Clever Title Goes Here

We have reached that critical mass point in the summer where fellow bloggers are apologizing for not posting more often due to busyness or 'unblogworthy' content. Surmounted by work, too busy with play, 57 channels (& nothing on), etc.

I'm guilty of all of those things but won't apologize here. Instead I will try to distract you with photos from my little excursion to Coon Lake with the boy a couple of weeks (already) ago.

The shakedown went well. The motor ran, the depth finder worked, the boat didn't leak, and everyone made it back to shore safely. Sunfish were caught and the fishing bug is now coursing through the boy's veins.




Of course so rarely are things perfect. The lake itself was a haven for jet skiers, tubers and drunken party bargers. These guys actually were some of the tame ones... I just took their photo because I thought their pontooon modification was impressive. In the second photo they are very close to a fishing boat though in all fairness I don't know who approached who.




Ultimately the boy needed to be dragged kicking and screaming off the lake, which secretly pleased me to no end. On the way home we stopped for a dilly bar, which seemed to go a good ways toward smoothing things over. As a man, I have the inexplicable need to take photos of my vehicle and my rig. I believe it is the Y-chromosome equivalent to females needing to take pictures of the food whenever there is a party.



That is all.

Lost in the Wild (Review)

The "It won't ever happen to me" attitude is a prevelant concern with modern 'Outdoorsmen.' Too many people go into the woods with a false sense of security, dependant on gizmos and overconfident regarding their own skills. A majority of the time these people come out fine, and the dependency and the overconfidence grows. You can't help but ask yourself what would happen to these people if they were dumped in the middle of the woods, deprived of both.

Lost in the Wild: Danger and Survival in the North Woods by Cary J Griffith addresses both scenarios.
A moderately skilled hiker takes a series of wrong turns and is not only lost but seperated from his gear as an early autumn snowstorm and freezing temperatures pummel the area. An experienced Boundary waters guide bushwacks in search of a portage with no gear and inadequate clothing, bumps his head, becomes disoriented and wanders for hours before regaining his senses.

Each story is revealed a chapter at a time in alternating chapters. Many online reviews that I have read criticized the book format for this, but personally I enjoyed the alternating breaks from one story to resume the other, as at times each was like watching a slow motion train crash. You say that you can't watch and put your hands over your face and end up peeking through your fingers. Because you know that there but for the grace of God go you.

The book largely is just telling the story of what happened to each person, as well as providing the perspective of the respective families and S&R teams involved in each incident. What each individual did wrong to get into their predicaments is revealed and what they could have done to avoid them is alluded to. But don't read this book thinking that you are going to improve on your woodsmanship skills. No, this book reads as the 'black box' of two failed wilderness excursions and reminds us that even the best laid plans can go sideways in a hurry when you're out in the woods.

For those of us who like to travel in the woods on foot, instead of saying that emergencies like these could never happen to us, we should be asking ourselves, given our equipment and skills, how could it happen to us anyway and what would we do then? The misfortune of these two people serves as a reminder to the woodsman to continuously prioritize the three unspoken primary objectives of any wilderness experience: Stay Found, Stay Dry and Stay Warm.

Lost in the Wild may not teach you how to do that, but it will get you in the mood to want to.

Won't take you far

Here is kind of a postscript for the trip, three bulleted lists I made in my notebook while watching the autumn sunset light up the tamaracks on my last evening in the BWCAW.

WHAT WENT RIGHT:

• Beautiful, rain-free fall days
• Beautiful fall colors:
  -The birches still had about 15% of their leaves, the scrub oaks were hanging on, and the tamaracks look like God plucked each one, dipped it in gold and set it back down again.
• Exercised good judgment:
  - I knew when to swallow my pride and turn around.
  
• Re-learned something about myself I had forgotten:
  -I am quite strong... But without conditioning, strength won't take you far.
  
