Day 5, Monday, June 12 - Bologna Lake

I awake just before sunrise and grab the camera bag to go out and take some pictures. It's another crisp morning, and the usual mist has collected over the lake. After taking a few shots from out in front of the campsite, I head back behind camp and along a western facing stretch of shore that's elevated by a long rock ledge. This vantage point offers a great view of our nearby island that's gradually becoming exposed to the rising sun. At the brightest end of the island a loon couple is fishing in the mist for breakfast, alternately disappearing from view and reappearing again in unpredictable locations.

I return to camp to start heating water for coffee, and while I'm rinsing some dirt from my hands at the lake's edge, I notice a large snapping turtle approach from one side. I continue to watch until his mouth opens and it becomes apparent that he's heading straight for my fingers. I quickly pull back my hands, and "Buzz", as I affectionately call him, stops cold, pops his head out of the water and looks right at me as if to say, "Hey, where'd you go with my breakfast?" He doesn't seem to be the least bit phased by me and continues to patrol the shoreline for much of the morning.

The Bologna Lake campsite itself is not a very large site. There are two reasonable spots for a tent, a modest campfire area, and just enough room left over for the canoe and unloaded packs. The site sits on a fat, round point that sweeps out a north to south view, and it is primarily covered by black spruce, balsam fir, paper birch and plenty of my favorite old raggedy jack pine. The rocky ledge along the western shore is covered by thick, beautiful, gray and white reindeer lichen that carpets most of the slope. At the corner of the landing in front of the site is a large bunch of blue flag iris that look so perfectly placed that you might think they were intentionally planted there. In general, the campsite seems a tad overgrown, but not in a sloppy or messy way. It just feels a bit more wild and a little less beaten down than the typical site you might find in some of the boundary water's better traveled areas.

Later in the day, somewhere in between meals and camp chores, Heidi and I manage to get out in the canoe for a tour of Bologna Lake. The lake is bigger and the shore more irregular than we had first thought, but its bays, islands and rocky shoreline is a real feast for our eyes. At one point, Heidi thinks she sees a moose, but it turns out only to be a bright orange coloring on a rocky outcropping at a far side of the lake. We've been seeing plenty of evidence of moose all around us, including in camp, but sadly there have still been no sightings.

Soon after returning to camp, we begin preparations for tomorrow's next leg of our trip. This time we hope to be off shortly after sunrise so that we have plenty of time to complete the Frost River and get as close to Mora or Crooked Lake as possible. Considering the difficulty we had with the first half of the river, we decide to approach this second half very conservatively. Our weather radio is predicting a good change of rain and storms tomorrow, so it appears our streak of great weather may be close to an end. Traveling in bad weather tomorrow could slow us down significantly. Also, even though my knee shows some signs of improvement, it could become a factor as well.

As evening falls, Heidi and I load up on a filling dinner of freeze dried eggs and potatoes wrapped in tortillas. As we're eating, we notice a painted turtle eyeing the rock ledge landing just a few yards away. Soon there's another, and another, and then another. Like something out of a Hitchcock movie, the invasion of the turtles has begun! Assuming the turtles are simply eager to tend to their eggs, Heidi and I finish up quickly and prepare for bed. After tonight, the turtles will have the place back to themselves again.

We slip into our tent just as clouds are starting to obscure the mostly full moon that lights up our secluded wilderness lake tonight. And as we're lying there in our sleeping bags, off in the distance to one side of the lake, we hear the howl of a wolf. It's a hair-rasing sound, but beautiful, haunting and even a bit melancholy all at the same time. Moments later, the one howl is joined by a louder chorus of howls, all coming from the general vicinity of the portage in from Chase Lake. Soon after that, the howls spread further to the other side of the lake, and now there are two groups of wolves calling back and forth across the moonlit lake. Positioned in the middle of this exchange, Heidi and I lay motionless and quiet, cherishing every moment. It may have been the single most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

I can't say how long the baying continued, because the cries soon carried me off to sleep. But if for no other reason than for this one moment, all the effort in getting to this wild place had instantly become worth it.