First order of business was to go through our gear. First,
we pulled out what we brought. Then we pulled out what they
brought. It turns out “vapor barrier liner socks”
are plastic bags. I giggled – I had visions of these
military spec fabric thingies I’d have to sign out and
back in. After that we were given dinner (food is fantastic!)
and had a discussion about ice rescue. My heart dropped below
my vapor barrier liners – we had to actually do an ice
rescue! (Who came up with this experiential learning stuff
anyway??) Guillermo the Bold took the plunge and jumped into
the ice-bound river – AFTER DARK! Turns out that if
someone goes through the ice, the first thing to do is to
get them dry, and then get them warm. We wrapped him up in
a plastic sheet and discussed how, if this were a real emergency,
potentially someone would strip down to long johns and get
in with him, or possibly two someones. I was one of them,
Frank the other – our job was to do jumping jacks to
get really warm in case we had to warm Guillermo. He was fine
and then had a sauna (pronounced sa-oo-na).
We got to sleep in bunk beds that night, and left the following
morning after a short ski lesson. We drove about an hour north
to the drop point. I skied that first day, with a thing called
a polk strapped to my middle – it’s a little one-person
sled you put your backpack into. It was neat – I don’t
have very good balance on my skis, so the polk let me ski
without falling over every two feet. The skiers set the trail
for the dogs to follow. Our instructor Ryan, Guillermo, Joe
and I skied that day; our other instructor Simon, Michael,
Marielle and Frank mushed. (By the way, you don’t actually
say, “Mush!” with the dogs. You say, “Ready?
Let’s go!”)
We camped that evening on the ice. We set up a routine that
we followed the rest of the week – pull into camp, tie
out the dogs, set up the wall tent, gather wood, make an outside
cooking fire to melt water, get water to melt, set up the
woodstove inside the wall tent and start dinner, set up our
tarps for us to sleep, eat dinner and fall asleep. In the
morning, we reversed it.
The first task is to tie out the dogs on a chain strung between
two trees. The dogs when they’re on the gang line are
attached at two places: one at the neck, to the collar; the
second over the hind quarters, to the back of the harness.
When you take a dog off the gang line, the harness is removed
from around the front legs but is used as a leash to take
them to the tie out. You then connect them by the collar to
the tie out and remove the harness. That’s the plan,
anyway.
We had gotten almost all the dogs tied out and were discussing
next steps when Simon stopped mid-sentence and looked up the
hill. We followed his gaze to see a white tail disappearing
into the trees. I believe it was Bensen, and he was decidedly
NOT on the tie out. Simon called out to Ryan and we all stood
around wondering what to do. For one thing, most of us were
20 feet away. Bensen responded to his name and turned around
to come back, right at the chain where the other dogs were
tied – an immanent fight, to my inexperienced eye. Apparently,
though, Ryan agreed and jumped the tie out to get to Bensen.
The dog immediately thought it was a great game and swerved
to avoid him. Ryan leapt forward and landed on top of Bensen,
smashing him flat in the snow. I think we were all a little
shocked and Ryan looked up with a grin, scratching Bensen
under the chin and on the belly. Bensen, of course, thought
it was great fun.
I volunteered to get wood that first night. The first thing
I noticed was this was a lot different from gathering wood
while camping with my dad. For one thing, Simon carried a
saw. We actually found dead trees and cut them down –
who knew my association with loggers in Quincy, the town I
went to high school in, would come in handy? First you saw
a little bite out of the tree on the side you want it to fall,
so that it can be better controlled. Then two of you cut it
down using the saw. And no, no one yelled “Timber!”
So much for our stereotypes.
Once we got back, the trees had to be sawn into eight to
twelve inch lengths and then split. It was a good way to keep
warm, which was a challenge as soon as the sun went down.
Daytime temperatures were between 30° and 40° but
evenings went down into the 10° range; the last three
nights being 5°, 0°, and -10°.
The second day we went on to Clearwater Lake. It was by far
my favorite place – I could have stayed there for days.
In fact I suggested it to Simon, who instead of saying “No,”
told me, “I don’t have anything to hunt with and
we don’t have enough food.” When I stared at him
in mild shock, he continued, “There aren’t many
animals out here this time of year, anyway.” It is interesting
once you become accustomed to conditions, it is not a stretch
to continue living within them.
The next morning we had lessons on setting up our own camp
and fire. That afternoon we were escorted to our solo site
(Sit! Stay!) and got to try doing all this for ourselves.
Honestly, it was amazing. This was the part I most wanted
to try. I don’t know what order people did their work,
but I suspect my method was fairly representative since it
mirrored how we set up group camp each night. First I looked
around and selected the spot for my tarp and set that up.
My knee was quite sore by this point, so I really did not
want to go through a lot of deep snow to get to my camp. One
side led into the marsh and very deep snow, the other to my
nice, warm and shallow campsite. I set up my tarp first, with
my sleeping bags all nestled together. I then had an epiphany.
My beautiful tarp and sleeping area completely blocked off
egress from the forest behind it, which included my wood supply
and bathroom. Sigh.
