How many times in life do you get a chance to plan for big decisions? So many times decisions come up and it requires quick thinking and the use of resources that are barely accounted for. But there is one thing in life, if you do it right, that can be planned for and executed with extreme detail...I am talking about a marriage proposal. And not just any proposal, my proposal to my amazing girlfriend Heather. It went a little something like this:
Heather and I were planning our yearly trip somewhere and we debated between the Dells in Wisconsin or back up to the boundary waters in Northern Minnesota. And I have nothing against the Dells but when thinking about a place that I would like to ask someone to marry me, the wilderness seemed like the better of the two options.
So after I secured the ring, handmade all the way from Ireland, I began planting seeds in the mind of Heather so that the plan I had would be the one that occurred. We eventually decided on the Boundary Waters the weekend before the 4th of July. Previously, we had gone into this wilderness twice, into locations Heather knew about because of her experience with Camp Vermilion as a canoe guide. This time I was up for an adventure that involved both of us not knowing where we were going. Don’t worry, we had maps, but no prior knowledge of that section of the BWCA.
We took off Wednesday evening after work and almost made it to Camp Vermilion untouched. I did have to actively dodge a deer in my headlights. Luckily the Subaru stayed on the road and the canoe stayed on the Subaru. The adrenaline rush made it easy to stay awake for the last hour of the trip until we pulled into camp just before midnight.
The next morning was leisurely but early. We headed out to Ely and our entry point at Moose Lake. After arriving and realizing we had left a few necessities behind (like sunscreen and duct tape), Heather drove to a nearby outfitter and paid through the nose for not-very-much of both. But, that wasn’t going to stop me from my plan. All was going well….so far.
Heather’s absence allowed me time to make sure that I had adequately hidden the two keys to the proposal. The first being the ring, and second the wine! Prior to the trip my brother, Derek and I plotted a little bit about how I could make this trip extra special. Wine was one of them. But how would I get a ring in its very large box, let alone wine, into the BWCA without Heather knowing? Luckily, Derek had heard about a new wine packaging called TeraPak and thought that would be my best bet. Another fortunate turn of events was that the liquor store right next to Heather’s apartment sold wine in this packaging.
So, I needed to decide where Heather was least likely to look. Considering I had only three options to hide something in, and two of those would be completely unpacked every night, I decided to put the wine and ring in my camera bag. This was risky considering Heather would be carrying that bag every time we portaged, but I was determined to make sure she didn’t find out until I was on my knees.
Heather returned with the sunscreen and duct tape, we parked the Subaru and began loading the packs and canoe on our backs for our entry into the BWCA.
We actually started on a hiking trail that took us past Moose Lake and into Snowbank Lake. What we didn’t know was that the hiking trail and this portage was not well kept and was a lot longer than what it said on the map. On top of that as I watched Heather leave ahead of me I stepped over a log and my ankle rolled to the right. I was concerned but when I didn’t feel any pain I was relieved. Then I looked down at my Chaco sandal and saw that the back right heel support had broken. I was four steps into this trip and my sandal was broken – but I didn’t have any other option but to continue on.
I eventually caught up to Heather as she was bridging the canoe on a tree that had fallen across the path. I told her about the sandal and we looked at each other knowing that this trip was not going like we wanted it to.
We pushed on and eventually made it to water and a place we could eat lunch before we officially made it to Snowbank Lake and the crossing into the BWCA.
The area was beautiful but recovering from a fire not too long ago. Underbrush was green and thick while trees were barren and wore the gray color of something long dead. The sky was blue and so was the water. We could still hear motors on the backs of boats both ahead and behind us. Our goal was to be out of earshot of a motorized lake by dinner time so we could enjoy God’s creation without the interruption of human contraptions.
Heather and I dined on bagels, summer sausage, dried apples, provolone cheese, peanut butter, jelly, trail mix, and water. My favorite is to but it all together on the bagel, mmmm tasty.
