Zup'in Canada - Part 7

Day Portage

            The next morning we all decided to take a portage to an inland lake. We were told by Mark that it would be a half mile trek up a hill and half mile trek down the hill. He said it wasn’t easy, but there was a canoe and two motor boats waiting at the lake.

            We didn’t know how much of a trek it was going to be, so we planned on taking our two canoes in over the portage. Boy were we wrong. Once we got there, I wasn’t even sure if my grandfather would make it up and down the hill. So I went up first to check it out. What I found was a very rocky, steep hill surrounded by tons and tons of bugs. I went back down to tell everyone to deet up and asked my grandfather if he wanted to still try, because it wasn’t going to be easy.

            Replaced hip and all, he nodded yes and started walking. I followed behind him keeping my hand on the small of his back during various times. Needless to say, he did well and made it. All of us were a bit worn out from the portage, so I could only imagine how my grandfather felt – let alone knowing he had to do it again in a couple of hours.

            We untied the boats and canoe, climbed in and started fishing. It was a hot day, and little to no fish were caught. We tried fishing the bottom, but all we did was catch rocks. I didn’t catch a fish the entire time on the lake, but did catch one later that evening at camp – one of the biggest caught so far for the trip. However, at the inland lake, we decided to find the flat area on the shore in order to jump in, cool off, and bathe.

            The water was very cold, but refreshing. The rocky bottom was algae covered. So instead of walking in, I basically surfed in trying to avoid stubbing my toe on one of the larger rocks littering the bottom. We all washed up in the cold water, then stood on the shore for a while drying off. It was there that I got my one and only bite by a giant fly. It hurt like hell and welted. The mark didn’t go away until a few days after the trip.

            After everyone was done drying off and changed back out of their bathing suits, we portaged back to our boats. The portage this time didn’t seem as bad since I knew what to expect. However, I think it took a toll on my body and everyone else’s, because after catching my two pike for the day and eating a wonderful dinner, I was beat. I had to be tired, because, once again, I slept through the night mildly tossing and turning.

Zup'in Canada - Part 6

Wilkins Bay – Island Tent Camp

            We woke up early in order to eat breakfast and use a real toilet for the last time. After that, our gear was packed into three motor boats – two boats held two people, the third boat held three. My Grandfather and Cousin Tommy went in one boat. My Uncle Keith and his daughter, my cousin, Lori went in the second boat. My Uncle Bob, Rene, and I went in the third boat. We followed a few of the dock boys (who had all of the supplies and food we would need) to our island tent camp. We docked on the shore, unloaded our gear and tackle, and set up camp.

            The camp consisted of three tents. One tent was for Grandpa Joe and Uncle Bob – the two tallest of the group. Lori and Rene occupied the triangle tent. Keith, Tommy, and I slept in the middle tent. The tents had a cot and a sleeping pad for each person causing the tent I was in to have no room whatsoever to move around in. The others were packed tightly, but not as tight as we were.

            There were two grills to cook food on – and the food they left for us was delicious and plentiful. We definitely did not have to worry about running out of food. In fact, at the end of the trip, Lori, Rene, and I took some stuff home with us – Kool Aide, oatmeal, tea, coffee. The only hard part about the food situation was the drinking water. No one wanted to drink out of the lake itself, so Uncle Bob brought a portable filtration system that you could pump the water through. The water wasn’t delicious and it was very soft, but it did the trick and no one got sick.

            We even had our own friendly squirrel on our island. Seems, some of the small creatures migrated there during the winter when the lakes were frozen, but then got stuck when they melted. They were friendly, as squirrels usually are – constantly looking for food or barking from the trees.

            There was other wild life out there during the days and throughout the nights. I heard many a loon’s call, whistling elk, and howling wolves. At times it seemed as if they were talking to each other, and at others it merely seemed like they were talking over each other. One day I caught a small frog, and one night Tommy and I caught a toad. I only spotted one deer the entire time we were on the lakes. However, we did see fish, and that was the reason we all came up there in the first place. To camp, fish, and get away from everything in the real world.

            After the camp was prepared, we set up the reels and poles, put the tackle in the boats, and started up the motors to fish. Once again, everyone went in the same boats they started in with the same people. Bob, Rene, and I headed out. We started out close to our camp. Bob caught a couple of fish – two northern pike I believe, but then we received no bites. It decided to rain on us for less than half of an hour, but we were prepared with our rain gear. After the short shower, we decided we were going to go to the other side of Zup’s and try a spot over there where Mark - the owner of Zup’s (he is the original owner’s son I am told) - had marked on the map for us before we headed out that morning. Bob was driving, Rene was in the middle, and I was at the front.

            Driving over the water, my uncle gunned it. The wind whipped against my face as my brimmed fishing hat bent from the force. We held on, bouncing over the little waves and the wakes of other boats. We cruised around little islands and through inlets until we came to a small cove area. We opted to fish there.

We caught some fish – all smallmouth bass – and tossed them back to nature. I have never eaten smallmouth bass, but from what Bob and Keith say from past Canada trips, I don’t want to eat it if I have a choice. The sun was beating down on us; we were getting hungry, so we decided to head back to camp. Again, the ride back was fun. We docked at our island and climbed up the trail. Everyone else was there and we had a late lunch.

