Category: Boundary Waters Trip Tips and “How To”

Searching for Mavis

Lately, Andy and I have been searching for Mavis.

No, not that Mavis; Mavis Lake, located a half mile south of Round Lake and just east of Missing Link Lake. It’s a little puddle of a Boundary Waters lake that the DNR keeps stocked with brook trout. You can access Mavis from the easternmost point of Missing Link Lake via a 40 rod portage.

MavisLakeBWCAW map

But what if there was a way to get into Mavis directly from Round, allowing you to bypass Missing Link altogether?

According to local old timers, back in the Leeds’ family time at Tuscarora, there used to be a portage from Round to Mavis that took off not far from the Round to Missing Link portage and cut southeast along a flowage. In fact, this portage was the preferable route into Mavis since the Missing Link to Mavis portage features a pretty steep uphill climb.

The trail’s not just a figment of locals’ imaginations. If you go onto the DNR’s LakeFinder website and look at Mavis’s fish survey, the DNR indicates that as of Autumn 2003, there was indeed a portage trail from Round Lake to Mavis.

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Curiouser and curiouser.

There’s just one little problem. While 2003 isn’t exactly ancient history, it doesn’t take very long for BWCAW forest to reestablish itself and reclaim a portage path. Anyone who’s tried to bushwhack through Minnesota woods known it’s a very slow process mostly spent untangling yourself from balsam and aspen saplings. If the trail really hadn’t been used for over a decade, we also knew some of those saplings were going to be decent sized trees by now and portage’s path wasn’t going to be too obvious.

But even if the chances of success were low, we couldn’t not look for this neglected path. “Because it’s there,” as George Mallory would say.

We set out a couple weeks back, choosing to cut up the Round Lake shoreline just below the cliffs near the Missing Link portage. We waded through snow, clambered up cliffs (and occasionally slide down cliffs), had amble amounts of snow fall down our necks and while I was sure we just had to make it over the hillside to reach (or at least see) Mavis, Andy’s GPS told a different story. After a half hour crashing through brush, we’d only made it about 2/10ths of a mile away from Round Lake. We ceded defeat and turned around. At least we enjoyed some great views on a beautiful bluebird day.

January Round Lake Gunflint Trail Boundary Waters winter trip

Looking towards the Brant Lake entry point across Round Lake

But we weren’t going give up just yet. Thanks to some information that came in from a Leeds’ family member, we were able to pinpoint the starting point for the elusive Round to Mavis portage. Last Sunday afternoon, we set out again, slightly more hopeful that we’d clamp eyes on Mavis this go-round.

We found the starting point easily enough along the shoreline and we wound our way through the young forest, trying to determine if we were going through growth that wasn’t older than 12 years.

Boundary Waters winter adventure Gunflint Trail

Where’s Waldo?

But it didn’t take long before we ran into this particular winter’s obstacle of brush bent over by the weight of a very heavy snowfall back in mid-December. The bent over brush really changes the look of the forest and it was hard to tell how to navigated around the low areas most affected by the “bend over.”

IMG_7483Undeterred, we pressed on. . . through waist deep snow that pushed up our pant legs and through low hanging balsam branches that tried to steal our hats. It was pretty clear we weren’t on the right path, but by the time we acknowledged that, we were closer to Mavis than to Round and it made more sense to just keep moving forward, albeit at a snail’s pace through the thick forest.

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Then, at long last, in the words of William Clark of Lewis and Clark fame: “Ocian in view! Oh! the joy!”

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Beautiful Mavis lake.

IMG_7499 IMG_7500We weren’t about to turn around and head back the way we’d just came, so we found the portage to Missing Link and looped back to Round Lake.

Oh the joy: flagging! Mavis to Missing Link portage.

Oh the joy: flagging! Mavis to Missing Link portage.

By the time we were back at our starting point, it was about two hours later and we’d gone a whole . . . wait for it . . . mile.

