Column: Unplugged in Minnesota
Five days without deadlines, television or reliable cell service reminded me of the value of friendship, nature and getting away from it all
MINNESOTA — I haven’t truly unplugged in years, so spending five days checked out of reality was more than welcome.
Three close friends from high school in Las Vegas and I spent four nights tucked away in a remote cabin in northern Minnesota. Our goal was simple: unplug, fish, play cards and enjoy a boys’ trip. Or as we call it, mancation.
Brian, Davron and I flew into Minneapolis on July 6, where we met Leon, who owns the cabin. Leon had dropped off his wife and two kids, picked us up, and we began the long drive north. After a pit stop in Duluth to watch the U.S. Men’s National Team get smoked by Belgium in the Round of 16 in the World Cup, we still had two hours left on our 4.5-hour drive.
Darkness came, and we finally reached the turnoff in Grand Marais, where we weaved through the alpine roads to the cabin, reaching our destination at 11:30 p.m. Even though we’re all in our late 40s, we still made time for a game of spades.
The next day, we began in earnest as Brian, Davron and I hit Poplar Lake, about five miles as the crow flies from the Canadian border, to see if we could watch moose cross a certain part of the lake. Brian and I slid into the lake on our respective kayaks, while Davron, after some balancing issues on his kayak, chose a motorboat.
After engaging muscles that had been dormant since the Great Recession, I found my balance, and we forged forward to what we dubbed the Moose Highway. Unfortunately, no moose, but there was an excess of sleep deprivation after waking up around 6 a.m.
Once Leon rose from the dead, we ate some breakfast and went back on the lake to fish in the late morning and early afternoon. Brian was the big winner, catching a bass and northern pike (both were released).
The serenity of the lake, the good company I was with, made it easy to forget the rat race we just left and realize why Leon and his family spent weeks every summer at the cabin tucked away in the tree line about 100 feet from the lake.
Cruising on the kayak, looking at the trees, seeing wildlife, and barely coming across another human being, the famed “Eagles” song “Peaceful Easy Feeling” rushed into my thoughts. A beautiful lake, fishing, wildlife, and rarely crossing paths with others, or when we needed it, was overwhelming.
On July 7, we returned for an evening fishing session, but trolling, which is where we’d motor at a speed of 1.5-2 mph as our lures weaved through the water about 20 yards behind us. It’s an exercise in patience as we waited for walleye, pike and smallmouth bass to bite. And bite they did.
Pike are very aggressive, ugly with sharp teeth, and will bite you, and we caught plenty over the course of our trip. The bass are fun as they, too, are aggressive, but jump and put up a fight. Walleye are the ones we were after as they’re tasty, but not as difficult to reel in.
I, being the novice angler, needed a crash course from the three veterans, but, like riding a bike, I was able to find my form and nabbed a pike and a walleye. We cooked up the walleye the next day, as we didn’t return from the evening’s session until 9:30 p.m.
Naturally, drinks were consumed, more spades were played, and plenty of laughs were had at each man’s expense. Leon, though, took it on the chin, losing all four games of spades we played over the week. He, Davron and Brian play much more frequently than I do, so this was surprising, and Leon was in disbelief, while we piled and took no pity for his lackluster effort. It’s what friends do.
The next day was the big one. I hit the water four times, we saw a ton of wildlife, caught plenty of fish, had a bunch of laughs and bathed in a lake (one of the most refreshing experiences ever).
Brian wanted to seek out trout, so we wandered over to a smaller nearby lake late in the morning. We took turns in the kayaks, save Davron, given his earlier, rockier experience on the watercraft, and didn’t really catch much. Fish tend to dive deep during the day to stay cool, but all I could reel in was a pair of baby sunfish about 2 inches long.
Later, we went back to Poplar Lake to scout a bald eagle. Leon took the remains of the walleyes from the previous night so we could put the guts on a rock, one we named Plymouth Rock, which rested in about 5 feet of deep water with another 3 protruding from the water.
The goal was to wait for the eagle to land on the rock and finish the carcasses. Alas, he did not show.
But, as we were slowly powered to the rock, we noticed something fixed atop the boulder. A snapping turtle.
