Storm Touched Lakes - GUNFLINT LAKE - Day Seventeen

The past days have been spent paddling through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. While we are following the border along much of this route it is mainly Americans we have run into along this portion: couples out paddling, families on day trips, and numerous summer camps. This is prime paddle country and with that comes other people snagging sites before you. As we started our late afternoon paddle on Rose Lake after finishing our second hefty portage of the day, we noticed there was another group across the lake heading for the same campsite we wanted, with them in a tailwind and us in headwind. We agreed it was an unofficial race to the site, and after 30 minutes of furious paddling we all arrived at the same time; only to find out our competitors were just day trippers and the campsite already occupied by a different group the whole time. But it's a big area, and we eventually moved on to find a nice little spot on the sliver of land between Rose Lake and Rat Lake.

One good thing that comes with a more well travelled canoe area is excellent portage and campsite maintenance. We saw evidence of what must have been a fairly recent storm, as there was a huge path of destruction all along the south shores of the lakes we passed, like that of a tornado. Hundreds of massive trees laid sideways on the shore like a field of broken tooth picks, and dozens were blown down across every portage we walked. ​​

​Luckily, very luckily, park rangers had already come by and recut the path through the large debris. If not for their work, we likely would have found the portages. ​

​ In addition to these people's work on the trails, the beavers have also been busy. On our 4km portage the middle section was completely underwater, connected to the bog it passed thanks to the incredible beaver dam at the end. While Brynley didn't mind sloshing through the water, Erik opted to paddle parts of the portage instead.

As we rounded a corner on a small stream leading into Gunflint Lake we found ourselves staring at a moose who was staring right back at us. She stood there with her calf drinking from the weedy edge of the water. They slowly sauntered back into the woods like they didn't have a hurry in the world.