Moral of the story: It’s totally possible to make it to Mavis Lake from Round Lake. But for this winter at least, the Missing Link to Mavis portage is the best bet. We’ll leave rediscovery of the Round Lake to Mavis portage for a time when there isn’t 30 inches of snow and miles of downed brush in the woods. For the time being, Mavis remains both lost and found. Until next time . . .

Day Trip Ice Fishing on Bat Lake

“People always catch fish on Bat.”

When Nathan, a family friend who happens to take a lake trout fishing focused winter camping trip each Martin Luther King weekend, told us that last fall, we knew we had to check it out. After all, Bat Lake is practically just a hop, skip, and jump from Tuscarora. So just four days into the Boundary Waters winter lake trout season, Andy and I headed across Round Lake to see if we could prove Nathan wrong.

Thanks to a bunch of ambitious winter campers who headed into the Boundary Waters just after Christmas, there are miles of very well packed trail from Round Lake through the Brant Lake entry point route. Since we weren’t pulling sleds and we also snowmobiled across Round Lake, we were able to reach Bat Lake in less than two hours.

Portage from Brant into Gotter Lakes Winter Camping on Brant Lake in the Boundary Waters

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Down the stairs on the portage from Gotter Lake into Flying Lake

Gotter Portage Stairs

Along the hike, I kept stopping to take photographs of the icicles on the shoreline cliff faces. This cliff face on Flying Lake is just past the portage into Green Lake.

Icicles on a rock face on Flying Lake winter Boundary Waters

When we reached Bat Lake, we set up speedily. With just six inches of pure blue ice, it doesn’t take long to drill enough holes for tip-ups and jigging, even with a hand auger!

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Still, by the time we had lines in the water, it was after noon, so we weren’t exactly capitalizing on the “morning bite.” Although the action was a little slow for a lake the DNR says has abundant (but small) lake trout, we were able to prove correct Nathan’s theory that people always catch fish on Bat Lake. About an hour into our afternoon on Bat Lake, I reeled up this little guy. Andy unhooked him quickly and popped him back into the drink.

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While we waited for more action on the lines, we took a timeout to make some coffee and cocoa as we watched the tip-up lines. With the shadows growing long, we knew it was time to start the trek home.

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After a stop to chat up some winter campers, we walked home with a beautiful sunset at our backs. It’s amazing what a little snow and ice can do to transform a boggy lowland into a spectacular vista.

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We’ll be back, Bat Lake.

An October Towboat Ride

Before Andy and I took over at Tuscarora this June, the tow boat service offered by Tuscarora was one of the most fascinating aspects of the business to mull over in our minds. Food packing; cabin, bunk, and gear cleaning; even French toast cooking didn’t phase us, but motoring people around Saganaga Lake – the biggest lake in our neck of the woods – that sounded a little challenging and really fun. I’ve always meant to get to know Saganaga Lake better, but even though I spent five years working on the shore of Saganaga Lake (as the manager of Chik-Wauk Museum and Nature Center), I’d only been on Sag a handful of times. It’s one of those lakes with its own personality and unique lore and I’ve been looking forward to learning it.

NewTowDock All summer long, Andy, staff members (including Andy’s wonderful Uncle John), and guests traveled across Saganaga Lake, getting tows to and from Hook Island, American Point, or Red Rock portage as they started and ended their Boundary Waters and Quetico canoe trips. But sometimes when you’re the boss lady, it’s hard to get out of the office long enough to check the mail, let alone go on a tow boat ride. But earlier this month, I finally made it.

OctoberSagCorridor

You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful time to be on Sag as the colors pop along the shoreline and the loons start to raft together in preparation for their migration. As we traveled up the Sag Corridor, Andy pointed out a mama moose and her calf who’d be hanging out right on the water’s edge all morning.

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SaganagaLakeOctoberBecause the wind was pretty calm during our journey, it took us only about 20 minutes (versus about six hours of paddle time) to reach Hook Island where we were picking up a camper from his weeklong solo trip in Quetico. As we pulled into Hook Island, the sun peeped out from the low, grey clouds.

