A fun and fishy canoe trip ~ May 24, 2000

David Heiller

We had paddled safely down the Little Indian Sioux River a couple miles before Paul broke the news to me.

“I’ve got a new air mattress this year.” We were heading into the Boundary Waters for our annual canoe trip.

“Oh yeah?” I tried to answer calmly. “Great.”

That was about the extent of our brilliant conversation. But I sensed that a red flag had been hoisted.

I don’t have a big tent. Tents are like packages of food. If the macaroni and cheese is supposed to serve four people, two people will probably eat it and still be a little hungry.

My tent is called a four man tent, but it can sleep two people OK, provided that one of the people doesn’t have a queen-sized air mattress.

That’s what Paul had brought, which we discovered three miles later when we found a campsite on Upper Pawness Lake. He even had a battery-powered pump to fill it.

Scoping out the possibilities.

Paul’s Air Mattress (it has to be capitalized) left about six inches of space on my side of the tent. Paul isn’t a whole lot smaller than his Air Mattress. He could play nose tackle for the Green Bay Packers.

Paul retired early that first night. He was already sawing logs when I went to bed a bit later. Did I mention that he snores? Loudly. I was worried that a lovesick moose would come and answer his call.

I crawled up on the Air Mattress. It was like climbing onto the deck of a storm-tossed ship. Every time I moved or scratched, every time Paul shifted and snorted, the Air Mattress would pitch and roll.

Five minutes later I left the Air Mattress for a grassy bed under the stars. That’s where I slept. Actually, I didn’t get much sleep. It was cold! But what a beautiful night. I enjoyed watching the full moon travel over the calm lake waters throughout the night. Every cloud has a silver lining in the Boundary Waters.

Besides, I had caught a mess of fish that afternoon, and good fishing will lift the spirits of even the most sleep-deprived soul.

The next morning, Paul stumbled out of the tent. “Did you sleep outside?” he asked when he saw my frost-covered bag. He hadn’t woken once.

Camp nap-time.

We spent the next day sitting around the camp, reading, talking, sleeping (yes, I took a nap), and eating. And of course we fished. Jim and I paddled up the river to one of the portages into our lake. The water tumbled over rocks and boulders for about 50 feet before spreading out into a pool 100 yards wide.

It looked like a postcard for a good fishing hole, and it was. We jigged minnows and worms across the bottom, and the fish grabbed hold. We caught one—or lost one—on almost every other cast. Walleyes, rock bass, northerns, perch.

At one point, after I changed to a spinner, I put the lure in the water next to the canoe while I prepared to cast, and a northern grabbed it right there.

It’s good we caught a lot of fish too, because a fair amount of the food had been left back at Dave’s house. He had discovered that the taco sauce was missing the first night when he was making supper.

Then when Jim went looking for his home-made deer jerky, Dave recalled that it was still in the fridge. Along with the turkey loaf. And the eggs.

I’m not pointing any fingers here. I didn’t get angry, even though I’m still dreaming about that jerky. Let’s just say that if there is a bed open soon in the Alzheimer’s Unit at Mercy Hospital. I’m going to submit Dave’s name for honorary membership.

Stringer full of dinner.

On the second night, I prepared to sleep outside again. Jim, always an adventurer, said he could ride out the night with Paul, and I could have his spot in Dave’s tent. I had to smile at Jim’s upcoming voyage. Jim was already grinning too.

I lay in Dave’s tent, which is the size of a two car garage, and listened as Jim crawled up the Air Mattress next to Paul.

“Whoa,” I heard him say. “This is like riding a bucking bronco.” I knew what he was talking about.

That’s when the laughter started. Remember those days in church when you were a teenager and you couldn’t stop laughing? That’s the way it was, for me in my tent and for Jim on the Air Mattress. We laughed till we cried. My face hurt, my eyes burned, my body shook. Every time Jim or Paul moved, Jim would start laughing again, and I would follow suit.

That laugh was worth a stringer full of fish. Jim mentioned it the next day too. He said that once he stopped laughing, he had been able to sleep just fine. I was glad to have slept in Dave’s tent, because a thin layer of ice covered the water in the pans and cups by the fire the next morning. I would have frozen outside.

Dave Landwehr and Paul on an expedition.

We explored a few nearby lakes and rivers over the next two days. That’s my favorite part of these trips that we have been taking since 1987. Getting a feel for the country, looking for wildlife. The main species we saw were beaver. They were everywhere.

I tested the waters with a lure that I read about called a Tiny Torpedo. I had to special order it, but it was supposed to be a sure bet for small mouth bass. Only one small mouth struck it. The fish danced on the water just long enough to see who was in the canoe, then it spit out the bait.

Small mouth bass are not native to the Boundary Waters. They were introduced in 1942. Now they are considered one of the premier species there, because they are such scrappers.

We had a good trip. Lots of fish, lots of laughs. I took a roll of pictures. My one regret is that I didn’t get a picture of the biggest catch of all, the Air Mattress.