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Article writing can be a process for me. I usually have five or six partial articles in the queue and sometimes take long breaks from one before coming back to it again. Sometimes there are complicated graphics or illustrations to put together or lots of research to be done. Very rarely is an article reactionary or spur-of-the-moment. That said, this article is in response to a very special event that happened at the tail end of last week. Last Friday was an incredible experience shared by people all over the north as the sky erupted in one of the boldest displays of the northern lights in recent memory. It’s fun to see other people’s enthusiasm and how different a “big” display of the northern lights is for turnout than the average night out driving the backroads of Ely in search of star photos. Photography and writing are my side hobbies, creative outlets through which I can share my wilderness experiences and varied adventures. Whether it’s on weekend trips into the BWCA or on drives out in my spare time in search of wildlife, I usually have a camera along. And for me, photography and writing are my opportunity to tell a story, not just about me and my experiences, but about the people and places around me. As part of my photography hobby, I love keeping tabs on the northern lights. I have always really enjoyed star photography for so many reasons. It requires a more elevated understanding of the equipment and camera settings. It’s unpredictable in much the same way wildlife is: just because it was there yesterday does not mean it will be there tonight. And beyond that, the raw beauty of not just the photo, but the experiences around the photo, is incomparable.  Northern lights encapsulate all of these things from the challenge, the rarity, the adventure, and the incomprehensible beauty, wrapping it all into one unforgettable night. Even the slightest peek at social media or word from the news and one will see photos from last Thursday-Friday’s light show. This is the story of my evening chasing the lights, how I prepare for making the most photographically of a one-of-a-kind night, and how you can make the most of northern lights whenever they grace our skies again.

I had been keeping my eye on the northern lights forecast through the week hoping it wouldn’t show up on Saturday when I wouldn’t be home in Ely. I keep one of the northern lights forecasting apps on my phone which is really helpful in not only following when the lights will be out, but also for tracking things like moonrise and moonset times which impact the experience. As the forecast began to solidify, it looked like a better and better chance that I would get to enjoy them midweek. I wasn’t as adequately prepared as I would have liked (what else is new) but, as the predicted big day arrived, I was excited for the evening ahead.

8:00 – My girlfriend and I gear up to head out. I note that, though the sky isn’t even all the way dark yet, the lights are already dancing. For people trying to get into northern lights photography for the first time, we have now arrived at a crucial first question: where do we go to see the lights? Of course, dark sky is best with as few artificial lights nearby or north of you as possible. In Ely, artificial light is pretty easy to avoid. Personally, my philosophy is to go to boat landings that may not specifically be facing north when I’m heading out in the winter. Good photography to me is taking pictures that are unique from the hundreds of other photographers out there and the first step is the context. I try to avoid taking pictures of instantly recognizable places or, if I am at a recognizable place, finding ways to gain a unique perspective either through the style of photography, the season, or the story surrounding the photo. I save the landings with nice northern exposures for open water season when I need a quick photo outing. In the winter, one can gain a northern view simply by walking a short way out onto any frozen lake. To start our night Thursday, we were breaking this philosophy. We both knew that my girlfriend had a couple of hours of lights time before sleep and I would likely head back out for more. So we headed to a predictable spot on Fall Lake.

9:00 -As mentioned earlier, it’s amusing the fanfare that surrounds the big northern lights nights. We arrive at Fall Lake to what can only be described as a carnival. Cars are parked every which way in the road, in the parking spots, and sideways in parking spots as people are frantically making their way towards the water. There’s already a bulwark of tripods and cameras barricading the end of the boat landing and plenty of smart phones out too. For those following along, this is exactly what I try to avoid in photography! As much as the social aspect can be amusing, when long exposure times and steady cameras are essential (ie: all low-light photography), varying levels of consideration and awareness found in a crowd of photographers and want-to-be-photographers is a recipe for frustration. As the yelling and laughing escalates, we head further and further out into the lake away from the brouhaha.

Northern lights reaching into the southern horizon with the lights of Ely and the Moon visible.

9:30 – Northern lights are well overhead as the moon begins to set. It’s already an incredibly special night as a great band of light reaches from eastern to western horizon. We move out to a spot along Mile Island and wait for the show.

10:00 – Just before 10, the lights on the eastern horizon begin to intensify dramatically. The lights directly overhead began to pulse in a rapid beat. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, the sky erupts in color as the entire sky becomes lights moving, shifting, pulsing towards the center above us. Moments like this are incredibly challenging for the photographer to capture. It’s easy to frame northern lights when they stay north. When they begin to fill the rest of the sky, they tend to supersede the scope of a lens. The settings also become difficult as the increase of light and the motion of the lights negates normal star photo settings which usually make for a blurry and overly bright northern lights photo. The best of the show lasts for close to thirty minutes before fading in intensity, though plenty of movement is still seen.

Big lights on Fall Lake

11:00 – After the main show, my girlfriend calls it a night. We head back, say goodnight, and I swap over to my car. I head back out solo for as long as the lights are worth photographing, but now I’m in search for quieter locations. I start up the Echo to see what I can find. The Bass Lake parking lot, so often a mecca of activity during the day, is empty. I guess a lot of tonight’s crowd are content to not hike too far from the vehicle! I grab my camera and start for the trail to the lake. The lights are still visibly pulsing though they are nowhere near as intense as they had been an hour before. I reach the lake just before 11:45.

11:45 – It’s surreal to have Bass this quiet with the sound of Dry Falls echoing in the stillness of a winter’s evening. There’s lots of slush on top of the ice on Bass and, despite staying in the snowmobile track, the mukluks begin to take on some water. I start taking photos as the lights still stretch all the way across the sky, nicely framed by the steep topography around Bass Lake. I spent about twenty minutes on Bass and decide to head for the car as the lights head into a lull. On a night like tonight with so much variety of the lights, I like to make the most of the experience by taking photos in lots of different locations. Not but 10 steps into the trail, a chill goes down my spine as a single wolf begins to howl between me and the parking lot. It’s still a good distance out, but close enough. I am a wolf lover and believe they have been and continue to be wrongfully villainized more than just about any other species. Even still, somewhere in the primeval recesses of my psyche, walking towards a wolf in the dark solo is enough to put me just a little on edge. That one wolf would only howl for about twenty seconds total and wouldn’t be heard again. After it was done, a large pack began howling from one of the ridges on Bass as their calls echoed down the valley. I hurried up my steps all the same and made it back to my car. On to the next spot.

12:20 – I drove north and stopped briefly at Minister Lake before pushing further on to the North Arm of Burntside. I could see through my car window that the lights were still pulsing and there was still a consistent band across the sky.

12:45 – I parked my car close to the turnoff to Slim and walked down to the public landing. There was a slender finger of light sticking up from the northeast and widening as it reached towards the southwest. I started hiking down the shoreline mostly for warmth’s sake. It’s important to remember that a lot of northern light photography time is spent waiting, and in that way it’s important to dress like a spectator to a sporting event. Dress warmer than you think you ought! I certainly was not dressed warmly enough this day and the temperature was dropping noticeably. Must keep moving!

1:00 – Similarly to the first explosion of light, this next burst came on quickly. The thin ribbon of light across the sky began to widen and then it began to fray with little offshoots pulsating across the sky. Suddenly, the western horizon turned purple and the sky was full of light again. This is where the northern lights can be a guessing game. In this moment, I was incredibly grateful that I had stayed out or I would have missed this major surge, but just because I waited didn’t mean there was going to be more! Sometimes the lights just sit in place and never improve. Sometimes they vanish altogether. But this was a particularly volatile night and, just as fast as the lights can sometimes disappear, this night they would suddenly surge into an incredible show.

1:30 – The lights were still putting on quite the spectacle with fingers of pulsing light reaching further and further south and again seeming to move towards a middle spot in the sky. I had worked my way south towards the first island in the North Arm of Burntside. Suddenly I felt my foot sink. Those who’ve walked on lakes long enough know the feeling of slush instantly grabbing hold of one’s foot. Soon enough, both feet had found their treatment and began to freeze. Over the previous twenty minutes, a dense fog had settled in casting an eerie tone on the light show. At one point, it had become thick enough to nearly obscure the shoreline. Then the oddest thing happened: it vanished. In less than a minute’s time, the fog lifted and the lake was clear again. How strange!

2:00 – The light show finally faded back to its gentle, rhythmic movements and pale shades of green. I was nearly back to my car, taking pictures along the way, when my first camera battery ran out. Long-exposure photos, especially in cold weather, can really eat battery life! Thankfully, I finally came prepared and had three extras along. I jumped in the car to get the ice-block-mukluks thawed. Next stop would be town for some gas and then back out.

2:45 – I had made it down the Echo,  filled up the tank, eaten a snack, and made it back out in search of more lights photography. My next stop would be the two Kawishiwi crossings of Highway 1 in search of open water for northern lights reflections. This was also a change in photography style for me as I made the switch from hiking in and around in search of spots to more drive-between a bunch of unique stops. This would allow me to quickly rack up a good variety of scenery and, with it now well after two, most folks had called it a night. I stopped at both of the Kawishiwi crossings at 3:00 and 3:05 respectively. The lights were still out but were in a bit of a lull.

3:22 – I had driven past the airport and was amazed how bright the northern lights were that I could see them even behind the spotlight. I made a stop at the Blueberry Creek as the northern lights grew brighter again.

3:30 – After a quick stop at the Bear Island River, I pulled into the public landing for One Pine Lake. By now the lights were really bright again and were forming this really unique halo in the sky. I snapped what pictures I could and took some moments to enjoy it all.

3:45 – I moved over to Johnson Lake whose public access road was not plowed like Blueberry or One Pine had been, but a few trucks had blazed the trail previously. The lights were creating a graceful sweeping pattern across the sky. It was clear by this point that the best of the lights were done, but what remained was still better than many of the light shows we have had this winter. I pushed on to keep working my way public landing to public landing and creek to creek as I took the scenic route home.

3:55 – I pulled over alongside the very scenic Johnson Creek. There was open water in the creek which provided some reflections as the lights continued to dance across the sky. This is also where two different cars passed by, the first I had seen in some hours. I wondered if either of them were out for the lights.

4:05 – I made one last quick stop at the other crossing of Johnson Creek as my final photo of the evening before working my way home. My driveway full of snow demanded my attention, so some middle-of-the-night shoveling helped me wind down from the excitement of the evening as lights still danced in the heavens above me. This was a special night I’ll always remember and the extent to which I was able to enjoy them help remind me how lucky I am to live in this special place on the edge of wild spaces. By about 5:00, I was happily in bed, trying my best to fall asleep with the knowledge that work was a mere four hours away. For now, I can enjoy the pictures and wait in eager anticipation for the next time that the northern lights appear and fill the star-speckled skies with radiant color as their atmospheric waltz inspires and fills with wonder.

 





Today is the International Day of Forests which means it’s the perfect day to celebrate the trees of the BWCA. The Boundary Waters are a unique mosaic of forests born out of wildfire, windstorms, logging, and the passage of time. Despite the history of disturbance, the Boundary Waters contain the largest tracts of old growth forest left in the state of Minnesota. It is also one of the last semi-intact fire regimes anywhere east of the Mississippi. As a child taking my first trips, I remember being fascinated with the trees. As my dad tried his best to keep our stern-heavy canoe straight, he would find himself bombarded with questions about every tree. “Why is that cedar leaning?” “How old are those pines?” “Why did this big pine tree blow over?” And on and on it went. And as an adult, the trees of the BWCA still fascinate me. Each species and, in fact, every individual has a story to tell of adversity and challenges overcome. Trees cannot run away from their problems the way animals or people can and, because of that, trees can actually be some of the best story tellers for those who have learned how to “listen.” They bear the scars of the world they live in. Want to know when the last fire was? Go to the trees. Want to learn stories about droughts and floods over one-hundred years ago? A tree can tell you. Want to learn about storms, heavy snowfall, strong winds, glacial deposits, soil-moisture content, wildlife populations, or how cold the winters are even if you haven’t experienced these things for yourself? To some degree, trees preserve the stories about all these things and, to the studious observer, lend a perspective of the wild world that is rich and invaluable. For this article, we’ll be covering fifteen species of trees one can find in the BWCA, some of their characteristics, which of these stories they can tell us, and where you can see some of these majestic trees for yourself. This is not an all-inclusive list. Seek out those other species for their unique contributions to the ecosystem.

Jack Pine: No species in canoe country is as directly entwined with fire as the jack pine. It has a special adaptation called serotinous cones specially adapted to only open in the heat of an intense wildfire. When a fire clears the canopy, the cones open in full sun and jack pine can completely take over the barren landscape. Simply paddle some of the areas affected by the big fires like Ham, Cavity, or Pagami and you will see the wispy tops of jack pines shooting up by 3 or 4 feet in height every year. With time, the jack pine start dying off, somewhere just past the 100 year mark. It starts with a few, maybe a wind storm topples a few rotted trees here or a drought finishes off a few there. Then they really begin aging out of the stand. By the 140-150 year mark, the majority of the jack pine have been replaced by whichever shade-tolerant species have followed. Because of the rich history of fires in this region, jack pine do remarkably well in the BWCA. In fact, the largest jack pine in the United States was found in the BWCA just a few years ago. As far as story telling goes, because they are so intimately tied to fire, they give a great estimate of when the last fire visited a specific parcel of forest. If you can estimate how old a jack pine is, or have tree rings from inside the trunk to count, you can get within twenty years or so of when a fire ripped through the landscape.