After a relaxing lunch we continued on to Snowbank Lake where we encountered many people and resorts that bordered the BWCA. We felt insignificant in our canoe and did our best to avoid what looked like the major boating lanes. Snowbank Lake was rather large and open so our voyage across it was time-consuming, but we needed to get across it so we could find a camp site on the next lake, Disappointment Lake.
We portaged and were happy to leave the motors behind for the purity of quiet, muscle-powered paddling. Dinner was coming soon, considering we needed to find a campsite, find firewood, find a tree to hang the bear-pack, set up the tent and maybe go for a swim to cool off after a hot day of paddling. Our only hope was that Disappointment Lake didn’t live up to its name.
A side note about camping in the BWCA (as compared to hiking in the mountains) is that campsites are already picked out for you and have a few amenities provided like a fire grill and the “toilet” or ranger box. It is by no means luxurious, as the ranger box is a hole in the ground with something to sit on above it, and the grill is a small metal grate with rock around it, but nonetheless it is nice to have. These campsites are marked on the maps with red dots and the number of entry permits are controlled – so that there are enough campsites for everyone and to keep the peace of the wilderness intact. We had about eight campsites to choose from on Disappointment Lake so the odds of getting a site were good, but not the best.
Heather paddled in the front as I steered the canoe to the location of the different campsites. One nice thing about the sites is that they are all visible from the lake so you don’t have to be very close to see if there are people there. We began experiencing that feeling of, “that site is taken, I see a tent” immediately and it continued site after site after site. Disappointment Lake lived up to its name. Not one campsite was available and we were not the only ones looking. I have never seen so many people in the BWCA at one time.
We arrived at the other end of Disappointment Lake truly dejected, and wondering what our next move would be. Do we continue on until we find a campsite or do we look for some place that is off the trail that is not a campsite, where we can at least sleep for the night? After a little debate we decided that continuing on was the best option, even though it would take us through six more small lakes and a few medium-sized portages. Our bodies were tired, our minds were weary and our stomachs were hungry. So with a Clif Bar in us we paddled to the portage out of Disappointment Lake.
Upon our arrival we were greeted by an older man with a long grey beard who was decked out in all the appropriate fishing apparel. Sitting on a rock after putting the canoe that was on his shoulders into the water, he said good evening and tipped his hat. We, being full of angst at the fact that we were still on the water at this late hour, put on our best face and said hi back. Heather and I could hear others coming down the portage so we asked if there were more in his group. “Yes,” he said, “we have three other canoes, and there is a group of four boats behind us as well.” He must have seen through our attempted cheeriness and politely conjectured, “Looks like you two need an attitude adjustment.”
Now, knowing that we had just met this gentleman and realizing that he knew our frustration, I politely declined. Heather however, who is continually nice and hospitable to strangers, said “sure” to the offer of an “attitude adjustment.” So we paddled up close to the shore and waited as the man with the beard began patting down his pockets. I was fairly sure that the definition that Heather was expecting for the inevitable “attitude adjustment” differed greatly from what I believed was about to be offered to her. The man leaned out over the water towards Heather and extended his arm with a cigarette between his fingers. Heather saw that his generosity was not in the form of a joke or some Boundary Waters proverb, but a metal facsimile of a smoke….with some suspiciously green tobacco in it. “It’s metal,” she exclaimed, and my response was, “Heather, you don’t smoke.” The man continued to hand the cigarette to Heather and she grabbed it between thumb and forefinger like it was contaminated somehow. Heather politely played ignorant and in a confused manner explained that she in fact didn’t smoke, and handed the cylinder back to the man. Confused, the man took it back and stored it carefully in his pocket for later use. Meanwhile, I was already paddling backwards and into a shady area to keep the late-day sun off our backs.
We sat for about twenty minutes and watched the steady stream of people come down the portage, and informed the heads of the group that we were unsuccessful at finding a campsite on this lake. Haste took hold of the leaders as they quickly loaded and went to see for themselves. In return they told us that the campsites just on the other side of the portage were also taken, and the first options we would possibly find would be up on Ensign Lake. It was what we expected, but we were still hopeful that maybe those people were just leaving the two possible sites that were closest.