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Our camper was all set to go and in just a few minutes, we had his canoe up on the towboat  racks and his gear loaded as we listened to tales from his trip. On the way back, we spotted the moose pair again. They looked pretty cozy and completely unperturbed by the boat passing them by.

MooseOctober Here’s to many more tow boat adventures!

Fall Comes Sneaking In

Fall seems to be the season humanity can’t help but wax poetic about.

CentennialVistaKeats wrote of “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” in his “Ode to Autumn.” George Eliot exclaimed, “Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

A couple nights back, we had the first frost warning for the season. We’ll cover up the tomato plants at night for a week or so to try to get a few more vine ripened, but around September 20, we give in and let autumn have its way. Then we’ll pick the green tomatoes and call it a year for the garden and declare it a very good summer indeed. It’s this time of year, when the frost starts to come more nights than not, that the words of Joni Mitchell start running through our heads:

I awoke today and found 
the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky 
then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold 
and all the trees are shivering in a naked row

I get the urge for going
But I never seem to go
I get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in

“But I never seem to go?” What’s up with that, Joni?

Fall is a spectacular time to visit Tuscarora, the Gunflint Trail, and the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Sure, the days might be a little shorter, but the wildlife’s more active as they prepare for the long winter ahead, the bugs have basically disappeared, and a quiet calm settles over the forest. We find ourselves looking forward to this time of year and each year, autumn live up to our high expectations.
IMG_6410 Grouse

So, if you feel an urge for going up north this autumn, by all means, go. It’s a great time for a paddle or long hike through the changing forest. Ah autumn!

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A Legacy of Wildflowers

Recently, my parents spent a couple nights in Cabin 2.

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They had a great time on the Gunflint Trail, celebrating birthdays, testing out a new Souris River canoe, swinging by the house for evening ice cream, and doing a lot of hiking.

But when I asked my dad for some photos from their time at Tuscarora so I could post them on Facebook and this here blog, all I got were a bunch of wildflower pictures:

Irises in Flying Lake on their day trip into Bingshick Lake.Iris on Flying Lake1

The elusive Arethusa bulbosa orchid that prompted the day trip.

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A wood lily blooming along Magnetic Rock Trail.
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A cluster of pink moccasin flowers near the start of the B.A. Trail just outside Cabin 2.
BAMoccasinFlowersAll those flowers made me smile, not just because I also greatly enjoy wildflowers, but because suddenly it was so obvious why I delight in finding wildflowers tucked among the forest duff. When we were little, my dad often took my brother and I on outdoor adventures, not only to give Mom a little peace and quiet, but so he could look for whatever wildflowers happened to be in season. An early springtime hike in search of Hepatica impressed me so much that when we returned home, I declared to my mother that if I ever had a daughter, I’d name her Hepatica and call her Patty for short. I still have a copy of Peterson First Guide to Wildflowers from that era tucked on my bookshelf.

As we got older, the hikes tapered off and I started to prefer time inside with library books over chilly, mucky springtime hikes in search of teeny wildflowers, but by the time I’d graduated from college and was working at a Gunflint Trail canoe outfitters, I’d once again taken to walking along the side of the gravel roads with a wildflower guide in hand. I find great satisfaction in identifying the habitat where a plant should be growing in, looking, looking, and then, discovering the flower right where it should be. And yes, during the summer, my camera’s memory card has more wildflower photos than anything else.

It’s interesting the things that end up “sticking.” Maybe you’ve brought your own children up to the Boundary Waters or tried to share your love of wildflowers or the night sky and didn’t get the unbridled enthusiasm you expected. (I certainly wasn’t above whining on some of those wildflower hikes decades ago.) It can take time to fully understand experiences. After all, it’s taken years for the significance of my childhood wildflower hikes to soak in. In the big scheme of things, all those little prompts and introductions that were initially met with apathy often add up to something that can enhance entire lives.