The Grand Portage and The Pigeon River

The feeling in my gut was a few degrees bolder than butterflies. The date of departure had arrived and the immensity of the expedition felt heavy, exciting, and paramount. At the Grand Portage fort, a hub of the historic fur trade, Dan and I started our journey with the grueling eight and a half mile overland carry, for which the town and trading post had been named. To our great fortune we were not alone in this effort, and eight of our close friends voluntarily endured this toilsome experience with us, making it possible for us to complete the portage in one day! If Dan and I were to have entertained this labor by ourselves it would have taken us an entire week. With seven packs plus the boat we have to make five trips, and it would have increased the total carrying mileage to 42.5 miles (yowzer). If you add the walking back to get more packs the total mileage would have been 76.5 miles. Heartfelt thanks to Tim, Greta, Nate, Sarah, Aaron, Calvin, Davis, and Annalisa for leaving us with a strong spirit and catapulting momentum. Also a big thanks to my mother and Dan’s mother, who were at the fort to see us off. They have gifted us with much love and support and deserve compliments for putting up with their boundary-testing (no pun intended) sons. The first week of the expedition proved to be exceedingly difficult, inspiring, and cold. From the end of the Grand Portage an upstream huge section of the Pigeon River must be ascended to reach the lake and portage country that is the Boundary Waters Canoes Area Wilderness. The river was quite shallow and rocky in most places with short sections of paddle-able water occasionally. There were no trails to bypass the riffles and rapids and we were forced to bushwhack up the shoreline with the heavy packs and carry and guide the empty boat up the river, as the brush was too thick for portaging a canoe. Many times we scrambled to maintain footing while the boat was suspended and feared dropping it to certain injury. At this laborious pace we made it only three fourths of a mile one day. To make this effort required tenacity, as the weather was cold and at times we were waist deep in the freezing river, prompting us to regain circulation in our legs and restore our vital heat by running aimlessly on shore and eating quantities of food. A light coating of snow one morning made for increased motivations, and we were happy to take this on, as our adrenaline was high and our spirit still fresh with excitement. Dan remarks, “I think this makes beards grow faster,” as we ate our breakfast of last nights wild rice concoction fired in lard. By the end of the third day on the Pigeon River we reached the Fowl portage, which we spend six to seven hours crossing, and camped that night overlooking S. Fowl Lake. We were filled with relief and optimism despite knowing the next couple weeks we would portage many times every day. As the sunset cast glowing red-orange hues on the diametrically tall bluffs above our camp and the Fowl Lakes, falcons screeched, ravens throated, and we were charged anew. The wildlife on the Pigeon River was exceptional, rewarding our efforts, and the memories of shorelines inhabited densely with waterfowl, a moose, beavers, wildflowers, and the general explosion of spring were in chorus with our appreciation.