With Voyageurs National Park practically laying in my backyard growing up in MN, Sherri thought that it was absolutely absurd how I had NEVER actually visited the park. She argued that this egregious act was enough to completely nullify any reputation of being considered a rugged outdoorsman, and she had a point. I attempted to throw a bunch of excuses at her, like how the mosquitoes in the Boundary Waters are so thick that you have to wear a mask in order to avoid breathing them in. This just made matters worse as I dug my so-called ‘naturalist’ grave even deeper. I have to admit, it was a little embarrassing, and this is how the journey of regaining my honor began.
Sherri and I had been shopping around for a canoe, but we eventually decided to jump on a tandem inflatable kayak that stuffs into a backpack. It’s kind of a no-brainer for lake travel/portaging, and boy did it ever shine once we hit the water- sleek, comfortable, and a total show-off when it comes to cargo space. We packed the night before in typical tornado fashion with gear strewn across any available floor space in the house and on the deck.
Day 1
We met up with some friends on the way out of town the next morning. Taylor and Amanda have a few canoeing stories themselves, and it was fun sharing tales of our water adventures. Later that summer, we joined them on a backpacking trip along the Superior Hiking Trail near Splitrock Lighthouse. Continuing on our journey north, we eventually reached the turnoff to Lake Kabetogama, which I had to practice pronouncing correctly for several days, only to discover that the locals simply refer to as ‘Kab.’ There really wasn’t much to speak of regarding the drive to the campground that afternoon, until Kab revealed its majesty through the trees as we traversed along a hillside. I’ve seen plenty of lakes in my time, and it’s easy to fall into the mindset- “if you’ve seen one lake, you’ve seen them all.” However, this area really was quite spectacular- almost otherworldly. The landscape took on an ‘edge of the world’ feel as the reflective water reached out across the expanse with curiously placed rock islands scattered about the water’s surface. It looked like a Ninja Warrior training ground for prehistoric Titans, jumping from one island to the next until disappearing beyond the horizon. Needless to say, we were really excited to get on the water the next morning. As Sherri and I watched the sun set on the water that evening, she appropriately commented, “told you so.” I humbly nodded, adding, “I haven't swatted one single mosquito.”
Day 2
We wasted no time getting up before the rooster’s crow, knowing full well that eager fisherman would be anchoring for an early start as well. However, our motivation was fueled by the fact that we weren’t exactly sure how far we could actually paddle in a day, especially considering the added weight of our camping gear. Regardless, we were locked into an ambitious 10.5 mile paddle out to our first campsite. Sherri was able to reserve the few remaining campsites that would enable us to circumnavigate Lake Kabetogama. After strapping down our gear, we piled into our kayak, and stealthily sliced our way through the foggy waters. Apparently, we would be the only true Voyageurs on the lake, earning our passage across the ancient waters solely by the power of a paddle and some good old-fashioned grit. It wasn't long until a swarm of motorboats started gunning it from the docks, speeding out to their favorite fishing holes. Each passerby tracking us with a sideways glance, as if saying, “that looks like way too much work.” Yes, paddling definitely ranks right up there on the exercise meter, but it’s smooth and steady, which means that you can cover some serious distance if you put your heart and mind into it. Approaching our midway point, we pulled up onto the shore of a massive rock island for a restroom break and a nap in the shade. One could argue that solar radiation might have been a greater foe than the water, and that's saying something since it's quite spooky bucking the wind in a two foot wide kayak out in the middle of an enormous lake. To our surprise, we actually arrived at our campsite early, requiring us to burn some time while the previous campers packed up. We decided to continue paddling to the end of the bay where we hiked into the backwoods to a hidden lake, completely secluded from civilization. Perched high on a wooded bluff, we enjoyed the serenity as a cool breeze gave us some relief from the 90 degree heat. Upon returning to Lost Bay campsite, we set up our solar shower, tent, and took a nice long swim along the shoreline. After fixing some dinner, we set up chairs and read while a pair of loons serenaded. After sunset, we finally started swatting mosquitoes, sending us straight into the tent. Each evening, we remained mindful of this reoccurring feast as mini vampire hoards revved up their fly pattern, echoing across the lake for a good hour or so, until eventually subsiding, giving way to the more familiar sounds of crickets and loons.
