Tag: Camping

Island Hopping

Close to a decade ago I joined my father and family friends on a canoeing trip in the Boundary Waters off Minnesota. We drove up from Indiana which took a while but allowed for whatever gear we thought we would need. I’m pretty sure we rented our canoes or at least one of them, we had two for four people. My dad and I in one canoe and my dad’s best friend and his son in another. Our plan was to go island hopping on a circular route that would end where it started. We could leave a vehicle locked at our put-off point and come back any time. One of us was cautious and insisted on a satellite phone, which was fortunately unneeded. Better to have and not want than to want and not have. The trip itself was planned for over a week though I couldn’t tell you the total mileage, if I had to guess we probably covered 20+ miles a day.

The biggest hindrance on our journey were the portage sites. To continue we’d have to beach and carry the canoes and gear overland to another beach. This was the only pinch on our weight capacity as canoes can haul gear well, but we’d have to carry it along with canoes. Most portages were short, like 15 minutes though at least one was over a mile. Not hard hiking but no fun with all that extra weight. As camping you tend to get lighter as foods and other resources deplete so you can start out a little heavier on the first day. Like bringing steak and enough ice to keep them ’til dinner. After that you’re down to eating dehydrated foods like the kind you can get at stores like Gander Mountain and REI. Anything that keeps well, is low weight, and needs little preparation is fair game. This includes cereals, pasta, jerky, and more.

As one could imagine it’s spectacular imagery being on the water all day. Then when you beach for the night, you basically have a small island all to yourselves. Sometimes you’d find a tall island with no real beach but once you scramble to the top it’s covered in trees, lichen, and blueberries. The berries are slightly out-of-season but fresh, nonetheless. Sometimes you’d wake up to a large raptor (don’t remember if it was a hawk, eagle, etc.) staring at you through your tent mesh in a tree 20 feet above you. Sometimes you see a bear on another island just roaming the coast. Or when you’re just paddling along, you’ll see a slight ripple and realize it’s a snake’s head breaching the surface as it island hops. We even had a small natural bay protecting a perfect sandy beach, which was great enough to warrant several nights there.

The experience was all very memorable and I’d be back the moment it made sense but what stood out most the day we arrived at that perfect natural bay. A storm had been lingering in the skies and we were rushing to make camp before rain broke so we paddled for the closest known beach. This whole trip we had the luxury to troll fishing line when feasible and this day was no different. My dad being more experienced hoped the incoming storm and our position in the water would bode fortuitous for fish. So, we stopped to try our lines before following our other canoe. Not even 30 minutes had passed before we considered packing it in as a light drizzle fell. Then my line snagged. Immediately I jerked the line upwards hoping to hook the hard part of a fish’s lip. It felt soft enough to be fish but firm enough to not be nothing. Then a jerk in another direction. It was a fish. And it was hooked. The line was out probably close to thirty feet and the storm was picking up. My dad had rudder position in the canoe, so he worked to keep us still in the water while I let the fish run then pulled it back while it rested. The rain is picking up and we fear lightning may start (I’m holding a metal rod in the middle of lake while it rains, I might as well demand God smite me). So, I start to stress my lines strength, working against the fish more hoping to tire it while also hoping the line doesn’t snap.

30 minutes of struggle as the fish fights for freedom and I fight for dinner. The fish’s pale shimmer is obvious through surface but now it sees the light from the surface it knows to dive with everything it has remaining. Resisting only enough to keep the line taught against the fish’s descent. Eventually it tires and you bring it up and again it dives but gives out after a few seconds. Bringing it to the surface my dad has a net ready. Shortly after and we’re on the beach ready to start dinner. I don’t usually eat fish but when I do it’s usually because it’s been caught that day. Thanks to that lucky break we were more vigilant with our fishing and caught dinner for several days after that. Little beats fresh food, fish that fresh can only be attained one way.

While not my first-time fishing, fighting a fish for half-an-hour during a storm while in a canoe in the hopes you get fresh dinner is a hell of a way to sell the experience. Some people like to catch fish, some people like to eat fish, for me that day I learned I liked the struggle of catching the fish.

The Walkabout

If you’ve ever been to the American Midwest, you’d know that like all places it has an inimitable charm and beauty. Quaint it might be compared to something so grand as Everest or vast as the Grand Canyon but it’s still there. I always found it far from the cities, lost in the woods. To wander and chance upon someplace free from the burdens of civilization. The more work to get there, the more remote the better. The existence of such places a mystery until revealed. For me my father was the one who showed me the outdoors. Since I was young, we’d always camped in state parks or similar places which is fine but as I got older my dad started getting out more himself and thus began taking me too. Hiking, backpacking, kayaking, anything to be in the woods. There’s therapy in the whole process. Picking a site. Deciding trip length and time. What food to bring and what gear and how is it packed. It all comes together as you set out packs on your back. In the first few minutes your body will begin to ache, sweat, and you’ll begin having more labored breaths. Maybe a bit of doubt about well you’ll carry and how far. Then before you know it, the body’s warmed up and what seemed difficult has become natural. Everything’s been prepared it’s just walking the space between you and setting up camp.

On the first night you can have fresh meat or to keep it easy stay with dehydrated every time. Either your close to water and will filter or you packed enough in. Camp is set, the fire is starting to build, the sun is low in the sky leaving just enough light to see through a few feet of trees. You sit back satisfied with the work, drinking in the lack of so many noises. Here it’s the occasional animal crying or moving about, a bit of wind, the crackling fire and nothing else. Dinners getting started, and water’s set to boil for coffee, cocoa, or tea. You finish standing the tent getting any ground pads ready and take in the peace.

Or you find a cave that’s open to the public for spelunking. Some are short some are long but being underground stands out as an experience. The temperature hardly varies. There’s bound to be belly crawls, climbing, wading, and sometimes swimming to move through a route. Everythings muddy from a creek running along most of your route despite the recent lack of rain. Lights often pointed ahead to catch looming head injuries or kneecapping rocks. When you take a break and look around you see ancient formations with water dripping like crystals. Everythings brown but with different shades and shapes rendering each “room” distinct. Then just for fun you and any one your with all kill your headlamps and soak in the complete darkness.

Each trip is unique, but all can provide that sense of purgation, a cleansing of the soul. Every person needs this in some form; a method or methods of achieving catharsis. It could be binging movies, a hard workout, backpacking, or more whatever works and is healthy. So, if you have the need to get away find a local park, cave, beach, whatever and have a walkabout.

Take only pictures, leave only footprints and bring plenty of water.