Quetico, Day by Day, 2024: Part One
By Mark Neikirk
This is a journal of our 2024 trip to Quetico Provincial Park in southwest Ontario just across the Minnesota state line. Quetico is the Canadian version of the better known Boundary Waters Canoe Area on the United States side of the border.
Quetico is more tightly regulated and, because of that, kept in a wilder state. In the Boundary Waters, all campsites are desingated and come with a fire pit and a grate. A short walk from each campsite is Fiberglas pit toilet. In Quetico, campsites are not officially designated but exist as a result of repeated use. They are sort of "common law" sites. Most have a fire pit but no grate .There is no toilet, Fibergas or otherwise. To poop, you duck into the woods, dig a cat hole, do your business, bury it.
Our trip was 14 days, my longest trip to Quetico in 47 years of going.
What follows is a day-by-day account of the 2024 trip, taken from journal notes I kept while there. Here is one scene to get things started. It took place on our third day.
We are on Agnes Lake. Half Agnes, we call this particular section because it is midway, more or less, up this long, north-south lake that carries canoes into the interior of Quetico Provincial Park from the Prairie Portage entry point on the Canadian/United States border along Minnesota's northern edge.
From other entry points into the park, other lakes serve this purpose. On the north side of Quetico, for example, a long east-west lake, Pickerel, feeds to other lakes, with departure points deeper into the park all along Pickerel's southern edge. Agnes and Pickeral are two of Quetico's highways, if you will, though the word highway is pretty much irrelevant to the park, now mostly divorced from modern infrastructure.
We got to Half Agnes on Thursday, paddling up from Prairie Portage. It is now late afternoon on Saturday. We are camped on an island but are now back in the boats to fish. Eric Krosnes and I are by the island's south shore that is defined by a distinctive rock slide. Boulders by the dozens cover a high, slanted wall of rock. The boulders continue into the water and provide the perfect habitat for smallmouth. Imagine a lake bed of bowling balls, but the bowling balls are not perfectly round and polished.
Over the years, this has been a reliable place to find smallmouth, and it was again on this day -- which is one good reason to be here. The other is that there was a problematic wind on the lake’s main body. The rock slide is tucked into a sheltered inlet that curls around the island. The wind found us here but with less of the gale force it possessed out on the main lake.
Come late afternoon, we could hear distant thunder. No lightning visible, though it surely was somewhere. We kept fishing, kept catching. The thunder drew closer and rumbled and echoed as it does on a wilderness lake, amplifying itself as it bounces off, I guess, the water and land. It’s a fulsome sound and oddly comforting though maybe it should not be.
The first drops of rain were just a drizzle, followed by actual rain, followed by sleet, followed by hail. Eric and I laughed, inexplicably gleeful to be here at this moment in this predicament. It did not feel dangerous. Storms that blow in this fast typically blow our quickly, too, so we just needed to keep our wits about us for five or ten minutes. The walls of the inlet still protected us from the wind's worst, so the only danger was if the hail got bigger than pea-sized. It didn’t.
We wiggled into our rain suits and enjoyed the moment, buttressed by our faith that the storm would be short. When it ended, the wind dissipated. The air cooled. The afternoon was fading into early evening. The sun would set soon, and do so in a glory of orange hues tangling themselves in long, linear clouds above the west short's darkening treeline.
Day One, August 29, 2024, Basswood Lake to Half Agnes
Our crew this year is Mike Hammons, his son-in-law, Mike Scheper, Eric Krosnes, and me. We have done these trips to Quetico many times, though not everyone has made it with me each year. But this is part of the core crew. Dan Hassert would normally be part of the core, too, and planned to come this year, but a dire illness in his family kept him at home.