Our turn finally arrived to traverse the portage and begin the trek into the twilight of our first day in the BWCA. Heather hopped out and pulled me ashore as I began unloading the bags and equipment. The canoe was readied and as I bridged the watercraft for Heather, I prayed that we could find a site before dark. As Heather disappeared down the trail I loaded my packs on my back, food bag in front and then equipment pack next, and with trekking poles in hand I tiredly followed, hoping that there would be something to brighten the end of this day.
After a short portage (and a sigh of relief that we were away from people again) Heather and I began paddling again through Ashub, Jitterbug, Adventure, Cattyman and Gibson Lake. Each lake offered a time of quiet reflection as we were quite tired and more than anxious to get to a lake that at least had campsites on it. But as we reached the short portage between Gibson and Ashigan Lake, we heard the familiar rush of water that signified a waterfall. Restless to reach our dinner and sleep location, we were still willing to stop and head off the trail to see if this waterfall was worth taking a break for. We portaged the equipment across and then doubled back for a look at the path that led to the waterfall we could hear but not see. We did find a path, but it also doubled as a stream fed by ground water, so we stepped lightly as the mud and rocks were slippery.
As we rounded the corner we were in awe of the twenty foot waterfall before us.
We quickly sat and enjoyed the beautiful oasis knowing that this was exactly what we needed to rejuvenate our spirits after a long, hard day. I pulled out my camera and began taking pictures of the two of us and playing around with the different exposure levels while capturing the natural green canopy and specks of blue sky behind the falls. In an instant Heather and I realized we no longer need to be frustrated with our situation. We were in the middle of the BWCA with the one we loved, while enjoying the natural beauty of God’s creation. When you really think about it, this was the real attitude adjustment we needed. We left knowing that whatever lay ahead of us, it was not going to be looked upon as a hindrance but a blessing.
Ashigan Lake was wide open as we paddled into the sun to our final portage for the night…hopefully. Another fifty rods and we would be on a lake with almost forty options for campsites. Earlier in the chain of lakes and somewhere on a portage I made the decision that no matter what happened this evening I was NOT going to propose to Heather this day. I made up my mind that tomorrow would be better, and that would be the day of the life changing question.
As we placed the canoe into the water on Ensign Lake (for what we hoped to be the last time this day), the clouds above us began turning a bright orange color, alerting us that our daylight was in short demand – and if we wanted to take advantage of it to find firewood and a tree to hang our bear pack, we best find a site soon. Ensign Lake started out like every other lake we had already been on this trip so far – with full campsites. The first site was taken, so we moved on to the next. It was difficult to make out in the low light if anyone was at the site up the shore, so we closed in to make sure it was open. With every paddle stroke we grew more and more excited that we hadn’t seen any trace of people in front of us. My eyes were drawn to the lake and its beauty around me. I constantly snapped pictures of the sunset and clouds around us. I then trained my lens on the water below me. One of the great mysteries of the Boundary Waters is the fog that appears on cool nights and mornings, giving the already beautiful lakes and forests an ethereal feeling. I was so consumed with the first view of this beauty that I hardly noticed we were upon the campsite and still no sign of people. “Should we check it out?” asked Heather. I was so happy just to see land not occupied with people that I didn’t care what it looked like (not that I could see it anyway, with the darkness) – I wanted it.
The site was very grassy and had few trees, but what I cared about was food and sleep, and I was willing to make anything work at this point. I set up the tent on a very long grassy section of the site that turned out to be wonderfully soft as we slept. The tough part was finding a place to put our food for the evening so we wouldn’t attract any animals. I began slashing my way through the grass in search of a tree with any type of limb able to hold our food pack. It took some doing but I eventually succeeded. Meanwhile, Heather was busy preparing dinner. Tonight we dined on steak marinated in BBQ sauce, fried potatoes and fresh green beans – what a meal! We did most of the cooking and all of the eating in the dark, and by the time we crawled into the tent, we were cold and wet from the dew that had gathered on the grass. It had been a tiring, frustrating day in the BWCA, and we dropped off to sleep almost immediately – a welcome rest from the day’s labors.