Working slowly, I mashed down a path through the marsh and
around behind my campsite. I found some trees and took them
back to my fireplace. Using rotten logs, I set up a fire on
top of the ice. I successfully cooked my dinner with only
a little char from the cooking stick I was using as a spit
– hey, they pay big money for charcoal caplets back
in Chicago; I got mine for free! Homemade! The only hitch
was my pot’s handle came loose, so it was a little more
challenging making dinner. But roasting the sausage was fun
– with as much camping as I’ve done, I’ve
never actually done that! It was tasty, too.
The next morning after we broke camp I really got my groove
back. Cross-country skiing is a lot different from downhill;
for one thing, your boot is not locked to the ski. For another,
it’s a lot like walking. You know when you slide in
stockinged feet along a ballroom floor that’s just been
waxed? It’s like that. I was way out in front for most
of the day – it was glorious!
Made up for it at first portage, though. Stupid polk. Kept
tipping over. Whose idea was it that I bring it? Oh, right.
Mine. We had a rather protracted lesson in physics while Simon
helped me to redistribute the weight and off we went. He was
kind enough to carry my skis while I snowshoed over the portage.
Gods, it was incredibly beautiful. I wish I could write like
John Muir because that country surely deserves it. Motorized
vehicles of any kind are not allowed within the Boundary Waters
and air traffic is not allowed over it. The only sounds were
those we brought with us. I would have enjoyed a few more
days out there. From that day forward we had perfect weather
– sunny, clear and warm.
That evening we camped at a marsh on the edge of the lake;
the snow was deep and we were exhausted by the time we got
the dogs tied down and some logs to cut. It was a good illustration
of the restorative power of hot drinks. We gathered around
the evening fire and relaxed before finishing the setup of
the camp. We had stopped around 3:00 rather than 2:00 so we
weren’t finished camp until the sun was down, so we
agreed to stop earlier the next day. The contrast was startling
between the day and the night. The cold was always there but
it didn’t seem so threatening until we stopped.
Simon and the Day of No Drama started out like all our other
days (unrelenting toil presided over by stern taskmasters…
oh, no, wait – that’s my job!). I think all of
us who attended as students would agree that our week was
exciting. It was no more so than the day the portage, um,
melted. It started innocently enough – Simon returned
up the trail to tell us that he’d stashed his skis and
backpack after the portage, that we should do the same and
return to help the sled down the hill. The portage was all
boulders so we should follow the new path he made. No prahblem.
Um, Simon? The new portage is, like, straight up and down!
Yeah, there’s snow, but… We slogged our way back
up the hill and around to where the sleds were innocently
awaiting their fate. Simon and Ryan made examples of exactly
how easy elementary pulley systems are (think back to high
school geometry) and we got the first sled down with no mishap
using ropes and trees. The second sled, led by Spider and
Ursus, was ready to go. The only problem was, I was on the
back holding the end of the snub line. Michael was in front
of me, and Frank was on the sled. Simon was in front of the
dogs. I fell off the snub line, Michael tripped, and Frank
fell off the back of the sled (sorry, guys, guess we have
a bit of work to be good mushers!). I tried to run after the
sled while still on my face in the snow and managed to look
up and see the sled heading straight for Simon. I worked to
think up good excuses for why we ran over our instructor and
the sled whizzed by Simon. He, apparently, has done this before.
Without any comment or expression, he looked me in the eye
and reached out with one hand to knock the sled over. Phoomp.
The dogs, like, stopped. End of problem.
I remember thinking, “You can do that?” No drama,
folks. Where’s the panic? The excitement? The drama
of dogsledding? Yeah, yeah. The key to surviving outdoors
is to stay calm and keep your head. Bla bla bla. What fun
is that, I ask you?
The last day in the field was short; we were back at Home
Place mid-morning. We put the dogs up and washed dishes, put
our gear away, and had the afternoon to chat and have coffee.
We also got to tour the logistics center with Scottie, and
I’m not alone when I say I covet that workshop! It was
amazing how well-oiled that process is. I had no idea they
could stage that many expeditions all in-house. Truly impressive.
We had a banquet with the girl scout group that had been
out concurrent to us, although not in the Boundary Waters.
One custom I neglected to mention – before dinner we
would have a thought or quote and a moment of silence. It
was a pleasant custom. Our banquet included the rest of the
staff at Home Place. After dinner we had a graduation ceremony
upstairs. It was a fitting ending to a wonderful week. Simon
read us a story by Jack London (I love being read to, by the
way). While the story was a little depressing, like most of
London’s work, it was interesting to see his description
of being out in the winter weather. We recognized his descriptions
of how to build a fire and stay warm from our own lessons
out there. The cold was a little less frightening that evening
for us, I believe.
The next day we gathered early and helped Ryan put away the
tarps and hang the wall tent to dry. We had breakfast and
then the long drive back to the airport in Duluth. It was
a bittersweet morning, rather like the sundering of the Fellowship
of the Ring if I can wax poetic. Simon was going back out
that day with another expedition and Ryan had post-trip work
to do, so Iggy drove us to the airport. We lost two more as
Frank and Joe met their compatriots who were joining Simon
and they drove back to Chicago. Guillermo, Marielle, Michael
and I went into Duluth for lunch and then they left to take
an earlier flight.
The trip was only eight days, but the memories will last
forever. Thanks, Simon, Ryan, and Outward Bound Wilderness!