Day 3
We made sure to rise early enough to heat up some coffee, and watch the sunrise illuminate the foggy landscape as islands emerge in the distance. I scanned the shoreline with binoculars, convinced that seaweed covered moose antlers would rise up from the depths. We were a little more relaxed getting back on the water today knowing that we had a few less paddling miles to our next campsite (8.7 miles). Along the way, we spotted a pair of bald eagles perched in a spruce tree along the shore. Occasionally, one would swoop down and skim the water, scouting for fish. Thinking about lunch ourselves, we stopped at one of the many peninsulas that we had been playing leapfrog with along the north shore. As we rounded the horn, a powerful wind stopped us dead in the water, taunting us with how challenging this final push to our next campsite would be. The wind was relentless as we cut across the bay about a quarter mile from shore, making it difficult to track, cutting our speed in half. Reprieve welcomed us as we approached the shore, sheltering us from the wind once again. Before pulling up to Fox Farm campsite, we explored a nearby historic landmark set aside to preserve a botanical garden first developed by the previous land owners. The man and his wife apparently dedicated the later part of their life to creating rock sculptures, decorating the naturally terraced granite hillside near their lake cabin. After setting up camp, we took another dip in the lake, spread out our clothes to dry, and enjoyed the scenery while reading out on the end of the dock. Later that evening, a lone fishing boat zoomed into our corner of the bay. An older couple started casting, and before long, the man shouted, "Hey kids!" At first, we thought he was yelling at a noisy party pontoon across the lake. We eagerly sat up in our seats, ready to hear a good chewing-out by this old codger, who we were more than willing to back-up. To our dismay, we realized that he was actually talking to us. I jubilantly looked at Sherri and said, "Did you hear that? We're kids!" The old man held up a huge Northern Pike, and offered it to us. We thanked him for the kind gesture, but declined due to a lack of resources and motivation to properly fillet and cook a fish.
Day 4
The sunrise exposed one of the most satisfying nature moments of the trip. The lake was eerily still, without a single ripple for as far as the eye could see. This was fortunate, since an ominous 4.7 mile journey across open water loomed over us. For most of the trip, we safely followed the shoreline, offering shelter from choppy wind conditions. Today however, we took a necessary shortcut straight across the beltline of Lake Kabetogama back to our car. We charted a course connecting a series of islands that helped us feel a little closer to land. After pushing off the dock, we scanned the shore, noticing a strange coloration on a rock outcropping. As we approached the dark, mossy figure, our eyes widened as the shape started to shift and move. Fumbling around to find my binoculars, we determined that it was a family of river otters soaking in the sun. A classic sign that we were getting a little too close for comfort was when the otter on watch duty began bobbing his head back and forth, stirring the others. This was only the beginning of our wildlife viewing as we later witnessed a tussle between two massive birds of prey. Initially, we mistook them as hawks due to their brown color. After further research, we learned that they were actually juvenile bald eagles, not yet mature enough to strut that crown of white head feathers. On the final stretch, it was difficult to make heads or tails of any landmarks since the shore was so far away. As a result, Sherri got us pointed in the right direction using her navigation app, and kept paddling and paddling for over an hour until the rock embankment at the boat landing slowly came into view. After packing up our gear, we drove up to the Rainy Lake Visitor Center. To our dismay, this area was far too touristy for our taste, packed with resorts and summer homes. We attempted to hike the only trail that the park had to offer, but it was completely overgrown and poorly marked. Eager to get back on the water, we jumped in our kayak for a quick tour of Little American Island. We then headed back down to Lake Kabetogama to explore the Ash Visitor Center. We hiked a little over 5 miles tromping around in the woods to Blind Ash Bay, and later Sullivan Bay. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and a rewarding way to wrap up our initial visit to Voyageurs National Park. Next time, I plan on packing a collapsible fishing rod, and a fillet knife.
