My story begins at 4 a.m., in the driveway of a total stranger. John
Denning, an easy going guy , with a fair amount of orneriness, was
having a dispute with his brother Steve, about which of their several
bags should be loaded first and where it should be located.
Steve, very logical and meticulous, wanted to lay all of the eight or
so bags in the driveway, analyze them as to weight and size, and then
load them accordingly, so as make best use of the storage rack on top of
the Suburban. I believe John's response was, " Steve, we've got 3
other people to load their gear and then a 10-hour drive, let's throw
our stuff in and go!"
I had never meet either of these men and, frankly, had trouble
believing that they worked side by side every day, in their house
painting business, without coming to blows.
Scott, the third of the Denning brothers and a work acquaintance of
mine, was standing off to the side, nervously waiting for his turn to
load his 3, bulging, backpacks. I could tell that Scott, a machinist by
trade and a perfectionist by nature, did not think that either one of
them was doing it right. When his turn came, Scott arranged his bags
side by side inside the storage rack, fastened them together with, what
I think were, dog collars, and then ran 2 tie-down straps across the 3
identical (of course) packs.
Sitting on the ground, with his back propped against a tree, was
Perry Niles, my canoeing partner and friend of 15+ years. In contrast to
the Dennings, when I pulled up in front of Perry's house at 3:30 a.m.,
he was sitting on the curb, leaning against his single backpack,
drinking a cup of coffee. By the time I stopped, he was on his feet,
with the help of his walking stick, which always accompanied him on
outdoor adventures. Before I could get out to see if he needed any help,
he had opened the rear doors of the Suburban, thrown his pack in and was
climbing in the passenger side, with a thermos of coffee and an extra
After checking my watch for the third time, I starting having second
thoughts about inviting the Dennings to join us on this adventure.
Perry and I, although novices to our destination The Canadian
Boundary Waters, had several canoeing and primitive camping trips
under our belts. The Dennings, on the other hand, had never been in a
canoe. I felt obligated to bring the subject up with Perry, since he had
never met any of the brothers before this point.
After taking a seat on the ground next to Perry, I said, "Did I
screw-up when I invited these three to come along?" As I recall his
response to my question was, "Have they ever been in a canoe
before?" "No", "Have they ever camped in a tent in
the middle of nowhere?" "No", "Will they try to stop
me from having a good time?" "Well, of course not", I
said. "Then what's the problem, let's get going!" Perry
exclaimed, "This is going to be a blast!"
Finally, the Suburban got loaded and our trip officially began. Perry
and I had talked about taking a trip like this for years; so to say that
we were excited would be an under-statement. Between Des Moines and
Duluth our conversations were limited to nervous questions, "Do the
bears really come right into your camp to rip-off your food
supply?" "Will we be able to use the map without getting lost
forever?", "Did we bring the right gear?"
Once we got past Duluth, the questions stopped, we were in awe. We
encountered such awesome sites as: Lake Superior, immense forests, and
Moose Crossing signs. As we pulled off the highway outside of Ely and
drove 2 miles through the forest on a logging road to reach the
outfitters, we were like kids with brand new bikes. As the thick timber
opened to reveal the rustic cabins, an island-filled lake and the sight
of people loading and unloading canoes, we were speechless; we were
really going to do this!
After moving our gear into the bunkhouse that we had reserved, we
went directly to the dock to check out the facilities. After meeting
with our outfitters, we had a plan of action, so we ventured into Ely to
have one last look at civilization. The locals that we met in a bar
called The Bear Den were more than happy to tell us every story that
they had heard (or made-up) about the vicious bears in the Boundary
Waters. Although we knew that they were giving us a hard time, I felt
the hair on my neck tingle more than once.
At 6 a.m. the next morning we were at the breakfast table, shoveling
down huge stacks of pancakes, topped with over-easy eggs, link sausage
and maple syrup. Our packs were on the dock, the backpack apiece that
Perry and I had brought, and the 9 duffle-bag type packs that held the
Denning brothers' necessities.
