Red skies, then indigo then black. The September sun leaves the western horizon of Northern Wisconsin, hiding the beauty of open farmland, of pine covered hills. Engines hum and cool evening air rushes past open windows as night travelers drive on in the darkness. Bright stars shine through tinted windshields. Deer hesitate and their wide eyes stare from the shoulder of the road.

Excitement rides in the front seat of our old sedan as Mike and I cross the state and head north toward Lake Superior. Soon we're over the Blatnik bridge into Minnesota and make our way through the city of Duluth, now fast asleep. As we head into the iron range country, small red lights blink from the far horizon, marking the high points of a landscape we cannot see. Slowly, the night wears on... We're tired, too tired to go on. I turn into the parking lot of a restaurant in International Falls. It's five o’clock in the morning, a little late for a good night's sleep. We push the seats back and hit the sack.

No restaurant opens quietly, it seems, and by six-thirty we’re up again and having coffee and pancakes. It’s amazing how much an hour of sleep can get you going again. It also helps to be starting a canoe trip to some of the best lake canoeing territory in North America!

Soon we've paid our six dollar (US) toll and crossed the bridge to a sleepy Fort Francis. The morning sun emerges behind us now, revealing the farmland of southern Ontario. West of town we stop for Ontario fishing licenses then head into Manitoba. Route 44 is winding and narrow for about thirty-five kilometers, then it straightens out and gets better. We turn onto highway 11 and head north. We’re at the edge of the prairie, out of the woods, for a while. Highway 304 leads us east again, then turns to gravel. There are 31 miles of gravel to get into Bissett and another 15 miles to the Wallace Lake camp ground.

There’s not a lot of civilization on this northern stretch of highway 304, and soon the "not a lot" changes to a lot of nothing. We’re headed back into land that was considered wasteland many years ago. Now, in the third millenium, we've traveled nine hundred miles just to experience this "wasteland." For canoe travelers, the unspoiled wilderness lands are a paradise. Bisset finally appears, a small gravel road mining town on the edge of the border. We keep going until we see the sign for the Wallace Lake campground.

We’re back in civilization! The campground is full of tents, trailers and motor homes, as well as a few cabins. It’s not a bad day and people are out enjoying the sunshine. While Mike unloads our canoe and packs, I find the gentleman that runs the campground. I introduce myself, tell him where I’m from, explain our canoe trip plans, ask if there’s a charge for parking …

"Why don’t you move your car over in back here, next to the front end loader. I can watch it for you." He’s older than me, his face tough and lined. He looks lean and strong, and he probably is.

"There’s no charge. I don’t charge canoeists." This last remark make me feel fine, and I appreciate the good will and friendly hospitality.

It’s four o’clock before we’re on the water, and we pass an inhabited peninsula on our way to the Wanipigow River. There’s some wind now, but the waves come from a good angle and the canoe rides well. This first section of the river is traveled by an occasional motorboat so it’s kept clear. We wind and twist back and forth as the river meanders on it’s way to Siderock (Side-Rock) Lake. It takes us about two and a half hours from launch to our rough campsite on the northwestern shore of Siderock. We’re glad to be done with driving, and both of us are looking forward to tomorrow as we close up the tent and drift off to sleep.

A light drizzle greets us at six-thirty. It slowly turns into rain. Mike and I turn over and grab another hour of sleep. When the rain stops we roll out, pack up and have a cup of coffee before stepping into the canoe.

I generally do a little too much preparation for my trips, but I didn’t prepare very well for the first part of this trip – the portages to Obukowin (O-buck-owin) Lake. I made my plans based on three pieces of information. One was the Nopiming Provincial Park map, revised in 1998. It shows a route from Siderock to Obukowin that follows the small stream on the northern shore of Siderock. Two portages are clearly shown. I also called the Manitoba Ministry of Natural Resources in Bisset. I didn't reach the people most familiar with the route, but found out that the route was "well traveled". My topographic maps showed the stream we would follow. I thought that I had enough information, but apparently I didn't....

Mike and I find the small stream on the northern shore of Siderock and start to follow it. This is not a well-traveled path, in fact it looked like no one's been through here at all! As each small stream peters out, we make a portage, usually to a beaver dam where there's some water to float the canoe. Occasionally, a small piece of ribbon marker shows up along our path. We're on some type of trail, but barely.

This entire area was burned, perhaps in 1976 from a fire that started on Cabin Lake. Land recovers slowly in the northern latitudes and it will be another twenty-five years before most traces of the fire are gone. The scars of the fire and the dull overcast day give the land a somber, primitive look. For man, it's not the best looking land, but for the beaver that live here, it's a real paradise. All of the young, tender trees are fodder for ambitious pairs of beaver, and they've been busy indeed. Mike and I paddle slowly through their ponds until we're stopped by huge dams. Since we're traveleing upstream, we have to haul the canoe and our gear to the top of each dam, then teeter and sway as we load up and push off into the next pond. Sometimes a small creek leads us into tag alder, or floating muskeg. Then we get out and slog through to the next dam and pond.

After two or three hours of travel, I stop to check our progress. My GPS receiver seems to show us a few hundred meters south of the stream marked on our topographic map. It seems like we've made hardly any progress at all! I try to think of an explanation, but I can't. What I lack in brains at the moment, I make up for with optimism. Our optimism takes us past a large beaver dam and suddenly, there's a path on the shore...