Heather and I were planning our yearly trip somewhere and we debated between the Dells in Wisconsin or back up to the boundary waters in Northern Minnesota. And I have nothing against the Dells but when thinking about a place that I would like to ask someone to marry me, the wilderness seemed like the better of the two options.
So after I secured the ring, handmade all the way from Ireland, I began planting seeds in the mind of Heather so that the plan I had would be the one that occurred. We eventually decided on the Boundary Waters the weekend before the 4th of July. Previously, we had gone into this wilderness twice, into locations Heather knew about because of her experience with Camp Vermilion as a canoe guide. This time I was up for an adventure that involved both of us not knowing where we were going. Don’t worry, we had maps, but no prior knowledge of that section of the BWCA.
We took off Wednesday evening after work and almost made it to Camp Vermilion untouched. I did have to actively dodge a deer in my headlights. Luckily the Subaru stayed on the road and the canoe stayed on the Subaru. The adrenaline rush made it easy to stay awake for the last hour of the trip until we pulled into camp just before midnight.
The next morning was leisurely but early. We headed out to Ely and our entry point at Moose Lake. After arriving and realizing we had left a few necessities behind (like sunscreen and duct tape), Heather drove to a nearby outfitter and paid through the nose for not-very-much of both. But, that wasn’t going to stop me from my plan. All was going well….so far.
Heather’s absence allowed me time to make sure that I had adequately hidden the two keys to the proposal. The first being the ring, and second the wine! Prior to the trip my brother, Derek and I plotted a little bit about how I could make this trip extra special. Wine was one of them. But how would I get a ring in its very large box, let alone wine, into the BWCA without Heather knowing? Luckily, Derek had heard about a new wine packaging called TeraPak and thought that would be my best bet. Another fortunate turn of events was that the liquor store right next to Heather’s apartment sold wine in this packaging.
So, I needed to decide where Heather was least likely to look. Considering I had only three options to hide something in, and two of those would be completely unpacked every night, I decided to put the wine and ring in my camera bag. This was risky considering Heather would be carrying that bag every time we portaged, but I was determined to make sure she didn’t find out until I was on my knees.
Heather returned with the sunscreen and duct tape, we parked the Subaru and began loading the packs and canoe on our backs for our entry into the BWCA.
We actually started on a hiking trail that took us past Moose Lake and into Snowbank Lake. What we didn’t know was that the hiking trail and this portage was not well kept and was a lot longer than what it said on the map. On top of that as I watched Heather leave ahead of me I stepped over a log and my ankle rolled to the right. I was concerned but when I didn’t feel any pain I was relieved. Then I looked down at my Chaco sandal and saw that the back right heel support had broken. I was four steps into this trip and my sandal was broken – but I didn’t have any other option but to continue on.
I eventually caught up to Heather as she was bridging the canoe on a tree that had fallen across the path. I told her about the sandal and we looked at each other knowing that this trip was not going like we wanted it to.
We pushed on and eventually made it to water and a place we could eat lunch before we officially made it to Snowbank Lake and the crossing into the BWCA.
The area was beautiful but recovering from a fire not too long ago. Underbrush was green and thick while trees were barren and wore the gray color of something long dead. The sky was blue and so was the water. We could still hear motors on the backs of boats both ahead and behind us. Our goal was to be out of earshot of a motorized lake by dinner time so we could enjoy God’s creation without the interruption of human contraptions.
Heather and I dined on bagels, summer sausage, dried apples, provolone cheese, peanut butter, jelly, trail mix, and water. My favorite is to but it all together on the bagel, mmmm tasty.
After a relaxing lunch we continued on to Snowbank Lake where we encountered many people and resorts that bordered the BWCA. We felt insignificant in our canoe and did our best to avoid what looked like the major boating lanes. Snowbank Lake was rather large and open so our voyage across it was time-consuming, but we needed to get across it so we could find a camp site on the next lake, Disappointment Lake.
