Winter Camping in Northeastern Minnesota - 20 Years and Counting

On Presidents Day Weekend of 1993, two friends and I, very much on a whim that to this day defies explanation, decided to attempt a winter camping trip.  One member of our party had a bit of experience with "winter ops" from the National Guard (which apparently involved armored vehicles, heavy weapons, and numerous explosions), but my other friend and I were total "newbies" and had little idea what we were  up against.  We parked at the end of Breezy Point on Lake Vermilion and trudged out into knee-deep snow without the benefit of snowshoes or skis with the ambitious goal of reaching Wolf Lake via the stream that flows into Smart Bay.  In the midst of 45 minutes of crushing physical exertion during which one member of our party "refunded" his breakfast, I uttered for the first but certainly not the last time in relation to winter trips the phrase "Well, this was a stupid idea!" and we continued on...for a couple more hours.  This trip took place before my introduction to the Internet, and forced to rely solely on a USGS topographic map without the added benefit of aerial photos, we were unaware of the fact that Wolf Creek made a sharp and unexpected turn though a heavily-wooded choking point on the west side of the most open part of its flowage.  3.5 miles into an extremely difficult trudge with our collective judgement clouded by exhaustion, we took a wrong turn, lost our way, decided to call it "good enough," and made camp on the edge of a spruce bog marked by a red star on THIS map.  Faded by the passage of time, my memories of that weekend are sadly fragmented, but I remember spending the evening eating smoked Gouda and good Italian bread, drinking Windsor Canadian and cola, smoking cigarettes, and enjoying a high spirited and fairly late night around a campfire with our entire party exhilarated by the awareness that we were engaged in an esoteric and unconventional pursuit.  I also remember that my first experience spending nearly 10 hours sleeping comfortably in a down bag while the temperature outside dipped into the single digits above zero changed my life and marked me forever as a serious winter camping enthusiast.

On Presidents Day Weekend the following year, I convinced another friend and fellow outdoorsman to join me for a 3 day and 2 night trip that coincided with a near record level of snow on the ground.  We hiked in on our newly acquired snowshoes and pulled heavily loaded sleds, and after reaching our chosen spot a modest 1.75 miles into a local stand of State Forest, we floundered in waist-deep snow for nearly an hour while we "dug out a campsite."  It was on this early trip that we perfected our methods for "cold camping" and experimented with making snow caves, gathering wood on snowshoes, maintaining a reliable campfire in the snow, and cooking meals in temperatures below freezing.  From those early experiences grew a tradition of regular winter excursions including "big" treks every Presidents Day, and whether the occasion resulted in a multi-day trip with a large crew or a quick solo overnight outing, I made it a point to embark on a winter camping trip on that holiday weekend every year.  My most recent adventure in February of 2013 marked my 20th consecutive President's Day winter camping trip.

Following the unfortunate but accepted winter trip planning pattern where my friends are concerned, what began as a 3 day expedition involving a good sized group of campers and a number of dogs slowly unraveled, and through a disappointing series of text messages only days before the event, I was informed that "our" 20th annual outing was going to be a solo affair.  No longer concerned  about anyones' physical limitations but my own, I quickly selected a more challenging destination, printed out new maps, and revised my strategy.  Despite the knowledge that snow conditions were difficult and many area lakes were covered with slush, I decided to head to Fall Lake near Ely MN and travel up through Newton Lake to eventually camp and fish on Basswood with the understanding that I would likely run into trouble along the way.  In the winter of 2008 aided by ideal conditions, I chose the same route and made it all the way to New York Island on Basswood where I spent two nights and enjoyed really good fishing.  A strong desire to return quietly gnawed at me ever since.

On the morning of Saturday February 16 after some sloppy last minute packing borne of procrastination, Lucy the Lab and I set out from home and headed north to Ely.  We stopped for bait and a few last minute provisions at a gas station and, in observance of another unusual tradition, we hit the drive-thru at the local Dairy Queen.  For me, no BWCA adventure would be complete without a mushroom and swiss and an order of deep fried cheese curds.  Arriving at the busy landing on Fall Lake, I was instantly reminded of why most of my trips start at 3:00 a.m. rather than noon, and after making quick work of converting numerous loose bags and bins into a secured load on a sled, Lucy and I stepped out onto the lake.  The soft and disagreeable snow measured between 12 to 18 inches deep, and no trails headed off in our direction.  Perfect.  By the time we reached the tip of Mile Island, we were both slightly winded, and when the snowshoe trail that we mercifully picked up ran out less than half way to the portage to Newton Lake leaving us to fend for ourselves in soft and heavily drifted snow, I shrugged my shoulders and adjusted my goals for the trip.  Had there been 2 or 3 more guys along for the ride, we could have taken turns breaking trail and likely extended our range, but Lucy and I, despite being in decent shape, were somewhat hindered by our heavy loads and deep snow.  We pushed on while taking turns out front, and the grey mist and occasional flurries of a warm and foggy winter day quickly obscured all that lay behind us.  The stunning landscapes created by Winter in Minnesota never fail to stir my heart.

