Moose

Sometimes a man just gets an urge to commune with nature. You never know when the feeling is coming or when or how long its going to last. The one fact that is indisputable is that these urges cannot be ignored. Well, the call came to me one day while attending an outdoors-sporting show. The camp owners were displaying pictures of their camps. The scenery was just breathtaking, not to mention all of the happy fishermen proudly displaying their full stringers of fish. After looking at many booths, I came across a wilderness canoe trip outfitter’s booth. It took about ten minutes of talk and pictures, and I knew that this is what my soul needed for rejuvenation. After arriving home, I sat down with the many pamphlets and assorted brochures and separated all those that dealt with my now beloved canoe trip project. The sort resulted in about four canoe trip outfitters. First, I knew that my desire was to go on the trip but also that I could not realize this trip alone--I needed partners. The top of my list was my best man Scott. Next was my brother Mark. The fourth man was a problem though. Mark asked his friend, and at first we thought that it would work out. Soon after that, Mark's friend dropped out of the plans because of schedule conflicts. This news was depressing because it was looking like a setback for my dream trip. Then one morning, while taking out the trash, I greeted my neighbor and realized that he was the fourth person for the trip. Later that night I went next door to propose my grand plan. The opportunity was snatched up with open arms and embraced like a boy and his first date. So, at least we had the makings of a crew consisting of Scott, Mark, Shannon, and me. Plans were starting to fall into place for our troop. I selected the outfitter, weighing cost factors and the camping areas that interested us. Finally, I found one that we all agreed on and called them to make the reservation.

The week finally arrived after a long summer. We were all hot to get on with our expectations. Scott flew into the airport at Des Moines, then came back to Jefferson. That night we made up for lost time by honing our old storytelling techniques. The next day we started by picking up Shannon and going on to Mark’s as fast as we could get around. We arrived at Mark’s place midafternoon after a relaxing drive that helped Shannon and Scott get acquainted with each other. After unloading the gear at Mark's apartment, we were in need of some supper. The guys let me decide so I picked Oriental. They were all in agreement, but Shannon was somewhat less worldly in his taste for food, but nonetheless he did agree to try our selection. Mark said he knew of a Vietnamese joint that we should try. Besides, he said it was close; we could eat the seat covers off Mark's car, and he wasn't taking any chances. Shannon ate the food like a trooper, and I think he enjoyed most of the menu choices.

Back at Mark's, we needed to veg for awhile. We relaxed, playing games, etc. on Mark's computer. The day had finally arrived, the honest-to-God real beginning to our wilderness adventure. We got up in the morning like children get up for Christmas, plugged in to two-twenty electricity. Some looked a little haggard after drinking shots of schnapps, etc. the night before. Scott, I must explain, needs his coffee in the morning. This jump-starts the cobwebs out his brain, especially after a sip the night before. I just felt like a bird had died in my mouth. Mark and Shannon had no comment. After packing gear and eating breakfast at a pancake shop, we left for Ely. The drive was uneventful as we took turns with our vacation naps, except myself, as I was the driver for this link of the trip. Somewhere before Hinkley, Mark said that we had to stop for these world famous sweetrolls. We did that, and it was worth the stop.

Finally, we pulled into the small tourist town of Ely. It took us awhile to find our outfitters, but eventually we homed in on the shop. We went in and took care of the financial arrangements. After paying and receiving equipment and instructions, the owner took us up to our overnight quarters. As we climbed the stairs, we all were wondering about the quality of the group we had linked with. The screen door at the top of the second story door had seen better days. The hallway looked like a few vacationing hockey teams had scrimmaged in it. As the guy tried to open the door, he found that he had the wrong key and left us to get another. "Geez! Mark exclaimed. "I hope appearances look better inside." Scott seemed indifferent to the crude surroundings, as he was a past Army man and proud to face adversity. Shannon was glad to be there. The hired hand came back with the key and after some fooling with the lock managed to gain entrance to our lodging. Well, as we expected, it was in similar condition as the hallway. After hauling up our stuff, we started to repack our equipment in the provided packs. We soon found that we were packing heavy, which gave Scott that at -home army feeling; the rest of us groaned in disgust.

