Portage from Hell    by Janice L. Green

To try to accurately describe the difficulties of portaging our canoes trudging through almost impassable thick, ankle deep mud, after a heavy rain the evening before will be difficult. By the time we reached our destination we looked like wild renegades covered with mud from head to foot, after repeatedly landing on our derriere, from slipping in the mud.

The trail to the river required a long portage across marshes, and swamps filled with snakes, salamanders, ticks and mosquitoes, which took us several hours to reach our campsite destination, along the St. Croix River’s bank, the put-in location, for our week long canoe, camping and fishing excursion. All three of us were loaded down by a 40 pound backpack, while carrying a canoe overhead between the three of us. In spite of the annoying bloodsucking mosquitoes, and ticks, and the difficult portage, the magnificent scenery made up for these few aggravations.

The St. Croix River runs along the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin and is surrounded by stunning wooded bluffs and a lush, green coniferous forest. It’s a meandering slow-moving body of water winding through marsh and swampland, whose shape changes from narrow and twisting, to wide and straight. The river offers excellent trout fishing and ideal flat water canoeing or kayaking opportunities in the summer when the water level drops, and the rapids are rated Class I, (moving water with a few ripples).

After hiking under a pulsating sun and in oppressive humidity, it suddenly began to turn cold. Tired from a day of hiking, I dangled my feet in the icy-cold water before setting up camp. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a movement in the water and quickly pulled my feet out of the water, just as a giant snapping turtle, with sharp powerful jaws was about to dine on my toes. I quickly remembered those nasty buggers, having grown up out in the boonies in Minnesota when I was young.

What started out as a glorious summer day, now threatened rain, so we quickly took a refreshing swim; set up camp and dove in, just as the first droplets of rain splattered upon our tents. If you have never been to Minnesota before, the summers are typically hot and humid with rapid changes in the weather. At least that is my recollection when I lived there, and during my annual trip in the summertime to Minnesota.

We were all alone in a wilderness retreat, surrounded by northern hardwoods with birch, aspen and conifers. That night we told tales about Bigfoot, a huge, manlike, hairy creature, which has been said to have a haunting, full-throated growl, and sighted in the woods, in which we were now camped. Later that night when the light drizzle turned into a down pour we told stories of the adventures we had, when we were young, growing up in the backwoods of Minnesota.

In the whistle of wind through the pines, I heard the howl of a wolf off in the distance. The wind continued to blow hard off the water, rocking the sides of my tent, but some how during the night I manage to drift off to asleep. I forgot about the howling wolves, and the Bigfoot stories, and woke to a beautiful brisk, sunny, summer day. Since the others have not yet risen, I decided to take a short morning jog, to work the kinks out of my body. A Monarch butterfly flittered by, a sight I rarely see anymore now living in Southern California.

I couldn’t have gone more than a quarter-of-a-mile, when I heard a crashing sound coming from woods. Then before my eyes a brown, scraggly haired, ugly, gigantic beast jumped across the trail just a few feet away from me. The stories that were told the night before of Bigfoot flashed into my mind, so without hesitation, I made a mad dash the opposite direction from which it came. I looked back over my shoulder and saw this huge creature with clumps of brown fur, leap into the woods and disappear. As I thought to myself “RUN”, I caught a glimpse of a massive set of antlers, and realized my Sasquatch, was a giant moose losing it’s winter fur. Man those critters are ugly!

After a hearty breakfast we packed up the canoe and headed out for a day on the water. I paddled, while my other companion fished from the bow, and the other worked on her suntan, while serenading us. What a three-some we made! Perhaps that’s why we get along so well. The water surface was so smooth our crystal clear reflections floated on the waters surface as we explored new territory.

The trout fishing was awesome! I am talking about the mouth watering kind-of fresh trout, you rarely find at more populated destination, which provided us with a tasty fresh fish cooked dinner each night. There was an abundance of wildlife including moose, deer, beaver, and of course those huge snapping turtles that appeared out of no where.

The only sign of civilization we encountered was a paddle boat traveling down river, otherwise we had this gorgeous destination completely to ourselves for our entire trip. Every day we pretty much did the same thing. We swam, fished, and paddled during the day. At night we watched the lightning bugs, roasted marshmallows over an open fire, and told tales about all the adventures we had since we last saw one another.

What could have been described as a perfect outing, made a quick turn in the opposite direction on our final day. The morning sky was sunny and clear. By 6:30 am, we finished breaking camp and loaded up our backpacks.

 When we were about a third of the way back to the car, it began to lightly drizzle. A short time later, the rain began in earnest and the ferocity of the wind picked up. Within 45 minutes the drizzle turned into a full blown drencher and what once used to be the trail was now a small creek. The slippery ground did little for maneuverability carrying a canoe.

 Soon the force of the wind became so strong that we were blown over, every time the wind caught hold of the canoe. Our faces and arms were scratched by tree branches blowing in the wind that lashed out like a whip hitting its mark. We made the decision to drop the canoe and get back to the car before it began to thunder and lightning. By the time we reached the car, we looked and felt like drowned rats. The portage to the lake, now looked like a piece of cake compared to the portage back.

After six long hours, sitting in the car watching the trees bend in the wind, and listening to the rain pelt down on the roof with an occasional pine cone thrown into the mix, it finally stopped raining. When the sun came back out, we went back to retrieve the canoe, slip sliding on the even muddier path, all over again. By the time we got the canoe loaded up we were pretty tired, and were eager to go home.

© 2005 Janice L. Green  All Rights Reserved.