We left northern Kentucky at 2:15 p.m. on Wednesday and arrived in Ely, Minn., just before 6 a.m. Ely was pretty quiet at that hour but the outfitting store, Piragis, opens its doors at six and we needed a few things, mainly new maps. The coffee shop across the street, Northern Grounds, was open, too, so we had all we needed in town before driving the 40 minutes or so out to LaTourell’s, our outfitter, who would motor our canoes, packs, and us to the Canadian border.
We had two canoes, Mike Hammons’ aging and incredibly reliable Wenonah Minnesota II, Kevlar, and my “new to me” 2015 Minn II, carbon fiber taking its maiden voyage as mine. Both are 18 1/2 feet long and weigh, plus or minus, 40 pounds, the carbon fiber version being a bit lighter. We had six packs at just about 50 pounds each.
Why so any heavy packs? Well, 14 days requires considerable food, and there are some camp luxuries we don’t like to travel without. Heaviest among those are a fire grate (we have a heavy duty one and hence a heavy one; but it doesn’t buckle in the heat as lighter ones do); a cast iron skillet (4 pounds but we use it a lot and it works flawlessly for pancakes, frying fish, making cobblers or grilled cheese sandwiches, and much more — and we tried an aluminum frying pad one year but it went concave on us the first time flames touched it); Helinox chairs (1-2 pounds each times four; if you don’t bring one and everyone else does, you regret it); sandals (Keens and Tevas and Chacoa’s — they weigh more than you think, and then times four); a long-handled axe and folding saw (firewood is essential); and “the Quetico” (our name for a folding toilet seat) and a long-handled shovel so that we can attend to the daily call of nature with ease. Also contributing to our weight is extra clothing and warmer (meaning heavier) sleeping bags. It can snow in early September, even after an 80-degree day.
There is a way to do this trip “ultra light," and we know how and are capable of it. But we don’t. We opt for comfort in camp over comfort over portage trails.
Two canoes and six packs means two trips over each portage. Two people carry one canoe each (and a day pack each with rain suits and a few other day items), two others leave with a 50 pounder, and all walk back to carry the other four packs over plus any hand gear (such as, fishing poles, life jackets, paddles). We’re quick and efficient and no one complains.
Our tow from LaTourell’s was scheduled for 8:30 a.m. We arrived at 8 a.m., said our hellos to Bob LaTourell and began unpacking. The van and trailer. Our tow captain, Jim (he had motored us in and out in years past, too) helped us load his john boat.
At the border, it a short carry over Prairie Potage to the edge of Basswood Lake and the Ranger Station.
Jason, the ranger who has greeted most years over the past decade or so, checks us in, issues our permit, reviews the rules (don’t do your dishes in the lakes, be bear aware, use only barbless hooks, etc.). We know these rules by heart and commit to them. They keep Quetico Quetico. Jason, though sometimes stand-offish, is mostly not this year. He’s a little testy when Eric tells him we have a permit. “No,” he points out emphatically, “you may have a reservation but you don’t have a permit until I issue one to you.” True that, but — in any case, he quickly becomes warm and welcoming and not so officious. The computers are down and Jason must do everything by hand, including writing out the permit. There’s something really nice about this, as if modern ways have no place here. Jason has world champion eyebrows. Like Leonid Brezhnev would be envious eyebrows. Impressive.
We give him our planned itinerary: Prairie Portages to Sunday, to Agnes, to Woodside, to Trant, to Sarah, to Robinson and out through the Tuck River to return to Prairie Portage. We’ll end up cutting the western part of that plan off and staying longer (more days) at Trant. It has an allure.
As we pack our boats, four "age appropriate” women are exiting and little flirty, telling us we look so clean. Eric flirts back, tells them they smell good, too. Actually, he says. “I like your fragrance.” One responds: “Woodsmoke.” A solo canoeist, a man, iis exiting, too, and Jason makes a call to get him a tow out. Very nice.
