Did the Voyageurs eat cous cous?

I'm in the not at all uncomfortable position of being about a week behind on the blogging front because of too many paddle opportunities. Last weekend the Commish and I left the Traditional Gathering and headed for the Ash River put in at Voyageurs National Park. The VoiceOfReason, MayorOfTurtleRiver, RangerMark, and the FrugalFisherman had already arrived and spent a night camped in the park. I was skeptical about the rendezvous plan but we hit our crew on the very first campsite that we were instructed to try. The group was out on a day paddlewhen we arrived but the gear was familiar and we pulled in. It was most definitely September weather in border country with sun and rain alternating on an almost hourly basis. Like my buddy in Cumbria, northern England says however, there is no such thing as bad weather, only crappy gear. We have good gear and were plenty comfortable.

The Fall trip is a tradition going back maybe 20 years or so. The FrugalFisherman and I worked together at a county District Attorney's office in western Wisconsin in the mid 70's and have stayed in touch. I was first invited in 2001 and we wound up leaving Isle Royale on 9/11. There was uncertaintly as to whether the Voyageur II would be able to land due to all ports of entry being shut down but since this particular vessel was 1 of 2 using the Grand Portage marina, it was able to dock. Subsequent fall trips have been to the Slate Islands, the Apostles, Rossport, ON, and Voyageurs. The most memorable event that occurred on the last Voyageurs fall trip was when the GreenThumbChef (the only charter member who could not make it this time), grabbed what appeared to be a water bottle to make up some pancake mix. I thought the pancakes had an unusual tang to them but kept eating. TheCommish, he of the delicate palate, took a couple bites and asked the GTC which water bottle she used. It turned out that the Nalgene bottle she had grabbed did not contain water but Tanqeray Gin; and it really didn't taste all that bad. Coincidentally, this years most memorable moment also featured both food and the Commish.

The Mayor had to head off to work but the rest of us packed up for a leisurely paddle to the Wolf Pack Island group on Lake Namakan. But not before we took a photo of the two sisters and I with the VOR's unsecured boat floating out into Lost Lake in the background. We had a a nice paddle in sunny weather and a wonderful lunch as we headed over to the Wolf Pack Islands, where we set up camp and engaged in a fine happy hour. It was the Commish's night to cook but uncharacteristically he didn't have his usual well thought out and delicious meal. He was forced to improvise for some unknown reason, and the result was interesting. Bavarian knockwurst, sliced up and prepared with north Indian curry spices in a sea of Cous Cous. Call me sheltered, but I had never eaten this style of Cous Cous before. Truth be known, I don't even know what the hell Cous Cous is and reading the Wikipedia article didn't really enlighten me that much. I do know that none of us will forget this particular meal however. To begin with this was not an appealing looking pot of chow. It kind of looked like someone had thrown a bunch of sausage into a kids sandbox and then scooped it into a pot. The taste would not cause Wolfgang Puck to ask for the recipe either. But both of those negative attributes pale compared to the gastro intestinal havoc that this supper wreaked. We all went to bed full and feeling nourished but before dawn broke I heard the zipper of the FrugalFishermans tent and hurried footsteps up the hill to the throne.

Voyageurs Park features a fire ring, picnic table, and vault toilets at a number of paddle in sites. The toilet consists of a large tank or vault with a seat on top and no walls or roof. Liberating, airy, and boasting a wonderful view in good weather, these facilities are a bit wet and depressing in the rain. This particular privy offered a majestic view of Lake Namakan and the Canadian border a short half mile to the north. That morning the view was most definitely secondary. As I lay smiling smugly in my sleeping bag I suddenly realized that I had best head up the hill as quickly as humanly possible. As I took off up the path I heard, "Olson, are you heading up the hill?" "Yup." "Damn it!". It was like a revolving door. Our lone female member, the VOR, asked that I monitor the path and prevent anxious fellow paddlers from rushing the throne while she was up there. In one particularly poignant moment I heard the Commish yell, "Is anyone up there?" The FrugalFisherman answered, "I'll be done in a minute"and the response was, "I don't have a minute, followed by the sound of a body crashing through the underbrush. I'm sure you get the picture and I will spare readers any more graphic details.