We portaged and were happy to leave the motors behind for the purity of quiet, muscle-powered paddling. Dinner was coming soon, considering we needed to find a campsite, find firewood, find a tree to hang the bear-pack, set up the tent and maybe go for a swim to cool off after a hot day of paddling. Our only hope was that Disappointment Lake didn’t live up to its name.
A side note about camping in the BWCA (as compared to hiking in the mountains) is that campsites are already picked out for you and have a few amenities provided like a fire grill and the “toilet” or ranger box. It is by no means luxurious, as the ranger box is a hole in the ground with something to sit on above it, and the grill is a small metal grate with rock around it, but nonetheless it is nice to have. These campsites are marked on the maps with red dots and the number of entry permits are controlled – so that there are enough campsites for everyone and to keep the peace of the wilderness intact. We had about eight campsites to choose from on Disappointment Lake so the odds of getting a site were good, but not the best.
Heather paddled in the front as I steered the canoe to the location of the different campsites. One nice thing about the sites is that they are all visible from the lake so you don’t have to be very close to see if there are people there. We began experiencing that feeling of, “that site is taken, I see a tent” immediately and it continued site after site after site. Disappointment Lake lived up to its name. Not one campsite was available and we were not the only ones looking. I have never seen so many people in the BWCA at one time.
We arrived at the other end of Disappointment Lake truly dejected, and wondering what our next move would be. Do we continue on until we find a campsite or do we look for some place that is off the trail that is not a campsite, where we can at least sleep for the night? After a little debate we decided that continuing on was the best option, even though it would take us through six more small lakes and a few medium-sized portages. Our bodies were tired, our minds were weary and our stomachs were hungry. So with a Clif Bar in us we paddled to the portage out of Disappointment Lake.
Upon our arrival we were greeted by an older man with a long grey beard who was decked out in all the appropriate fishing apparel. Sitting on a rock after putting the canoe that was on his shoulders into the water, he said good evening and tipped his hat. We, being full of angst at the fact that we were still on the water at this late hour, put on our best face and said hi back. Heather and I could hear others coming down the portage so we asked if there were more in his group. “Yes,” he said, “we have three other canoes, and there is a group of four boats behind us as well.” He must have seen through our attempted cheeriness and politely conjectured, “Looks like you two need an attitude adjustment.”
Now, knowing that we had just met this gentleman and realizing that he knew our frustration, I politely declined. Heather however, who is continually nice and hospitable to strangers, said “sure” to the offer of an “attitude adjustment.” So we paddled up close to the shore and waited as the man with the beard began patting down his pockets. I was fairly sure that the definition that Heather was expecting for the inevitable “attitude adjustment” differed greatly from what I believed was about to be offered to her. The man leaned out over the water towards Heather and extended his arm with a cigarette between his fingers. Heather saw that his generosity was not in the form of a joke or some Boundary Waters proverb, but a metal facsimile of a smoke….with some suspiciously green tobacco in it. “It’s metal,” she exclaimed, and my response was, “Heather, you don’t smoke.” The man continued to hand the cigarette to Heather and she grabbed it between thumb and forefinger like it was contaminated somehow. Heather politely played ignorant and in a confused manner explained that she in fact didn’t smoke, and handed the cylinder back to the man. Confused, the man took it back and stored it carefully in his pocket for later use. Meanwhile, I was already paddling backwards and into a shady area to keep the late-day sun off our backs.
We sat for about twenty minutes and watched the steady stream of people come down the portage, and informed the heads of the group that we were unsuccessful at finding a campsite on this lake. Haste took hold of the leaders as they quickly loaded and went to see for themselves. In return they told us that the campsites just on the other side of the portage were also taken, and the first options we would possibly find would be up on Ensign Lake. It was what we expected, but we were still hopeful that maybe those people were just leaving the two possible sites that were closest.