Dense stands of jack pine, poplar, and birch filling in around Hope Creek after Pagami Creek


The Poplars:
Like jack pine, the aspen/poplar trees of the BWCA are often connected with fire. Just take a paddle down Seagull Lake, for instance, and look for their bright green leaves shaking in the wind on fire-scoured ridge tops. When a fire scorches the canopy, the aspen are ready to grow back. The roots of an aspen tree, insulated by soil, have been tested to survive temperatures close to 1400 degrees so long as the bark doesn’t scorch. When the fire has passed, aspen can regenerate from their roots shooting up into the new open space. This adaptation also comes in handy against one of the BWCA’s other forest-killers: windstorms. Look closely at some of the stands impacted by the 1999 Fourth of Juluy blowdown in places like Kekekabic or Brule and you’ll see plenty of aspen trees filling in the gaps. Aspen trees are pretty intolerant of the shade of other trees; they prefer complete sun. But whenever you see stands full of aspen trees in the BWCA, you can be pretty assured that they are clones of each other off of one massive root system below. In fact, one of the heaviest organisms on this planet, known as Pando, is a single clonal colony of aspen in Utah which covers over 100 acres. When larger trees like white pine start shading them out, or wind topples the larger aspen trunks above, the root system below is waiting to grow new trunks in whatever open patches of sunlight are available. Poplars are capable of spreading by seed also which does allow them to spread out beyond their root-system constraints. There are three species of poplar in the BWCA: Quaking Aspen, Big-Toothed Aspen, and Balsam Poplar. Quaking Aspen is the most common of the three in the BWCA. Look for their smooth, white bark the next time you’re in canoe country. It will not take you long to find them!

Balsam Fir: If poplar and jack pine are the signs of a forest rejuvenating itself, the balsam fir is the reset button. They are content to grow in the understory of bigger trees, but as soon as a big blowdown comes through and opens the canopy, the balsams take off. Balsam fir is a weedy tree which often grows in dense thickets of other fir after a big event like a blowdown. They are not a particularly hardy tree and have a bad habit of seemingly dying in a single year from droughts or pests such as the spruce budworm. Look for large swaths of dead forest after a bad drought year, and it’s a pretty good chance that balsam fir have something to do with it. When they die, balsam become the perfect fuel for hot, fast moving fires. As a smaller tree, balsam’s also act as ladders for fire to climb into the canopies of fire-resistant species like white and red pine. Balsam do not come back well after wildfires, so it may be a century or more after a fire before balsam really start filling in the understory again. When enough dead balsam clog the forest floor, the recipe is ready for another fire to come through and reset the forest. Look for dense stands of balsam anywhere the ’99 blowdown or the ’16 blowdown impacted the landscape.

And eagle nesting in a large white pine, Bald Eagle Lake, BWCA


White Pine:
The queen of the eastern forest is less happy with the shallow soils of northern Minnesota than further south along the river valleys. That said, most people’s memories of the BWCA would be incomplete without it. The whine pine is fully capable of growing large and living a long life here, sometimes over three-hundred years if given the chance. It plays an important roll as a large, long-lived tree that’s beneficial to numerous species of wildlife including the bald eagle who prefers the white pine as a nesting tree. Seeing white pine here is usually indicative of a stand of trees which has escaped fire long enough for white pine to supersede the jack pine and aspen. To see truly ancient pines here, they have to either have avoided a fire for a long time or they have to have survived whichever fire has come through. White pine have thick enough bark to survive ground fires, but when smaller trees like balsam fir allow the fire to climb into the canopy, white pine lose their crowns and die. A great example of pines surviving a raging wildfire is found partway up the Gunflint Trail. No, I don’t mean the famous trees found right along the roadway, I mean a small stand just before Trail Center. Off the south side of the road are a collection of scraggly looking giant pines. To me, as a person familiar with trees, I can spot the tell-tale signs of their story from a mile away. Look at all the dead branches, look at the flattened tops indicative of trees who have not grown for a long while. Something is causing those trees to be unhealthy, and the reason stems back to a wildfire which burned through in the late 1800s and every old tree still bears scars from that event. When the fire was forced to jump the bog to the south, it likely landed on the ground and ignited a ground fire consuming brush and scarring the pines, before heading across what is now the Gunflint Trail. Because those trees survive, we have essentially a written record of a fire none of us were there to witness. Another great example sits along the popular Eagle Mountain trail. As discussed above, jack pine tell a history of fires across this landscape. The first part of the trail runs beneath an even-aged stand of jack pine descended from the 1929 Camp 3 Fire. As a person walks along, there is a single tree off the side of the trail that likely goes un-noticed by the average passerby since this gnarled white pine is actually shorter than the jack pine around it. Upon closer inspection though, this white pine has a massive scar from the 1929 fire which it survived. That scar weakened the tree which has struggled to survive and grow ever since. When wildfires go to the crowns of white pine though, it’s a different story. Near the portage from Winchell to Gaskin was a stand of trees Miron Heinselman had core-dated to germinating in the 1600s. For perspective, that means at the time of death, some of these trees were over 300 years of age. Then came 2006 and the Red Eye lake fire. The Red Eye fire was a small one as wildfires go, less than a mile wide when it crested the high ridge on Winchell. But as it jumped the lake, it scorched right through the ancient stand. A few of the twisted skeletons of these ancient pines can still be seen standing on the Gaskin side. As a lover of old-forests, it can be sad, but they also tell the story of this landscape and the important role that fire has in shaping and renewing this ecosystem.

Red Pine: Red pine thrive on the dry, shallow soil of ridge tops in the BWCA. Like white pine, they can grow back after fire, though likely not in the dense thickets like jack pine or poplar. They can naturally form mono-culture type stands if the conditions are right, with routine fires keeping the brush down. A healthy red-pine stand consistently managed by frequent ground-level fires is pretty special. Mature trees survive the fire which kills off less-tolerant species like balsam fir, clearing room for red pine seedlings to begin growing. For a young example of this, take the beautiful portage from Crab into Clark west of Burntside. A small control burn took off on a rampage north into the BWCA. It didn’t get too far, but did burn some acreage. Along the portage is a spectacular example of varying intensities of fire from total mortality of the red pine overstory, deep scarring on surviving trees, and some areas where the trees are just minorly charred. It’s a really cool example of fire working in a healthy way on a landscape. If it can avoid and survive fire long enough, red pine can live for close to 400 years in the right conditions such as the 1595 germinated red pine Heinselman found on Three-Mile Island (Seagull Lake.) Red pine also have a close connection with human history on the landscape. Certain pines on Saganaga, for instance, have scars from Native American axes peeling bark to harvest pitch from inside. Their survival carries on this fascinating piece of history. Other red pine were planted in rowed plantations after logging, something many people are familiar with. A close view of the air photos uncovers evidence of these stands still growing in the BWCA. Areas around the old Forest Center (Isabella Lake) show plenty of these “straight row formations” on the air photos, even still evident after Pagami Creek burned through. One can also see these stands west of Burntside in areas logged through the 60s and 70s. Whether growing as ancient, gnarled trees or as planted reminders of the past, look for the graceful crowns and pinkish bark of red pine the next time you visit the BWCA!

Paper Birch: Paper birch is another species often connected with blowdowns and fires.  It is related to the yellow birch which sporadically is found in the BWCA, but is more common closer to Superior. Though related, they fill different ecological roles. The paper birch is closely connected to fire and the yellow birch thrives in old, rich stands with deeper soil. The thin bark of a paper birch can protect them from some rot, but anyone who has built a campfire around here knows it will not protect the tree from fire! The bark has a naturally occurring oil, which helps the bark to avoid decay, that makes it incredible flammable. Apart from fire, as long as the bark remains intact (such as no one pealing all the bark off the trees in a campsite) the tree remains intact. The wood in birch is pretty light though and as soon as the bark is gone, the tree begins to decay. They are not a long-lived species in any occasion, but they do have a secret weapon. Have you seen a cluster of birch growing close together somewhere in canoe country? They tell a story. Dead birch are capable of sprouting back from the stump if conditions are right. These sprouts often form around the perimeter of old stumps and, as they mature, form what we call a “fairy ring” or a circle of trees. With the old stump rotted away, the average person may never notice anything other than a closely clustered group of birch trees. Birch are also good at re-seeding after severe fires. Birch prefer mineral soil (the soil underneath the leaf-litter, rotting wood, and other organic material found at the surface.) This takes a very hot fire! If a fire is hot enough, and all the organic material burns away, it exposes the mineral soil which is perfect for sprouting lots of birch seedlings. In a grove of trees post-fire, look for the orange trunks of young birch to help distinguish them from the rapidly-growing, white-barked poplars nearby.

White Spruce: White spruce rarely dominate the landscape, but they are a long-lived large tree that can often be found growing alongside the pines in the centuries after the last wildfire. Their narrow crowns do not take up that much space, but they create a deep shade which can out-compete other trees below. They are capable of growing quite tall if given the opportunity. White spruce are an important food source for a wide-variety of wildlife including birds, squirrels, deer, and porcupine. Their thin bark is not fire resistant, so they don’t often survive fires. They can survive if growing in a sheltered spot such as by the lakeshore or in a valley so sometimes a young spruce can be seen peaking out a few feet above the re-generated jack pine, a sign that the young spruce survived the fire and had a head start on filling in the canopy. Spruce can be susceptible to a variety of diseases which can kill branches or the whole tree. Their dense canopies can also be susceptible to wind which topples trees with some ease in the BWCA where no deep soil is available for deep root systems.

Black Spruce: In canoe country, the black spruce is the king of the bog. In saturated, low-oxygen, acidic soils where all other trees barely scrape by or cannot survive, the black spruce reigns supreme. It can grow out of sphagnum mats floating on former lakes or in the forest alongside other trees. Because it is not the fastest growing tree, the bog is where it most often thrives where competition from other species is limited. The black spruce can often resemble a “doctor seuss tree” where the only living branches are found right at the tip-top. It also has a tendency for its branches to curve more than its white spruce kin, and can sport large plates of bark on its trunk. The black spruce can be a slow growing tree, but in the bog that doesn’t matter. Other trees aren’t competing for space and fires are less common in the rich, wet landscape. Some black spruces only ten or twenty feet tall can be a century old at times, just slowly living life in one of the harshest landscapes that canoe country has to offer.

Tamarack: The tamarack is another tree which loves to have its feet wet, though it isn’t quite as tolerant as the black spruce to full-time soaking. Though the tamarack is often found in the bogs alongside black spruce, it is also quite common along river banks in the BWCA. It has the distinction of having one of the largest native ranges of any tree in North America growing from Maine to Alaska. It is also special as Minnesota’s only native deciduous conifer meaning it has needles and cones like firs, spruces, and pines, but it sheds its needles every fall in a dazzling display of bright gold. Though tamarack can grow to some pretty large sizes and live a long while, it can be hampered by pests such as the larch sawfly and is pretty intolerant of drought. In the summer, look for a tree with the softest needles in the forest which have a distinctly blueish tint compared to the other conifers. A great place to see tamarack is along the Little Indian Sioux and Moose rivers in the western BWCA.

Cedars on the Hanson portage


Northern White Cedar:
If a jack pine’s strategy is to grow fast and respond quickly after fire, and a red pine’s strategy is to grow big and endure, the northern white cedar’s strategy is to outlast every other tree on the landscape. The northern white cedar is a long-lived tree if given the chance, reportedly 1000 years in some instances. They cannot grow as fast as a poplar or as tall as a pine, so how does the northern white cedar survive? On the landscape of canoe country, the northern white cedar has two growing strategies. First is to grow where no other tree wants to. The most common place to see cedars in the BWCA is along the shore growing along the water and often straight out of cracks in the bedrock. This is where they live the longest as sometimes wildfires miss the trees growing out on a rocky point. These trees often do not get very big as the limited space in bedrock cracks minimizes their nutrients and stunts their growth. They have another strategy, which is where we see them truly live up to their potential. Northern white cedar, being a shade-tolerant, long-lived tree, can simply wait out other trees in the understory. When the larger trees die, the healthy cedars take over the canopy. They create one of the deepest, densest shades of any tree in Minnesota, so dense that other trees struggle to grow beneath them. Once they have control of the overstory, their seedlings are one of the few species which happily grow in the dense shade, and the cedars can begin taking over a valley. That said, cedars are not fire tolerant. Their papery, oily bark is easily flammable. This is where their choice of growing conditions comes in handy again. A cedar’s favorite place to grow is in deep, shady river valleys. Some perfect examples in the BWCA are Eddy Falls, Johnson Falls, or the Hanson portage. In these deep, sheltered ravines, the trees get lots of nutrients, lots of water, and sometimes fires miss the steep valleys, jumping over them for dried-out forests on the other side. They can be susceptible to being uprooted by wind events, but another of a cedar’s adaptations comes in handy here. One of the northern white cedar’s other names is arborvitae, translated to tree of life, the name more commonly used in cultivation. It indicates the many medicinal uses for cedar and its role in the landscape, but I like to think it also represents its tenacity to cling to life whether from the seemingly barren cliff face or from the valley. When a cedar tips over, its life is not over. If just one or two major roots stay in the ground, a cedar will usually keep growing, turning its crown upwards against gravity. The massive trunk laying on the ground provides the perfect gathering spot for organic debris. When that debris breaks down into soil, young cedars have the opportunity to begin growing on top of the down log (which we now call a nursery log.) In this way, cedar stands can become a jumbled mess of different generations of cedars growing around, on top of, and underneath each other, creating one of the richest and most magical forest types in canoe country.

