The Omimi trail presented us with a range of adventures, as it is a very diverse trail. Over the 9 days we spent paddling from rand Portage to the cache Bay entrance of Quetico we paddled through burn out, marshes, up streams, down rapids, through very small shallow lakes and very large deep lakes, cliffs, beaches and hills. Yet, through this diversity we had two consistencies. Firstly rain. It rained 6 of the 9 days. Luckily the major downpours occurred at very opportune moments, such as the minute we finished setting up camp, or during the night. But when it hit, it hit hard, and the trails got drenched. A drenched trail makes for some seriously mucky portages. This was our second constant – portages. We portaged an average of about 3 km each day. Our longest was Grand Portage (14 km ‘one tripped’) and the aptly named Long Portage (4 km) which we had to ‘two trip’ (carry our gear in two runs – tripling the distance to 12 km).Our challenges on these portages are so gloriously documented in photos and videos.
Around the 3.75 km mark of Long Portage I hit a bit of a wall (as you do…). The portage was actually quite a scenic hiking path which we highly recommend to our hiking enthusiast readers (road accessible). As you portage however, you tend to drift in and out of focus of the beauty around you as you enter and exit ‘The Zone’. The Zone is both a great and dangerous place. One habitualizes slipping into The Zone on these longer portages. It is a form of meditation, erasing the consciousness of having an 80+ lb barrel strapped to your back and your hands full of paddles and other gear, allowing all bugs free reign over your delicious stinky sweaty skin.
The Zone is essential for maintaining sanity. But at the 3.75 km mark, The Zone became The Danger Zone for me. I often lead on the longer portages so I can set the pace (only go as fast as your slowest member!). This allows me to dictate t=when we stop for a water or stretching break. Around 3.75 km was so deep into The Zone I was unaware of how long or far we had gone. The rhythm of one foot after the nest had me so mesmerized I had lost awareness of all exhaustion. Paul’s call to stop woke me from The Danger Zone and breathless, I collapsed to the ground, unable to speak or move. Paul immediately recognized the importance of documenting the moment. He quickly grabbed the camera and began filming and interviewing me as I gasped for air on the ground. We had walked for almost half an hour non-stop. For half a second I envisioned catching my breath and regaining just enough strength to tackle Paul to the ground and smash the camera on his face. He is fortunate that it took me long enough to catch my breath that I realized how hilarious that video would be in retrospect and how perfectly it captures the challenges we push through to experience the wondrous remote areas these portages lead us to. Omimi presents its fair share of challenges but its rewards are worth every moment.
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Being people who relish in the thrill of whitewater paddling, we were ecstatic to stumble upon a good number of sets to shoot on the Omimi Trail (those who do not choose to paddle rapids, do not fret, there are established portages around every set).
One of the first decent sized sets we came across was gorgeous. A thin Class 1+, the set curved around a bend and was draped in an overhang of old pine trees which created somewhat of a natural tunnel. We decided we NEEDED to film the set. On any other trip this could easily be done with other people standing along the shore or by wearing a GoPro. Seeing as we neither had a GoPro or another human being, we had to improvise. Fortunately we did have a waterproof camera and some bungee cords. After much finicking, the piece-de-resistance was complete – camera was strapped to my whitewater helmet. I was very proud and excited—I had even left the ‘record movie’ button accessible! Full of joy we shot down the set. It was quite fun. We eddied out, stopped the video and paddled on.
At our lunch spot, a few hours later, we decided to pull out the camera to watch the video of the super fun gorgeous set. 5 seconds into the video our smiles dropped – we could tell we were moving down the set by our voices, but the video only shower the sky. And more footage of the sky as we heard our “YEEEEEEHAW”s of hitting the standing waves. And even more footage of sky as we hear the final “BOOYA” as we end the set. WHAT. A. FAIL.
We learnt from our failure and although we could not alter the angle of the camera for the next set, I DID shoot the set with the homemade GoPro on and my chin tucked into my chest the whole way down. And the memory of that first great set lives on in our memory. It also lives on in exciting audio paired with very boring video of the sky.
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The Omimi trail zigzags through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area for most of its entirety. This area is gorgeous for its aforementioned diversity and remoteness. It also hosts endless campsites which are picturesque to the point of perfection. We felt spoiled rotten. Every night we were living the dream. Perfect tent spots, perfect fire pits, perfect ‘hangout rock’. Total luxury.
At the west end of Gunflint Lake we spent an afternoon at Gunflint Lodge using their internet for Path of the Paddle emails and posts and feasting on burgers and nachos.
We left the lodge around 5 pm and paddled towards the Granite River. This area had experienced a forest fire in 2007/2008 and was largely burnt out. We paddled for a while, but our full tummies had us quite sleepy. I brilliantly recommended we find a site ASAP as the next couple kilometres had rapids to shoot and portages to do. My snoozy self and full stomach did not want to tackle those at night. So we settled for what we considered a decent ‘crash site’ in the burn out. Not close to the luxury we had grown accustomed to, but for a burn out, not bad (space for a tent, a grown over fire pit, and a decent ‘hangout rock’).
All was going smoothly until we had our tent set up and everything unpacked. We were putting our bags in the tent when we noticed them…those nasty little sneaky nightmares…everywhere… an army of TICKS. Exhausted, we scurried into the tent which reasonable screams of disgust and fear as we consoled ourselves in the fact that, even though we counted 22 ticks on our tent, we had a “good” site considering being in a burn out.
Needless to say, we packed up mighty fast in the morning and got the heck out of Tick Nation. And then we paddles 1 km to the rapids which were tame swifts. And then we paddled another 1 km to the ‘portage’ which was a spectacular campsite on a massive flat rocky shore beside a beautiful waterfall. And then Paul and I cursed Past-Hadley the sleepy, full, lazy-pants who had us camp on a bed of ticks 15 minutes before the most gorgeous site of all time. And then for the rest of the week I refused to choose a site.