And on the seventh day, they took out.
CRH: How's your energy level?
Me: Good.
That is one of the more consequential five words/two sentences conversations I have had. Obviously the most consequential was my proposal to/response from Laura, witnessed by this guy, but that was on dry land (albeit an island). The above exchange took place in a canoe in the middle of a quite windblown lake.
But first, let's review how we got there in the first place.
Into the Wild
Wanting to get an early start we arose at 6am and had a quick breakfast.
Once we had wrapped up everything we needed to do before setting out, we undertook a final review of our gear to see if there was anything we really didn't need. We all decided to leave our camp chairs behind to reduce cargo volume; they don't weigh much so that was less of a factor. In retrospect it would have been nice to have a seating option with some back support to boot, but it did save us a couple of cubic feet and we seemed to miss them less with each portage.
After some trial and error loading the canoes we put in to Poplar Lake and got underway around 7:45am. Our target was Meeds Lake via Lizz, Caribou and an unnamed watercourse that, on the map, threaded between marshy banks.
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| The expedition sets out |
In Which I Make It to 61 but not Highway 61
The leg from the UP to Duluth was the last long-distance part of the trip out to Minnesota. Including the diversion for lunch we covered a little over 400 miles.
We left the hotel around 7:30 but returned twenty minutes later to retrieve my travel mug and, just as important, the coffee in it.
Not much to say about the trek across the top of Michigan. There were long straight stretches of highway with not much variety in terms of scenery, but it definitely felt remote. Even the signs for Smoked Fish began to thin out.
One of the most salient features, and correspondingly big attraction, of the Boundary Waters is its isolation, its offer to let yourself get away from it all - your paddling companions excepted of course. Most campsites, as far as I could tell, were not visible from other campsites, and the disconnectedness of the lakes on the route we took reinforced the sense of isolation. We saw a few folks making/breaking camp as we made our way, and some folks on the water from our campsite on Winchell Lake, but never actually had a boat-to-boat conversation with anyone else.
Almost paradoxical, then, was the relatively high traffic we encountered during portages. We would paddle across an empty lake to the takeout, and in most cases if there wasn't already at least one party there preparing to put in, we would run in to others as we made our own portage. Depending on the time it took to get from one end of the portage to the other, and the number and size of other parties present, you could run into a surprising number of people. Until I got used to it, it was almost jarring to suddenly encounter people after seeing no one, and this was reinforced by the narrow linear nature of portages. No one at a portage can avoid coming within standard US personal space of anyone, or indeed almost everyone, else.
What helped me adjust the most was the fact that everyone we met was really really nice and, more so, generous with advice about the portage, the status of campsites on various lakes etc. Especially useful was the weather information provided by a solo fisherman with a satellite phone who we encountered over the first couple of days. We in turn tried to be as helpful as we could. Even something as simple as a positive affirmation did its part. I can tell you from personal experience that hearing "You're almost there!" while carrying a canoe is a Good Thing.
Why was everyone so nice? I think the main factor was that all of us, i.e. everyone in the Boundary Waters, knew that what we were doing was not easy but that it was really cool to be doing it AND we were all there because we wanted to do it. Additionally, given the parties' differing itineraries someone had at least minimally useful information about where someone else was heading. Everyone wanted everyone else to succeed.
I suspect that's why we felt kind of bad about the first day's race to the island campsite on Meeds Lake. The campsite system, where possession is ten-tenths of the law, imposes a sort of zero-sum framework on an otherwise cooperative (or at least not adversarial) environment. I get that there is really no other way to administer this in the context of a designated wilderness, but it's too bad that a critical component of the experience - shelter - contrasts so strongly with the rest.
To everyone we met as we hauled our gear to and fro: THANK YOU and safe travels.
As we were planning the itinerary for the "there and back again" portion of the expedition, CRH informed me that he had a secondary goal besides paddling the Boundary Waters: visiting every Great Lake during our travels. As Lake Superior was really the only one we were guaranteed to see on the way to northern Minnesota, this took some thought and map-staring. As luck would have it, we are both reasonably thoughtful people who like staring at maps, so this task really was tailor-made for us.