Red Maple: The red maple is never at its best this far north. For that, look for it in the rich river valleys of central Wisconsin! Here, it fills a niche as a never-common but often present component of the forest. The maples often seed in some decades after a fire as they are not fire resistant. They are usually good indicators of soil quality, with healthy trees growing from deeper, more organic soil and twisted, cracked, and stunted trees growing from shallower, mineral soil. Given the right conditions, the forest can be full of them, but that isn’t particularly common here. One stand I can think of sits near Saganaga between its shore and the shores of Lone Lake where a sizable tract of land is dominated by red maple. This is possible because it’s a large, flat valley with a creek winding through. The soil is not eroding quickly from the landscape and is tending to stay relatively moist, a good recipe for healthy maples. They can be unassuming in the summer because of their usual stunted nature, and shouldn’t be confused with the smaller moose maple which usually remains a shrub. The easiest time to see them is the fall when their flame-red hues pop out against the greens and yellows which fill the forest.

Black Ash: The stubborn, sturdy trunks of ash trees grow some of the heaviest timber in canoe country. They are pretty much constrained to deep, moist valleys where rich soil allows them to prosper. They grow incredibly slowly at times here, sometimes only a few inches a century. In the best of circumstances, they can grow into large trees fueled by available nutrients and plenty of water. A threat on the horizon, the emerald ash borer, has been working its way north since people seem to be incapable of not transporting infected firewood. Duluth is being hit hard, and places further south and east have been decimated by this invasive pest. It remains to be seen how quickly EAB will make it to canoe country, either by flight from Duluth or, more likely, a cabin-goers ignorance. However it arrives, it will have a detrimental impact on the future of ash trees in the BWCA. What remains to be seen is how the spread out nature of the stands and the future harshness of our winters impacts the invader. Look for marvelous ash trees near Johnson Falls, Cattyman Falls, or in the swamps along the Moose River.

Willows: Willows thrive in many of the same places as ashes and tamaracks. They love rich, moist soils. Most of the willows in canoe country stay as shrubs, though the diamond willow can occasionally last long enough to grow into a tree form and the occasional black willow can persist this far north. The diamond willow in particular has a lasting legacy as one of the preferred woods for crafts and some styles of furniture making. The willows of canoe country rarely grow large enough to dominate the landscape, and do not often form dense thickets here in the same way alder does. Look for isolated pockets of willow along streams and in marshy valley bottoms.

The Elms: The elms are another species from further south that do play a small role in the BWCA. Similarly to what is currently befalling the ashes, an introduced pest known as Dutch Elm Disease decimated elms in Minnesota through the 60s on, dramatically hampering the roll elms play in the lowlands. In the BWCA, elms are restricted to a handful of valleys where they continue to persist. Since elm have practically no adaptations against fire, they are pretty well confined to the valleys. Since elms do not root sucker, and are not high on the ridges for the wind to carry their seeds far-and-wide, in canoe country, their seeds are often moved by water or spread short distances by wind. Because of this, one can be pretty assured that anywhere one encounters elm in the BWCA, elm trees have existed for a reasonably long time. A couple places to see elm in the BWCA are the Long Portage (growing alongside ash, cedar, and yellow birch) and there are some very nice elm along the first stretch of the Sioux Hustler Trail.

Out of place oak on Missionary indicating an old planting near a homesite

The Oaks: Oaks are another group of species with a mixed history in the BWCA. On one hand, oaks do have a limited natural presence here, mainly on the top of dry ridges. I have often seen red oak growing this way and occasionally bur oak and pin oak. I have not personally encountered white oak in the BWCA, but I wouldn’t rule it out either. The oaks which do exist in canoe country are usually stunted, barely a large shrub, with lots of die back from overly intense winters without sufficient soil for them to stay healthy. Oaks are also closely tied to human history on the landscape. There are stories of the voyageurs planting oak trees as navigational tools since they easily stood out on the landscape. There is no documentation that I have found confirming specific sites, but the oaks on the Saganaga/Swamp portage would make a lot of sense in this role. There are also oak trees planted on old resort and cabin sites like some of the oak trees on Basswood or on Missionary. It’s hard to tell, specifically on Newton Lake and the Back Bay of Basswood, what is natural and what has persisted from historic planting. Regardless, the oaks through that stretch of Basswood are some of the healthiest I have seen anywhere in canoe country.

 

Every spring as outfitters begin gearing up for the busy summer season ahead, production begins to turn from winter dogsports back to portage packs. Alongside the new gear, a reunion of sorts takes place as old packs come back to us through the fall and into the spring as outfitters send in old gear for repairs. Even the toughest of gear needs some help every now and again as a wide variety of people rent them week after week. And with the returning packs comes a glimpse into our history. Each generation of packs returned illustrates design improvements, changes of technique and hardware, and a plethora of gear testing playing out real-life right in front of us.

For this article, I lined up 8 different generations of food packs to show how this pack has evolved and improved over time. Each generation has unique features which define it from those which proceeded it and those that follow. Furthermore, every generation of food packs shown here share a common DNA as a Kondos/Portage North pack made from 1000 denier cordura with a ring attached to the sides for hanging as a bear bag.

The first differences we see on the side by side photo are aesthetic from going to a second color for the bottom reinforcement to changing the hardware. It’s also obvious when they are next to one another that they are all food packs and they serve the same function. But as we dive into the ways these packs have changed with time it will be obvious that they don’t all serve that function in the same ways.

As I outline in this article last summer, the backstraps are one of the most major changes on these packs. The design of the straps themselves changed to be more ergonomic, more comfortable, and more adjustable. Even more significantly, the design by which they are attached to the pack body has changed dramatically. This allows for a stronger, less accident prone attachment for every pack.

As we look closer at the top flap here, we can notice a few major changes with time. Aesthetically, it’s apparent that the thread we used changed colors (makes it easy to spot the generations too.) We can also notice three different generations of buckles used on the top flap. More importantly, the means of attaching the buckles to the pack has evolved over time. As the newer packs gained the “angled” corners, the buckles also received a lower stitch line at the bottom of the “box-x” which hold the buckle. As we will see later, this is an important component to a completely redesigned attachment within this top flap. Also, though it’s not totally visible on this picture, do you notice how the bottom reinforcement (black fabric) on the newest pack has two rows of stitching all the way around? The older generations shown here only had a single stitch line on the side gusset of the pack. This small change reinforced this panel of the pack.

As we move inside the top flap of the pack it’s apparent that the buckles are attached differently. The old style used a fold in the webbing and fabric to lock the webbing in place. This is very effective. The only potential issue is that the webbing remains exposed and can sometimes act as a catch point. Our newest packs utilize the material of the top flap in a creative way to essentially encase the webbing in a single piece of fabric. A stitch line on top and bottom with a box-x over the gap encases the buckle webbing so it’s inside of the pack material where it is protected.
As we move to the side of the food pack, we get a close look at the signature bear-bag apparatus unique to food packs. The most apparent change is in how the ring is reinforced. The oldest pack in this lineup (left side) has a single strap up the side. With time, a piece of reinforcing webbing was added along with a handle. This webbing was eventually extended into the side-seams of the pack to add a great deal of strength and a fail safe which remains on the packs today. One may also notice the rings which changed from a round ring to a D-ring to limit sliding around if the pack is unbalanced on lifting and lowering. The top flap itself has changed from the old “lace up” method with rivets through the pack fabric to the modern buckle-up flap.

Finally, we look inside of the packs to one of the most important changes in the longevity of our gear: taping seams. Many cut fabrics, including cordura nylon, fray badly along their edges over time. A well-sewn seam along this edge can arrest the fraying close to the seam, but the tattered fabric can still be a nuisance. It can get caught on anything and everything and a hard pull on these threads can start disassembling the fabric the pack is made out of. All of our packs are taped by sewing the thin fabric strip along the exposed fabric edges. This protects the exposed fabric edge and, by extension, the seam and all parts of the pack which depend on it. The left picture illustrates what can happen overtime to a pack without the seam tape.

The Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, Superior National Forest, and Voyageurs National Park make up the largest wild landscape in Minnesota as well as being one of the largest wild spaces east of the Mississippi in the US. Combine that with wildlands directly across the border in Quetico Provincial Park and the surrounding crownlands, and this wild space is pretty special. This ecological oasis is essential for a number of species and some, which require large, undisturbed landscapes, thrive nowhere else. When many of us think of the BWCA, we think of the loon call. Truly, I can close my eyes right now and imagine camping beneath the stars to the sound of the loon tremolo echoing down the rocky shores. Perhaps we think of the wolf howl, signifying a truly wild landscape. Or maybe we think of a giant moose crashing through the swampland or a majestic eagle carrying a fish from the water to the ancient pines nearby. Whichever creatures represent this wilderness to you, we’re blessed that they are here today. In the last century, every species we cherish in canoe country has undergone challenges from over-hunting, disease, bounties, habitat loss, poisoning, competition from invading species, and other changes in their environment. It’s spectacular the array of plants and animals one can enjoy on a Boundary Waters trip, but its also important not to forget how special it is that we have the species we do. This wild landscape provided one of the final sanctuaries for a number of species which had disappeared virtually everywhere further south. For today’s article, we’ll cover ten of the most iconic species from canoe country, their history on the landscape, challenges which threatened their futures, and how those species are doing today.

 

Moose:

The moose have been in the news plenty these past ten years as the moose population of Minnesota mysteriously crashed after having been relatively stable for decades prior, but this isn’t the first time the moose population has changed dramatically. The history of moose in Minnesota is one of astronomical highs and the lowest of lows. After wide scale logging began to push caribou north (more on that later), moose and deer, species which were more adapted to cutovers , began to fill in the space. Little did anyone know that deer and moose both occupying the same space would have catastrophic consequences for moose. By 1922, the moose population had fallen to about 2500 thanks to “poaching, poorly regulated hunting, and disease” and the state closed the moose hunt. Though habitat fragmentation did seem to play a roll in moose decline, researchers by the 1930s had become keenly aware of a disease plauguing the moose population. “”The disease loose among Minnesota’s [moose] herd is an affliction peculiar to Minnesota alone. Increasing in its intensity, it took a toll of 30 moose in the past year. … The nature of the disease … striking down the animals is not yet known.” By the 1950s, the moose population in Minnesota may have dipped as low as 500 individuals. By the 1960s, researchers finally made a breakthrough on the disease plaguing moose. A tiny, parasitic brainworm carried by whitetailed deer was a pest for the whitetail but fatal to moose, elk, and caribou. This parasite proved moose and deer could not occupy the same range. Into the 1960s, as the forest landscape began to be less favorable for deer in the far northern parts of the state, the moose population took off. ‘Aerial counts showed as many as four moose per square mile in Lake, Cook, Marshall, Beltrami, and Kittson counties, according to a 1967 report in the Volunteer. The report noted, “Food conditions for moose are deteriorating as a result of this heavy pressure.'” By the 1970s, a controlled moose hunt was reintroduced in Minnesota culminating in the best harvest year on record with 1,179 moose harvested in the 1983 season as Minnesota was touted as the greatest opportunity for moose hunting in the lower 48 at the time. Eventually though, the Minnesota population of Moose began to come back down again with the moose hunt being called off by 1997. Into the 2000s, the northwestern population of moose tanked to a low it has not and likely will not recover from. The northeastern population around the BWCA region fared better at first, growing to a peak population of 8000 individuals by 2006. That’s when the moose began making the news unfortunately as populations began a meteoric collapse prompting an increase in moose surveys and studies. The moose population has remained more or less steady for the ten years since they hit rock bottom, but the future of moose in Minnesota still hangs in the balance. Researchers continue to learn more and understand this largest member of the deer family, as well as their complicated past and questionable future, as an iconic piece of the northwoods ecosystem.

 

Beavers:

Beavers have a fascinating role in the settlement of Minnesota. As an abundant fur-bearing rodent, they became one of the focuses of the fur trade. Many of the early voyageurs utilizing the area which is now the BWCA were here specifically for the trapping and trading of beaver pelts. By the late 1800s, the population had crashed and beavers had been all-but trapped out of the state. Reintroduction began in the early 1900s and now Minnesota is home to an incredible abundance of beavers from the clear waters of the BWCA down to the ponds and rivers of prairie country and even into the parks of the twin cities suburbs. Beavers are quite adaptable as one of the few animals which changes its environment to meet its needs which also creates habitat for a wide array of other species. This does lead them into conflict with people as their pond creating sometimes floods fields, roads, and culverts. With suitable habitat, which beavers have plenty of in the “land of ten thousand lakes,” the beaver population has continued to grow. Beavers can have an immense ecological impact on the landscape when populations are healthy, and their dams and lodges can last centuries in some cases. See our article specifically on beavers in the BWCA to learn more.

Bald Eagles:

The bald eagle is ubiquitous to ecosystems across Minnesota, but it hasn’t always been that way. Like many species, the end of the 19th century and the start of the 20th was rough on eagles who were actively being removed as pests. Arguable the greatest challenge came after WW2 when large scale chemical use for pest control began having major detrimental impact on many species. The eagle population in Minnesota and in the BWCA hit a new low. Legal protections for birds of prey and banning of certain chemicals like DDT allowed populations to recover. Eagles continue to face challenges today from lead poisoning as their role as scavengers often find them inadvertently consuming lead shot from gut piles. In some areas , there are a shortage of trees large enough to hold an eagle nest, thus limiting habitat. However, the graph below illustrates well the eagle population has recovered, and today Minnesota boasts the largest population of bald eagles in the lower 48 states.