When we got to the dock, our guide had just finished strapping the
canoes onto the rack built on an 18' Jon Boat, which was to be our taxi
into the wilderness. As he loaded the last of the brothers' packs in the
boat, I recognized a hint of sarcasm when he asked, "Is this your
first trip into the Boundary Waters?" I'm sure that we all knew
that he was inwardly laughing at our lack of wilderness experience, but
you never would have known it, we were going on an adventure of a
The trip across Moose Lake and into Canadian waters was a lasting
memory in itself.
As the guide maneuvered in and out between islands at top speed, I
glanced at my partners in adventure, and saw four, ear-to-ear smiles on
wind blown faces. After 2 hrs., the adrenaline was flowing as we
unloaded our gear and canoes. My only regret of this whole trip is that
I did not have my camera out to get our expressions on film when our
guide said, "I'll meet you right here in 5 days," and backed
his boat away from the shore. We knew that he would be leaving, but the
reality of it hit us like cold water in our faces, we were on our own!
The expression "Learn by your mistakes" was put to use
right off the bat. After spending a good half an hour loading our gear
in the canoes, while they were still on the shore, because that seemed
the easiest way, we discovered that you have to load them while they are
in the water in order to have the weight distributed equally. After the
rearranging was done, we were ready to go.
As Perry and I started across the lake, we could hear shouts and foul
language coming from the Denning canoe. They had pushed away from the
shoreline backwards and were arguing over the way to turn the canoe
around. At that point, any apprehension that we had from being left by
the guide was gone, and was replaced by sidesplitting laughter (at least
from Perry and I).
At the first portage, you could either carry your gear around the
rapids between Splash and Ensign Lake, or you could paddle up them. The
Dennings, not real sure of themselves just yet, choose the walk; Perry
and I had to try the rapids. We started 20' from the bottom and gave it
our all so that we could hit the rapids at full speed. I could hear the
shouts of encouragement from the Dennings as we moved up the white
I was worried that I would break my paddle, or my back, as we got
within 6 feet of the top and the canoe just seemed to sit in one spot.
After coming to the conclusion that we could not make the rapids, I
turned around in the canoe to let Perry know that I was giving up the
fight, and then I saw the reason. He was leaning his back against his
pack, his feet spread out in front of him, and his paddle lay across his
lap, I could have killed him.
He had let me paddle up those rapids on my own, while he sat at the
back of the canoe grinning. I knew then that we were going to have a
By the time we had crossed Ensign Lake and found our next portage, we
were all feeling more at ease in the canoes. Our second portage, between
Ensign and Ashigan Lake was approximately 1/8th of a mile, uphill. Perry
carried his pack and the canoe while I carried my pack, the fishing
poles, paddles and a small tote bag full of fresh fruit and half frozen
steaks, that we had purchased in Ely the evening before. The Dennings
made two trips apiece.
After reloading the canoes, we crossed Ashigan and decided that we
had had enough punishment for one day. After setting up camp and fishing
(with no luck), we ate like kings. Perry and I had our steaks, baked
potatoes and fresh fruit on angel food cake. The brothers opted for
ribs, sweet corn and apple cobbler that John's wife had sent, and we
were in heaven.
That night we found out why we got a discount for going so early in
the season (3rd week of May), it got down to 22 degrees!!
The morning was brought in with the wild cackling of a loon! John and
Perry went on firewood detail; Scott volunteered to cook breakfast for
everyone, while Steve and I tore down camp. Perry and I had a dozen eggs
and some ham steak that we donated to the cause, but the brothers had
enough for an army. Pork chops; breakfast sausage, muffins, fried
potatoes, several different juices, milk and coffee were also on the
In return for my advice that they ration their food, the Denning's
began a campaign of friendly harassment aimed at Perry and I for
bringing freeze-dried and dehydrated food instead of the real food that
they had brought in great supply. After our morning feast, we decided to
take on our next adventure, a 2-mile portage to Ima Lake.