The only real stretch, in terms of going from DC to Minnesota and back, was getting to Lake Ontario, but that allowed us to travel the land of my people and end up in Ithaca where a number of our friends live and a number of my family rest.
All of that is covered elsewhere in the series, but for now, here is the order in which we visited each Great Lake:
Miles put on car: 3439
Lakes visited:
Total Miles Paddled (approx): TBD
Portages: 14
Campsites: 4
Life List Birds: 6
| State | Outbound | Inbound |
| DC* | X | X |
| Indiana | X | |
| Illinois | X | |
| Maryland | did not stop | did not stop |
| Michigan | X | |
| Minnesota | X | X |
| New York | X | |
| Ohio | X | X |
| Pennsylvania | X | X |
| Virginia | X | not CRH |
| Wisconsin | X | X |
I'm going to fast-forward for a moment to let everyone know that CRH and I made it back successfully from our wanderings through the upper Midwest, and had a fantastic journey* to boot.
However, two factors - one I should have known and one I discovered - hindered timely reporting of our adventures:
Fortunately I took pretty good notes so I will be using those to fill in the framework I created before we set out, with a couple additional standalone pieces as necessary.
I cannot guarantee that I will proceed in linear fashion so it is likely that the posts will be out of chronological order. Hopefully the titling scheme of the posts will suffice to guide the reader. Additionally I will be revisiting previously-published material to make sure I am satisfied with the writing. This was an incredible experience and I want to do it justice.
UPDATE: I have added a label-based link for the series to the Essence of Potpourri section on the right-hand side.
*No, not that one
Today we covered another 400 miles, nearly all of it in the state of Michigan, ending the day in the Upper Peninsula at Newbery, which bills itself as the “Moose Capital of Michigan.” No moose so far except the statue outside our hotel and various other statues etc. in town.
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| Hey Rocky! |
OK, not quite as dramatic and by the time we left CRH’s house it was light, but we are off!
First leg of our journey took us to Perrysburg OH, covering 469 miles in eight hours flat. We stopped for lunch at one of Ohio’s nice turnpike rest stops. These follow two designs, one of which looks like a science museum; ours was the other slightly more utilitarian design.
Our hotel in Perrysburg has the famous “Don’t Give Up the Ship” quote on the wall but ascribes it to Oliver Hazard Perry; he had it on his flag but it was Capt. James Lawrence who said it (and then supposedly said no more until dying shortly thereafter). I shall send a strongly worded email after we cross into Michigan, or maybe wait until we get home in case we need to use the same hotel company.
In the 1990s CRH and I took part in several overnight canoe trips on divers Virginia rivers. For various reasons (for which CRH was not responsible, I'd like to emphasize that) these expeditions were often a bit slapdash in organization and execution. For example, the first one I joined (1990, Paw Paw Loops of the Potomac) featured a complete lack of drinking water; on the plus side I was the only one not to go into the water including my canoe-mate, but that's another story. On the other hand the last such trip (Rappahannock? late 1990s?) was extremely well stocked with provisions including martini materials; I brought the olives. The put-in looked like one of the embarkation ports for D-Day if Overlord had involved canoes and coolers.
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| I know this is debarkation but put it in reverse and you get the idea |
Somewhere in there CRH did a multi-day paddle through the Boundary Waters and enjoyed it very much, not least because none of the usual suspects joined him for it.
Fast forward to late winter/early spring 2026, when he asked if I would be interested in going on a multi-day paddle in the Boundary Waters. It didn't take much thought for me to agree so on the calendar it went.
Fast forward again to summer 2026 and the start of my belated details-oriented prep for the trip. (I had done some general preparation but it was nowhere near sufficient.) As I was pondering how to record the experience FRS, about to embark on her own adventure, suggested I blog it.
And so I shall!
In advance I have created a post for each day of the expedition, organized, like Gaul, into three parts:
The plan is to keep notes, transcribe them into that day's post, then publish.
This post not only introduces the series but is a test of the process.
Stay tuned!
Right before I left for vacation I posted some quick thoughts on the continued absence of Mitch McConnell from the Senate (or indeed from the land of the visible for that matter) and the yammering for Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear to take matters into his own hands and DO SOMETHING! After all, we have to FIGHT!