Trumpeter Swans:

Trumpeter swans are not necessarily the iconic representatives of canoe country in the same ways loons, wolves, and moose tend to be, but for a species that has come back from the brink to where they are today, their story deserves to be mentioned here.  Trumpeter swans are a large water fowl, the largest found in Minnesota, and can be found throughout the state’s lakes and rivers. In the BWCA, I have tended to find them in shallow, weedy bodies of water where their food is plentiful. The story of swans’ history is a tragic, but not unfamiliar one. They were over-hunted for their meat and feathers while simultaneously losing habitat as settlement pushed west. By the 1880s, they were gone from the state of Minnesota and by the 1930s only 69 swans were left in the lower 48 in a remote region of Montana. By the 1960s, the first reintroductions began in Minnesota. Through the 1980s and 90s, intentional work was done to reintroduce swans from Montana and Alaska into suitable habitat in Minnesota. Those efforts paid off and a robust population began to establish. By 2015, 17,000 swans were believe to live in the state of Minnesota. Recovery efforts were a resounding success. Now trumpeter swans can be found throughout the state including populations in and around the BWCA.

Loons:

Though loons were pushed to a regionally extinct status further east, their population remained in Minnesota, and by 1961 the common loon became the state bird. Being a large aquatic bird comes with its challenges, especially when trying to live alongside human impacts. Aquatic species are particularly vulnerable to pollutants in the water from plastics, oils, and chemicals. Many pollutants leached into a lake have the possibility to settle in the lake bed and continue lingering later on. Fishing equipment has also posed a threat to loons from improperly disposed of  lead sinkers finding their way into the digestive system of loons and thus slowly poisoning the individual. Fishing line too claims some loons as they become tangled and entrapped. A long-standing citizen scientist study has been used to monitor loon populations in Minnesota, determining that the state population of loons has been steady for the last few decades. New threats are on the horizon though. A study of loons in Wisconsin found that their population was in decline for unknown reasons. The scientist in charge of that study have begun a study in Minnesota as well to determine if the cause of Wisconsin’s loon decline could also impact Minnesota. For now though, loons continue to hold a special place as one of the signature sounds of wild, northern lakes.

Pine Marten:

Pine marten are a medium sized member of the weasel family. During the late 19th century and into the 20th, a long history of unregulated trapping and the loss of much of their forested habitat to logging had sent the population in the upper midwest into a downturn.  At the turn of the 20th century, the marten population was depleted in the majority of the southern part of their range with only a few small populations remaining in the northern 48. In Minnesota specifically, “Harvest records of the late 1800s indicated marten populations were present in localized areas of Minnesota , including Koochiching and Beltrami Counties in the north – central portion of the state . The last marten in Beltrami County was recorded in 1918 ( Schorger 1942 ) and the last marten trapped in northwestern Minnesota was in 1920 from the Northwest Angle . A small population remained in northeastern Minnesota . Protection from trapping in 1933 in conjunction with suspected migration of martens from Ontario resulted in a gradual population increase in northeastern Minnesota during the 1950s and 1960s ( Mech and Rogers 1977 ).” The area which is now the BWCA and the surrounding region became the last foothold of marten in Minnesota. From there, with increased protection, the marten population began a slow but determined rebound. Marten from this population were also relocated to help re-establish a population in Wisconsin. By 1985, the Minnesota population of marten had rebounded enough to begin a regulated trapping season. Their population is estimated at about 10,000 marten in the state today.

Grey Wolves:

Few animals are as representative of wild spaces as wolves and, at the same time, few animals have been as misunderstood and vilified. From the start of European settlement until the 20th century, a successfully lethal agenda was carried out of bounties, unrestricted hunting, poisoning, and habitat loss. In Minnesota, a bounty system continued from 1849 all the way into the 1960s. By the early 20th century, Minnesota’s northern reaches (in the area which is now the BWCA) was the last viable wolf population in the lower 48. With protection under the endangered species act, wolf populations began rebounding. The remaining wolves in northern Minnesota acted as the source for restored wolf populations further south in Minnesota and across Wisconsin. Into the 21st century, controversy still surrounds the wolf as its place on an endangered/threatened species list begins to be questioned and as arguments over the ethics and ecological soundness of a wolf hunt continue on. For now, the wolf population in Minnesota remains healthy and fascinating studies through Voyageur National Park and the International Wolf Center provide glimpses into this complex and misunderstood predator.

Black Bears:

Photo by Pete Nuij on Unsplash

Similarly to wolves and other large predators, a bounty system remained on black bears in Minnesota into the 1960s. Even after that, bear hunting was not well regulated for a time. A stabled population remained in the area around what is now the BWCA, but bears were soon mostly eliminated from less-remote parts of the state. Since that time, Minnesota has supported a healthy population of black bears alongside a regulated annual hunting season. There are still occasional negative run-ins between bears and people as bears are particularly good at finding their way into improperly stored food. Each year there are one or two bears in the BWCA due to associating people and campsites with free food.

White-Tailed Dear

Though deer are fairly rare in the BWCA today (estimates of 1 per square mile) it’s worth mentioning them because the huge role they’ve played as a species in the region. Historically, deer were common in central and southern Minnesota. As widespread farming and logging began turning forest land into ideal habitat for deer, their populations began exploding. As caribou fled north, white tailed deer filled in the space, and that shift in populations is what many people in the iron range became used to. An abundant hunting culture developed around a deer population which has gone up and down. By the late 1990s, with a string of milder winters, the deer population surged up. Currently, white-tail numbers dropped after some harsher winters. Deep snow is tough on white tailed deer, whose long legs sink deep into the snow. A deer having to work harder to move around is more likely to starve and less likely to avoid predation. On that front, wolf predation too often gets brought up in discussion. Predator’s are easy to blame when prey species plummet. An point can be made that, in a functioning ecosystem like the BWCA, nature will balance itself. If the deer population goes up, the wolf population goes up and then deer go back down and wolves go back down. However, wolves are not the only thing that kills deer and, in actuality, harsh winters and disease have a much larger role to play in the health of deer populations. 

Woodland Caribou:

There are two Caribou Lakes in the BWCA, one on either side of the Gunflint Trail. Unlike Crocodile Lake nearby however, Caribou was named for an animal that lived here, even somewhat recently. Once, Caribou was the most abundant member of the deer family to call northern Minnesota home. They ranged in deep, mature forests across the north and around the Great Lakes. All that changed as European settlement moved in. As forested habitat fragmented, caribou could no longer move around the landscape as freely. As the most migratory of our native ungulates, caribou rely on vast swaths of open space to calve and raise those young. As forests were logged, white tailed deer began moving into caribou ranges bringing with them the fatal parasitic brain worm and inadvertently increasing the wolf population. Caribou do not reproduce quickly. They take longer to mature and have fewer calves when they do than deer or moose. As increasing deer populations encouraged an increase in wolf populations, the caribou began to take a hit. All of these factors drove the caribou from the state by the 1930s. A few straggler caribou were spotted in Minnesota into the 1980s, but they were shadows of a formerly abundant species, not a sign of their return. All attempts at a reintroduction failed and by 2017, all woodland caribou were gone from the lower 48. Caribou populations in canada also have continued to struggle in the southern part of their range. As a species which requires large, untampered wild spaces, they are particularly vulnerable to a changing and ever developing world. Personally, this is an animal I wish I could have seen. They are such a unique and special ungulate and they had an important role in the ecological history of the BWCA. Unfortunately, they are a species which will likely never return.

Canadian Lynx

Lynx are a mid-sized, reclusive wild cat with large feet and thick fur perfectly adapted to northern climates. During the fur trade, they were trapped similarly to mink, beaver, marten, and wolverine. As habitat and climate have allowed their close relative the bobcat to move north, the lynx population has been under increasing threat. Recent studies though have shown a still-healthy breading population of lynx in Minnesota which is incredible news considering their threatened status in the lower-48. Northern Minnesota is the southern edge of their range in the middle part of the continent, and the BWCA provides a perfect, large wild space for these reclusive cats to survive. As long as the snowshoe hare population remains healthy, the lynx should be able to persist here in Minnesota. 

Sources and Further Reading:
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/rsg/profile.html?action=elementDetail&selectedElement=AMALC03010
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/mcvmagazine/issues/2015/sep-oct/moose-in-minnesota.html
Minnesota Moose: An Analysis of Moose Decline in Minnesota – Maggie Gleason
https://www.moosemissionmn.org/research/
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/livingwith_wildlife/beaver/index.html
https://www.threeriversparks.org/blog/species-spotlight-beavers
https://www.bellmuseum.umn.edu/blog/beaver-diorama/#:~:text=Beavers%20have%20had%20ups%20and,continue%20to%20thrive%20across%20Minnesota
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/mammals/beaver.html
https://www.biologicaldiversity.org/species/birds/bald_eagle/report/index.html
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/birds/eagles/index.html#:~:text=Eagles%20have%20expanded%20their%20range,population%20is%20over%202300%20pairs!
https://mspmag.com/arts-and-culture/minnesotas-rising-eagle-population-explained/
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/eco/nongame/projects/trumpeterswan/threats.html
https://trumpeterswan.netlify.app/index.html
https://www.nationallooncenter.org/about-loons/#:~:text=POPULATION%3A%20Roughly%2012%2C000%20in%20Minnesota,Estimated%20500%2C000%2D700%2C000%20Worldwide.
https://www.minnesotamonthly.com/travel-recreation/how-minnesota-could-lose-the-loon/
https://loonproject.org/
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/mammals/americanmarten.html
https://mnmammals.d.umn.edu/marten
http://www.minnesotaseasons.com/Mammals/American_marten.html
Historical Perspectives on the Reintroduction of Fishers and Martens – WILLIAMS  W BRONWYN 
Response of the Common Loon to Recreational Pressure in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, Northeastern Minnesota – James Robert Titus, 1979
https://wolf.org/wolf-population-expansion-in-minnesota/
https://wolf.org/wow/united-states/minnesota/
https://data.nal.usda.gov/dataset/data-r-code-and-output-supporting-historical-overview-and-update-wolf-moose-interactions-northeastern-minnesota
https://files.dnr.state.mn.us/wildlife/wolves/2020/survey-wolf.pdf
https://conbio.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1046/j.1523-1739.1995.9020270.x
https://bear.org
https://www.bearstudy.org/updates/daily-updates/842-black-bear-management-in-minnesota.html
https://www.duluthnewstribune.com/sports/northland-outdoors/number-of-bears-and-bear-hunters-on-the-rise-in-minnesota
https://files.dnr.state.mn.us/wildlife/bear/bear_status-trends_2020.pdf?20230225-14
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/mammals/blackbear.html
https://www.outdoorlife.com/hunting/northwoods-deer-hunting-decline/
https://wolf.org/no-easy-answers-effects-of-wolf-population-expansion-on-deer-hunting-in-northern-minnesota/
https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/mammals/deer/management/deer-goals-history.html#historical
https://files.dnr.state.mn.us/recreation/hunting/deer/dpa/DPA118.pdf
https://www.duluthnewstribune.com/sports/northland-outdoors/minnesota-dnr-wants-input-on-deer-populations
https://www.deerfriendly.com/deer/minnesota
https://wolf.org/white-tailed-deer-studies-in-northeastern-minnesota/
https://files.dnr.state.mn.us/wildlife/deer/reports/popmodel/popmodel_2017.pdf
https://www.jstor.org/stable/2425312
https://www.duluthnewstribune.com/news/last-lake-superior-caribou-herd-may-be-down-to-30
http://www.agatemag.com/2019/01/will-woodland-caribou-survive-in-the-lake-superior-basin/
https://www.cookcountynews-herald.com/articles/woodland-caribou/
https://queticosuperior.org/blog/dna-study-shows-lots-of-lynx-living-on-the-superior-national-forest/
https://conservancy.umn.edu/bitstream/handle/11299/187300/TR-2009-06.pdf?sequence=4

 

NEWS RELEASE

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

 

SUNDOG SPORT

FEBRUARY 23 , 2023

SUNDOG SPORT Announces SPONSORSHIP of the
2023 WOLFTRACK CLASSIC DOG SLED RACE 

Located in Ely Minnesota, this annual event runs through Downtown Ely along Taconite State Trail and back to Ely. The event starts at 9 AM on Sunday, February 26, 2023

ELY, MINNESOTA FEBRUARY 26, SUNDOG SPORT, is pleased to be partnering with the ELY CHAMBER OF COMMERCE, the race organizers of the WOLFTRACK CLASSIC. For SUNDOG SPORT this is a natural sponsorship opportunity that promotes dog sport in our own backyard.

“Celebrate the Spirit and Adventure of Sled Dog Racing”
Official Race Website: https://wolftrackclassic.com/

It all starts Sunday February 26 at 9:00 a.m. when the first 8-dog team heads down the trail on its way through 50 miles of wild and beautiful boreal forest on the Taconite trail that winds back to finish in Ely. The 6-dog teams also leave from the Ely start for a 30 mile race and also travel on the Taconite Trail winding around near Purvis Lake and back to Ely. -Wolftrack Event Website

We’re proud to support a race like this which supports local mushers and a broader awareness of dogsport. We’re also excited to be a part of an event held in Ely where our company is located and where our products are made.” -Kristofer Johnson – Sundog Sport

It’s such a wonderful opportunity to be able to be a part of promoting history, the love of working dogs, and keeping this sport thriving.  More importantly the opportunity to provide the gear and equipment that allows these teams and athletes to be their best and furthering the dog mushing culture into the future.” -Michael Larson –  Sundog Sport

About SUNDOG SPORT

SUNDOG SPORT (formerly Kondos Outdoors)  has been providing the most trusted gear and equipment for professional mushers and active dogs since 1980. Supporting mushers around the world, Sundog Sport is proud to be the trusted sled dog manufacturer for mushers enduring such events as the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon, Klondike Dog Derby, Iditarod, Wolftrack Classic, Copperdog 150 and numerous others.