We must cross Bailey Bay, notorious for wind and waves but all is calm today. Riffles only. It is in the 70s. A perfect morning. We paddle to North Portage, these days a walk in the park compared to the old days. Ministry trail crews have made this portage, once a beast, much easier, mainly my putting log-and-gravel walkways to bridge its old low places that always filled up with water and were mucky mini-ponds ready to suck your feet into inner-earth.
Sunday is the next lake over. It's a quick cross. Forty minutes. That takes us to the long portages into Agnes, the “Twin Agonies” — we have done them so many times over the years that they are no longer intimidating. I always forget how much shorter the second Agony is than the first. That’s welcomed. One takes 30 minutes each way, the other 14.
We have an intermittent tailwind on Agnes, and so we sail when we can, making great time when the wind is direct and steady. We use a portable sail that unfolds like one of the spring-loaded sun reflectors for a car dash.
As we near Half Agnes, the wind gets steady and strong and we are waking. It’s awesome.
The main two campsites on Half Agnes are taken so we set up on a scrappier one for the night, hoping someone leaves the next day and we can move to theirs — and someone will.
We are on the lake’s east side and up a small hill. The site is tight. Not much spare room. Not much walk around room. Eric had remembered this site from past trips when people were camped on it. That’s good because it is not an easy site to see from the water.
We set up and I make our traditional simple first night dinner: gnocchi and a beef sausage seasoned with rosemary and basil from Mike Hammons’ garden. This is a really easy dish. A little S&P, a little olive oil. You’re done.
It’s been a long day, beginning with the 900 mile road trip in Mike Scheper’s Toyota van (which allows those not driving to sleep or at least read or rest), and now about 5 hours of padding and portaging. We are in bed by 8:30 p.m. A good night’s sleep. There is a little rain, lightning, and thunder overnight. Not enough to cause any trouble. Or loss of sleep.
Day Two, Friday, August 30, 2024, Half Agnes
We eat granola (“granny-ola”) and honey with milk for breakfast, and learn that Mike Scheper will not eat it or other “mushy” foods. Bad experience once with an over-ripe banana. It’s texture thing. We have some grain cereal for him. A kind of Raisin Bran-ish product.
We check with the couple on the island point of the northernmost campsite of the two best sites. They are noncommittal about when they will be leaving, so we cannot count on that site. But people have left the other site and so we pack up and move “south” about a 1/4 mile. This was the original Half Agnes site in our many journeys up this lake over the years but it has been a few years since we have camped here. It is, honestly, very nice to be back here. Lot of memories, including with my brother, David, who loves this site. It is somehow as if he is here with me — and maybe next year he will be.
We have some peanut butter and graham crackers for lunch before we leave for the next site. It’s all we need.
A huge and destructive storm hit this old site a few years ago, and tree fell right were Dave and his canoe partner, Tim Owens, used to camp. The site is clear now and can be used again except it has sunken some and clearly would puddle up if rain came overnight, which would happen while we stayed here. We set up on the high sites above, two tents (Mike and Mike shared one; I was alone in mine) and Eric’s hammock.
We are expecting (hoping) to meet Ken Hogan’s party here on Saturday, when they are entering the park. We set up with that in mind, leaving room for their tents if they show. There are nine in his party, so it could get cramped but it will be fun to see them here,
Eric and I go out fishing in the canoe, circling the island clockwise, north to south. Eric is successful early, spin fishing; I catch up eventually, using a fly rod. Together, we have a stringer with enough smallmouth and one pike for our first fish dinner. Back at camp, Mike Scheper and Mike Hammons were fishing from the shore and have two more smallmouth. We fry smallmouth (it takes three to make a meal for four people) using the butane stove. I’ve brought several different kinds of batter and tonight’s is Andy’s Cajun. It’s great. We have sandwiches with a slice of cheese and mustard and Annie's brand mac & cheese as our side. No one anywhere in the world is eating better tonight than we are.
Expecting Ken and crew on Saturday, I soak beans (half pinto, half great northern) overnight in a baggie with water. We'll have a pot of beans ready to share.
