BCJ_FALL18 Digital Edition

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“I’ve been going into the BWCA to hunt and fish my whole
life, and it’s some of the best public land in America for it,” said
Lukas Leaf, executive director for Sportsmen for the Boundary
Waters. “Both secretaries should take all the necessary steps to
reject any leasing activity next to our nation’s most visited wilderness.
Upstream of the Boundary Waters is absolutely the wrong
place for sulfide ore copper mining.”
These titanic forces hung over my head as we drove north from
Duluth along the rugged, sweeping northwestern coastline of the
world’s largest freshwater lake. We stayed the night outside Grand
Marais and visited the lovely seaside tourist town in the morning
to purchase food, tackle and several forms of bug repellant. Well
supplied, we headed up the hill on the Gunflint Trail. An hour
later we arrived at Hungry Jack Outfitters, owned by BHA members
Dave and Nancy Seaton. We also bumped into Minnesota
BHA Board Member Mark Norquist who was there shooting a
new Forest Service instructional video for wilderness permittees.
After our mandatory viewing of the old film on VHS, which includes
several scenes with a trained black bear, I understood why
they wanted an update.
Armed with a 40-pound Kevlar canoe, paddles, PFDs and a waterproof
map covered in notes from Dave Seaton, we followed the
launch van to a nearby residential lake, loaded five fishing rods,
four days worth of gear and food and pushed off. Beyond excited,
we paddled briskly through a maze of islands to our first portage.
It felt odd unloading all the gear we had diligently packed into
the canoe only an hour earlier. Everything, including the canoe,
went on our backs and we humped over a ridge and down to the
next lake, reloaded and shoved off again, soon passing the only
sign that could intensify our enthusiasm: Entering The Boundary
Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. No Motors Allowed.
After three more portages, a few smallmouth bass and a little
lakeside surgery to remove the hook from my thumb, we arrived
at our destination, an island campsite in a large lake I wanted to
strike out from for the following days.
A vicious thunderstorm kept us holed up in the Seek Outside
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tipi until late morning, but we set off to explore as soon as the
wind let up a bit, working our way down the north shore of our
camp lake to a portage at the far end. Packing the boat and gear
over a ridge was notably easier without all the camping gear and
food. We emerged at the long, serpentine lake recommended to
us for big pike. Fishing was slow until the sun started to dip into
the tops of the pines, firs, spruce, cedar, birch, aspen, ash and
maple all stacked against of each other like the rows of teeth on
a pike’s tongue. A cow moose emerged onto the narrow, grassy
bank with two, weeks-old calves in tow. Loons began calling.
That crepuscular switch had flipped. The surface started to boil
anywhere we cast. Thick smallmouth attacked any commotion
without hesitation. As darkness set in we begrudgingly pulled
ourselves from the festivities, bonking the last bass for the skillet
– a two-man meal for sure.
We got out earlier the next morning, winding through a wetland
maze to a portage that took us up several hundred feet in elevation
to one of the larger lakes in this segment of the Boundary
Waters. We heard it had big lake trout. I hooked into something
enormous while dredging a large, flashy muskie fly in the depths
as Dad napped on the bank, but the mackinaw didn’t stay pinned.
Soon after, I landed my biggest pike of the trip in the flush of a
waterfall tumbling down a granite mountainside into the lake.
More good sized northerns, bass and moose entertained us until
the waning sunlight sent us back to our personal island.
We retreated from the wilderness the next morning through
an exponentially intensifying rainstorm and were soaked to the
bone by the time we crossed five lakes and slid up to the boat
ramp. Bug bitten, bruised, drenched, paddle sore and exhausted,
we each held one single regret: that our busy lives hadn’t provided
us more time. I hope each of you BHA members finds more time,
and sometime you get to explore the national treasure that is the
Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. I hope there is more
time until the eternal, grinding march of development and pollution
finally invades these wild boundaries.
-Sam Lungren, editor
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