  

WHAT WENT WRONG:

• Pack overloaded:
  -I brought too much unnecessary crap.
• Body overloaded:
  -I need to lose at least 25# (More like 50) before I try this again.
• Body out of shape:
  -The primary means by which to lose the above-mentioned weight should be via exercise
  
• Equipment failures:
  -Boots fell apart
  -Stove was not running 100% efficiently (Didn't test it out beforehand)
• Wrong/inappropriate equipment:
  -Heavy base camping tent, no water pump
• Underestimated the trail:
  -The trail had the element of surprise - it had been waiting for me for 300,000 years*
  
  *(Not sure what I meant by that!)
  
  

WILDLIFE ENCOUNTERS:
(Updated on Sunday in the Ely coffee shop)

• On Echo Trail:
  -A family of Bald Eagles
• On the trail in:
  -I kicked up a rabbit
  -I passed within the vicinity of a skunk.
• In the campgrounds:
  -Panhandling whiskey jacks and red squirrels
  -2 Ducks of unknown species (Didn't look like mallards)
  -An otter swam up and briefly spied on me through the weeds
  -What appeared to be a beaver towing a log across the lake (What else would do something like that?)
• On the trail out:
  -I kicked up a grouse
  -I met a visibly shaken teenage boy who spent a sleepless night in a nearby campsite after a bear entered the campground, stomped around and snorted around the young man's hanging food pack.

Angleworm 2007 - Day 3

Up With the Sun
Saturday was another cold night, thought much more manageable than the previous. I woke up in the middle of the night and stepped outside the tent for some fresh air; the night had been crisp and clean. The clouds had parted and once again I was bathed under the eerie light of the milky way. I did not have my glasses with me plus my bag was calling me back, so I did not spend as much time stargazing as I had the previous night. I noticed during my brief stay that my tent sleeping habits were different than those of my home. My sleep here was shallower but more fitful, as opposed to home where I become like a corpse for several hours at a time. So this could be considered getting in touch with my primitive side, I thought to myself. That's a good thing. Like the previous night, I got a large block of sleep in after my trip outside and I woke up shortly before sunrise.

Unlike the day before however, I arose as soon as I became conscious and began packing up my gear. It was my intent to be ready to move out by 8:30, which gave me a generous amount of time to eat breakfast and lolly gag. There was a beautiful mist moving across the surface of Angleworm lake, Which I watched and enjoyed as I finished packing my gear and preparing breakfast. There would be no oatmeal today; I had used up the remainder of the fuel yesterday afternoon boiling water. I miscalculation on my part; the worst I suffered for it was to have a cold breakfast rather than a hot on Sunday morning, although I could have made a fire if I had been adamant about it. As it were I tortured the whiskey jacks and the resident red squirrel one last time by eating salami and cheese on Ritz crackers. Something about that food drove them nuts. The colors? Recognition of the meal components? You'd need a bird & small rodent psychologist to know for certain.


Angleworm Lake Creature Sighting
As I munched on my Ritz crackers and ignored the nonstop harassment from the foul-mouthed little red squirrel who was picketing my campsite, I continued to enjoy the majesty of all that mist moving slowly over the lake. It was during this time that I was surprised to see a group of apparently disembodied leaves, moving in a linear and deliberate fashion across the lake. As they moved into a clearer area, I could see a clear wake pattern and could tell that there was some sort of creature in the water, towing a log to which these leaves were attached by a small branch. I had the presence of mind to use the zoom on my camera as a sighting instrument and snapped this photo. I think that the educated world would agree that the creature is in fact Castor canadensis. But the truth of the matter is that the creature was never actually identified and it's identity remains an unsolved mystery to this day.