The next day we got up early to get in our last civilized breakfast at the local tourist diner. I believe that its name was the Chocolate Moose. We chose the place because of its rough log exterior. It kind of felt rugged, but was clean and homey inside. After much needed breakfast feast, we went back to begin the real trip. The owner met us inside the shop and was glad to get us on our way. He briefed us on the dos and don'ts of his equipment handling and other important information. Then the hired man helped us load the supplies into the truck. Off we went down Highway #1 and then down some really winding backcountry roads. We all looked out as we were bashing down the road.

After about fifteen minute drive, we arrived at the drop-off point. After getting the gear out of the truck and onto our backs, we set off for the trail. At first I thought it would help by carrying two packs; one on my front and the heavy personal pack on my back. For the first two hundred yards or so, the packs weren't too much of a burden. After that, I realized that I wasn't eighteen and in good physical condition. The trail just went on and on. I thought if I didn't get those packs off soon I was going to die. Then the guys would really be upset with me for having to carry me back out and my load as well. The end finally came, and I dumped off my load onto a large rock. Had I known how far it was going to be, I would have been working out to get into some kind of shape for this torture. My brother pooh-poohed me and said, "Waaah," so I shut up thinking he'd get his later. Looking out over the lake at the wilderness beauty that lay open from our view of the lake shoreline, we caught our much-needed breath, each taking in the clean air with each breath. The motivation to get our stuff into the canoes and get going became apparent as soon as we realized that we were not alone. Yes, that's right, the Minnesota State bird or the pesky mosquito as we commonly refer to them, began to swarm any warm-blooded mammal that sat still too long. Those little buggers really brought us out of our fresh air daze quickly. So, we jumped in those canoes and paddled out onto the lake.

If you haven't done this type of adventure before, you ought to give it a shot. The feeling of being out there on your wits is extremely intoxicating. After paddling for awhile, Scott and I established a comfortable pattern for our stroke. I was a little troubled though, as I thought that canoe paddling should be much easier. Then Scott pointed out that we should consider our weight and the weight of the equipment that we were hauling. Next, as we were going along, I remembered that we did have some maps along. I pointed out to the others there are no "you are here" markers out here in the wild. So, Scott and I studied the map and took some bearings. Later we abandoned this method of location for a cruder type I call "match the landmark". After going along we came to a place marked on the map as a better than average walleye spot.

The place was like a narrow river passage through carved out rock. There was a sharp increase in currant so we had to paddle a lot harder. Soon we decided to pull over and take a break. We tried to fish for awhile, and as I remember the only one to catch anything was Scott. But his line couldn't quite haul up the rock that he hooked into. He apologized for my loss of lure. I explained to Scott that the ratio of lost lures to fish goes up as the desirability of fish landing index goes up. Scott, being an economist, understood my explanation, nodding as he was already enjoying his cigar. We came around a small bend in some narrows and saw our next obstacle, the spot the outfitter had marked as the portage. Well, I must tell ya, Scott and I chose going to the right to get our canoe over the rocks. It turned out that we had made the best choice. Mark and Shannon did not choose as wisely. Scott and I had already pulled up and had gotten the boat up and onto the rocks easily. We waited for the other two, watching contentedly as Mark and Shannon struggled to cross the current to get back to the side that we were on. Well, it didn't take long to realize that they had underestimated many factors; for example, the depth of the water and the speed of the current that was about to sweep them over the rapids backwards. It was then I knew that I had gotten even for the crack "Waah" that my brother had projected in my direction. My brother is no dummy most of the time. He knew when it was time to jump out of the boat and to start towing the boat to better conditions. As you can imagine, I led the cat calls and the "I told you so's"; Scott helping me along. We thanked Mark and Shannon for the fine entertainment value that they had provided us with that afternoon. After Mark had dried off a little, we headed out through a narrow and very shallow area. I had commented to Scott how unusual the boulders looked. Many had bright deposits on the tops of them, and I speculated that it was like some fools gold or similar effect. We found out soon enough that this theory was incorrect as we began to scrape bottom on the rocks. After that, I picked our way through the boulder field more carefully. We were now on the second lake. Its name was Eagle Lake as I recall. We all agreed to take a break and join our boats together, get a snack and check our bearings.