That evening, Eric and I sit on the rock and the shore and watch stars. The Northern Lights are illuminating the north sky, although we are unsure of what we are seeing. It seems cloudy in that direction and the light is muted, They are a consistent light, almost like distant city lights — but there’s no city nearby. Ely is the nearest and it is south and east. Eric sets up his tripod, and his long exposures capture the light in more depth. There’s no doubt seeing the photographs that the Northern Lights are what we are seeing, our doubts notwithstanding.
Day 3, Saturday, August 31, 2024, Half Agnes
We are in in this land that the glaciers laid bare, and the plants then reclaimed. Pines. Spruce. Balsams. Birch. Alders. And grasses and ferns and berries and moss and lichens and all matter of little, woody bushes. Even on a slab of granite, tiny plants find themselves a spot of dirt and anchor in, growing in the most unlikely of places.
Breakfast is a peach cobbler. It's a mix, and we add peaches packaged in those little plastic cups for school children to pack in their lunches. We drink Red Rooster Coffee from Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho, where I'd been in July. t is very, very good. Not sure, however, when I’ll be back there again. Kate and I were there for Pam Schurgin’s wedding reception, and we took a day to hire a guide and fly fish — and bought the coffee at its home store, where we got lunch.
How many scoops does the French press require? We start with four. That’s good but we eventually go to three, which works fine.
We take our time around camp. Puttering. Reading. Casting from the shore. A little before 3 p.m., Eric and I go out to fish. It is very windy from the north. We see the couple on the campsite we wanted paddle off but at this point we are happy where we are.
It is on this day, late afternoon, that the thunderstorm with hail strikes -- requiiring our caution and our rain suits. Eric opts to put his rain pants on, with is a bit acrobatic in a canoe being rocked by storm waves. I learn this way and that to counterbalance his weight shifts. I opt to just put on my coat and let my short pants and legs get wet. I don't expect the storm to last long (and it didn't).
For the afternoon, we do fine fishing. Eric catches a nice pike, too, and we have that with some smallmouth, using Andy’s Cajun again. We have some beans — first had some for lunch; now, finish them off. Eric won’t eat beans. The Mikes and I eat them all.
No sign of Ken.
Day 4, Sunday, September 1, 2024, Half Agnes
We have a weather radio, so we get daily forecasts, and they tend to be spot on. No sure why we haven’t brought a weather radio every year. What’s more, Eric figures out how he can get the weather channel on his walkie talkie (something else we brought this year, and another good idea); so next year we don’t need the radio. The weather forecast is invaluable, especially on a long trip where the 5-day forecast you get before leaving town doesn't help much on Day Six and beyond. Also, a five-day forecast is something of a guess about anything three or more days out. Things change.
We know from today’s forecast that traveling north will be into a significant headwind, then on Monday the winds will shift back to one coming from the south. So we’ll stay put today — travel north on Monday. This may give Ken an extra day to find us, although with the headwind so powerful, he more likely will change his route, and we won’t see him this year.
Ken is my cousin and one of my closest friends. We go back to our wee childhoods, and he is the person who first came to Quetico (1973) and returned with tales of the adventiure. We came together in 1975 with friends James Caudill (who would like to come back) and Rob Lawrence (now deceased, sadly). This year, Ken was coming with his son and some friends.
We would learn later via text message at the end our trip that Ken turned his party west into East Lake and Jeff Lake on Saturday when the storm came in. It was a safety move, and a good one. Best laid plans for mice and men.
I am transcribing these notes outside the Roebling Point Coffee & Books in Newport, a week to the day after our return home. The section my notepad that I am transcribing now was actually written on Woodside Lake on Tuesday, midday. I was seated on the campsite’s north point. I'll return now the journal and it's present tense:
A gust of wind is out of the south but it is gentle. A butterfly lands on my sock and just stays there, hanging out on my ankle. Eric is fishing nearby and I call out to him to come and bring his camera. The butterfly, as if modeling, stays put for several shots. Likes my wool sock, I guess. What is this bug's story? Where was it born? Where is it going? Is it one of those that migrate thousands of miles south? Where are its companions?
