Tales from the Trails: See What I Saw
I was terrified. My first solo guided Boundary Waters trip was off to a great start until that day. The gentle current of water channeling into the Frost River lapped the laces of my boots, and slowly cleaned the mud off of them. A friend told me the Frost River was “fun” and that I would “love it”. The promise of beaver lodges, excellent moose habitat and flowing interconnected waterways was enough to draw me to the river found at the heart of the Boundary Waters. After hours of wrong turns, dead ends, hot rain and steep portages, my whole group was exhausted. At this point I didn’t know which bend of the Frost River we were in after looking at the map, but I knew we couldn’t have much further to go. I wasn’t quite lost, but I dreaded the feeling of not knowing exactly where I was with the campers that I was responsible for.
Sure enough, we came to a long portage into the western edge of Frost Lake. After seeing the water that marked the end of our journey, we hooted and hollered, piled into our canoes and headed toward the first campsite we could find. I didn’t notice any boats at the other four sites on the lake, saw no smoke from fires and heard nothing other than the strokes of weary paddlers and the low croon of the swan, infamous for honking at paddlers that came too close, that lived in the eastern side of the lake. With the lake to ourselves, I tried to put my mind at ease.
“What could go wrong?”
Canoes were unloaded, turned upside down on the shore and camp chores commenced. The tent was raised, campers dispersed in search of wood, bundles piled up and the campers ran back to the fire grate with fistfuls of birch bark, ready to get warm by the fire. One camper (there’s always one) was taking a few minutes longer than he should so I wandered into the woods calling his name. After a few tries, he finally called back, “I found something! Come here, fast.”
I ran toward the noise and came to a clearing where I saw the camper holding a shiny hand saw. He’d found it lying against a tree, a couple hundred feet from the campsite. I told him not to worry, that it was probably someone from the Forest Service doing campsite maintenance and that we should go back to the fire with the rest of the group. Weighting the saw in my hands, I thought about how weird it was for someone from the Forest Service to actually do that. They teach Leave No Trace ethics, and this saw was nice. I never liked to lie to the campers on my trips, but I figured he might sleep better not worrying about why a new saw would be in the middle of the Boundary Waters. The more I thought about it, I wanted to sleep better not worrying about this saw. I tried to focus on the group, and leaned the saw against the fire grate.
Later, as we slid into sleeping bags and settled in for bed, I looked out the tent screen at the fire grate, wondering what to do with the saw. Deciding there was nothing I could do about it that night, I nodded off trying to read my book, the hum of mosquitoes on the other side of the screen keeping me company.
I woke up to the first warmth of the sun, facing east toward the fire grate. Groggy, as always, I lit a corner of birch bark to start a small cook fire for coffee. I read my book by the fire until steam spilled over the top of the pot on the grate. The chaos of yesterday was finally mellowing out, the weather was better today and there was a light breeze that would push us the direction we needed to go. Things were looking up, and as my first camper walked out of the tent I had a smile on my face, ready to crack some joke to start off the day. Then I heard him say, “What happened to the saw?”
My mind started racing and I looked around frantically. The saw was gone and the plot of every horror movie that ever took place in the woods ran from start to finish in my mind. What did the characters usually do next? I had to make sure I didn’t do whatever that was. I have no idea what I said to the camper looking back, but I’m sure I gave him at least three answers. The Forest Service ranger came back and picked up his saw, a bear interested in carpentry must have taken it in the middle of the night or there was a sudden wind, that none of us felt, that blew it into the lake. To this day, I still have no idea what happened to that saw, but I do know we set the world record for quickest break down of a tent and packing into canoes. I tried to remain calm, but as I paddled out of Frost Lake I felt a strange chill run down my spine.
What happened to the saw of Frost Lake? It’s impossible to know. Was it the most well-orchestrated prank ever pulled on a guide at a YMCA camp? It could be, but whatever happened be sure to keep your eyes peeled on your next trip to the Boundary Waters. You never know what you might find!
