Introducing a six-part series of stories written by one of our long-time readers, Anymouse. These stories are musings of his many trips into the Boundary Waters of Northeastern Minnesota.
For those of you unfamiliar with the area, it is over one million acres of rugged and remote boreal forest extending nearly 150 miles along the U.S.-Canada border. It contains over 1,100 lakes and 1,500 miles of canoe routes.
These stories will be posted every-other Friday through August.
Circa 1957
LATRINE STORY OR WHAT DOES THE BEAR DO IN THE WOODS?
Back when there were portage crews, canoe rests along the portage trails, cans and bottles being brought in and no freeze-dried meals; two “green horns” took a trip into “the brush country”. “Green horns” is perhaps an unfair label as one of them had been fishing the area since before the war, (the big one, WW II.) But all of his previous trips had been “fly in,” to a resort on Agnes Lake. This was a new experience, portaging in, etc., etc.
Camp was set up on Nina Moose Lake and the Hilton Hotel chain had nothing on these two. To the extreme of a full size propane tank and cast iron burners to cook on, along with the “Big Blue Canvas Tent” that probably weighed sixty pounds all by itself. Yes, they had all the comforts of home and then some, but it did take a full day just to get to that first lake. Uncountable numbers of trips up and down the same portage trail with all their gear and no “boot boy” to help with the setup. (This was no ultra light setting.)
Behind the campsite on a northeastern peninsula was an open latrine that was about eight (8) foot long by three (3) foot wide and about six (6) foot deep. (The campsite is still used today, but the latrine is now gone.) It had two jack pines about four (4) to five (5) inches in diameter spiked above it, (to trees on either side), one to rest your back on (back side of the trees) and the other to rest your thighs on (front side of the trees and lower). This was a great view, while contemplating the serenity of the north woods. It was just one of the many fine appointments that came as a result of and provided by the “portage crews”.
Well, our boys decided after cleaning a bunch of fish for the evening meal that the best way to dispose of the guts and remains was to dump them in the latrine. If there is any doubt as to the ability of black bears to smell things out, let it now be put to rest. Mr. Black Bear came along and smelled the fish guts out above the other contents of the latrine. Not one to pass up a free snack, he jumped in and devoured the fish. After he finished, his exit wasn’t as easy.
He would jump up and catch the top of the latrine with his front paws, start to claw away with his rear paws and then fall over backwards into the nice soft matter below, (a well used facility). The boys were awakened at about 2AM to the roars, screams and other bear profanities. No idea what was causing the terrible disturbance, but it lasted for what seemed an eternity, maybe something over thirty (30) minutes (that’s how long it took for the bear to wear down one side of the latrine to a manageable incline to get out). Had them huddling in the tent waiting for what might befall them and debating the idea of making a run for it to the canoe and the middle of the lake. It finally got quiet, so they crawled back in the bags to catch a couple hours of sleep.
Next morning, nature called and one of our intrepid backwoodsmen grabbed the longest thing in the grocery store and headed off to take care of his morning meditation. Came running back without accomplishing his mission, “you ain’t gonna believe what it looks like back there!”
Part of the rational for dumping the fish in the pit was; “we’re drinking the lake water, why throw the guts in where we’re getting our drinking water?” (If the truth be told they were mostly too lazy to get in the canoe and paddle out a ways to dump the guts; besides, how many billion gallons of water? Like it mattered?) Well, Mr. Black bear became a brown one and where do you think he went first after his difficulties? Yup, right to the lake for a bath, the trail was real easy to follow. “I think maybe we’ll start taking the fish guts out to the middle of the lake and dumping them there from now on.”
The first of a number of black bear encounters to take place over the next fifty years (but none as fragrant as this one).
“Excerpts from SIX (6) FROM SIXTY (60)”
Copy right TXu 2-234-819 January 2021
Were there dancing tranvestites at each stop on the portage trail?
I am not by nature an outdoorsman, so while I appreciate those who are such as our intrepid canoe carriers above, you’ve also given me a well,written reason to enjoy an anchored and bear-free commode close to a fried fish restaurant with running water.
If this is where you start, I can’t wait to see how you top it…
I’m going to like this.
I am going to like this, too. Made a couple trips to the boundary waters myself.
That was awful…no Banjos or nuthin! I can’t wait for the next installment! I’ve had similar experiences but I’m not the story teller you are. Keep up the good work.
First off…ONLY Assholes dump fish guts in the latrine. Second…if you even had a latrine to use then you are a pussy asshole urbanite “Lands’ End” costume wearing make believe outdoorsman!
The Boundry Waters is all about total wilderness. If you are relying on readymade “latrines” you are not in the wilderness, you are in liberal snowflake pretend land.
This pisses me off.
Roughing it in the Boundry Waters begins with NO conveniences and NO readymade latrines. NO one dumps fish guts in the latrines God Dam It!
You burry your shit when you shit, and you move on.
You take all your litter (plastic bags, foil, whatever) out with you when you leave.
You fucking rough it and you respect nature.
When you catch fish, you leave the guts somewhere away from where you camp. Preferably on an island away from where you camp. You don’t dump it in a community larine. If you even have a latrine nearby you are not remotely in The Boundry Waters.
God Damn IT, I hate urban intruders. Fucking go to a dude ranch, ride a horse and pretend to be a fucking cowboy for a week. Leave the boundry waters for the experienced people who respect it. Stay in the city and deal with your own animal life and leave the real outdoors unspoiled.
Every other Friday? I mean, c’mon, Claudia and Anymouse! Very enjoyable. Not only do we like stories, we have some very good story tellers here.
Reading this brought back some memories of incident in my youth that I realized I hadn’t thought about in decades.
As a teenager, a friend and I were off-road in the deep hills trying to find a route up a certain mountain. There were sporadic deer trails and such and after about an hour of hiking, we came across a completely unexpected sight. In a clearing was a lone house with no road, no car, no telephone or power wires and no obvious trail in or out!
But out in the front of the house, children were playing and their apparent mother was sitting on the house steps with a bucket and a pile of something green. I’m guessing we were over 200′ away.
My friend and I just stood there, hidden by the brush, and stared silently. After a minute or so, I had the overwhelming feeling we weren’t supposed to know about this. We had not only discovered their existence, we now possessed their privacy, as well.
They were completely off-grid and alone there. On purpose! At the age of about 16, it was a shocking revelation to me that people would choose to live that way.
We never did find a way up the mountain on that particular day. I wonder whatever became of that family.
Great trips and scenery like no other. Power boats not allowed. Very peaceful. Should be done at least once.
Had 3 memorable trips canoeing the BWCA, had to turn down an invitation for a 4th yesterday, all with my scout troop. Beautiful place. But really small campsites.
I guarantee before the end of August we’re going to have a mosquito story. Keep ‘em coming Anymouse.
Wow, Mickey…time to check your blood pressure!
Thanks for a good story! Looking forward to more. The latrine sounds exactly like the ones my grandfather described digging in Cyrenaica during WW II. The called them the Cozy Corner. Head Quarters tent up first followed by the ‘Thunder Logs’.
Reminds me of the recent story of a woman who dropped her cell phone in the latrine at Mt Walker in Washington State. She attempted to retrieve it and fell in. Fortunately, she had cell service and was able to call for help.
Fun story, thanks!
many times I’ve driven the forest roads there, in the winter.
What fun!