Where was I? OK, back to Half Agnes. Eric and I go out in the canoes around 3pm. We are establishing a routine for our layover days: Lazy mornings, and then mid-afternoon fishing to acquire our evening meals. It is a routine that will serve us well.
We head to the rock slide and fish up and down that run. It was slow but in time we built up a stringer, one 12 inch smallmouth at a time. And then, around the point, Eric in short order lands 2-3 pound smallmouth and 23 inch walleye. He already had a smaller walleye on the string (12-14 inches), so we elect to have an all-walleye dinner, fried again in the cast iron skillet and with Andy’s Cajun. Side dish is Uncle Ben’s wild rice with some pearl couscous added (because a box of Ben’s serves only 3 people; the couscous is an extender). Mike H’s herbs boost the flavor.
Time being what it is, my journal jumps back to “today” on Woodside, as Eric catches a nice (17in) walleye from the NE side of the island’s rocky point — the island’s nose, if you will. He has been trying all morning, and now, just after lunch (it is 1 p.m.) he continues. There’s also a 12-inch smallmouth on the stringer.
Back to Agnes on Sunday, we watch the winds fade and a dark, calm night is preceded by an orange sunset. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. We’ll be able to travel north on Monday without much wind to fight.
Day 5, Monday, September 2, Labor Day
Breakfast is coffee and Pop Tarts. By 10:05a we are on the water to head north to Woodside. The wind is, as predicted, favorable. It is 70-ish and sunny. Up to now (and this will hold true for the trip), we have had mostly good weather. It was a little colder on Saturday but not unpleasant. Nights are good. We have warm sleeping bags and on chillier nights we zip them tighter, and on warmer nights we leave them open to the air.
We meet and chat with a solo paddler who is leaving the “north” Half Agnes site and is, like us, heading north but more northeast to our northwest. Our pace is just a little faster than his, so after 10 or 15 minutes he is well behind us. Our two canoes move at pretty much the same speed. Their hulls are same design. They are loaded about the same with packs, although the combine weight of Eric and me is more than the combines weight of the Mikes. It's nice to travel at the same pace. Some years, one canoe team might be significantly faster than another,
It is one of the oddities of this trip that, while we see few people, we are destined to see people several times at campsites we planned to use. On the way in, they were congregated at Half Agnes and on the way out at Lower Agnes near Louisa Falls, where we wanted to stop for the night. On Woodside, a couple paddled through one morning on their way to Trant, where we planned to go next.
There are four portages into Woodside from Agnes. First, Agnes to Reed. Then Reed to a no name lake. Then to o a pond and from there into Woodside. The “step” portage is out of Reed into the no name lake. It is a submerged step of rock that allows you to unload easily. But woe to anyone who steps of the step! It is immediately deep. The step portage is unique in Quetico to my experience, and it’s memorable, convenient, and just cool. Many of the portages in Quetico are versions of each other. Some are rocky. A few are sandy. Many are by a stream. Only a few stand out as unique. The step portage is one of those
Two of these portages on the way to Woodside are short. You can almost see the next body of water when you get off the other. But the portage from the pond to Woodside is long at 76 rods and feels longer. It’s not easy. There are boggy parts. Ther are short but very steep hills. Rocks to catch your feet. It helps to know that beautiful Woodside awaits. Mentally, that makes the portage easier to withstand.