There was debate as to which component of this delicate feast caused the multiple hill climbs. In my opinion, I've had plenty of sausage and curry in the past with no problems whatsoever. That points my finger squarely at Cous Cous being the culprit. I thought of checking with the CDC in Atlanta but I fear the outbreak would be too insignificant to be of interest. So for now me and my fellow paddlers are sticking to our firm belief that Cous Cous is certainly to blame for this gastric indignity and that the Commish had better come up with some savory and spectacular supper that will make up for this years near disaster. Fortunately, by about 10am when we took off in opposite directions, systems seemed to be back on an even keel. And we even let the Commish come out from behind the tree for the group picture.

The Joy of Saunas

Two of the annual events that I've attended for a couple decades, the Wisconsin fishing opener and the annual Grouse Kill weekend (no grouse have been harmed or even inconvenienced at this event for years) have taken on a bit of a kayak flavor. Even though the first is in early May and the latter in early November we still paddle and work on our rolls. The main reason for this, even though the water is usually ice cream headache cold, is the close proximity of a nice hot sauna to the water. Within minutes a near frozen carcass is warm and comfy again.

I am a huge fan of wood fired saunas. The smell, the nature of the heat, the pumping of the water, and the ritual of building and stoking the fire make it a perfect way to enjoy a cool fall day. Two of my favorites are at Camp O, site of the above mentioned events, and at our hunting camp on Reefer Creek in northern Wisconsin. I suspect that I will be slipping into the Reefer Creek sauna around 9pm this very evening in fact. The only one that I had seen at a commercial establishment however, was at the Rossport Inn on the Canadian north shore of Lake Superior. I figured that maybe a lawyer shortage in northwest Ontario made having a facility where the great unwashed could work with fire, hot stoves and near 200F heat made them less susceptible to insurance claims and lawsuits. That theory was blown out of the water in the last month when I discovered not one but two wood fired commercial saunas in Minnesota, also known as the State Where Nothing is Allowed.

We visited the Baptism River Inn near Tettagouche State Park on Minnesota's north shore and found a whimsical and efficient wood fired sauna. The VOR commented that the Grinch could have owned this structure. It had a stove that was fed from the outside and a hand pump inside the sauna house. It was insulated very tightly and got hot rapidly. My key indicator of heat, the dragons breath test, was achieved in about 45 mintues. This is where a person blows on their arm from a distance of about a foot. If it burns, the temp is around 180F, perfect to sweat out those accumulated toxins.

At the Traditional Gathering last weekend another wood fired gem was discovered. The Crow Wing Crest Lodge has an ancient sauna that looks positively neanderthal. The stove is covered with rocks and takes forever to get hot. Once its hot however, its stays that way for a long time. Once again this was a popular spot for pre and post rolling activities as well as warming up that wet, cold, damp neoprene before putting it back on for the days work. As with the other three saunas mentoined, this one is located right near the lake so one can leap into the cooling water between bouts of sweating. When the sauna is over and the two heating and cooling cycles of the body are done, your body feels cleaner than it ever has before. Chlorinated hot tubs do nothing for me nor do the electric 'warm but not' hot hotel saunas. Give me a blistering wood fired sauna and I am a happy guy. The searing heat, convivial atmosphere, and smells and feel make it the perfect end to a fall day.

The Traditional Paddlers Gathering

Last Thursday the Commish and FrugalFisherman arrived at our place in St Anthony, staging for our annual fall paddle trip. This year the Commish and I would head for the traditional gathering in Akeley, MN and the VOR and FF would head up to Voyageurs National Park to rendezvous with RangerMark and the MayorOfTurtleRiver. We would meet up with them on Sunday. In my estimation this rendevous had about a 50-50 chance of success in the land of no cell phone coverage but we would give it our best shot.

The Commish has a kinda sorta on again, off again roll and was interested in perfecting a bombproof standard roll. Given the skinny paddle luminaries that would be in attendance, along with many of our local uber-mentors, I convinced him this would be the perfect place to get it done. My interest was in making my forward finishing rolls a bit more solid and a bit less painful, and also working on my chest scull and the aggravating static brace.

