A Quetico Journey


By Corey Hudler


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          It was the trip of my life. We started making the preparations in June.

          “Get the macaroni and cheese!” yelled my dad. I grabbed five boxes. He shoved the scrawny cart along the aisle, throwing everything into it. After we grabbed the fifty pounds of food, we handed over the check and waddled out of the air-conditioned store anticipating the warmth that would meet us.

          When we got home, we hauled grocery bags out of the truck for hours and hours on end. We folded up the sleeping bags, threw some pans in the packsacks, and we were ready to go.

          We headed out the next day. That is, my sister, my dad, my relatives, and me, a tall, chubby kid.

          The trip took hours, but the scene when we got to the landing was well worth the wait. Canoes docking off, fresh, springtime smells in the air, and the restless sound of clean water lapping up on the beach. This was definitely what summer is all about.

          We unloaded our packs, split them between the two canoes, and docked off.

          The wind created a refreshing blast of water against my dry face every couple minutes while we paddled.

          The first night went well and everyone resumed a high morale. But as the days went on, we slowly grew sick of each other and our morale slowly declined.

          It wasn’t until we were in the Canadian Falls Chain when the action finally livened up a bit. The Canadian Falls Chain is a long series of falls in a row. We would paddle to each of the falls, unload, swim, and anxiously paddle to the next one.

          This was all fun and we would find a fishing lure here and there. The pie of the falls, though, was when I came across a shiny, gold fishing rod and reel combo. It had obviously just fallen into the clean, cool water a week or two earlier because it was in practically brand new condition. It was hard to keep it in one piece the rest of the trip because it’s a one-piece rod and you can’t break it down into two or three pieces like other easier carrying rods. It did, though, survive the trip and it ended up being my favorite fishing pole.

          Near the end of the falls, we decided to try our hand at some fishing. It proved very useful. We would hook a live frog we had just caught and float it down into the calms. The small mouth bass were biting like a rabid dog. I ended up nabbing two of them, a three-pound and a 4-pound.

          The rest of the trip went by great without flaws in the food department or sleeping department.

          We took it easy and enjoyed the outdoors, and I think that’s what camping is all about.


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