I can’t be the only one here (there are dozens of us?) who thinks that McConnell’s non-presence in the Senate is actually a good thing as it reduces the GOP majority. I mean, sure, the caucus will fall in line but Collins and Murkowski get less of a pass in this situation.
— Roy Batty’s Dove Wrangler (@dmslattery.bsky.social) 10:17 PM · Jul 23, 2026
Meanwhile everyone yammering for Beshear to DO SOMETHING seems unaware that at minimum his magic pixie appointment of a Democrat will be litigated until the end of time, and at maximum he will be impeached and removed by the KY legislature.
— Roy Batty’s Dove Wrangler (@dmslattery.bsky.social) 10:17 PM · Jul 23, 2026
In what I believe is an unprecedented response, someone actually replied substantively to something I posted on Bluesky. Better yet, it was someone who has actually been in my kitchen - two of them, in fact. (Kitchens, not commenters.) His general point (apologies if I misstate) was that obstacles be damned, we have to fight regardless to show we can fight. There was a lot of back and forth so posting all of that would result in a giant-length piece; if you like you can review the fun on Bluesky itself.
Robert Farley at Lawyers, Guns and Money posted this reprint of a news piece from Kentucky outlining the challenges faced by that perspective, then wrote a follow-up piece that gets to the heart of the matter:
This is why “FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT” is a dead end. It feels emotionally satisfying, but it’s not strategic, even as an effort to mobilize the party. You pick fights you can win, you pick fights where the benefits outweigh the risks, and sometimes you pick fights that you know you’re going to lose because the act of fighting has a special meaning to the supporters of the party. Understanding the need to use power carefully and strategically is what made McConnell an effective Senator for a very long time.
Beshear's position is not enviable but going after McConnell and/or his seat more aggressively will not improve it. At any rate, things seem to have quietened down such that a casual search on Bluesky and the web in general doesn't show continued calls for ACTION on Beshear's part.
In late October 2011 a family - mother, father, daughter and son - huddled disconsolately in back of the Sterling VA Petsmart. They had just lost out on a chance to adopt a dog as the result of a name-out-of-a-hat draw between them and another equally-deserving family. It had been just over a year since the loss of their previous dog, and they were looking forward to bringing another furry ward into their lives.
The full story is here but suffice it to say that Raven entered our lives at precisely that time. She also brought thousands of unexpected friends with her as well as kennel cough, but we all made it through that (except those friends of course) and Raven became a sweet, playful and frankly uncomplicated dog.
Raven lived up to her Whippet heritage by delighting in leading other dogs at the dog park on high-speed, high-maneuvering chases. The only dog that ever caught her was a purebred Whippet who saw Raven zooming across the dirt, seemed to think for a moment and then basically teleported into Raven's side, sending our dog flying. True to her nature, Raven didn't care.
When Scout entered our lives the two got along very well, and teamed up from time to time to hunt rabbits in the back yard. At the time two young girls lived next door so I often had to move fast to avoid having to explain away the "sleeping" bunny. Most of their time, though, was spent lounging on various furniture.
As she got older Raven became (in)famous for her interest, however polite, in other dogwalkers' potential treat supplies; it didn't necessarily help that several neighborhood friends and acquaintances proved to be a soft touch. Indeed, anyone we passed, whether with a dog, just walking by or even getting out of a parked car was a potential snack source.
In fall 2024 Raven began to suffer from extreme balance/vertigo issues as well as plain advancing old age. When we took her to the vet they said "Raven isn't an old dog..." That was unexpected but then they continued "She is a REALLY old dog and there is no science for her" since so few make it that far. At that time we knew Scout wasn't doing well so we steeled ourselves for a rough 2025 dog-wise. At that time of course we had no idea of the everything-else-wise aspects of the coming year.
However, Raven rallied and medication helped with the immediate issues, to the extent that we were able to stop medications later in 2025 with no ill effects. Frankly the drugs were having adverse effects in other ways so in some sense were exacerbating the problem, but again, no science to fall back on for that.
Time, as we learn over and over again, eventually runs out and the dreaded phrase "quality of life" becomes unavoidable and undeniable. So it came to pass with Raven and we said farewell on March 31.
We had so much time with her, but it is never enough.
Raven Slattery runs free across endless grass. She was and is a Good Dog.