            I think we went back out after that to go fishing again, but I caught no fish. For the first day, I caught two smallmouth bass. At least I wasn’t skunked like Rene had been, but to her defense, she didn’t know how to set a hook – which she finally learned on the third day. Everyone else caught something the first day – whether it was northern pike or smallmouth bass.

            We ate a big dinner. I can’t remember what we had on what particular day at what particular meal. However, I do know we had hot dogs, sausage, hamburgers, steak, lunch meat, salami, eggs, hash browns, oatmeal, coffee, orange juice, and more. My cousin Tommy got the nickname “Garbage Disposal” since he ate whatever was leftover. I can’t blame him. When I was thirteen I ate like a horse too. He’s a growing boy, but man. At night, after the food had started through his digestive system, he would let out roaring farts – some causing the squirrels to cry for mercy and the wolves to howl in fear.

            That night was a bit uncomfortable sleeping on a cot without a pillow. However, I must have been tired, because I don’t remember much tossing and turning until later on during the trip.

Zup'in Canada - Part 5

Zup’s Resort

            Zup’s was pleasant to the eye. It looked like a camping resort. A giant lodge, small cabins placed around the area, a shower room, garage / storage area, tons of aluminum and fiberglass canoes, motor boats, and of course, two dogs – one young, one old – both yellow labs. The entire time we spent there, the young dog wanted to play fetch – on land, but mainly in the water. He was good at it, and we all thought he’d be a great hunting dog.

            When we arrived and checked in, it was dinner time. We all sat down to a giant meal of salad, steak with mushrooms, French fries, a vegetable, and lemonade or iced tea. It was too much to eat, and I don’t think anyone finished their entire plate, but I could be mistaken.

            After dinner, we were shown to our cabin. It was big and could sleep ten. There were four bedrooms – two with two beds, two with three beds. There were two bathrooms. That was it. There were portable fans to keep us cool and a fridge if we needed one. We all took our gear to our rooms and settled in for the evening.

            Everyone knew it would be an early night. We enjoyed the outside on benches downstairs from our cabin. It was hot in the cabin rooms so we sat, chatted, and played fetch with the yellow lab, who I think was named Dawson. My grandfather and Uncle Bob smoked a cigar. My sister and I smoked a few Winston cigarettes. My sister and I had packed a bottle of Jim Beam, and Uncle Bob had stopped off on our way up and bought some Jose Cuervo. We took a few shots, laughed a little telling stories, then waited for the sun to go down and the bugs to come out. It was time for bed. In the morning we would be heading to our tent camp on an island in Wilkins Bay – Ontario, Canada.

Zup'in Canada - Part 4

Scott’s Transport

            Scott’s sat on Crane Lake. It wasn’t only a transport. It seemed it also owned land and sold lots based on the signs I saw amongst whatever else this mysterious Scott did. The lots all ran over $300,000 – much more than a humble teacher can afford. We unloaded all of our gear and tackle then waited for our turn to be taken into Canada via boat. Last time we road a giant bus, and we went through a different outfitter. This time, instead of driving through Dawson’s Portage on a bouncy 45 minute drive, we were going to be boating it – and they had an interesting way of portaging the boat from lake to lake which I’ll get to in a minute.

            The people at Scott’s piled all our gear into the jet boat and we were off. Our first stop was at Canadian customs. We had the appropriate identification, and it took a whole five minutes for all of us to be back in the boat. The kid driver was a crazy fool. He had to of driven this passage many of times, because he was cruising through little inlets and taking giant sweeping turn around bends.

            We drove to the end of one lake and got out. The driver hitched a chain to the front of the boat and loaded it onto the platform. The boat was pulled over land on railroad tracks to the next lake. It was an interesting set up. Walking over the short portage was much easier and more pleasant than portaging in a vehicle after spending three days on the road in a mini-van. We had one more portage like this to go through then we would be at our destination for the evening.

            The kid driver took us all the way into Zup’s. The dock boys unloaded all of our gear and told us to leave it on the dock. They would put all of it up by the cabin we would be staying the night in.

Zup'in Canada - Part 3

The Drive Up

            I don’t work in the summers. The perk teachers get for being paid a lower salary than most of the working world. As a result, I volunteered to drive with my Grandfather in Uncle Keith’s van. The two of us decided to drive all of the fishing gear and tackle, along with everyone’s packs and bags, from Florida to Minneapolis-St. Paul, Minnesota to pick the five others up at the airport. Uncle Bob was flying in from Phoenix after being in California on a business trip. The four others were flying in from Orlando.

            We opted to drive the gear rather than fly because of all the terrorism paranoia going on in the country. We surely couldn’t bring fishing gear, tackle, and knives on a plane without a headache. Besides, it had been a while since I drove across country, and this time I’d have someone driving with me rather than driving solo. It would be quality time to spend with my Grandfather as well.