We drove toward the rock, slowing our speed, and came within about 7 feet of the pissed-off-looking turtle. These things have powerful jaws, and one could easily lose a finger, but the turtle had no interest in us and scurried off into the water, while Leon dumped the fish.
Later that evening, we went to troll again. The fish guts were still there, but as we made a return pass along one of the shorelines, we saw the eagle feasting.
Once he saw us approaching, the majestic raptor took flight, so we immediately stood up and saluted America’s symbol, while he showered us with freedom and hope. Atop his perch among the trees, the eagle gazed down upon us and approvingly nodded at our showing of respect and honor. (This actually never happened, but what the hell, it’s a fishing story.)
We also saw a trio of beavers swimming around. Leon slowly drove at one to get him to slap his tail as a warning to back away, and slap he did. A thunderous crack on the water got a chuckle out of us as we turned to let the beaver eat in peace and went back to our trolling.
About 20 minutes later, there it was, the animal we were all hoping to see. Out of the tree line as dusk settled in, a massive moose appeared at the entrance to Moose Highway.
Davron, who had never seen a moose in the wild, jumped and yelled, “Moose,” as Leon and I hushed him to be quiet. Even in 3 to 4 feet of water, it’s best not to rile a 1,000-pound moose.
We started snapping pictures and video, while the moose did look at us (they have terrible eyesight, Leon said), and then turned and started to cross. It was an incredible sight and made the entire trip.
Oh yeah, a pair of foxes came around the cabin three of the four days begging for food, one of whom came within 2-3 feet of Brian, who may or may not have been feeding the animal a peanut protein bar.
To be fair, Davron may or may not have fed the foxes, while I would never think of such a thing.
When it was all said and done, Leon snagged the biggest fish of the trip with a 4- to 4.5-pound bass, while Davron reeled in the second biggest, again a bass. Using peak mancation estimating skills, we clocked Davron’s fish at about 4 pounds, and Davron said Leon’s looked “a little bigger,” so good enough. It’s a fishing story, so who cares?
We went to Grand Marais the next day, a quaint town on the shore of Lake Superior, to check in with our wives, girlfriends and text messages. It was the first time we really had access to the world, devices, and the internet, and it felt like I didn’t need or want it, really. I was happy plowing through the first book in the “Dungeon Crawler Carl” series, playing cards, napping, watching a movie (no TV connection, thankfully) and being on the water.
Regardless, we walked around the town of about 1,300, hit the shore of the Great Lake, and took in another soccer game before venturing back to the cabin.
Interestingly, we had perfect weather during our trip. Temperatures in the mid to upper 70s, very low humidity, and Minnesota’s famed mosquitoes weren’t an issue, except for Brian, who was Public Enemy No. 1. He was bitten on his hand our first night, and his knuckles were swollen for two days.
But what the skeeters lacked, the spongy moth (also known as the gypsy moth, according to the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources) more than made up. There were billions of these invasive moths, including a 2-foot to 4-foot ring of dead moths on Lake Superior’s shoreline.
They also bring destruction. In 20 years of going to the lake, Leon said it’s the worst he’s ever seen. Reports describe the moth as destructive in its caterpillar stage, stripping the trees of leaves (defoliation), which exposes the trees to disease and other pests. We saw hundreds of dead trees across the forest.
Now, there’s a new threat, although it will likely help with the moth infestation, while simultaneously jeopardizing the forest, homes, other structures and more. Massive wildfires.
Unbeknownst to us, blazes broke out in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness area (no motorized boats are allowed in the Boundary Waters) on July 6 after lightning strikes. We had driven through a sizable storm on the drive up, but were unaware the fires had just begun as our lake resides on the southeastern edge of BWCAW.
Regardless, we had all agreed to return to the northern paradise at Poplar Lake, but an ominous text from Leon said the cabin was threatened.
He and his wife’s family have put years of work into the place. Memories made, and his kids were able to get out of the Vegas environment to experience something new and treasured. But now it’s all in limbo.
As the fires continue to burn, there is a bittersweet feeling lingering. Our friendship spans more than 30 years, and trips like these create everlasting memories, bonding and so much more. I just hope we can do it again … at the cabin.