Exit - Stage Left
I made good on my plan to break camp by 8:30. The situation with my boots could only be described as "Fragile." I mentally prepared myself for the possibility of having to hop back to the truck on one foot. In my travels I was overtaken by a faster-moving, very serious looking teenager. I heard him coming so I stopped and took a rest on a large boulder so that he could pass me - he stopped to say hello. As it turned out, he had stayed at the southernmost campsite on the Eastern shore the previous night and had had his sleep interrupted by a creature intruding on his campsite. The teen did not actually see anything, however, from the direction of where he had hung his food pack he heard some stomping and snorting. The intruder was scared off by shouting and noise making. The startled teenager and I agreed that his campsite intruder was most likely an Ursus americanus. But just as with my lake creature, this one was never actually identified and it's identity remains an unsolved mystery. As the youth took off down the path I admired the lightness of his step and considered how I would have reacted. I had hung my pack well both nights, unsure if the practice was still needed this late in the season. As it turns out, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.


Back to Civilization
I made it out to the trail head on two feet, as it turns out. My boots were trashed, but they held together. My truck was one of seven in the parking lot. If you are going to try to hike the 'Worm I would suggest trying a mid-week trip to get away from the crowd. As I made my way back to Ely the Echo trail no longer held the same magic as it had on Friday. The eagles were gone and some yahoo in a blaze orange hat tailgated me most of the way into town. In Ely I stopped for a warmup at the Front Porch Cafe, followed by a visit to Piragi's to window shop. I left Ely right around noon and even though I am not much of a football fan anymore, I did enjoy listening to the vikings squeak past the bears. I rolled into my driveway shortly after three, all in one piece. Mission accomplished.

Even now as I write this a week and a half later I can still close my eyes and project myself back onto that trail. Even though I can no longer feel the weight of the pack I can still remember the feel of the air going in and out of my lungs and the roar of the blood in my temples as I would get to the top of an ascent. The smell of pine needles is like a taste of Heaven, and the wind through the trees keeps calling me back.

Thanks for reading!

Day 1     Day 2     Day 3

Angleworm 2007 - Day 2

Frosty Awakenings
It was a cold night, friends. It dipped below freezing; I know this because of the ice I found in my nalgene bottles. It had been a rough night, with me experimenting throughout the night with different layerings. My head suffered the most; the only covering I brought was a North Face ear gear. I was seriously jonesing for the headsock I had forgotten in the cab of the truck.

I woke with the sun but I did not stir right away. I lay in my tent, dreamily considering the day ahead of me. It was going to be the day that I hike all the way up the west side of Angleworm, do an end-around on home lake, pass by Whiskey Jack lake and blow in to camp on the coveted northernmost campsite on the eastern shore of Angleworm.I traced my finger over the map lazily and dozed, listening to the warmongering red squirrels as they quarreled over pine cones. Without warning the peace was shattered by a shotgun blast.


Off with a bang
My first thought was that maybe someone was slaughtering the campers at the southernmost campsite. I was fully awake and on red alert now. After determining that no holes had been blown in my tent, I quickly dressed and cautiously crawled out of my tent. Nobody there, no sound. The woods had already settled back down. Not certain how far off the shot had come from or even what direction the shooters were moving in, I decided to multitask and begin making both my breakfast and as much noise as possible so that I would not be mistaken for Grousezilla.

As I heated the water for my oatmeal I discovered a curious crack on the toe area of my right boot. "Oh no," I thought. "Gonna have to be careful around water for the rest of the trip now." I didn't know the half of it. Not too long later the great hunter and his companion came down the trail. They said that they were sorry if they had scared me and then chatted with me for a few minutes. The guy was a local, who said that the temp when he left his house that morning had been 28 degrees. He was carrying some sort of pistol that you can swith barrels on, his choice du jour was a .410. Not a bad choice for grouse & rabbit. Leaves you enough animal to eat. I gave that fellow a good head start before I set out.


Back on Track
That pack still felt darned heavy. I trudged along slowly, but really I was too spellbound by the beauty of the Angleworm to care. The first couple of photos I shot were a little hazy, due to condensation on the lens. But there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the air smelled like pine needles and fallen leaves, and I couldn't have cared less about heavy packs, cracked boots, or foggy pictures. I was just darned happy to be there. Even with the tougher ascents like the one near the site of the old fire tower, my spirits stayed high. I took a lot of pictures and kept my eyes and ears open. It is insufficient to say that I enjoyed these woods; I was drinking them in. I considered the 23rd psalm and knew then that if I had been the author it would not have been green pastures that the Lord would make me lay down in but rather rocky outcroppings, overlooking glacial lakes, surrounded by boreal forests.