RonO, the Commish, and I set out for Akeley and arrived mid afternoon but not before a stop at Morey's Fish in Motley, MN for some pickled herring, smoked lake herring, smoked salmon, whitefish pate, and some sashimi grade tuna (along with ginger and wasabi, of course). Those staples, along with an enviable supply of micro brewed beers, had us in fine shape for a weekend of rolling. We settled into our lakeside cabin and commenced to 'Gather'.

Everything about the weekend was excellent. The accomadations were super, the location was perfect, the cameraderie wonderful, and the mentoring was helpful, patient, and effective. The Commish worried that he would stick out like an African American at a KKK rally with his voluminous plastic boat but he had nothing to worry about. They stuck him in a Qajaq USA tuliq, wedged him in a skin boat, and Cheri had him rolling it in a half hour. He then moved to his beloved 95 pound, 3' wide (OK, OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a little) Prijon and successfully rolled that also. I worked with Dennis, Dan, and Turner a bit and got my forward stuff and the chest scull going. The static brace not so much. But, as that great philosopher MeatLoaf once said, two outta three ain't bad. Turner's forward stroke instruction was an eye opener for me as well. I'd learned the BCU style of bow rudder and sculling draw and when I saw the greenland version of the same two strokes it was apparent that this was the more natural, intuitive, and effective way to move the boat. Everyone was tired and, in my case, a bit sore by the time the paddling sessions were over but we managed to suck it up and make it to the big white tent for happy hour. There were feats of strength and agility, good natured competitions, smart talk, and an adult beverage or two. We almost lost Jeff, our medical director, after he was pulled off a pail but fatalites in general were limited. With all the harpoons flying around the next day I think we were fortunate that no one was wounded other than the inflatable killer whale that served as the target. RonO made the harpoon finals and also picked up a skin boat in the silent auction, a pretty good weekend in my book.

The style of instruction at this event really appealed to my natural anti authoritarian nature. Rather than the normal seminar schedule/set up with fixed and rigid times, subject matter, and instructor/student interaction, the mentors worked with whatever folks wanted to learn or improve. Also, people knew a bit more about certain techniques would assist those who needed help, even though they were not 'certified' in any way. There seems to be no star rating system in the world of skinny stick paddling, its a completely merit based community and by the end of the weekend the collective paddling skills of the group of 50 people had been raised significantly. Both the Commish and I agreed we would be back next year. Special thanks to Dave and Jo and also Chris and Alex for all their hard work in pulling this thing off. It is indeed a fine event.

Another paddle weekendf and a brush with Republicans

We're off to Akeley, MN for the Traditional Paddlers Gathering and then to Voyageurs National Park for what will be a fine long weekend. The Commish and FrugalFisherman arrived late last night from Madison and, in what should be a logistical snarl, we will all split up and then rendezvous somewhere in Voyageurs with RangerMark and possibly the MayorOfTurtleRiver. We shall see if this rendezvous in the land of no cell phone coverage can come off or not. I would say 'cautiously optimistic' would be the best we could hope for.