It was my turn to carry the canoe, while Perry brought the loose
gear. Although we had brought special hats with mosquito netting on
them, I thought that I might go mad dealing with the thousands, no
millions, of mosquitoes that seemed to think that the inside of the
canoe that I was carrying on my shoulder was their new home.
I got in some good fishing while we waited for the Dennings to make
their second, 4-mile round trip, to retrieve the rest of their
essentials. By the time they had got back and reloaded their canoe we
decided to break for lunch to fry-up the four small lake trout that
Perry and I had caught. Steve got out some potato salad and some
jalapeno poppers wrapped in aluminum foil that we threw on the fire. I
didn't mention it, but the potato salad didn't smell like it would make
it for another meal.
After crossing Vera Lake and a easy mile portage, we canoed through a
steep-walled canyon were the water was only about 20' wide, with Indian
paintings on the walls and several caves that we could canoe into and
come out at a different exit. Our conversation turned to how many
Indians or Fur traders had been in these very waters in long past years.
After a couple hours the canyon opened up into Snowshoe Lake, an
unforgettable sight. It was not a large lake but it was more than
impressive. It had several waterfalls, some as high as 40'. We picked an
island in the middle of the lake to set up an early camp. Our camp sat
atop a peninsula that stuck out in the lake 100' with 20 to 30' cliffs
on one side. It was perfect, as long as you weren't prone to
sleepwalking. We could see for miles and were high enough that the wind
kept the dreaded mosquitoes away.
As I said earlier, we learned from our mistakes. After the
teeth-rattling coldness of last night, we put our tents closer to the
fire and gathered plenty of wood. As the fishing had not been kind to
us, we had to rely completely on our food packs. Perry and I cooked the
last of our fresh food, some minute steak that we had bought frozen the
evening that we were in Ely. It was completely thawed and would not have
been any good if we did not eat it that night.
The Dennings gorged themselves on lasagna, green beans that were
beginning to wilt, and the last of John's apple cobbler. Their potato
salad had a funny smell to it, as did the gallon of milk that they had
left, and both had to be thrown out. The Dennings did not seem concerned
with this turn of events, but Perry and I exchanged a look that read,
"These guys are going to be in for trouble."
Morning three was perfect, the sun was already warm, the birds were
serenading us and Perry had gotten up early and had the coffee going. I
got out the pancake mix, powdered milk, dried strawberries, syrup, and
the instant Tang. As John began his day by harassing Perry and I about
not having anything left but what he now jokingly referred to as
astronaut food, we heard a groan from Scott. He had just lowered their
food packs (two of them) from their place at the end of a rope that had
been suspended from a tree limb to keep the varmints away. As he raised
his head from looking inside the packs his nose was wrinkled in a look
of disgust and his eyes had a look of almost panic.
All of their treasure of fresh grub was rotten, and we had three days
to go! After the initial shock, we emptied their packs to assess the
damage; it was bad, but not a total loss. They had a pound of bacon that
was in a sealed package, a bag of oranges, and some cornmeal mix (no
milk) that was salvageable. After washing the smell off, we advised the
Dennings to cook all of the bacon, before it too went bad, and eat it
like jerky through-out the day.
Perry and I decided, after seeing the downtrodden looks on the faces
of the brothers, that we would not tease them about their loss, at least
for now. Their day went from bad to worst when, at the very first
portage of the day, they flipped their canoe. Scott and Steve had gotten
out of the canoe, while John stayed in to steady the canoe while it was
being unloaded. As I watched with amazement, Steve did something that we
had warned against from the beginning, he tried to step into the canoe
standing up. As the canoe rolled upside down in what seemed like a
fraction of a second, Steve fell on his butt on the shore while John
disappeared under water. The look on John's face when he came to the
surface was another Kodak moment that we missed.
The ice on these lakes had only been melted 2-3 weeks and the water
was frigid. Luckily, they had listened when we told them to put their
clothes in zip-lock bags just in case something like this happened. John
dried himself and changed clothes in silence and it wasn't until he
discovered that the cornmeal mix had not been put in a zip-lock and was
ruined, that he had a few things to say, or should I say yell, at Steve.
