‘Primitive wilderness’: Pacifc NW native is charmed by scenic wonders of Minnesota’s Boundary Waters

We glided silently across the placid lake surface, the only ripples in the water being the V-shaped line cut by our canoe’s bow and the concentric circles from our paddles.

Along the bank, the poplars’ gold, yellow and auburn leaves shimmered in the noonday sun, reflected in a perfect split image along the water’s edge.

“This must be what it was like at creation,” I said in awe, enchanted by the surroundings, “before people … when the world was young and perfect and still.”

“I think you’ve become a Boundary Waters convert,” Ann answered.

My conversion had begun a month earlier. Ann wanted to to show me her favorite place: the Northwoods of Minnesota, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, where she grew up.

The Boundary Waters Canoe Area extends 150 miles along the U.S.–Canadian border. I wanted to see it someday, I told her, but I’m a Pacific Northwest native, and I already have a mental list of places I’d love to hike, backpack and camp.

Ann understood. Vacation time is limited, and there are lots of new places she wants to see.

Eventually, Ann convinced me to share her “roots experience,” and I relented. In late August, we flew from Seattle to Minneapolis, then drove north to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, the “BWCA” to the uninitiated.

Once there, we’d travel by canoe, portaging between lakes.

We drove to the little town of Ely, an entry point for the BWCA and the self-styled Canoe Capital of the World. Back home, we had a garage full of camping equipment and backpacking gear, but we’d left it all behind and were trusting an outfitter to do the packing for us.

On top of providing all the equipment – from canoes to sleeping bags to pots and pans – the outfitters even packed our meals. We’d made all the arrangements, including our menu selections, from home, so when we arrived in Ely, all we had left to do with the outfitters was decide on our itinerary.

“You’ll see a lot on this trip,” one of the outfitters told us, “but you’ll only scratch the surface. The BWCA is more than 1 million acres of forests, lakes and rivers.”

Staring at the map, I raised my eyebrows. “There’s almost as much blue as there is green.”

“It’s the ‘Land of 10,000 Lakes,’ ” Ann said. “We’ll do much more canoeing than portaging.”

“And all the red dots … ?”

“Campsites. We have to camp in established sites,” Ann said. “It’s a ‘first-come, first-served’ system, so if we find our first choice occupied, we paddle to the next one and hope it’s available.”

The next morning, the outfitters drove us to our entry point, our canoe mounted on top of their vehicle, then helped us load the gear before we shoved off.

Our journey had officially begun.

The first day, we paddled across five lakes and made four portages, but another day we didn’t portage at all, spending the entire time paddling across one lengthy serpentine lake.

Every day was different. Sometimes we paddled from lake to lake along rivers; other times, we came to unexpected portages such as when we found a river blocked by a beaver dam and had to carefully hoist our canoe and gear around it.

We also portaged around whitewater. With two large Duluth Packs and a bear-proof food canister the size of a conga drum in our canoe, we thought it best not to “shoot” any rapids. Besides, our canoe was made of Kevlar – lightweight enough to carry but easy to puncture on a rock.

Our portages consisted of locating a trailhead and landing our canoe, then unloading it on the bank. Ann would shoulder one of the Duluth Packs and begin hiking down the trail while I turned the canoe upside down and hoisted it over my head. The canoes are built with a yoke spanning the center, and by balancing the yoke on my shoulders, I could lift and walk the canoe over the portage.

“This really isn’t that difficult,” I found myself saying to Ann, although on longer trails, I kept an eye out for a stout tree branch close to the trail’s edge. By easing the stern to the ground and leaning the bow against the branch, I could take the weight off my shoulders for a minute and catch my breath.

At the end of the portage, I would set the canoe down by the lake’s edge and make return trips with Ann for the other Duluth Packs, the food canister, the paddles, our day packs and any other gear. Once all of the supplies were hauled, we’d be back in the water.

Crossing a larger lake, I was taken with the serenity of the virgin surroundings. “It’s primitive wilderness.”

Though we didn’t see many other canoes, we saw lots of ducks, loons and swans, as well as the occasional beaver swimming by a dam. We watched snapping turtles sun themselves on rocks during the day and heard wolves howling in the distance late at night. Ann even encountered a bear at one campsite; it ran off, just as surprised as she was.

I was accustomed to topographical trail maps back home, but the terrain in the BWCA is flat. Without elevation, one shoreline looks like another, I confessed to Ann, especially from a distance. It was up to Ann to study the map and guide us by the shape of each lake, the appearance of portages and the red dots – the campsites.

Due to how late it was in the season, we had our pick of campsites, and we always chose one set back a bit from the shore with a commanding view. Sitting by the fire after dinner each night, sipping our box wine, we watched the sky turn from a dusky blue to a kaleidoscope of red, gold and burnt umber as the sun went down behind the lake.

The views were postcard perfect, pulling us in, slowing our internal clocks and making us talk in hushed tones.

I grew up hiking and camping, feeling at home in the outdoors, but this trip was something new. The Northwoods possess a primal beauty all its own.

As much as I love backpacking at home, I discovered a unique back-to-nature experience in the Boundary Waters, compelling enough to make me want to return.

I’d agreed to this trip by telling myself to be a good sport and try something new, secretly convinced nothing could measure up to the natural beauty of the PNW.

Then the Boundary Waters cast its spell on me. There’s something about the gentle cadence of canoeing that makes you slow down and absorb the beauty around you. The lakes began to work their magic: I was charmed, then converted.

Now I’m compiling a mental list of places to explore in the BWCA.

Mike and Ann Nolan graduated from Gonzaga University in the late 1970s. They are retired now and live in Port Angeles. Contact Mike Nolan at mikenolanstoryteller.com.