            I left Seminole, Florida on Wednesday, July 5th, to drive to my Uncle Keith’s house in Safety Harbor to pick up the mini-van. When I got there, it was already packed with my uncle’s stuff as well as my Cousin Lori’s gear. I transferred my sister’s and my gear into the van, left my key on the counter inside for them to move my vehicle, hit the restroom, and was off to my grandparent’s house in The Villages. When I arrived at my grandparent’s, we packed the van with the rest of the gear, ate dinner, slept, and woke up early to head out onto the road.

            I had already warned my early-bird grandfather that I wouldn’t be awake enough to drive until about 9:00 AM after the coffee kicked in. So we made a silent deal. He would drive the morning shift. I would dive the middle shift. And he would finish off the last leg, ending by pulling into a hotel so we could start if all over again the next day. It was a good compromise to me, because a few mornings I fell asleep while my grandfather was driving.

            We left Thursday around 6:30 AM. The drive was uneventful for the most part. We drove north through Atlanta, Georgia – getting lost a few miles by me taking the wrong exit. However, we were soon back on our way to cruise through Tennessee, Kentucky, and the beginning of Illinois. There we a lot of farming fields of corn and soy beans along the route. At one point there was a giant cross in the middle of no where. We saw a few deer along the side of the road grazing. We also saw a huge land area of windmills – over 50 of them by my count – powering, hopefully, the entire city. We had driven about ten hours and thought that after entering the Illinois border we would stop for the night and find a hotel.

We were driving five miles over the speed limit, as we did the entire trip to avoid speeding tickets. Just after mile marker six on I-24 I heard a sound like a tire blowing out. My Grandfather was driving and thought it was the mini-van next to us until all the air deflated and we realized it was us. We pulled over to the side of the road right before Exit 7 for Goreville / Tunnel Hill and called AAA.

            While we were waiting for AAA, we decided it would be a good idea to try to get the flat on. It took a while – figuring out where the spare was, lowering it down, pulling on the lug nuts (which were tight as hell), replacing the tire, then realizing the spare was too flat. We waited for the tow truck, and when he arrived, he told us he’d have to tow us to Marion, because he didn’t have air in that truck. He said Wal-Mart might still be open and they could help us. If they weren’t open, he could drop us off there and we would have to get it fixed in the morning.

            The tow truck driver was very nice. The poor guy had a migraine, but he still was helpful. He called ahead to a buddy he knew in case Wally World, as he called it, wasn’t open. The buddy could help us. He just wouldn’t be able to balance the tires.

            We pulled up to Wally World at 7:55 PM just as the shop keeper was putting up the closing chain. He saw us, and looking a bit disgruntled, put down the chain. They would help us, and we were saved. Luckily, we would not have to wait in the morning and could get on our way. We had a feeling we would lose a lot of time if all of this hadn’t turned out perfectly well.

            The next morning we were on our way again. We had picked up a book on tape – The 5th Horseman by James Patterson – to listen to the day before – ten hours long. We continued listening to the story as we drove on through Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. We arrived in Minneapolis-St. Paul around 6 PM. Uncle Bob had gotten a suite for us on his company’s tab (I believe). We were planning on going there, eating dinner, and picking my uncle up at the airport later that evening if he was able to catch an earlier flight out.

            Unfortunately, Uncle Bob didn’t catch the flight and wasn’t going to get in until around 11:30 PM. So my grandfather and I went and checked in, dropped off our clothes, went to eat at Chili’s, then returned to our room to watch television and fall asleep. Everyone else would be picked up in the morning, and we would all head directly out from the airport to Canada.

            The others arrived around 11:30 AM Saturday. Earlier that morning we had taken Uncle Bob to rent a car. He had to leave a few days earlier than us due to some business – so he needed his own way to get back to the airport. Everyone piled in to either the rented Jeep Liberty or the mini-van. Rene and I went with Uncle Bob. Everyone else went with Grandpa Joe. We were finally off, and in about 5 hours we would be at Scott’s on Crane Lake ready to be transported by boat to Zup’s Resort. 

Zup'in Canada - Part 2

Introduction

            I had been to Canada on a family trip fourteen years ago back when I was eighteen. It was during a simpler time before I grew into an adult having adult responsibilities. The trip was different than the one we were planning on going on this time. People were older – my Grandfather was turning 71 on the trip. A different group was going – half those that went last time wimped out this time. The group consisted of the following: Grandpa Joe, Uncle Bob, Uncle Keith, Cousin Lori, Cousin Tommy, Sister Rene, and me – seven of us.

           During the previous trip, it was hot as hell. The black flies were out biting through jeans, socks, deet, and anything else you could find to cover your body but still try to stay cool. I also enjoyed the personal experience of poison ivy last trip. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone – itching, blistering, sweating . . .

We were camping on an island with motor boats rather than portaging with all of our gear in canoes day after day. This trip would be different. At least before we started out, I hoped it would be.

Zup'in Canada - Part 1

Prologue

            This is an attempt of preservation, written to preserve a memory before it leaves the confines of my brain, or I lose it by killing more brain cells that hold these pieces of information. I am writing this as I remember it in order to look back on an experience and enjoy it again in my old age.

            Those members of my family who were also on the trip will probably have different versions of the same experiences. As with any experience within a group, each person has their own take on what happened. And this is how I perceived it . . .