After setting up camp on Thomas Lake, we suggested that someone do
some fishing. As bad as their day had been, it was no surprise that the
fish refused to bite. Perry and I cooked up a large pot of dehydrated
beef stew, some corn bread, some freeze-dried stir-fry veggies and had
some freeze-dried ice cream and blueberry muffins that I had hid away as
a surprise. As we chowed, we did our best to pretend not to notice the
looks of frustration on the Dennings faces, as they nibbled on the last
of their cold bacon and oranges.
We exaggerated the groans of contentment as we finished our meal and
began to discuss whether or not we were too full to have dessert now or
should wait till later. I didn't immediately know what Perry was up to,
when he stood, picked up the pot of stew and headed for the bushes. He
turned to me and said "I can't eat any more, so I guess I'll just
dump the rest of this out", then turning to the Dennings, he
innocently said, "Unless you guys want some." I still chuckle
just thinking of that, those boys were starving.
Day Four dawned upon five semi-seasoned canoeists. We had breaking
camp and loading/unloading the canoes down to a science. Scott and I
fixed breakfast, while the other 3 broke camp and loaded the canoes.
After eating we divided up some beef jerky that Perry had made, with
only minimal joking, with the Dennings. The weather was great and the
scenery was awesome. We crossed 6 lakes that day, finally ending up
where we had started our journey, Splash Lake. We had decided to spend
our last day on Splash instead of traveling any farther, even though we
were not overly happy with the fishing we had encountered so far. On the
morning of our last day we decided to split up and spend the entire day
trying to change our luck with the fish.
After deciding on a meeting place, Perry and I headed out along the
southern shoreline; the Dennings chose to circle some of the islands out
in the middle of the lake. Not having a lot of luck, we spent most of
the morning talking about whether or not the Dennings would return to
the Canadian wilderness with us next time. We believed that, even though
they had some bad experiences; losing their food supply, tipping their
canoe and less than good luck fishing, they still had a good time and
would probably come again. They not only had an opportunity to see
Mother Nature up close, but they seemed to have a bond between them that
was not noticeable before the trip. Although Perry and I had been on
many camping and canoeing trips, we agreed that we too would come away
from this experience with a new respect for the great outdoors.
As we neared the rendezvous location, we could sense the change in
attitude of the brothers. Although they had enjoyed themselves, the
Dennings had, on more than one occasion, mentioned the fact that we had
came all the way to Canada, and had not caught "The Big One"
like they had hoped for. I could tell by the ear-to-ear grins on their
faces that things had changed in that department. First, Scott and John,
who were in their canoe, fishing along the bank, each lifted a stringer
full of 4-6 lb. bass. When Perry and I were done congratulating them on
their catch, Scott spoke up "These are the little ones," as he
pointed to shore, where Steve was, with difficulty, lifting a stringer
with 2 Northern Pike, that I would have guessed at 15-20 lbs. apiece.
After several pats on the back and picture taking, we each picked a
bass for lunch and released the rest of the bounty. Now it was our turn
to be on the receiving end of ridicule, for our lack of fishing ability.
The rest of the day was spent under a shade tree, waiting for the guide
to arrive, not because we were anxious to leave such beautiful
surroundings, we were exhausted. All the days and nights of hiking,
canoeing, setting up camp only to tear it down the next day, had caught
up with us.
Upon arrival at our outfitters, we wasted no time unloading our gear,
throwing it into the Suburban and heading for the shower room (which we
badly needed). Immediately after that we headed for the cookhouse and
one of our outfitters huge T-bones with all the trimmings. That evening,
sitting on the dock in lawn-chairs, watching the sun set over Moose Lake
was probably one of the most relaxing times in my life.
The ride back to civilization , was great, we went over every event
of our trip at least twice. By this time John was even laughing about
his brother tipping him over in the freezing water, and Scott lost the
scowl on his face, that appeared every time the rotted food story had
came up previously. I only run into the Denning brothers by chance every
now and then, but there is a kinship that we share that time will never