 

Media Contact:

SUNDOG SPORT/HOMEWOOD MARKETING

Kristofer Johnson

Marketing

[email protected]

612-715-1595

www.SundogSport.com

 

Media Contact:

SUNDOG SPORT/PORTAGE NORTH

Michael Larson

Owner/CEO

[email protected]

218-365-4189

www.KondosOutdoors.com

 

Warm weather in February is a dangerous thing. If it’s too warm, the mind starts wandering ahead to summer canoe adventures. Warm weather only intensifies the time spent pouring over maps both in remembering treasured trips past and scheming the ones to come. And for me, one of the things I’m looking for on the maps is places I haven’t gotten yet. What portages haven’t I taken, which lakes haven’t I paddled, what back bays and beaver swamps haven’t I explored, and what campsites have I not checked out? An easy answer to that question is a bunch of the “routes” that are no longer routes, and that’s the focus of this week’s article.

Last fall, we published an article about the “lost entry points” which by change of management objectives, natural disaster, or the whims of time were lost to common knowledge. Portages and campsites are the same way. The Primative Management Areas were the single largest official closure of routes, but many of the routes which were dropped from maintenance as part of the program were likely underutilized to begin with. Many of the routes discussed on this article are now part of the PMA system. Others have simply vanished at some point or another. With that, few of these routes are currently passable as many have gone unmaintained for 30 years or more. In the spirit of planning though, here are ten fascinating old routes and “shortcuts”, some of the history of what they were and where they went, and what remains of them today.

 

1) The Back Route to Fishdance:
The area which is now the Fungus Lake PMA is a fascinating case study on land reclamation. This area was one of the most heavily logged sections of what is now the wilderness with a vast network of roads weaving across the landscape. Along with that, a number of old routes, some of them quite popular, ran into the PMA area. Into the 80s, nature began to reclaim the road grades and with it many of the old routes closed down, campsites were removed, and portages left unmaintained. Then in 2011, Pagami Creek wildfire erased most any evidence that remained. Anything which could burn did, and the new regrowth has quickly covered any artifacts brought to light in the burn. One of the old routes running through what is now the PMA was the Hope Chain. The Hope Chain was a short chain of lakes extending south beneath Insula. The route provided opportunities for base campers, fisherman, and folks looking for an interesting through route. Some of the portages even cut off considerable distances from the route one would take today. This route was an alternate option for traveling from the busy Numbers Chain and Insula to Fishdance or even Baskatong. From Insula, just a brief paddle up Hope Creek, and one would take a short 28-rod portage around a rapids. This portage is still marginally traceable though a down tree or two makes it tough. Next, a 50 rod portage led into a widening in the creek sometimes referred to as North Hope Lake, this portage is pretty much consumed in the brush now. On the far side of North Hope, the creek narrows into a boulder-strewn shallows which once had about a 20 rod portage around it before a person could paddle out into Hope Lake. Hope Lake, with its three former campsites, provided a quiet alternative to staying on Insula and would be the logical base camping spot for folks looking to stay a few days. For the more adventurous though, the route continued. An easy paddle and a short 10 rod portage led into South Hope Lake along with another campsite. From there, the creek to Maniwaki is rocky and narrow and so a 140 rod portage provided access around it. There was a campsite on Maniwaki as well before the real portaging started. There were two routes out from Maniwaki. One was to take Maniwaki Creek to Andek and from there a 320 rod portage to Baskatong. The other route was a 140 rod portage north from Maniwaki to Screamer and then a 320 rod portage north to Fishdance. I mention it briefly in the types of campsites article, but the campsites on the south end of Fishdance likely exist as a direct result of this portage. So where did this route go? The routes to Fishdance and Baskatong are easy enough to explain. Portage maintenance relies on heavily on traffic. If a portage isn’t getting used, no amount of maintenance by the Forest Service will keep it open (or it will lose priority.) Both of these routes required long portages and people avoid long portages for the sake of shorter routes. The only reason the majority of people take long portages is if they are forced to by their route or if something very motivating is on the other side (such as good fishing or great scenery.) Now, both of these provided measures of solitude in the past, and the Baskatong route in particular cut major mileage off of a trip. That said, my guess is that long portages connected to time-consuming creek sections did not see as much traffic as the more scenic and easier-to-travel routes through Alice and Fishdance further north. With the closing of campsites in the Hope Chain and the subsequent fire, the fate of the route was sealed to obscurity.

2) Shortcut around the Triangle:
To me, this is a route that makes so much sense. These two portages cut off major mileage as well as diverting traffic away from another very busy route. However, for many of the same reasons as the next route, I would guess it was left intentionally unmaintained for the sake of route separation. Let me explain. From Clearwater Lake north of Bald Eagle/Gabbro, a 200 rod portage once ran NE to Judd which led into Rock Island Lake. One campsite was located in the SE corner and a 30 rod portage led out of Rock Island to the busy Numbers Chain. As a travel route, this saves huge mileage, over four miles, for a person trying to get from midway through Gabbro to the Numbers. Establishing this as part of the PMA (and thus choosing to no longer maintain it) feels like a move to establish some distance between two very popular areas of the BWCA. The Numbers Chain has a huge volume of groups entering every day with the majority of those groups heading west through the Numbers, Hudson, and beyond. To the West and South, South Kawishiwi, Little Gabbro, and Farm all provide access towards Gabbro. Bald Eagle, and the Kawishiwi Triangle. The way routes are managed provide some separation between the two which simplifies quotas and campsite planning. A group can paddle the Kawishiwi over to the Numbers or bushwhack through the PMA, but a very low percentage of groups do. Intentionally not maintaining this route provides some of that separation to limit groups flowing from the Numbers Chain down into the Triangle and visa versa. That said, it’s fascinating to think of the possibilities these portages allowed even if it was simply a bridge from one busy area to another.


3) The Long Portage:
This isn’t so much a lost route as a route which has changed plenty over the years. In fact, most modern maps are dead wrong about where the Long Portage runs by a measure of 100 ft or more. It’s intriguing as the Long Portage is a such a historically significant piece of the Voyageur Route and is still crossed by numerous people every year. First, let’s look at where the Long Portage is marked on most maps.


As you can see in the map above, the Long Portage is marked as starting near the mouth of the creek on the Rove sid, following the creek on the north (Canadian side) before crossing not long before the split heading to Daniels. The problem is, the portage isn’t there. The portage in fact shares a corridor with the Border Route, climbing the hill and following the ridge back to the split (roughly the purple line on the map.) The question is why do most all modern maps get this wrong, showing the Border Route and the Long Portage as different paths?

It’s a question I have never quite found an answer to, so chalk it up as an enduring mystery. The place that the Long Portage is marked on most maps is well underwater in spots thanks to the beavers, and the ’99 blowdown did it no favors. What’s fascinating to me is that the trail is marked correctly on this 1980s map where the portage shares the path with the Border Route. So what changed and why is data from 40 years ago more accurate than today’s? I don’t have a good answer.


The other fascinating piece is that there used to be a second Long Portage running on the Canadian side which was in fact shorter than the US one. This sort of breaks the rules of portage maintenance because, unless a natural event destroys them, the shorter portage will almost always endure over a longer portage. In this case, I also don’t have a good answer. Treaties allow both Americans and Canadians to use portages along the border so two portages would be redundant. Perhaps the USFS was maintaining their portage more frequently so it began getting more use and stuck around. Perhaps they wanted to preserve the route to Daniels and so a straight route to Rose without the option didn’t make a lot of sense. Or perhaps the route running into the flat, old railway grade proved easier than whatever was found on the Canadian side?  In any case, the Canadian portage disappeared from maps before 1980. There’s a right answer somewhere, but for now it’s concealed by history.

4) Sunday and Sterling:
This route, though technically unmaintained, still sees a decent amount of traffic as PMA routes go. This route was an alternate and a shortcut to get from the Angleworm/Fourtown/Horse area of the BWCA up to the border along Iron and Crooked. The river isn’t difficult to paddle when the water’s high and the portages are still mostly easy to find and follow. There used to be a maintained campsite on Sunday. To the west, a route ran from Sunday to Sterling (where another former campsite was located) and through Bibon and Nibin to Stuart. Interestingly, there also used to be a long portage of some 460 rods north from Sunday Lake to Sunday Bay of Crooked. With the PMA system going into effect and the portages no longer seeing official maintenance, parts of this route have grown over and become harder to find in the brush.

 

5) The Phantom Bear:
This is another route that I know very little about, only pieces of history and some of the inferences that brings. In the western section of the BWCA is a small chain of lakes heading west from Crab. This is along the zone that was added to the BWCA with the ’78 BWCA act and was heavily filled with roads and logged in the years leading up to the act. Many modern maps will show a single campsite dot way out to the west on a small lake called Bear. Little else is marked around it: no portages are marked on Bear/Phantom Creeks and no other campsites are marked in the immediate area. In theory, this campsite could have been used as a stopping point if Bear/Phantom Creek were being used as a through route from the Crab Lake area to Vermillion. There also was a trail up to Pine Lake from Bear Creek and other roads weaving through the general area. Whatever the reason for the campsite being located on Bear, it can be assumed it doesn’t see many visitors. Without Bear Creek being its own entry point, the creek doesn’t cater to much through traffic and so whatever route existed there has faded away.

6) The Other Numbers:
North and West of Cummings was a route that almost was. Many people are familiar with the numbers chain (Lake One, Two, Three, Four) but fewer are familiar with the Ojibwe numbers chain Bezhik, Neesh, Niswi, and Neewin (also One, Two, Three, Four.) The name is slightly more familiar now since the 2021 Bezhik fire. From Cummings, a short portage reaches to Neewin Lake. Neewin now is a dead end with one campsite. Before the ’99 blowdown and the PMA system, a mile long portage stretched west from Neewin to Niswi. Niswi had a campsite and from there it was possible with some difficulty to work through through the chain. A rumor circulates online that the Forest Service had left the materials for another campsite on Bezhik. After the area became a PMA, that plan never would have materialized, but that box of materials is likely still there as is the fire grate on Niswi. The ’99 blowdown did an effective job closing off the mile long portage so now both campsites sit abandoned. For me though, I have eyed the route as a possible through way as Bezhik Creek, flowing west from the lake, appears mostly navigable at high water all the way to the Moose River. I don’t know that it was the intention in adding campsites, but this route would have been a fascinating way to make a functional loop to the Moose River EP (an entry point that is almost always an out-and-back trip) with the possibility of exiting somewhere like Big Lake instead. If the Ojibwe Numbers Chain had been open as a route, one could make a spring loop back to the entry. It’s still a fascinating and quiet area and the 2021 fire to the north has only added to the mystique.

7) Three Letters to Gabi:
Through the central BWCA east of Thomas and Fraser is a chain of lakes I know as “the three letter chain.” This chain of small lakes and plenty of portages can be a tough push through to get to Makwa. Through the area that is now the Mugwump PMA was another tough route that cut the corner for a group traveling to and from Gabi. Today, to get from Vee to Gabi requires about 6 miles of paddling and a mile of portaging. Utilizing this old shortcut, it would have whittled that down to a bit over three. The shortcut though would come at a price with a 180 rod portage to Amimi, a paddle into Pace, a 155 rod to Horsefish, a 40 rod and a 55 rod to Image, a 70 rod to leg, and a 20 rod to Gabi. There was a campsite on Amimi to break up the route if needed. On paper, this is a fine route that cuts off some distance for folks heading to/from Gabi while providing another route option. This route seems clear cut as a victim of the PMA system. If a route is not going to be maintained, it makes sense to close the one with fewer options. Also, Makwa’s cliffs are a popular scenic destination. To this end, the route slowly faded with a lack of maintenance to where it is today.

8) Shortcut to the South Arm:
This route is another that makes so much sense as it saves a decent chunk of mileage to the most popular destination for traffic moving through from Seagull and Sag. And in the mid 60s-70s this was a popular route through Holt, Nave, and Nabek with a commonly used campsite on the island on Holt. A series of natural events alongside a lack of maintenance slowly worked on closing this route. First, Nave dried up/filled in and became more bog than lake. Next, blowdown damage began erasing what was left of the old portages. And then the Cavity Lake fire in 2006 burned the Holt Lake end. The occasional intrepid bushwhacker finds their way through, and a number of folks stop in Holt to fish, but the route itself is pretty much gone. Similarly to the previous route, this would have cut a few miles off the popular trip to the South Arm, but with more route options and big destinations like Eddy Falls, the route through Ogish is the more natural candidate to keep open.

9) Jackfish:
This is another old route that faded away with a PMA designation, though Jackfish itself is still a popular destination as PMA lakes go. Jackfish used to be accessible via two routes from Crooked. One route followed the creek from Thursday bay and included two portages. The other route from Wednesday bay also had two portages on either side of Wobosons Lake. There were two campsites on Jackfish for those looking to stay longer. A 50 rod portage used to run to Sauna, and the travel route headed out a longish portage overland or a shorter portage to a creek on the way to Maingan. Another portage led north to Pakwene and another campsite. From there, another portage to Gypo and a short portage to the creek heading into Niki. Another look at old maps shows a portage heading south from Gypo which would infer a route in that direction towards Bullet. As with many old routes that were designated PMA, this route has started to fade, but each visitor keeps the portages from fading completely. As this area has not had a major fire or major windstorm like some of the others, bits and pieces of the trails are probably still traceable.

