake. As a kid, I used to pull that heavy pistol out of my pack and clip its army-issued leather holster around a gunwale bracket of the boat right next to me.
My new clients would usually gasp audibly and then stutter as they asked if the pistol was "real". "Yeah, it's very real" I would reply.
"Is it loaded?", they would query hesitantly.
"Yup!" would be my answer. "It's ready to go."
I would always tell them it was for bears on the portage. Some of the clients would nervously smile or show facial trepidation to their buddy on the other seat. Then, after the shock of having a 15-year-old with a loaded cannon sitting next to him in the boat subsided, they would ask incredulously as an after thought, "There are BEARS here?"
"Well, of course", I would reply and then tell the Cliff notes version of how my dad and his friend John Butorac had a big momma bear chasing them around in the dark one night on the Wood Lake portage. Coffee can of gasoline wired to a forked stick for a torch, stumbling through through muskeg, wet up to their armpits, feeling with their hands for the portage in the pitch black, not knowing where that 350 lb. angry bear was, etc. Fun times! It seemed that nobody ever lolly-gagged on the Wood Lake portage on the way out.
Since I was young and guiding many "off the road" people (who weren't staying with us and we didn't know them), I never told them I carried that .45 mainly for them. Nobody messed with me ever, not that I ever felt that any of my clients would. But who knows - I had a .45 right next to me a all times so it could have been a real disincentive. For the most part, they were all nice people. When I finally grew bigger and surlier, I left the .45 at home. It was extra weight that I happy to live without on the portage. An oar would have worked pretty well, had I needed it.
So, I checked the locks, floated the boats and untied Delilah. Back up that hill we went with the little brown dog tirelessly sniffing the ghosts of many seasons past. There were leaves to be raked, water lines to be turned on and remnants of a hard winter that needed to be put to rest at Northwind Lodge so we headed home. Our first people would be arriving tomorrow.
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