Yesterday afternoon I offered to go over to St Paul to pick up a boat that had become airborne from a car roof at relatively high speed. It had been repaired flawlessly at Northwest Canoe in downtown St Paul. RonO and I need to deliver it to our Brainerd buddy, ChrisG, at the Gathering and I thought that waiting around until 10am this morning, when Northwest opened, would cut into our serious rolling time. This would normally be a half hour round trip but, as some of you will recall, we had a national political event in town. My mission was two fold; get the kayak and avoid Republicans, anarchists, and heavily armed government forces. I knew my destination and was confident of my ability to 'make a move' as they say if I was confronted with roadblocks and/or urine hurling, malodorous vandals. As it turned I avoided neither and the trip was like a video game where you had to jump over and around obstacles. The first thing was that 3 exits off I-94 were closed and only convention delegate laden buses could use them. There were riot cops at each exit to make sure that kayak retrieving riff raff didn't attempt to slink off the freeway and then take a back alley to their destination. No problem. Even though the streets "were laid out by drunken Irishmen", as our former Gov, Jesse "The Mind" Ventura stated, I had a plan. Shortly after I got off at 7th St there was a traffic jam. I got out and looked ahead and either a Pearl Jam concert had just let out or these were the foul mouthed, smelly anarchists I was trying to avoid. Seems like they had a meeting at Mear's Park every evening; isn't a 'meeting' of 'anarchists' oxymoronic? About a half dozen of them tied up traffic for a couple of minutes and moved on. I went a couple more blocks and ran into a gaggle of riot police staging in the farmers market. I had an instant flashback to an incident when I was in Londonderry, Northern Ireland 8 years ago. A bomb threat had been phoned into a pub where my buddy from Cumbria and I were headed. Bomb squads, riot police, and helicopters all converged. These guys looked like they were just kicking back and taking a break however, and seemed oblivious to the quickly moving anarchists up the street. I arrived at Northwest safe and sound and was able to grab the kayak, take a quick tour of the shop, and pick my way back to work. ChrisG, you will be plying me with beers this weekend!

I will now cease blogging since RonO will be here in a half hour and we need to head north. I won't be anywhere near St Paul until the middle of next week. Things should have calmed down by then.

Solo paddle

Yesterday I took my first solo Lake Superior paddle in quite some time. The VOR wanted to knock off a chunk of the Lake Superior Hiking Trail, a 200 plus mile trail that follows the ridgeline above Lake Superior on Minnesota's North Shore. I just needed more time on the big water, especially since I noticed that many leaves that had already turned color. I was dropped at the mouth of the Baptism River in Tettegouche State Park and agreed to be back there in 3 hours or so.

A solo paddle on Lake Superior always makes a person a bit more cautious. The wind and waves are evaluated a bit more carefully and you run through the mental checklist of all the things you might need to have. Timing is everything of course, and the final run through of my mental checklist was about the time the VOR was driving up the hill and out of the park. I realized that my bilge pump, paddle float, and spare paddle were all heading for the Caribou River. Now the question, from a risk management standpoint, was do I still paddle or do I stay and practice rolls for 3 hours at the mouth of the Baptism?


I really wanted to paddle; had that not been the case I would have been lacing up the hiking boots for the near vertical climb up the spur trail to the main Lake Superior Hiking Trail. This may have caused a bit of rationalization in my risk assessment but I think I was fairly honest with myself. Air temp was about 70F and the water was about 62F. I had my neoprene vest and shorts on so I was good there. Wind was onshore, about 120 degrees off from the direction the NWS kept insistently reporting on the weather radio, and the waves 1' - 3'. I had the radio, gps, compass, water, and all that good stuff. My sturdy basswood Greenland stick would take a major trauma to break and I have a couple solid rolls on both sides. The shore however, is dominated by Shovel Point and Palisade Head, both towering cliffs of rock with no place to land. There are a few small cobble beaches but even the mouth of the Baptism is a cleft between the rocks. In the final assessment I went for it.


It was a great time. Paddling solo once in awhile let you immerse yourself in the enjoyment of the moment without having to worry about group dynamics. 90% of the time I like to paddle with other folks but I do enjoy a good solitary paddle every now and then. I did stay out of the clapotis that extended a couple hundred yards out from the cliffs and was happy to note the stray groups of hikers and climbers along the shore, many of whom would venture a wave. It was bouncy and the Q Boat is not nearly the stable photographic platform that the Ore Freighter (Aquanaut HV) provides but I got some decent shots of the cliffs anyhow. Then it was back up the Baptism to brush up on a roll or two for this weekends Traditional Gathering in northern Minnesota. I hope I'm at the point where I'm doing the rolls that I think I know decently so I don't have to spend time refining them. I'd like to put a few new ones in the repitoire if thats possible. I will not be working on the offside reverse sweep though; I know for a fact that one is physically impossible. But all that is next weekend; the past weekend was great and I was happy with my risk assessment decision. Apparently things went well up on the hiking trail also and we were able to recount the days events over South Shore Brown ale and fresh (caught that morning) lake herring in a small throwback restaurant on the north shore. It was a superb Labor Day.