Woodside, a lake we found a few years ago and like to revisit, is one of those places in Quetico where you really begin to feel as though you are deep into the wilderness. You rarely see anyone else on it. I’ve never camped on it when other campers were on the lake — I think there is one other campsite besides the one on the island that we use. Moose are present, and whether you see them or not you see signs for them. Sometimes we see a moose and her baby swimming across the lake. Not this year but just knowing it is possible makes the place seem wilder. The campsite has an open view of the north, so that if there are Northern Lights, you will be able to see them without obstruction (we did not this year). The fishing is very good. Not the best in the park, but very good. The fire pit is accommodating for cooking and for gathering around a campfires in the evening. The front of island on which this campsite is situated is a peninsula of granite, so there is room to roam and choices about where to sit and enjoy the view.
We always worry when we come to Woodside that the site will be occupied because if it is we are going to have to move along. This time, Eric thought he smelled woodsmoke. False alarm. No one was on the island. It actually is unlikely anyone will be there. Fewer people go to Quetico these days from the south side of the park. The Boundary Waters one the U.S, closer and cost much less to acquire a permit. And of those who do go through Prairie Portage, most never make it this far north. Canadians are more likely to come into Quetico from an entry point in Canada, and those don't take you Woodside without even more effort than it took us to be here.
Once we get to camp and get set up, Eric and Mike Scheper begin fishing from the shore. Soon, we have enough smallmouth for dinner, with Slap Your Mamma batter. The side dish is a pasta concoction that turns out really well from scratch. We call it “Dan-a-roni” because I made something similar here one year for Dan Hassert, who does not eat cheese, and mac and cheese was on the evening menu. People liked the Dan-a-roni better. So now it’s a thing. Here is the 2024 version’s recipe:
1/2 bag of large mac shells (not the giant ones from stuffing but bigger than what you would find in a Velveta package).
Olive oil: Use it to crisp some freshly chopped/diced garlic. Sweat some chopped onions. Crips some fresh basil.
Add “juicy” currants (Whole Foods has them) and butter and more olive oils. Simmer.
In an 8 ounce cup of hot water, add a beef bouillon cube.
Set aside the garlic, onion, basil and use a little water to deglaze the pan and then, off any heat, add the bouillon “soup” to this and set aside.
Drain the pasta. Add the above concoction along with S&P and paprika.
Serve with freshly fried fish.
Yum!
Day 6, Tuesday, September 3, 2024, Woodside
I was last to bed, around 10:30 p.m. Now I am the first up. It is a warm morning. I head straight to the lake to “bathe” which isn’t exactly a Hilton bath. But one feels fresher afterward. You are trying to keep soap out of the lake while doing this. I tend to get in knee deep, duck my head underwater, and bend my knees enough to submerge to my waist. Others just go for it and dive in, but I’ve always had an aversion to cold water, so the squat rinse works for me. Do what you want, people! It’s over quickly and you certainly feel refreshed afterward. Besides, shouldn’t everyone bathe at least once every six days?
Mike Scheper had bathed Sunday — the first of us to do so. And he looked so clean! It was inspirational. And a good example.
I got breakfast out of the storage buckets and made coffee. We're going to have pancakes this morning. We tend to have those on days when we are not traveling since they take more prep and cooking time. Mike Hammons arose and was the designated pancake chef. Eric announced him as the “No. 2 Pancake Chef.” Who’s No. 1? Leo McCallen. Leo comes some years, including in 2023. Mike made pancakes that looked pretty great really. Then Leo took over and, well, wow. The man has talent. He stole Mike’s crown. But Mike would have to do this year. We have butter and honey for the pancakes, three each. It's a delicious start to the day.
After breakfast, I read some more, journaled some more. Eric fished. Mike Hammons did the dishes — as he often does. Soon after, I started some chicken noodle soup in the black pot on the fire grate so it would be ready for lunch.
