I had reserved an entry point into the BWCA wilderness for early September back in January. I wasn't sure I could or should make the trip. We'd just returned from traveling in Ireland and there were a few household projects needing to get done. I managed most of those over Labor Day weekend and so felt a little better about taking a quick solo canoe trip over a long weekend. I checked the weather forecast on Wednesday and since it looked reasonable I made a mad dash to pull my gear together and head up the Gunflint Trail for 3 days of quiet paddling.
I departed mid-morning on Thursday, making the drive to Grand Marais (lunch at the Blue Waters cafe) and then up to the Poplar Lake access. My entry point was for Lizz/Swamp Lake, and I had decided to paddle through Horseshoe Lake, Gaskin, Winchell, and then up through several narrow lakes before returning to Poplar. The plan was to take it easy, not push too hard or do big miles and just relax.
The route.
The rangers at the Gunflint station told me there were active bears that had been working the campsites on Caribou, Horseshoe, and Gaskin Lakes. A number of campers had lost their food or had their packs destroyed in the previous weeks. One family reported that a black bear had walked into their camp during the day - passing just a few feet away from their 4-year-old toddler - and tried to take their food. That's a little crazy, I thought. At another site, a couple of hikers watched in dismay as a bear sauntered into camp and began eating the lunch they had just prepared. That's crazy and brazen, I thought.
I unloaded my canoe and gear quickly and put in at Poplar Lake just as the wind started to pick up and the skies darkened. I made good time to the first portage into Lizz Lake only to find something of a traffic jam. There were 2 canoes departing the portage, 3 canoes and a few people still at the end of the portage (lots of dawdling), and 2 additional canoes out in the small bay ahead of me. There would be a wait. I ended up chatting with the parties in the 2 canoes who were also waiting for the dawdlers at the portage. It turned out that they were tripping from Camp Menogyn where my daughter's been working. They liked her. "She's cool!" We had a nice chat. They told me that they had lost all their food the night before to a bear who managed to make away with their food pack. They had paddled out early that morning to re-supply and were on their way back in. Wow, that's really crazy, I thought.
The warbonnet in porch mode, views from the hammock in the rain.
My original plan had been to paddle at least to Gaskin or perhaps Winchell Lake on day one. However, after I finally made it across the portage into Caribou Lake, the wind whipped up a bit higher and it started to rain. I decided I would camp on Horseshoe for the night. After a brief lull with no rain, while I set up camp, the rain started again, and I retreated into the hammock well before my normal bedtime and remained there sleeping and gazing out at the lake until the following day just past noon when the rain stopped. I filtered water, and thought about moving on to Winchell Lake but didn't feel like packing up everything while it was wet. I decided to go for a small paddle instead and head to Winchell the following day. As I was preparing to go for my paddle, a couple of forest service workers stopped by to chat and inspect the campsite. They asked if I'd had any visits from bears and I said "No, but the day's not over yet". I showed them where I had my Ursack bear bag secured in a tree near my hammock and said I felt prepared. They went off and away and I went on my way, taking my time through Horsehoe, Vista, and Misquah lakes looking for loons, otters, and beavers and returning with enough time to make a quick dinner and hang out near the water watching the sunset in the clearing sky, listening to the lake quieten - the sounds of evening descending over it all. Peaceful. It was 8 o'clock, and with no one to talk to except myself, I went into the hammock with my book (Seek the Fair Land by Walter Macken ) and small radio. I listened to the call-in trivia show Small Change on WTIP for a while before deciding to read. It was quiet.
I opened my book to the page I had stopped at while in Ireland. The book centers on a man and his two children escaping the city to seek a fair land after the Battle of Drogheda during Oliver Cromwell's subjugation, conquest, and murderous terrorizing of Ireland in 1649 - 1653. A battle had just taken place. Just then a loud wrenching and tree-shaking sound seemed to explode through the campsite. BEAR! I shot out of my hammock as best I could and headed toward the sound. There was enough moonlight that I could see just 15 - 20 feet away the dark bulk of an adolescent male black bear pulling hard on the end of my food bag, hunkering down on his haunches, pulling with enough force to bend an 8" diameter cedar tree in a slight arc toward the ground. It thrashed its head from side to side, grunted, and pulled some more. "HEY, BEAR! NO! Get out of here! Leave my food alone!". He paused, looked at me, and then pulled again. "NO!" I yelled again and then said in a more normal but firm voice. "Bear, I don't want you here. You need to leave. Bear, go away. Go away bear." trying to remember if I was supposed to yell or sound calm. I took another couple of steps toward him and raised my arms above my shoulders to make myself appear bigger and yelled "Go AWAY!". He looked at me, snorted, turned around, and then shuffled - not very scared - out of camp down the path to the latrine.
My adrenaline pumping, I grabbed my canoe paddle from under the canoe and waited for him to return. I stood in the shadows of the cedar tree peering into the woods to see if I could catch a glimpse of his eyes in the moonlight. I stood there for a long time. Long enough for the adrenaline to wear off and to start feeling a little cold in my sleeping shirt, shorts and socks. I checked my food bag to make sure it was still secure. It was but I tied an overhand knot on the loose ends on either side of the square knot just to be sure. At last, I heard the sounds of pots and pans being banged and the shouts of people from a campsite across the lake. Knowing where the bear was, I went back to my hammock, read a bit, and fell asleep.
THRASH! It was 1:30 in the morning. The bear was back. "You f*cker!" I yelled. "Oh, you wanna play?" (Yes, I actually yelled that. I know how stupid that sounds). I got out of the hammock, stumbled over my camp shoes, and nearly fell - catching myself before hitting one of the big rocks between me and the bear. Yelling, I grabbed my canoe paddle as the bear turned toward me, flicked on my headlamp aiming it in his eyes, raised my arms and paddle in the air yelling and tried grunting an "I'm a bigger bear than you are" kind of grunt and moved toward him. He spun around and ran out of camp as I ran well behind him toward the path to the latrine grunting and harumphing the whole way. Oh man, I thought. I got lucky. That could have gone another way. I waited again for him to return but after 30 minutes and getting a little cold again I went back to the warmth of my quilt and hammock even though I didn't hear signs of him across the lake or further down the shore. That's crazy, I thought. I slept until after daylight.
My ursack all white all mighty food bag worked just as advertised. I had secured the kevlar weave bag according to the instructions (6-8 ft above ground, with the rope tied above an extending branch, using a square knot in the thick rope). The bear was able to puncture but not tear the bag and was unable to pull it to the ground and smash my food. The bag was a bit slimy with bear saliva, but apart from a few punctures was largely intact. Everything was still edible. I had breakfast, broke camp, and decided to paddle on.
The Ursack, OPsack, and punctured food items
The rest of the trip was uneventful. I had fine weather - sun with warm temperatures, and calm water to paddle. I made my way through Gaskin - a few people on the water shared they had also been visited by a bear that night - then on through Winchell, and up through Omega, and then made camp near the middle of Henson. The following morning I took my time breaking camp and paddled through Pillsbery, Allen, Horseshoe, Caribou, and then Poplar. I was off the water by 1, made the drive to Grand Marais, and had lunch with my daughter before heading home. Another trip in the books.
Views from camp on Henson, and the paddle back.
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