The Trip Log series offers a taste of the trail – everything here is straight out of a Camp Chippewa voyageur’s journal. Our author is likely writing from their tent or the shore of some broad expanse of water with a full stomach, tired back, and happy soul at the end of another full day. His friends are chatting around a campfire and a loon’s calls are echoing across the lake.
Canoe trips bring the perfect recipe for contentment and spiritual invigoration. Given fresh air, wide horizons, and time and space to think, the only result is the lifting of the cluttered, anxious fog of modern life. But, as you will read, peace doesn’t arrive without callused hands, tanned skin, and a serving of mosquito bites.
We hope you enjoy these dispatches straight from Canada. May it remind you of past adventures or connect you with those grand memories a son or loved one is making, maybe even this summer.
Chip chip!
This Trip Log comes from…
The Hawkcliff, 1st Session, 2022
July 6, Day 6
What a day. The guys got out of camp in fifty minutes flat. We’ve gotten faster and faster every day this trip, and today they made it look easy. Tents were taken down, Duluths were packed, and, if we had glanced back at the small opening in the forest in which we had camped, there would have been no sign that it had been our group’s home just minutes before. The teamwork was seamless. Getting out of Waterfall Lake, on the other hand, was anything but.
We paddled across Waterfall Lake and followed an ATV trail that was completely overgrown until we realized it had veered away from the next lake. We doubled back to the start of the “trail” and decided to try walking along the shore of the set of rapids where the portage was supposed to be. We found absolutely nothing. After a short search of the west side of the river, the opposite side from where the portage was marked on the map, we found a lovely trail. Of course. We hoisted the packs and canoes onto our backs and took off down the trail. Portaging—something that daunted the boys before the trip—is now just part of the routine.
A little poison ivy at the end of the portage didn’t dampen our spirits, and we cruised across Rupert Lake, effortless paddle strokes on a calm, clear morning. The portage into Eliza Lake was correctly labeled, and though the poison ivy around the trail was plentiful, we made it to the end with no issues. At the end of the portage, we ate peanut butter power bars before exploring a rusted-out barge beached next to the trail, a relic from by-gone logging days. In the many decades since, the logging scars have healed, and the wilderness is coming back into its own. Nevertheless, we took turns getting our photos taken at the helm of the barge.
Then onto Caviar Lake. The wind had picked up throughout the day, so we hid behind islands and paddled hard all the way to the very last campsite on the lake. And it was a good one. The view to the north was pristine. Caviar Lake opened up before us, and shield-covered islands dotted the horizon. Pine trees shaded our campsite, and the only sign of human activity was a fire ring standing alone on a large flat rock on the western shore. It was time to start the Day 6 Challenge.
The Day 6 Challenge is where the trip leaders take a back seat and let the campers manage the campsite. My co-leader and I went on a water run, and I settled into my book while keeping a watchful eye on the guys in the kitchen. Wood had been gathered, the fire started, and now dinner preparations were under way. We had spent the last five days talking about how good teamwork requires communication and everyone paying attention to what needs to be done and who is helping with which task.
The campers served a delicious dinner, I baked a banana nut muffin for dessert, and we all went for a swim as the sun sank closer to the western shore, the water reflecting oranges and golds amidst the sea of blues and greens. Camp got put away for the night, and the rain started to fall as we all slipped into our tents. Warm in our sleeping bags, the pitter patter of rain on a tent is the greatest lullaby. Peace and contentment abound in places like this.
We are so lucky to be here right now. These trips are a gift, and we are very fortunate to spend quality time in the wilderness. Tomorrow is the last day, and I’m not ready to go home.