The black pot. It’s a story all its own. I bought it in Ely many years ago. At least 25. Maybe 30. Maybe even 40. It was among the used gear being sold my an outfitter. I cost $1. It is without question the best dollar I’ve ever spent. It holds a gallon of water. Probably a little more. It’s tin I guess. Has a lid. It is black as coal outside from being on the fire scores of times and usually for hours on end. We keep a pot of water on the fire on layover days. Even when the fire goes out, the post is there. Twice, including once this year, the black pot sprung a leak but fixed itself. It metal just melts back together. One day it will fail us, I’m sure, and we are prepared for that. But for now, it is a reliable companion year in and year out. I used to carry it in a horse riding helmet bag that belonged originally to one of my daughters. That bag wore out last year, and Eric gave the black pot a new nylon bag, which was green at the beginning of this trip but splotched with black smudges almost immediately. If you handle the black pot, expect black fingers. We have pot gripper this year to helps avoide that. It works like a charm. It cost $18. So that $1 for the pot, $18 for the pot gripper.
Soup is a Darn Good brand mix plus my additions: olive oil, pepper, dried corn, fresh onion, fresh rosemary. It thickened up by lunch. Darn good.
As the day wore on, we reached a decision to forgo Sarah and focus on Woodside and the next main lake over, Trant. The fishing is very good here and will be, we expect, at least as good on Trant. We’ll give Woodside another full day.
At little after 2pm, we all go on fishing in the two canoes. We stay until about 4:15pm. It was very productive. Eric and I brought back six walleye (15-17 inches). l and the Mikes brought back four smallmouth, 12in to 17in. We had the one walleye already on the stringer at camp and the one smallmouth. We let all go but three walleye for dinner.
Fried it in the skillet with the rest of the Slap Your Mamma batter (spicy but not as hot as Andy’s, which held up all week as our favorite batter — and we used a little of that since the Slap batter was all gone now. Side dish was polenta:
1st sear one chopped garlic then sweat some diced onion.
Add S&P and butter.
One cup of polenta with 3 cups of water.
2 minute boil, 10 minute rest.
Good stuff. Easily made.
Mike Scheper declined the polenta. Mushy. Made some stuffing (just add water) for him.
One important thing about this day fishing: Eric and I found a honey hole just southwest of camp between two fallen trees. I caught the first fish there on a beautiful shad imitation tied for me by Joel Stansbury, a friend in the Northern Kentucky Fly Fishing Club and one of the clubs top tiers (maybe the top). I traded him an old guitar case (for his granddaughter) for some of his flies. Great trade. This shad had “eyes” which the fish seemed to like. It was white and brown and furry/fluffy. For a time, my fly rod out fished Eric’s spinning rod (mainly Rooster Tails). Eric would catch up, and we’d both do well in this hole. I finally lost Joel’s shad, and then fished with stock fly, which I lost quickly on a submerged tree. I tried a Prince Nymph, which did pretty good but I kept missing fish. Bass hit it and took it; walleye, which nibble and taste, nibbled and refused. I switched to a black leech that I’d tied the week before we came, dressed with a sparkle necklace. It was walleye deadly.
This was a great fishing session.
Day 7, Wednesday, September 4
This was another (second) full day on Woodside. We had a choice of cereals for breakfast. Lazy morning. After breakfast, I started a Darn Good minestrone soup. Quite good. Added chicken packet, powered tomato, olive oil, and dried corn.
We went out fishing after lunch. Eric and I worked the lake’s back channel. The Mikes went to the honey hole — and stringered up on walleye. Mine and Eric’s fishing was slow but in time we, too, built a stringer. Back and camp, we pared it all down to three good walleye. We had mashed potatoes. Mushy so made stuffing for Mike S.
We had an especially great fire that evening, and enjoyed it and conversation. It was getting, after a clear day, partially cloudy, which made for a great sunset. Eric got great photos. Expecting some overnight rain, so we set up the tarp. Winds blew one end of it loose during the night and water drained on some of the things we intended to keep dry. Not a disaster, since the coming day was going to be sunny. Worst of it was that the inside of my rain jacket got wet and, since it was still raining a bit in the morning, I had to put it on a little wet.
READ PART TWO, days 8 to 14, also posted on 2024 Quetico, Day by Day, Part II
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