September 12
Camp life began stirring before 6, but it wasn’t until 7:30 that everyone was bustling within and around their tents. We were on the water by 8:30, with a short paddle to the end of Indianpoint Lake to portage to Isaac Lake. We’d been informed at yesterday’s orientation that this portage had “some mud”, and the shoreline fit this description. As the paddler in the bow, I hopped out at the takeout, my boots immediately sinking 3 inches into the slimy clay, and threatening to stay put on the beach. We opted to heave our boat over the floating dock to bypass the mud, finding more of the same just around the corner.
We had our work cut out for us. For 300 yards, we pushed and pulled and slid through ruts and guts, often ankle deep in the sticky mud that offered a profoundly satisfying “schloooook” with each step. I’d switched to my hiking boots for this bit, as my neoprene water shoes are a bit too big and I was worried about losing them to the mud (at least two others in our group did have a boot casualty). The mud was so unforgiving that we backtracked after getting the canoe through to help push others through – it was quite the slog! But misery makes memories, especially with good company.

The next 1 km of the 1.6 km portage was mostly uneventful, save for the roots and rocks that cause the canoe cart to buck and skitter, adding bruises to canoe wranglers’ hips. The last 400m, however, were tragic. We’d moved from light clay to a dark loamy soil with a hearty helping of pine needles, inundated over a very wet summer. Small lakes took over the trail, with hip-deep sinkholes hidden stealthily within their typically-ankle-deep depths. My hiking boots and pants were soon soaked as I attempted to keep up with Dad and canoe and cart as they bumped, jolted, leaned, and swam through the uncharted waters. A couple submarine canyons pulled a single cart wheel in, knocking the canoe precariously askew and sending us scrambling to avoid a rollover swamping. We finally reached the lake, both caked in mud and dripping from the knees down, but feeling largely victorious and pioneering. We refitted our canoe for water travel, then backtracked again for some more water and mud fun.
In the end, we had 10 people, 5 canoes, 3 mud-lost and retrieved shoes, 9 water-logged boots, 3 muddied backsides (from falls in mud), 4 dampened shirts (from falls in puddle-lakes), and at least 6 individuals recovering the the shock of sending their leg down a black shaft of watery sorrow and being pitched forward by the momentum of their “get outta here” speed. Best of all, however, we still had smiles.

I just waded knee-deep fully clothed into the lake to clean up, squeezing water from my boots and socks as we paddled the north arm of Isaac Lake.
Dad and I hugged a bit closer to shore than the rest of the pack, and were treated to a close encounter with a loon and her youngun; wow! We also paddled past a party of a dozen loons chattering back and forth, a trio of ospreys trading treetop perches, and the beautiful Mt Peever and Wolverine Mtn.
After arriving at camp at 2:30, the majority of the afternoon was spent roasting various items of gear around the crackling pine wood fire. Praise Jesus, after 3 hours my boots were dry! My feet are happy 🙂