On the portage from Fall Lake to Newton Lake, we found evidence of heavy use by wildlife including wolves, deer, and a moose, and in the interest of giving my Lucy a much needed break, I snapped the tow bars onto her sled, clipped the waist belt into my pack, and made the quick overland jaunt bearing the full weigh of our equipment.  According to the MN DNR lake information report, "Newton Lake is very riverine in character with the Kawishiwi River flowing through a narrow, serpentine lake basin," and on that particular day in February, the lake was covered with slush and sported numerous ice free areas.  We proceeded with caution and hugged the shoreline as we pushed on further north, and after rounding a bend, I gasped at the sight of a large area of open water in the narrow channel that I skied right down the middle of on my previous winter trek through the the lake.  Barely 5 minutes after that, we ran into the southern end of a vast field of heavy slush that covered most of the lake, and the only way to avoid it was to keep within 10 feet of shore...where the snow was most heavily drifted.  Following the shoreline all the way down Newton Lake as opposed to taking a more direct course would have added a whopping 2.5 miles to the trip.  After trudging just slightly over 4 miles that afternoon, I spotted an area of light tree and brush cover adjacent to a likely fishing spot right next to a stand of Maple trees with a lot of wood on the ground.  Honestly, all that was missing was a "Camp Here!" sign with a big red arrow.  I made for shore, dropped my pack, freed Lucy from her load, and pulled a collapsible snow shovel from the sled.

After about an hour of shoveling, unpacking, and arranging, a tidy winter camp (officially declared "Newton Lake Camp!") sprung from the snow, and I set about the task of gathering firewood.  Depending on the location, weather, snow cover, etc., finding a suitable supply of wood in the winter can be a tall order, but due to my ideal location, I collected a solid 2 day pile of lovely dry maple in under an hour.  That never happens, and I celebrated with a beer and a tug off my 1L nalgene bottle of vodka and cranberry juice.  Perched happily atop a 5 gallon bait bucket, I looked out over the slush-covered lake and formulated a fishing strategy.  Winter angling when there is 4 inches of water on top of the ice requires a number of adaptations of both gear and technique.  Tired from the long hike and following her usual pattern from numerous prior expeditions, Lucy fell asleep atop her blanket in the tent, and I pulled my reloaded sled out onto the lake towards the down current end of the open water in the channel.  Area lakes at the time were covered with 36 or more inches of ice, yet I found barely 10 at the spot I chose to fish, and not long after my second line was set, Lucy left her warm digs in the tent and sauntered out to join me.  We enjoyed snacks and a decidedly one sided conversation as I fished without success for nearly two hours, and then in the creeping gloam a disturbance in the solid lines on my graph revealed that a fish finally found my bait.  With a bit of careful jigging, I hooked and landed a very large...Rock Bass.  It was a big, healthy example of its species but...yuck, and I chuckled, snapped a photo, and sent her back into the stained water.  I've been an avid fisherman since the age of 4, and in those nearly 40 years I've experienced every conceivable fishing outcome ranging from "lost count at 150 walleyes" to "skunked and stung by bees," and knowing that there will be many other fishing trips in the future, my expectations for any outing are quite relaxed and very low.  I chose to classify my first ever Rock Bass through the ice as minor victory in the "oddities" department, and after fishing until almost dark, Lucy and I headed back to camp for a warm fire and a hot meal.

Beside a perfect crackling hardwood fire, Lucy curled up on the piece of canvas used to cover the sled, and I dug into my soft sided cooler only to find that the two giant vacuum packed pieces of my lovely Mrs' world class lasagna were safe at home forgotten in the freezer.  Aside from my journey being impeded by slush, that was the only other problem experienced that weekend, and I rummaged around my pack for a "plan B" which appeared in the form of Mountain House Beef Stroganoff with Noodles.  Certainly that freeze dried entree contains enough sodium to preserve a side of beef, but I've found that when a person is cold, tired, and exhausted out of doors, it makes for an amazingly delicious and satisfying meal.  I supplemented that with the traditional winter camping side dishes of Italian bread and Pringles, and after making quick work of doing dishes, I tuned my small radio to WELY and set about firing off a couple of taunting text messages to my absentee camping partners.  After a couple hours and a couple beers beside the fire, I headed for the tent and nearly 9 hours of incredibly deep and restful sleep.

The next morning with a filling breakfast of percolated coffee, oatmeal, and a Cliff bar under my belt, I sloshed out onto the lake to set a couple of tip-ups and got down to the business of breaking camp.  It was another fairly warm, overcast day, and I though I really wanted to stay out another night and try hard to catch some respectable fish, a dramatic change in the weather was forecast with a low of minus 20 over night and a high in the single digits the following day with dangerous wind chills.  I love outdoor activities in the winter, and though well equipped to handle extreme conditions, my concern for poor Lucy pulling a sled across a big lake in a dangerous wind caused me to reconsider.  As is the case with so many winter camping adventures, the trip home was slightly easier due to our ability to hike back on our existing trail, and after setting to wing some of he numerous Goldeneyes and Mergansers that inhabit the open waters below the rapids on the Kawishiwi River and chain of lakes, we found evidence of additional wolf activity from the previous night on the portage.  The return trek across Fall Lake involved several breaks, and after arriving at the landing just before a couple dog teams heading west off the 4 Mile Portage, I hurriedly tossed all our gear into the back of the truck and hit the road for home.  Short but very sweet, it was a good trip.

Be it a 4 day and 3 night trip with 8 guys, a short overnight solo outing, a great fishing expedition in lovely weather, or a barely survivable ordeal in sub zero temperatures, every winter camping trip provides the the adventure seeker with life-long memories, and the successful completion of each trip leaves one with a lasting sense of accomplishment, a deep appreciation of the natural world, and a true zest for life.  Though not an activity to be attempted without careful preparation, appropriate gear, and a bit of education, due to the required mastery of multiple skills, winter camping truely rates among the greatest of all outdoor pursuits.  Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more.  ;-)

Peace.