The outfitter had marked several good camp sites on the maps so we had decided ahead of time to head for the one that had a small sand beach. After we had rested and Scott had filled his pipe for a smoke, we struck a new course. We headed for a passage around a larger island to bear to the south towards our camp. We were going along a large outcropping of rocks that stuck out from the shore. I remember thinking to myself that I’d better give them plenty of room so we wouldn’t have a mistake happen here. As I was slipping into my own pleasant thoughts, it happened. Bam! One moment I was paddling along minding my own business, and the next moment I was twisted over the bow of the canoe hanging on for life, not knowing what had happened. We had hit a submerged rock. I yelled over my shoulder to Scott, asking for him to help me

and I got no reply. So, I turned around to find Scott missing from view. Just about a flash of time went by, and up came Scott from under water, spitting out water and curses. He called me names that we hadn't said to each other since we were a lot younger. Well, he calmed down and swam back and helped me out of my predicament. Mark and Shannon were dying after they saw no one was hurt. Mark was especially pleased that at least he wasn't the only one to get wet; now you can be sure that he reminded me of my mistake quite often. Thank the Great Spirit that our proposed camp was not too far away as we got going in its direction again. Scott was still somewhat mildly chastising me for my error as it has caused him to bite through his best pipe stem and getting his tobacco pouch wet. Sorry Scott! I let Mark lead from that point, and as we came around the point we spotted our campsite. We paddled in with renewed vigor, landing on the sweet sand beach. We liked what we saw and started to unload our equipment. There were some rock steps that were there for campers’ convenience. Our tent site was not too large but adequate for our needs. Of course, our first priority was to rig a line to hang wet clothes on. After taking care of camp setup, we went searching for fire building wood. The rules stated that we could only take dead wood to burn. After attending to that need, we decided to check out the fishing before it got too late to go out. Mark brought a leach locker full of leaches, but I said that they could have them; Scott and I would use the worms. Scott was looking to me for fishing advice as he was not the fishing fanatic that I was. I opened my packed fishing box to get some lindy worm rigs out so we could get at it. Meanwhile, Scott wanted to have one of his expensive cigars. Scott also thought it would be time to take Mike out and have a taste. I must explain that Scott named his flask Mike as an affectionate sidekick.

I must tell you, we covered a lot of lake while we were up there. The fishing was tough as the weather kept playing tricks on us while we were there. We all worked to catch some fish; at least we weren't skunked or anything. We were cooking supper one night and relaxing after finishing our main course and cooking up some desert that we weren't sure of. All of a sudden we heard what I would describe as a Volkswagen beetle dropping into the water. I almost dropped my dessert as I jumped up and ran to the camp clearing and looked around the bushes. We all arrived at the same moment, crouched by the bush, looked and saw the Moose. Christ, I thought that my heart was going to kill me. The adrenaline rush was immense, and we all just watched for awhile. Then it dawned on us that we needed pictures so we were all dashing about trying to find our cameras. I just can't believe that the moose didn't hear us. We all took some pictures and soon the moose was walking our way down the beach. I leaned out from the brush to get one last picture, and the Moose finally caught on and in a flash it just leaped into the woods and disappeared, except for the crashing sounds as he tromped away. We all just couldn't believe what we had just seen. After calming down a bit, we thought we could hear someone from the next camp yell " Moose!" That night we had plenty to talk about around the campfire.

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