This was the day that we would leave Quetico and await our Zup's pickup at 9:30. We did have to execute the Bottle portage, and I was remembering how difficult that portage could be if it was wet. Well, we had some rain during the week, so it might be a bit more interesting than when we were first there.
We agreed to a 6:30 wakeup call, but Joe and Chuck started conversing in their tent at 6:15, Chuck's low bass rumble even permeating my ear plugs and denying me my last 15 minutes of blissful sleep. (Don't ever doubt that I am a light sleeper!) After breakfast we loaded up and headed out at 8 to begin the last 2.5 mile paddle to the portage site. I had absolutely no recollection of traversing these particular waters, and I kept looking over my shoulder to see what it would have looked like 7 days ago, trying to trigger a memory. Nope, it all looked foreign to me, except for the buoys in the water marking the U.S./Canadian border. It was all so new and fresh those many days ago, and now I was returning here with a boat load of memories to accompany me home.
At Bottle Portage we met a man and his father as they portaged in the same direction we were. The young man said he was from Mounds View, and we immediately began talk of our neighborhoods and how we Bandits originally met as cub scout dads in the area. The portage was muddy, and a bit slick as we took the high road that represented the longer, but more manageable route to the other end. The young fella took one trip on the low route, and reported that it was indeed flooded and full of mud! At the other end we encountered two more groups who were also waiting for their pickup (not all from Zup's). but their pickup times were later than ours. After we portaged, we gathered our gear to position ourselves away from the crowd. We paddled to the rock outcropping about 500 feet out to make sure that nobody would take our Zup's boats!
It was really strange when two Zup boats arrived. Pickup for Johnson, we asked? No answer. Two boats - both for us? No answer. How should we load between the two? No answer. The two boat drivers just grunted and started loading our gear on to one of the boats (the other was just for passengers). One of course was Gary's old friend Wes, who is generally lacking for words anyway! In the end we just followed their lead, and were away on the water in a jiffy.
The return trip to Zup's - and on to Crane Lake - was faster, and much more interesting than our trip out. The two boats returned us to Zup's where we settled up with the resort, and enjoyed their hospitality of cookies and lemonade - and a real life porcelain commode. After that, we hopped aboard a bigger boat that could house both us and our gear. This driver was named Greg, and we headed towards the end of the big lake to where the narrow Loon River began its flowing for miles, opening up to Loon Lake in the middle. It was this Loon River that was too shallow when we were through here 7 days ago, but the water had risen enough to make the passage safe. No overland route in a beat up van on crappy roads this time!
On each end of Loon Lake was a portage, which was only about 50-60 rods (less than 1/4 mile). The two portages (Beatty Portage to the north, Loon Falls Portage to the south) were serviced by a boat cradle mounted on a rail car that ran on tracks up and over the portage to docks on either end! At the top of each portage was a big engine that would pull the rail car (with the boat mounted on top) up the hill with cables, then gently lower the car down the rail to the other side. We just walked along side. Very cool! Even some with canoes were waiting their turn so they wouldn't have to unload and portage their gear.
After the 2nd rail portage we were on the twists and turns of Loon River, snaking left and right around corners, obstacles, etc. It was a bit difficult to see ahead with the boat tilted slightly up, but looking out the stern was a treat as the boat continually fishtailed to port and starboard! Only once did Greg need to slow to no wake speed to cross some shallow location. The total distance from Zup's to our Crane Lake destination was 25 miles, and it took us around 1.5 hours.
At Scott's Resort on Crane Lake we unloaded to a warm, sunny afternoon, quickly settled with U.S. Customs, got our vehicles out of hock and started loading up. It took a while to fully separate our gear because we were going separate ways in different vehicles. But before Jeff could load his van, he transacted some business with the resort owner for some framed art in his van to adorn her bar/restaurant. Joe, his passenger home, patiently waited while Jeff unloaded some samples, finally selling enough art to actually pay his parking fee.
With the gear segregated and loaded, we thought it would be good to have some lunch and a beer as a group. The local joint at Scott's looked OK, but the tap list was lacking, so we headed over to Voyagaire Lodge where we spent the night a week ago, knowing the tap list was quite adequate. It was nice enough to sit outside, unlike last week when we ate breakfast while watching a blizzard! It was probably best for everyone else there that we sat outside anyway - we likely all wreaked with that fresh off the trail smell.
I always experience a bit of claustrophobia being indoors after spending time in the wilderness. The little bit of time spent inside at Scott's, then again at Voyagaire, had me running to the exits for some fresh air and a breeze. It's downright stifling at first. Even in a vehicle I have to roll down the window and do like Rover with my head out the window. It takes me a good day to make the adjustment.
We enjoyed pizza and beers, toasted to our friendship, health and success, then returned to our vehicles for our final goodbyes (well looky here, if it ain't a big sack of garlic mashed potatoes...). Jeff and Joe were heading straight home, Gary, Chuck and I were headed to Ely for the night. It had been an incredible week with the bandits, and it was sad to see it end.
As for me, I had another few days to look forward to because I was meeting my wife Claudia on the North Shore for exploring, sight-seeing and generally just more time away. I'm fortunate to have a group of guys that make excellent travel companions, and the same can be said for the Mrs, although the itinerary is not quite so rugged with Claudia! The way this worked out, Chuck had to head to the North Shore to catch Highway 61 into Canada for a fishing expedition with the Venture Crew, so tomorrow he could drop me off at Tettegouche State Park where Claudia would be waiting for me. As for Gary, he would spend the night with Chuck and I in Ely, then head in some other direction to hang out with another friend at his remote cabin.
After our goodbyes, we 3 (in two vehicles) headed out across the remote stretch of northern Minnesota along the Echo Trail/Ely-Buyck Road for 60 miles. Along the way we stopped at various places that served as trailheads for the BWCA, stretching our legs and sightseeing whenever the urge hit us. Gary regaled us with tales of past trips he had taken through this area. We finally arrived in Ely some 3 hours later, and we piled into our room at a local motel, once again sorting our gear as each of us prepped for the next leg in our disparate journeys. Oh, and take a nice, hot shower of course! At one point the skies opened up and it rained for the rest of the day. As official bandit weather shaman, I allowed this of course. I had been holding off the heavy rains long enough, and Mother Nature was fussing over her inflated bladder.
It was getting to be dinnertime, and we knew of a place with good food and a great tap list, so we headed to Boathouse Brewing for some eats and beers. After this, both Gary and Chuck wanted to do more packing, but I decided to stay for another beer and to watch the Stanley Cup playoffs. Since I had my rain jacket, I told them I'd just walk back. I lasted the rest of the game, then started back to the motel, stopping at some rowdy local dive that was alight with massively drunk people singing really bad karaoke at the top of their lungs. It was a sight to see I tell ya, especially after a whole week in the serene wilderness. Ah yes, it was Saturday night, the reality of what that meant to the outside world hit me.
As I trudged back to the motel in the rain, the other thing that hit me was that just this morning I was camping in Quetico. Although the memories were fresh, it seemed a million miles away....