10) The Eastern Pow Wow:
The PowWow trail was built in the mid to late 70s, much of it by the Youth Conservation Corpse, as a repurposing of the complicated network of old logging roads. Hiking trail sections were built to connect some of the old road grades, completing a nice pair of loops throughout the central BWCA. Eventually, the eastern loop was abandoned and left to grow over. The western loop (today’s Pow Wow Trail) burned along with most of what remained from the eastern loop during Pagami Creek Fire in 2011. Today, though many of the air photos still clearly show the old road grades criss-crossing the burn zone, any old trails not cleared are mostly un-hikeable. The original eastern loop split off from the western through a six mile loop around the Arrow Lakes region. From there, a marshy trail headed towards Calamity and Pow Wow Lake where an old CCC era wooden landing was built. From Nuthatch Lake, another loop split south to Ferne Lake before winding back around to Calamity. Past that turnoff, the main trail continued east towards Whittler, Fungus (where another campsite was located), and Chickadee along a section which was more foot path than logging road. In the area near Whittler, it’s obvious from the air photo that some of the forest is old pine plantation grown from the logging era. South of Chickadee, the trail meets back with an old road grade running from old Forest Center to Kawishiwi Lake. Following the trail back to the trailhead leads past another campsite on Tomahawk and south across the Perent River. Originally, this trail would have been crisscrossed with a variety of other roads and trails making the area pretty challenging to navigate as the old paths grew over. Parts of this trail network became famous due to the 1998 “lost in the wild’ incident where a hiker found himself lost not far from where the east and west loops came together.

If you’re looking for a dog that loves the snow and cold temperatures of winter, then look no further! Winter-loving breeds like the Alaskan Malamute and Samoyed make excellent family companions, and they also excel in dog sports like sledding and skijoring. In this article, we’ll explore some of the best breeds of dogs to bring into your home if you’re looking for a canine companion that loves the winter season. Read on to learn more about these special breeds!

The Alaskan Malamute
This is a powerful and majestic breed of dog, originating from Alaska. These Arctic dogs were bred by the Mahlemut Eskimos for use as sled dogs, and to haul heavy loads over long distances. The Alaskan Malamute is the largest of the Arctic sled dogs, standing up to 27 inches tall and weighing up to 85 pounds. With their thick fur and impressive size, they are well-suited to cold weather and love the snow.

Here are some fun facts about the Alaskan Malamute:

• The Alaskan Malamute was named after the Mahlemut tribe of Alaska’s Norton Sound region.

• These dogs have been used in arctic exploration since the late 19th century, famously helping Admiral Robert Peary reach the North Pole in 1909.

• Alaskan Malamutes can be incredibly affectionate and loyal, making them great family pets.

• They are also known for their incredible strength, capable of pulling carts and sleds up to 1,500 pounds!

• These dogs have thick double coats with a soft undercoat and coarse outer coat that protects them from the cold.


The American Eskimo Dog

This is a small- to medium-sized spitz-type dog that has a thick, white double coat and a strong muzzle. They were originally bred in the United States for their intelligence, athleticism, and ability to guard and perform tricks. They are known for their alertness and loyalty, as well as their tendency to bark at strangers. American Eskimos enjoy being outdoors in colder climates and love winter weather, making them perfect for families living in snowy areas.

Here are some fun facts about the American Eskimo Dog:

• American Eskimos are active dogs who need plenty of exercise to stay healthy and happy. They love playing fetch and going on walks, hikes, and runs. They do best with an owner who can provide them with consistent training and socialization, as they can be a bit aloof with strangers.

• They are excellent watchdogs, and can be suspicious of people they don’t know.

• When it comes to grooming, American Eskimos need regular brushing to keep their coats clean and healthy. They may also need occasional trims to keep their hair from getting too long.

• American Eskimos are generally healthy dogs with an average lifespan of 12-15 years. Common health issues can include hip dysplasia and patellar luxation.

Photo by Bigandt, Deposit Photos


The Icelandic Sheepdog:

Sometimes referred to as the Iceland Dog, this is a loyal, friendly and energetic breed that loves the snow and cold weather of winter. This small Nordic dog, with its thick coat and curled tail, has a long history of being bred for herding sheep in Iceland. They have a thick double coat that protects them from the elements and makes them well-suited for colder climates.

Icelandic Sheepdogs are intelligent and sociable dogs that thrive in an active home environment. They are naturally curious and enjoy exploring their surroundings. With proper training, they make great family pets, although their high energy levels can be difficult to handle if not managed properly.

In terms of fun facts:
• This breed is known to be quite vocal – they bark and howl to express themselves.

• They also have an interesting ‘drooling’ behavior when excited or anticipating a reward, which can be quite amusing to watch!

• Icelandic Sheepdogs also love to play fetch and other interactive games with their owners.

The King Shepherd
This is a relatively new breed of dog that was created by crossbreeding German Shepherds and Shiloh Shepherds in the 1990s. This is a large, powerful breed with a strong protective instinct that loves to be with its family. This breed needs plenty of exercise and will do best in an active home.

Fun Facts About the King Shepherd:

• The King Shepherd is a naturally intelligent and independent breed that is known for its loyalty and affection towards its owners.

• King Shepherds were originally bred to guard flocks of sheep, so they are incredibly protective of their loved ones.

• King Shepherds have a double coat, which allows them to stay warm in cold climates and even thrive in winter.

• King Shepherds are not only beautiful but also incredibly versatile, excelling at agility, obedience, and other activities.

• Although they may look intimidating, King Shepherds are actually quite gentle and love to spend time cuddling up with their owners.

Photo Cred to [email protected], Deposit Photos

The Alaskan Klee Kai
This small breed of dog was developed in the late 1970s in Alaska. The breed is a mix between the Siberian Husky and other small spitz-type dogs. They are often referred to as a “miniature husky” due to their similar appearance. Alaskan Klee Kai are typically friendly and loving companions, although they can be quite independent and require lots of exercise.

These dogs make great family pets, as they are known for being loyal and devoted to their humans. However, due to their high energy level, they need regular daily exercise and stimulation to keep them from getting bored. They are also very intelligent, so it’s important to keep them mentally stimulated as well.

Alaskan Klee Kai love winter and enjoy playing in the snow. They have thick double coats which help them withstand even the coldest temperatures. When temperatures dip below freezing, they need to wear a coat or sweater to keep them warm. In addition to their thick coat, they have a strong natural instinct to burrow, which helps keep them warm in the winter.

Fun facts about Alaskan Klee Kai:

• The Alaskan Klee Kai comes in three sizes: toy, miniature, and standard.

• They come in four different colors: black and white, gray and white, red and white, and solid white.

• They have an average lifespan of 12-15 years.

• They are considered one of the most cat-like breeds of dog due to their intelligence and independent nature.

• They are extremely loyal and devoted to their owners.

• They require lots of exercise and mental stimulation to stay happy and healthy.

• They are excellent swimmers and love playing in the snow!

Photo Cred, @Naiathebuhund, Facebook

The Norwegian Buhund
This dog is a cheerful, intelligent and loyal spitz-type dog breed that loves to be around its family. Originally from Norway, these active and robust dogs have been used for centuries as herding and hunting dogs. The Norwegian Buhund is considered a great family companion and are known for their devotion, playfulness and loyalty.

Fun facts about the Norwegian Buhund:

• The Norwegian Buhund is an ancient Nordic dog breed, which has been used since the Viking era to herd sheep and guard homes and properties.

• They were popular among sailors and fishermen in Norway, as they make excellent watchdogs with their sharp senses and alertness.

• In addition to being an excellent herder, the Norwegian Buhund is also an excellent watchdog, as they are very alert and will bark when they sense danger.

• Norwegian Buhunds have a thick double coat that comes in a range of colors, including wheaten, black, gray, fawn and sable.

• These dogs are very energetic and love to play and stay active, making them a great choice for those who enjoy outdoor activities.

• They are also highly trainable and intelligent, making them easy to train for obedience competitions or other sports activities.

• The Norwegian Buhund is an especially good breed for families living in cold climates, as they have thick coats to keep them warm in winter.


Newfoundland

These are one of the best breeds for winter thanks to their thick double coat. Native to the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador, these large and strong working dogs are known for their sweet personalities and loyalty. Here are some fun facts about Newfoundlands:

• Newfoundland dogs were originally bred to be working dogs, used to help fishermen with tasks like pulling in nets and rescuing people who had fallen overboard.

• Newfoundlands are excellent swimmers, thanks to their webbed feet and thick water-resistant coat.

• The average lifespan of a Newfoundland is 8-10 years.

• They are well-known for their gentle nature and patience with children, making them ideal family pets.

• Newfoundland dogs require lots of exercise and grooming, which is especially important during the winter months when the weather can be extreme.

• Despite their size, Newfoundlands are not considered aggressive dogs, so they make great companions for other animals too.

• Some Newfoundlands have even been trained as therapy dogs and search and rescue dogs.

If you’re looking for a loyal and loving dog that loves winter, the Newfoundland is definitely worth considering! With its patient and gentle nature, this breed is perfect for families of all sizes and offers plenty of companionship during the cold winter months.

The Samoyed:
This breed of fluffy white and cream-colored herding dogs was originally bred to help their owners in the cold climates of Siberia. They were traditionally used to herd reindeer, but nowadays they make great family pets. They are known for their intelligence, loyalty and affectionate nature. Samoyeds love to be around people and are incredibly social animals.

Fun Facts About Samoyeds:

• Samoyeds were named after the Samoyedic people, who originated in Siberia.

• The Samoyed’s thick coat was developed to protect them from the cold, harsh conditions in the North.

• They have an instinctive “smile” when they’re happy – their mouths curl up into a permanent grin.

• Samoyeds can be trained to pull sleds and compete in dog sports such as agility and mushing.

• They are also great watchdogs, as they will bark at anything unusual or suspicious.

• Samoyeds love to cuddle, and will often curl up in a lap for a nap.

Photo by Mike Turner on Unsplash


The Great Pyrenees:
A large, majestic breed of dog that is native to the Pyrenees Mountains in southern Europe. These dogs are known for their beautiful, long white coats and regal appearance. They make great family pets, as they are loyal and devoted to their owners. The breed is also known for its love of the outdoors, so they make excellent companion animals for those who enjoy spending time in nature.

Fun facts about the Great Pyrenees include:

• Great Pyrenees were bred to be guard dogs, and they are still used today to protect flocks of sheep and other livestock.

• The Great Pyrenees has a double coat made up of a thick undercoat and a wooly topcoat. This makes them well-suited for cold climates and outdoor activities.

• The Great Pyrenees is often referred to as the “Gentle Giant” due to their friendly, loving nature.

• The Great Pyrenees is one of the oldest known breeds of dog and has been around since at least the 1700s.

• These dogs are natural hikers and love spending time in the outdoors with their families.

• The Great Pyrenees is an independent thinker, which means it can be difficult to train them.

• They have a loud bark that can be used to warn off any intruders or wild animals.

• This breed loves children and is known to be gentle and patient with them.

• The Great Pyrenees is a very strong swimmer and enjoys taking part in water activities with its owner.

• Great Pyrenees are relatively low-maintenance when it comes to grooming, as they only need occasional brushing and occasional bathing.

It all goes back to a BWCA trivia contest. That’s when it sank it anyways. I consider myself a BWCA nerd, down to the root, so maybe these things are more obvious to me. In any case, an organization that should have been experts in the topic were incorrect in the answers they provided for their trivia contest. I don’t know why it bugged me so. Maybe it was because the internet makes it pretty easy to fact check information (though it also propitiates the mis-information.) Maybe it was because the BWCA means so much to me. In any case, there are quite a few un-true facts out there when it comes to the BWCA. This article will hopefully help clear the air. I also don’t want this article to sound elitist or snobby, but I believe that in understanding comes appreciation. Though the ways we learn about and understand a place like the BWCA, we come to love and respect it more. Let that be the purpose of this article. Without further ado, here are six of the misfacts or untruths I have heard around.

The Largest Lake in the BWCA:

A quick search online and one will routinely see Saganaga touted as both the deepest and largest lake in the BWCA, and honestly, that’s not even close to true. Now, I love Saganaga. It’s a big, beautiful, complicated lake that takes a long time to learn and understand. For the sake of “which lake is the largest in the BWCA” it depends on how you define the question, but Sag isn’t the answer no matter how you calculate it. One way of looking at that question is “what lake has the most acres within the BWCA?” The answer to that question is Basswood which has 14229 surface acres of water within the BWCA. Basswood is closely followed by Lac La Croix which has just shy of 14000 acres, Trout has 7470 acres, and Saganaga has just over 7000 acres within the BWCA. Now, one could read the question as “what is the largest lake that is partly in the BWCA?” This is important because most of the largest lakes are along the border which means the water’s surface is split between the US and Canada. If a person were to use that standard, than the largest lake would be Lac La Croix whose surface measures 29596 acres. Basswood is second with 25952 acres and Saganaga places third with 18766 acres. Now one could also read the question as “what is the largest lake WITHIN the BWCA?” This question feels a little nitpicky because it’s looking for the largest lake entirely within the boundaries of the BWCA. The answer to this question is Trout with its 7470 acres. And finally, one could make an argument for the largest lake being listed by volume, however that’s an inaccessible number for reasons listed in the next section. In any case, I would say the largest lake in the BWCA is Basswood or Lac La Croix and good arguments could be made for either.