Our turn finally arrived to traverse the portage and begin the trek into the twilight of our first day in the BWCA. Heather hopped out and pulled me ashore as I began unloading the bags and equipment. The canoe was readied and as I bridged the watercraft for Heather, I prayed that we could find a site before dark. As Heather disappeared down the trail I loaded my packs on my back, food bag in front and then equipment pack next, and with trekking poles in hand I tiredly followed, hoping that there would be something to brighten the end of this day.
After a short portage (and a sigh of relief that we were away from people again) Heather and I began paddling again through Ashub, Jitterbug, Adventure, Cattyman and Gibson Lake. Each lake offered a time of quiet reflection as we were quite tired and more than anxious to get to a lake that at least had campsites on it. But as we reached the short portage between Gibson and Ashigan Lake, we heard the familiar rush of water that signified a waterfall. Restless to reach our dinner and sleep location, we were still willing to stop and head off the trail to see if this waterfall was worth taking a break for. We portaged the equipment across and then doubled back for a look at the path that led to the waterfall we could hear but not see. We did find a path, but it also doubled as a stream fed by ground water, so we stepped lightly as the mud and rocks were slippery.
As we rounded the corner we were in awe of the twenty foot waterfall before us.
We quickly sat and enjoyed the beautiful oasis knowing that this was exactly what we needed to rejuvenate our spirits after a long, hard day. I pulled out my camera and began taking pictures of the two of us and playing around with the different exposure levels while capturing the natural green canopy and specks of blue sky behind the falls. In an instant Heather and I realized we no longer need to be frustrated with our situation. We were in the middle of the BWCA with the one we loved, while enjoying the natural beauty of God’s creation. When you really think about it, this was the real attitude adjustment we needed. We left knowing that whatever lay ahead of us, it was not going to be looked upon as a hindrance but a blessing.Ashigan Lake was wide open as we paddled into the sun to our final portage for the night…hopefully. Another fifty rods and we would be on a lake with almost forty options for campsites. Earlier in the chain of lakes and somewhere on a portage I made the decision that no matter what happened this evening I was NOT going to propose to Heather this day. I made up my mind that tomorrow would be better, and that would be the day of the life changing question.
As we placed the canoe into the water on Ensign Lake (for what we hoped to be the last time this day), the clouds above us began turning a bright orange color, alerting us that our daylight was in short demand – and if we wanted to take advantage of it to find firewood and a tree to hang our bear pack, we best find a site soon. Ensign Lake started out like every other lake we had already been on this trip so far – with full campsites. The first site was taken, so we moved on to the next. It was difficult to make out in the low light if anyone was at the site up the shore, so we closed in to make sure it was open. With every paddle stroke we grew more and more excited that we hadn’t seen any trace of people in front of us. My eyes were drawn to the lake and its beauty around me. I constantly snapped pictures of the sunset and clouds around us. I then trained my lens on the water below me. One of the great mysteries of the Boundary Waters is the fog that appears on cool nights and mornings, giving the already beautiful lakes and forests an ethereal feeling. I was so consumed with the first view of this beauty that I hardly noticed we were upon the campsite and still no sign of people. “Should we check it out?” asked Heather. I was so happy just to see land not occupied with people that I didn’t care what it looked like (not that I could see it anyway, with the darkness) – I wanted it.
The site was very grassy and had few trees, but what I cared about was food and sleep, and I was willing to make anything work at this point. I set up the tent on a very long grassy section of the site that turned out to be wonderfully soft as we slept. The tough part was finding a place to put our food for the evening so we wouldn’t attract any animals. I began slashing my way through the grass in search of a tree with any type of limb able to hold our food pack. It took some doing but I eventually succeeded. Meanwhile, Heather was busy preparing dinner. Tonight we dined on steak marinated in BBQ sauce, fried potatoes and fresh green beans – what a meal! We did most of the cooking and all of the eating in the dark, and by the time we crawled into the tent, we were cold and wet from the dew that had gathered on the grass. It had been a tiring, frustrating day in the BWCA, and we dropped off to sleep almost immediately – a welcome rest from the day’s labors. 
