Boy Scout Troop 370

Isle Royale National Forest
or
Karens Big Adventure

Tuesday
2 July 2002
The flight to the staging area

 Our rally point was set for the Kistner house at 9:30am but several of us were running late. I had not had time in the preceding days to pick up those last couple items and so while Donovan and Bubba admired my truck at my parent’s house, and the possible uses for it in my absence, I ran up to Walgreens to secure film, bootlaces, and a new camouflage silk shirt. These are but a few of the non-essential essentials that made their way onto this trip, as the following pages will show. DOV and I arrive shortly after 9:45am at the Kistner base of operations and realize that our concern over tardiness was somewhat unnecessary due to the fact that Karen and the Silver Bullet had not yet arrived and as she was our transport vehicle for this trip, we had nothing to really do but stand around and make the neighbors nervous. . . .

. . . While DOV and I being late had merited a call from Matt, Karens somehow did not. This was not surprising, however, due to the widely held belief that the Silver Bullet held deep in its diesel engine, the essence of late. While we are waiting I survey the food and other gear and determine that despite some of our early fears, we look to be well supplied and outfitted. I am assured that the stoves and pumps are in good working order and that I need not be concerned. Of course, I assume that I am being fed a line but this causes me to remember that I have forgotten the packet of information with all of our boat tickets, reservations, etc. in it and I call for Bubba to do a drop for us. While I am doing this, Mrs. Sullivan and Mrs. Link begin to inspect and approve of my new shirt and I am forced to divulge my source. I can already see all of the women showing up to camp with matching silk blue-camouflage shirts.

By 10:10am we are loaded and Bubba makes the document delivery. I am hustled into DOVs car with Matt and Nolan for the ride, and we are off. DOVs A/C doesn’t work and so we are forced to cruise with the windows down and sweating. The flight to the staging area is rather uneventful despite rumors of a buckled and trashed 35W, we proceed to Cloquet for lunch at Subway and then on to Grand Marais for gas and onto our staging area, Grand Portage. Sleeping is encouraged due to the heat and we all pass out alternately until Grand Marais when the temperature had finally dropped off enough to justify us staying awake. By the time we arrive in Grand Portage, it is 75 degrees and sunny, a perfect day in my book. We arrive at the historic fort and after several circles, driver changes and loud, profanity filled criticisms of the navigators, we finally get to the Voyager II dock and promptly realize that no one is there to give us any clue as to what is going on. We are supposed to be able to camp in a grassy area by the office but this appears to be an expensive camping area ($12 a night!!) and so I set off to the docks to find someone with a few answers. I find on the boat the captain, Captain Mark, who will be transporting us the next day who says to go ahead and crash in the grassy spot but says nothing of a fee for this and lets us know to be on the dock with our packs ready at 7:30am the next morning. Since I was not alerted to a fee and Captain Mark had not mentioned one I assume that this was paid as part of the cost of our tickets. I also had not heard anything about the campsite fee or the parking fee from the other crew and decided that I would just wait and see what happened at the end of the trip. I also find out from Captain Mark that we will be shuttled back to this dock from the Wenonah dock at the end of our trip to pick up the cars since the Wenonah parks at a dock across the bay. Yet another detail that would have been nice to know from the other crew or the nice people we booked our tickets with.

So we set up our camp and I check out the area. It is a dumpy little docking area that is basically overflow boat parking and re-fueling for the main dock across the bay at the casino. The bay itself is crystal clear and set in amongst the hills, giving us a great view and an even better sunset. But before the sun headed down, I decided that things were going too well and that something must be wrong. So I have the kids do a breakdown of their packs and discover that among other things, it is absolutely necessary to have an umbrella, eight compasses, three FRS radios, a cell phone, 350 band-aids, nine rolls of duct tape, and sundry other items on the island with us. So I narrow down some of the items and toss out all but the FRS radios, 30 or so band-aids, two rolls of duct tape, and a couple compasses. While everyone moaned and groaned, they appeared to go along with my decisions and throw all of their extraneous gear into the truck. I will learn differently, but that is for later. Karen starts to voice concern over the weight of her pack so Matt and I began to move items around to lighten her load. At this point, a little voice inside my head should have been beating me with a 60 lb spiked mace but for some reason I just assumed that, oh, it will be okay now, we’ve lightened her load enough. I also discover that Joey has an almost religious devotion to cotton and refused to bring anything other than cotton socks. Unlike many issues, he is committed to this one and will not budge on his need to wear cotton. I do convince him to carve down his load from 10 to 5 pairs but I suspect that these will find their way back in shortly after I turn my head.

After that, we cook up dinner, spaghetti (no meat in the sauce), and set up the remainder of our gear. Karen tears up paper towels to be packed in baggies and used to clean dishes on the trail while DOV, Matt and I get our sleeping gear into the tent are realize that despite the fact that we know each other pretty well, we will have an even closer relationship after this trip. The sad part of the tent is that it is probably rated as a four-man tent, although I don’t see how we are going to accomplish sleeping without some snuggling over the next week. I decide it’s time for the daily dooker and survey the local biffie only to find that it is nasty and has not been pumped for at least a season and a half. This prompts the rest of the crew, minus Karen to jump in the car and head to the casino to use their head. After their return, I decide that it’s time for bed as we will be up early the next morning and we head into the sack and drift off to sleep to the sound of the boys in their tent beating Joey and generally causing a ruckus.