The Deepest Lake in the BWCA:

Saganaga also routinely gets listed as the deepest lake in the BWCA with a depth of 280 ft. That number is fairly accurate, and Saganaga would be the deepest lake in the BWCA if the question is “what is the deepest lake touching the BWCA?” However, the deepest spot on Saganaga is located well into the Canadian side. The deepest spot on the US side (in the BWCA) is somewhere around 140 ft deep. To me, the question of the deepest lake in the BWCA is asking the question “what is the deepest spot underwater in the BWCA?” and, honestly, that’s a very tricky question to answer. The lake depths on Saganaga are fairly accurate due to moderately heavy motor usage and a long history of navigation and fishing. For many lakes in the BWCA though, no accurate lake depth exists. There may be a number listed online and rough charts on maps, but much of that data is based on rudimentary measurements, like heavy object on the end of a rope rudimentary. This is basically the impact of lake depth data being expensive and time consuming to gather. And the longer it’s been since a lake was mapped, the greater the chance that it was measured by hand without an all-encompassing electronic mapping. With that in mind, Gabimitchigami is a strong contender for deepest within the BWCA with a measured depth of 209′ deep, a number measured in 1980. Mountain is another candidate though the deepest spot on Mountain is on the Canadian side. The deepest on the US side is over 180 ft deep though that number was measured in August of 1939. Kekekabic as well was measured to 195 ft deep in 1964, Gunflint Lake which is connected to the BWCA has purported depths down to 200 ft but, again, not within the BWCA. Knife was measured to 179 ft deep in 1969. Quite a few BWCA lakes are deeper than 100 feet with many of the deepest found east of the Gunflint such as Rose, Pine, Clearwater, or West Pike. Plenty of the big lakes further west along the border are also over 100 ft deep including LLC, Crooked, Basswood, and Ottertrack. And some of the deep lake trout lakes like Takumich, Winchell, Little Sag, Tuscarora, Gillis, Snowbank, and quite a few others are also in that depth class.

The Highest Lake in the BWCA is Lake of the Clouds:

This is another classic example of “list something online long enough and it becomes fact.” I don’t know where this one came from. Is it the name? Was it a rumor spread by someone who suffered up the Gijikiki portage? Beats me. Like the previous two topics, there are a couple ways to think about this question. The question could be “which BWCA lake is the highest elevation?” The irony here is, if that’s the question, the majority of the lakes east of the Laurentian Divide sit higher that Lake of the Clouds. LOTC sits at just over 1500 ft. The highest elevation lake in the BWCA is Red Eye, the namesake of the 2006 fire, which sits over 500 feet higher than Lake of the Clouds at about 2070 feet. This makes it one of the highest lakes in the state though a chain of lakes to the South outside the BWCA (Thrush, Thrasher, and Bath) do reach higher. If instead of asking which lake is the highest elevation, what if one were to ask about the most prominent lake, the lake that sits the farthest above all the lakes around it? My answer to that question would be one of the lakes east of the Gunflint such as Pemmican, Vale, Gadwall, or Long, though that number is incredibly subjective and hard to calculate. Reference our article on tallest BWCA portages to get some idea.

The Oldest Tree in Minnesota/BWCA:

This is an impossible number to know for certain, but I can talk into some of the science and the controversy. Two trees in the BWCA routinely claim the title: one tree on Basswood and one on Seagull. Trees can be notoriously difficult to age by their appearance. The official way to age a tree is with an increment core, a device which takes a small sample of wood from the trunk thus allowing a scientist to count the rings without killing the tree. It was by this methodology that Miron Heinselman discovered the dates of many of the BWCA’s fires, and Lee Frelich and others have continued the work. Now, for the two trees vying for the title. The tree on Basswood is massive, it’s a favorite destination for Ely outfitters and camps, and it’s a truly beautiful tree. The Seagull tree is far less visited, it’s a small, twisted ancient thing perched on a rock on an island and is touted as 1000 years of age by Lee Frelich and described in this excerpt: “The canoe nudged ashore near trees that Frelich dated at 550 years old. Their granddaddy–a cedar estimated at 1,000 years old, quite possibly Minnesota’s oldest tree–stood a few feet inland. Only about 25 feet tall, its bark was a weathered and gray.”  The tree on Basswood, on the other hand, is advertised as 1100 years of age. Which tree is older, Seagull or Basswood? If I had to bet, my money is on the Seagull tree for this reason. A big, massive tree like the Basswood one is likely a classic case of “that tree is big, it must be old.” And so the stories start and get passed along. Is there a chance the tree is 1000 years old? Absolutely. But keep in mind the number of things which happen in 1000 years. The average parcel of land in the BWCA burns every 75-120 years meaning each tree has possibly avoided 10 fires in their millenia-long lifetimes. They have also survived dozens of windstorms, droughts, and floods. Because of these challenges, oldest trees are never the largest. The oldest trees are those perched on a rock hidden away from fire and too small to be uprooted by wind. The trees which survive grow slow and suffer. And with that understanding of how trees grow and survive, I for one am going with Frelich’s tree on Seagull over the giant on Basswood, though they are both marvelous, special trees deserving of their recognition and respect. And remember that in all wild spaces is an air of mystery. Somewhere on some distant island is a small, contorted cedar that might just be older than either of these that we just haven’t measured yet, and that fascinating unknown is truly special all its own.

The BWCA is Untrammeled Wilderness or the BWCA has Zero Old Growth Left:

These two are different sides of the same coin, so I figured I would tackle them together. The BWCA is a wilderness now, but it hasn’t always been that way. A keen eye on a canoe trip, a step a few feet off a portage, or an exploration of historical accounts and a person is bound to discover traces of the past. The area that’s now the BWCA has had a busy history of resorts, cabins, logging, trapping, trading, mining, roads, and railroads. It’s hard to picture on many of the lakes today, but large swaths of the BWCA were settled to some extent. With that, it’s important to know that, though the BWCA is a very special place which is minimally impacted compared to much of the rest of this country, it does have a history.  When talking about old growth, most people’s mind goes straight to the big pines, but it is also important to note that old growth can mean century old aspen, it can mean pockets of cedars along the shore (see the last paragraph), and it can even mean a bog filled with stunted black spruce. For the sake of this article though, I’ll be focusing on the big pines since it’s what many people think of when discussing old growth in the BWCA. The big pines were also the focus of the initial logging efforts into the region. Because of this, many people understanding this history say that the entire BWCA was logged an no old growth remains. Other people, unaware of this history, assume much of the BWCA outside of the new burn zones is old growth pine and that’s not the case either. The answer, of course, is much more complicated. Miron Heinselman’s work recorded stands of red and white pine as old as the 1600s with individual trees reaching into the 1500s still standing into the 90s. Plenty of other stands date to the 1700s and 1800s. It’s important to understand that the BWCA is part of a complicated fire mosaic of forested land with some ancient stands intermixed with forests of various ages dating to various fires. And though large sections of the BWCA such as most of Basswood, the Isabella region north to the Numbers and Hudson, and areas west of Burntside were logged, sometimes multiple times, in the last century. Other parts of the BW were set aside as roadless areas earlier. Other parts had the fortune of remaining remote long enough or were small enough pockets to get overlooked. So yes, some of the BWCA still shows the impact of past logging and thus is difficult at times to see as “true wilderness” (just take a walk on the north arm ski trails towards Coxey Pond sometime.) And yes there are still remote lakes with ancient pines who still bear scars from fires during the civil war. And areas which are burned over today or logged over 40 years ago will recover and may someday fit that image of old growth we have in our heads. The important thing to remember is the BWCA is naturally a very dynamic ecosystem which is constantly renewing itself. What we see today is not what will be here tomorrow and there’s beauty to be found in that process.

The Number of Pictograph Sets in the BWCA:

It’s hard to speak with certainty about any traces of the past because stories, legends, and memories all get jumbled. Some sources say there are two pictograph sets in the BWCA, a number which way undershoots the mark. Most maps of the BWCA mark only the sets on Crooked, LLC (on the Canadian side), Island River (just outside the BW), South Hegman, Fishdance, and sometimes the western set on LLC, and the sets on Rocky and Jordan. There’s also a good number marked in the Quetico. Truth be told, no one knows with any deal of certainty how many pictograph sets are in the BWCA. Even as experts set out to explain them or establish patterns of where they can be found, there always seems to be an outlier or two.  A couple amazing books go into the pictographs in detail and I highly recommend checking them out if history is at all fascinating to you. Part of the challenge in establishing how many pictograph sets are in the BWCA is found in the fact that the landscape is vast and no one has seen it all and the faces the pictographs are on are constantly changing. Sig Olson has an excerpt about pictographs he was familiar with disappearing through the years, not because the pigment faded, but because lichen has a way of covering them up. If a fire or other event scrapes the lichen away, the potential is there for the pictographs to reappear. Other sets have had their pigment fade away due to the exposure of their particular sites. With that understanding, there are around a dozen really good sites in and around the BWCA with relatively clear pictographs on them. Many of these are not marked on a map or clearly defined in literature, but that’s part of the charm and helps protect the sets themselves. Outside of those, there are plenty of other sets around vaguely mentioned in literature that are hard if not impossible to find today (remember, the faces are constantly changing.) I can also say that every now and again, another set is found that was previously unrecorded. I myself have had the pleasure of stumbling on a couple. So with that in mind, one can only imagine how many sets are tucked around the next rock face or concealed behind lichen.

At the end of January, the longest dog sled race in the lower 48, the Beargrease, ran up Minnesota’s north shore and culminated in an exciting finish between Keith Aili and Ryan Anderson. It’s an amazing race with a variety of trail types and terrain over the course of its more than 300 miles. But how does our big race stack up against some of the other marathon races across the country and across the world? Let’s find out.

The Iditarod is of course the most famous dog sled race perhaps anywhere. It’s featured in articles, movies, documentaries and it’s one of the few races that mushers, dogsport enthusiasts, and people completely unfamiliar with the sport are all familiar with. It’s also the longest continually run dogsled race in the world with a distance of 1049 miles. The Iditarod was started as a race in 1973, building on some of the history of dogsleds making deliveries and mail runs across the north. 

The Kobuk 440 is an annual race stretching back to 1988. It runs from Kotzebue Sound inland to Kobuk before turning back to finish where it started, a 400 mile route.

The Yukon Quest 1000 was another 1000 mile race but that class has not been run since 2020. Their longest race this season is a 450 mile race from Whitehorse to Dawson City.

The Canadian Challenge is the longest race to start and finish in Canada with an approximately 370 mile course. The race starts on the edge of Prince Albert National Park and winds north crossing Montreal Lake and part of Lake La Ronge finishing at Missinipe on the shores of Otter Lake.

Dog sled races are certainly not just a North American sport. Mushing is predictably popular in the Scandinavian regions and, not surprisingly, the longest race in Europe is held there. The Finnmarksløpe is a 745 mile race held in far northern Norway. The longest class of race starts from the Alta Fjord and works south to Kautokeino before turning east towards the Finnish border following that north. It splits off towards Varanger Fjord, then down pretty much to the Russian border before taking a similar, parallel trail back to the Alta Fjord.

The Femundløpet is another Norwegian race running some 370 miles starting and finishing in Røros, Norway.

In France, La Grande Odyssée VVF, a race started in 2005, runs 560 miles through the French Alps, from Portes du Soleil to Haute-Maurienne.
Meanwhile, in Russia, the Volga Quest, runs some 340 miles along the Volga River. It runs along the river between various communities before concluding at the city of Kazan.

In the remote regions of Kamchatka runs a race called the Beringia which holds the record as the longest sled dog race in the world. The route it takes has changed a number of times over the years, but the 1992 running saw the route exceed 2000 km or 1200 miles. The race has been run every year since 1990 and this year, 2023, it is getting a new route. The 2021 race was a little over 600 miles long and utilized a finishing point that could only be reached by air and in certain conditions . This year’s start and finish should be more accessible, smoothing out the logistics of such a long distance race.

Other notable races include the Race to the Sky in Montana, the Vindelälvsdraget in Sweden, Pasvik Trail in Norway, the Ivakkak in Quebec, amongst so many others. Dog sled racing is truly a world wide sport. 

