|
|
After our ill-fated Badlands Expedition, Thaddeus and I got our butts in gear and began making preparations for a longer trek into a different kind of wilderness. The Grand Portage had been in the back of our minds for quite some time; and as the summer started slipping away, cabin fever set in and we decided that it was time to take it on. I left North Dakota bright and early on the morning of Day One, and I didn't make it 50 miles before the trusty Tacoma started to die on me. Furious, I stopped at a rest stop to investigate; and after a half hour or so of wasted time, I decided that I was going to at least make it to Duluth, or die trying. North Dakota has a way of tearing at my soul ever so slowly, and for the sake of my sanity, there was absolutely no turning back. To make a long story short, I ended up making it (although slowly) all the way to Grand Rapids before a stop at a gas station and a $2 bottle of injector cleaner temporarily solved my engine problems. It's hard to kill a Toyota, and after making it all the way to Grand Portage, it also made it the entire way back to North Dakota before I had it serviced. The problem? A fouled fuel injector, that carried a $300 price tag. With the vehicle delays, lunch at the Pickwick in Duluth and a supply stop in Grand Marais, we barely made it to the marina in Grand Portage by nightfall. Hiking at night is a lot easier in open country than in dense forest, so we coughed up the cash to spend the first night at the marina, on the shore of magnificent Lake Superior. A few years ago, I stayed at this marina with my old Boy Scout unit, as we made our way out to Isle Royale. That island is absolutely incredible, and according to the Park Service, it is America's least visited national park. Perhaps someday I will dig up some old photos and make a trip log for it, but just in case, I highly reccommend that you go and see it for yourself - if you think you can handle it. |
|
|
Bright and early the next morning, we broke camp and headed for the trailhead in high spirits. Finally, another chance to disappear and explore, and enjoy the freedom that can only come with being alone in wild country. During the fur trade days, the Grand Portage was an 8.5-mile highway between the fur company headquarters on Lake Superior and the Pigeon River, and the beginning of the water route to the Red River and the great Canadian wilderness. Trappers would carry 90-pound sacks of furs down to the headquarters, where it would be sold, loaded on ships, and sent away to the oceans and the world beyond. The extensive portage is necessary because at its mouth, the Pigeon River flows over a 120-foot drop named Pigeon Falls, which is the highest waterfall in Minnesota. Not to mention the other impressive waterfalls and rapids between the beginning of the portage and Lake Superior. This area is rich in unique geological and cultural history, and this NPS Website has some more in-depth information available. The trail itself is well-maintained all the way to the site of old Fort Charolette, which is a quiet little piece of heaven for the weary hiker. These campsites were already taken when we arrived (which was disappointing, but it WAS a holiday weekend), so we continued West along the Border Route Trail to another campsite at Partridge Falls. Our original plan was to continue West from there, do a little bit of bushwhacking, and meet up with the Superior Hiking Trail which would then take us back down to C.R. Magney State Park. However, when we got to Partridge Falls, we were literally taken back by the sheer beauty of the place. There was a perfect campsite right next to the 30-foot waterfall, we were off of Park Service land (meaning we could have a fire), and it was getting dark - and the plan called for four more miles across a large, trailless swamp we knew nothing about. Camping at the falls seemed like a better idea than getting lost in a swamp, so we decided to drop pack and claim this as our new home for the night. And what a choice it was! |
|
|
Later that night, as we sat around a dying campfire and watched the stars fly by overhead, it happened. That moment of indescribable release that washes over a person when they leave the monotony of civilized life and enter a place where the human senses are able to come alive again. Sometimes it takes a few days, sometimes only a few minutes. This time, it took 11.5 miles of hiking, and a campfire next to a waterfall. The next morning, as we sipped camp coffee on the Canadian side of the river, letting the cold, clear waters run over our aching feet, we decided to stay at Partridge Falls for another night. Thad's feet were badly blistered, and the idea of bushwhacking a four-mile swamp wasn't sounding any better than it was the night before. Someday, we will return to do the entire 65-mile Border Route Trail, but this time, we both just wanted to relax. After all, that's why we were there in the first place, right? In summary, the Grand Portage Trail is a must-see for anyone aching to put some miles under their feet. The terrain is rugged, and at times it gets pretty steep; but if we could do it, anybody can. A few people we ran into hiked in from Old Highway 61, which cuts the distance in half, but that's cheating. The trail is worth doing in its entirity, if not for the scenery than for the historic feeling it gives when you finish. "They knew how to make real men in those days" became a common phrase for the weekend; and we certainly left with a new, quiet respect for the natives and trappers of old. Remember, we strictly follow the Leave No Trace ethics in the backcountry, and we left the campsite at Partridge Falls in better shape than we found it. If we lose the wilderness, we will lose everything that makes us human. Please respect all wilderness areas as a humble guest, and help ensure that future generations of explorers will be able to enjoy them as much as we do.
|
|
Copyright 2006 Brian Hartley. All rights reserved.