"Too wordy!" I thought to myself as I moved along. I had to make frequent stops but it worked out for the best as it allowed me to check the map frequently and monitor my progress. Anybody who tells you that the 'Worm can or should be done as just a day hike is definitely not someone who stops to look at the view.

Lunchtime Decision
I approached the northernmost campsite on the western shore of Angleworm just before noon. It was occupied and I did not want to disturb the guys camped there. I found a spot on the lake shore about several yards south of the campsite and unloaded my pack for a breather. I had been on the trail for just under two hours and had not covered a very impressive distance. I drank the last of my city water from the second Nalgene bottle and evaluated my situation. The campsite that I wanted was directly across the lake from me and currently unoccupied. By my best guess it would take me almost six hours to get there, if I continued at the same rate of travel and encountered similar terrain.

I set up the stove and boiled some lakewater, as I was going to need more water regardless of what I decided to do. I munched on my apple and stared long and hard at my boot. The crack had expanded to a full-blown tear and was not looking good. It looked to me like a very real scenario that I would hump all afternoon through the woods just to make it to my target camp right at sundown, most likely to find it claimed by that point, only to have to go find either an alternate campsite or else to just set up somewhere off the trail in the dark. And that was if I was LUCKY and my boot didn't completely disintegrate somewhere along the way.

I really did anguish over this, even though with the benefit of hindsight it was such an obvious no-brainer. I considered the consequences that come from making stupid choices in the wilderness and with a heavy heart decided to scrub the mission. I took this photo a few minutes after having made the decision, which explains the long face. It was better this way, I thought, as even if everything went according to plan I would have zero goof-off time in camp and I would be cooking my dinner in the dark. I loaded up my pack and turned back the way I had came.

From whence I came
The hike back was light-hearted; once I had turned back I really made my peace with the whole deal.



While resting at the top of a climb, a pair of hikers overtook me. We chatted briefly and as it turned out they wanted the campsite that I had spent the previous night in. I told them that was cool, I would go for the southernmost (Which had been occupied the day before).





I hiked the rest of the way a little nervous, that my new target campsite would be occupied. I resigned myself that if that were the case I would simply keep going right on to the trailhead. As it turned out the southernmost site was available and was quite nice, although not quite as scenic as the previous day's.


Although available, there were many natives around; the usual suspects: Conniving red squirrels and panhandling whiskey jacks. In the southernmost reaches of Angleworm lake there is a muddy, weedy bay, and it was patrolled by a pair of ducks who kept just far enough away to keep me from identifying them. They looked too small to be mallards, but then again I am accustomed to big fat city ducks, which is a vulgar way of saying 'waterfowl with sedentary lifestyles.'


While eating my dinner I was startled to have an otter swim up and poke his suspicious face out of the weeds at me. He was long gone before I even had a chance to reach for my camera.



I spent time sketching, reading my bible, and taking this panoramic shot:

As evening closed in the sky grew cloudy; no chance for stargazing. I lay down in my tent as it grew dark, exhausted. I lay in my tent and listened to request night on End of the Road Radio on a small transistor radio (Told you I packed in a lot of crap) as I drifted off to sleep.

Continue to day 3!

Day 1     Day 2      Day 3

Fall Blowout on the 'Worm

This past weekend I solo-hiked the Angleworm Lake trail.

Unfortunately due to a 'wardrobe malfunction' with my boots, I had to turn back just before getting half way around. They barely held together long enough to make it out. The boots are (were) Columbia Bugabootoos and had served me reliably for several years. But the 'Worm ate them up like they were white bread dipped in gravy. Needless to say I learned an important lesson about using the proper tool for the job. I won't make the same mistake twice.

My trip report is still pending. Click on any of the photos above to get to my Flickr page with the rest of the photos.