Sources:
https://iditarod.com/volga-quest-2020/
https://isdvma.org/race-information/
http://www.kobuk440.com/
https://www.grandeodyssee.com/
https://iditarod.com/
https://beargrease.com/
https://www.yukonquest.com/
https://www.canadianchallenge.com/
https://www.finnmarkslopet.no/
https://www.femundlopet.no/v2/

 
The week we had looked forward to had come around again: the Week of Winter annual BWCA trip. This tradition is relatively new, last year was our first, but it seems poised to be a trip that continues annually. January is a fascinating time to take a week long BWCA trip both because winter offers such a different perspective on the wilderness and because it takes so long to get anywhere. A slightly longer trip lets us set our eyes on destinations further into the BWCA which is quite nice. The history of this trip goes back to our first winter trips into the BWCA. I winter camped a ton in college, but most of those were drive up, hike a mile or two in, and set up for the weekend. Also, all those were cold camping which really isn’t as bad as it sounds. Once the gear is right, cold camping is comfortable until well below zero. The worst in fact is that middle range of 20s-40s where everything has the potential to get super wet in the tent, on the gear, and throughout the wardrobe. Anyways, the first foray into the BWCA in the winter started with the obligatory transition trips. First it was figuring out canoeing and portaging in 7″ of snow and then it was figuring out ice breaking with the canoe. Then we took it to a short trip cold camping from South Hegman to Angleworm. Eventually, we moved into the hot tent scene and set up camp at the spot I had always dreamed of spending a night on Watap. The natural progression from there put us on Caribou Lake south of Clearwater for a week-long trip last January. Unfortunately for me, illness hit hard by night two when a strong fever set in. Let me tell you, a hearty fever while outside air temps plunge down into the -20s is a personal experience to be avoided! This year though, I was healthy and ready to enjoy our five nights of January fun in the BWCA. We targeted Wine as our destination and agreed to meet at the Sawbill parking lot. I had the Banff Film Festival to attend as a vendor and would be driving up late after the festival wrapped up. I didn’t finish up till almost 11 that night in Duluth so it was a late run up the shore and along the Sawbill trail meaning it was 1:30 before I pulled in to the parking lot. It wasn’t long before I was fast asleep in my car, anxiously dreaming of morning.

I decided to begin work on my own gear before finding the two members of the trip who had arrived the night before. First, I pulled the sled out of my car and began loading it with the Portage North Outfitter 98 I had along. I tucked the few extras like the second set of snowshoes and the cot as well as my camera case into the bottom of the sled. Just as I finished, a low rumble started making its way down the road. Rounding the corner, I immediately recognized Dan-in-the-box’s truck. He was not supposed to be joining us until afternoon, but woke up about 3:00 in the cities to make it to Sawbill for our start. I walked down to the landing and found our other two guys. I had brought a Voyageur 3 from work for them to borrow as we started stuffing packs and sorting out gear into various sleds. It was a good twenty minutes before sleds were loaded and granola was being passed around for breakfast. Before we knew it, our group suddenly had grown to five! Where did this dog come from?!? Despite our best attempts at encouraging our new friend Huckleberry to return to Sawbill Outfitters, she seemed dead set on coming along on our adventure. Soon enough though, another camper came around the corner. As chance would have it, he was the uncle of another one of our friends. What are the odds that he would be winter camping the same time and place as us?!? After a few failed attempts, we managed to ditch Huckleberry with him and start off towards Alton.

Travel conditions were dreamy with light snow and no slush. We made quick pace all the way to the Kelso River before stopping for a break and a snack. The Kelso River had some deeper snow in spots but still was relatively straightforward. Occasionally, the sun peaked from behind the clouds and cast a dancing light on the treetops. It was easy for the mind to wander back to my fall solo trip along this same stretch of water a couple years ago. How different it looks with trees covered in snow rather than the golden leaves of autumn. I had a magical couple days with beautiful sunrises and an encounter with a mink on that trip. Today, the only wildlife around seemed to be a chickadee or two. There was a small patch of open water near the beaver dam, otherwise good travel conditions continued to the portage. It was at the portage that the adventure truly began. The portage had obviously not seen traffic in awhile, possibly since the fall. A large spruce had dropped on the portage making it even harder to find. Without snowshoes, the snow went up to mid-thigh. Even with snowshoes, the heavy sleds dragged like an anchor through the thick powder. This day would be hard-won. The start of the portage is a quick succession of small ups and downs; this is truly exhausting while trail breaking. Up and down, up and down, and the two of us in the lead were quickly tiring of the trail breaking. At the base of a steep hill, we saw a window of opportunity to our left: a wide-open beaver pond. That seems better than this mess any day! We head out to the beaver pond and are rewarded by 100 yards of clear open surface. On the far side though, the walls close in to dense brush. I scout ahead and decide that one side of the creek is marginally kinder than the other. It still takes quite a bit of bashing and crashing through the alder tangle before we clear through to another small beaver pond. Despite the hard work, there’s still no sign of the other half of our group who we haven’t seen since Lujenida. Where have they gone? We decide to keep pushing forward since our broken trail can only help them. The next section of brush is closed into a steep canyon with an exposed rock face to the left. There are scattered boulders in the valley and the snow concealed the occasional pitfall. We would have to be cautious. We bashed on ahead through an incredible tangle of alders with sleds catching on brush pretty much continually. Occasionally, one of us would plug into a hole and have to wrestle the snowshoe back out. After clearing our way through the canyon, the valley opened up into another large, brushy woodland. We stopped for a breather before I set off to scout ahead. The valley forked into a “y” and it seemed both ended up in open creek sections eventually. We were looking for the spot the portage crossed the creek, a landmark from the map to help our bearings and the place we planned to jump back on trail. I hiked to the spot where the forest gave way to marshland before backtracking to the sleds. By then, the sound of the voices of the other group members was coming from down the valley. They soon joined us for the final push to the creek. We were a little battered with sore knees and I had a binding-blister going on my achilles. Three out of four group members were walking a little gimpy. It was a grueling end of the first day of the trip. One by one, we trudged on to blast out onto the open beaver pond. We pulled over the beaver dam and out around the corner. This is where we would spend the night. We cleared a space for Little Grumpy’s new hot tent (a real beauty he had been waiting nearly a year to receive from its maker.) I gathered firewood, others set up the tent, and before we knew it, we were enjoying a stellar moonrise behind the trees through the smoke rising from our warm tent. A fittingly relaxing evening was the reward for a challenging day.

The next morning found us each checking bumps, bruises, and blisters and donning our relatively wet gear from the day before. The daytime temps were too warm to keep gear truly dry. It was a slow pack up before we headed for the portage. We knew we had more than half of the portage still to go and, with the snow depth we observed before, we knew it would be a tiring push. It’s a steep climb out of the beaver pond and we quickly realized that we weren’t going to be able to break trail with the sleds. One of our group members elected to go on ahead and break trail, but with his narrow modern snowshoes, the responsibility also fell back to me. The blister was tender, but the trail had to be broken. I charged on ahead with my classics (the bindings I had issues with the day before) since the moderns were too narrow to make a sufficient trail for the sleds. There were some daunting ups and downs before one long uphill led to a brushy stretch. After the brushy stretch, it was a long downhill to Zenith. I was glad to see the lake, but I knew that, somewhere far behind me, my crew was working hard to make some progress with the sleds. I turned and headed back to help. After about 10 minutes, I ran into the other trail breaker, still making progress though punching through the big tracks made my the classics. Five minutes after him, I ran into the first sled-puller. “Dan-in-the-box” is big and strong and, despite sore knees at this point in the trip, seemed hardly to notice the sled behind him. He chugged on ahead, now wisely using a walking stick for support. Awhile back from him, I ran into Little Grumpy who, ever the stubborn one, was chugging on with a very heavy sled. We paused and took a snack break together. I wished him well before heading back for one of the other two sleds. I passed the toboggan, figuring I should go for the sled furthest back on the portage. I found it and set off to make whatever progress I could make. It wasn’t long before I hit the steep downhill. Of course, the sled jumped trail and overturned about halfway down. That’s when I realized that the sled had an open baguette in it! Why is there just a random loaf of bread here? Haha. I had a good chuckle to myself before piling gear back into the sled and continuing off down the trail. I ran into my other trail breaker after another ten minutes or so and sent him back for the final sled. Soon enough, I was on the uphill and even with a walking stick this section required the occasional hands and knees crawl up hill. The sleds were heavy and the snow slick, it was a battle for every foot. I ran into Little Grumpy again part way up the hill. I sent him back to our fourth crew member to help with the final sled while I marched up the hill. I finally reached the down tree which I knew marked the peak. Then it was downhill to Zenith. We all grouped up near the lake for the final, small drop down to the ice where we gathered for lunch. It took over three hours from the beaver pond, but we had finally completed the last leg of the long portage! On Zenith, we worked through the creek. There was a portage before Frederick with open water. We cautiously filled up bottles there and purified them well. There was another open spot to avoid on the Frederick side which took some acrobatics to get snowshoer and sled across. Frederick was a beautiful lake, but it was definitely growing late in the afternoon by the time we reached the portage where I took my turn breaking trail. The first section is steep enough and took some work to find my way through the unbroken trail. Before me stretched this daunting steep section. I can imagine it’s tough with a canoe, but with snowshoes and a heavy sled, this was a nearly insurmountable obstacle. Thankfully, we had come prepared. What would follow was the most amusing system for pulling sleds up a hill. At the top was an anchor connected to a tree. One end of the rope would be hooked to the sled the other would be hooked to a person. As a person at the top took out slack, the person with the end of the rope would graciously fall down the hill while the sled went up the hill. We would then set the sled off to the side, the ropes would get switched, a new sled would get hooked up, and we continued this rotation until all sleds were perched on top of the hill. From the top of the Frederick portage, there are some tight turns and a couple steep up and downs before a dramatic fall down the hill to Wine. Tackling this steep downhill in the dark by headlamp, we couldn’t help but grimace at the thought of doing this the other direction in a few days’ time. We worked our way down the southern shore of Wine Lake looking for a spot with ample firewood. We settled near the SW corner and began the process of stamping out a spot, getting the tent set, and spreading out in search of firewood. I headed north along the eastern shore which proved to be incredibly steep. I did finally spot one back from shore that was dead, down, and dry. It was a good scramble up to retrieve it and saw it free, but I was happy to find good wood to drag back to camp with me. It was satisfying to sit down in a warm tent finally and appreciate the campsite we had earned for ourselves. Now we could enjoy three nights of fishing and exploring.

The next day, we allowed ourselves a slight sleep in. The goal for the day was to find a more substantial source of firewood and perhaps catch some fish. I started out on a solo hike to Mug Lake and would keep my eye out for firewood along the shore. Just past the narrows to the island, I found my first slush pocket of the trip. Travel conditions on the lake were still amazing though and I was able to walk to the portage without snowshoes. At the portage, it was obvious that this little back bay was popular with the Moose as deep post-holed tracks ran from the marsh, across the lake, and down the portage. I wondered if I would encounter any of them today. The portage to Mug is a slight rise and then a steep descent to the lake and finishes alongside a beautiful rock face. A trio of otter trails broke up the otherwise untampered snow on Mug Lake. Mug is a pretty little lake that feels like the bowl of a once much deaper body of water. The banks are steep and high with occasional boulder piles and rock faces. I hiked around the corner to the falls, appreciating the expansive ice wall lining the face this time of year. I stopped over onto Poe with thoughts of going as far as Louse for further exploring, but decided against it for the sake of time. On my way eastbound on Wine, it was obvious that the guys were well enamored by their search for fish. I could also tell that their firewood exploration found some sucess. They had found a nicely down jack pine and cut and split it in my absence. It was a good day.

The next day was similar to the first. This time we took a group trip over to Mug to enjoy the falls further. I trekked along with the crew and grabbed some firewood I had cut but not hauled on my trip the day prior along the shore of Wine. We spent the evening with more fishing and caught one that we designated for dinner. That night, we ate like kings with a good half fillet a piece and a hearty dinner alongside. Finish that off with ice cream and any thoughts of withering away on this trip vanished completely. This would be our last night on Wine. We contemplated attempting the push back in one go now that the trail was broken, but if past trips had taught us anything it was that all miles take longer than anticipated.

We woke up to find it slightly colder than it had been, which was a blessing. The warm air made for weak snow prone to breaking through on the portages. Now that we had broken trail ahead of us, cold temperatures that could keep the packed snow hard was key. The first leg of portaging was the most intimidating. The portage rising out of Wine Lake is a steep ridge which would make us painfully aware of every ounce in the sled. We decided against the snowshoes for the sake of maximum traction. Dan-in-the-box was quick up the hill. Little Grumpy helped tandem push the toboggan up the hill with our fourth and then headed back down to hook back up to his. Between him pulling from the top, me pushing a bit, and pulling my slightly lighter sled, we managed up the hill in no time, a welcome suprise to be sure. Just as Little Grumpy and I reached the final descent to Frederick, an unmistakable rumble started over the treeline, is that a helicopter? We raced down to the ice to catch a glimpse of a helicopter come right over the treeline and it was obviously flying a grid pattern. We know he had to have seen us since my bright orange coat is hard to miss. We anxiously check our packs to make sure no one had accidently pushed SOS on the Spot Gens. It didn’t seem like any had. Our next thoughts went to search and rescue. A few of us have background in wilderness first aid and have taken an interest in studying wilderness SAR. We figured if someone was missing, the heli would at least stop to ask us questions, but until then we continued on as usual. On the next pass, he intentionally swung wide around us. We assumed then that it was a wildlife survey, something we confirmed from home later on. The helicopter was out counting Moose. We made good time down Frederick and on to Zenith, taking lunch at the start of the long portage. The warming weather heading into afternoon had quickly increased our rate of post holing, but we were still making good time. We made our beaver pond by late afternoon and had a discussion about spending another night there, but pushed on for Lujenida. Dan-in-the-box broke through the ice near the beaver dam, otherwise the return was mostly uneventful and we set up in the back bay of Lujenida just as the sun was setting.

The final day of the trip was good travel weather. There was a little more snow on the ice than on the way in so it was more effort to clear across Kelso. We ran into a group of skiers heading the other way and had some good discussion there. Alton was blustery as we made the final push back to Sawbill. There was no Huckleberry to great us at the landing as another trip came to a close. It was a marvelous adventure and so refreshing to be healthy for a trip like this as I seem to have gotten sick in time for a number of fun trips this past year. As we packed our cars, the conversation quickly turned to next year and the places we dream of seeing on another week in January.