GUNFLINT TRAIL – It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Not on the final day. It’s not supposed to be the coldest day of the season. There should be less snow, we reasoned. At least compared to mid-February, one of us said. Not this year. Following an unusual year of ice fishing across the Boundary Waters region, the final day of the season stayed right on the bizarre course. It was cold. It was windy. It was fantastic.

The final week of March brought more snow to the Gunflint Trail and other sections of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness than the previous three months combined. In addition to being windy and overcast on the final day of the fishing season, it was damp. The wind cut through my fleece and pants without mercy. Fortunately for us, the lake trout were biting. The Great Josh Dix and I had a double limit before noon. We put back a half-dozen more.

There’s been much lamenting about the winter of 2023-24 across the Boundary Waters. The lack of snow this winter had serious economic consequences for a collection of businesses from Grand Marais to Ely. Those who enjoy skiing through the North Woods were left feeling idle for most of the winter. Snowmobilers filled their tanks in December and then wondered how they would drain the fuel before next winter. However, many of us ice anglers quietly embraced the mild winter without much snow. We could travel far and fast. In that regard, it was the easiest winter to go ice fishing in the BWCA in recent memory.

The ice fishing season stretched from Dec. 30 to March 31 this season for lakes located entirely inside the wilderness. The “regular season” for all other inland lakes partially, or outside of the wilderness line, started two weeks later, in mid-January. A lack of snow and ice were all the buzz leading up to the season opener for trout on inland lakes in the BWCA. The Great Josh Dix and I fished on top of 5 inches of good, clear ice on the opener. It was the same day that Cook County Auditor Braidy Powers fell through the ice on Rose Lake, just one portage from the lake we spent the day fishing on. A week later, we found 4 inches of ice on a large lake on the eastern side of the wilderness. It snowed 9 inches while we were on a winter camping trip that first full week in January. It was, give or take a dusting here and there, the only time it snowed all winter until this final week of March.

None of this was on my mind today while making the final walk across a frozen lake this winter. I wasn’t fixated on anyone’s troubles, least of all my own. In front of me the frozen lake stretched on like a natural road that would take me to a place where things made sense. There were large white pines nearby. And cedars. The snow crunching beneath my knee-high waterproof and insulated boots assured me that it was still winter. I didn’t think about anything of consequence after walking out from the BWCA and onto the final lake of the season. Just a poem. This one:

There Ain’t a Thing We Can Do

Trail folks kept measuring ice

while we waited for the assurance

that it was okay.

That’s why we look up there

and up to them

so much.

They know things

we don’t.

We lost one

in January

who found purpose up here.

It set a tone.

It’s a damn shame, all agreed.

Such truth

makes things like missing a fish

seem so petty

and inconsequential.

There wasn’t much in the way of a sparkle

across the pale Boundary Waters this winter

but there were still magical moments

to be found.

A Poplar Polar Plunge.

Thirty-inch trout that find their way to the ice.

A person at a campsite six portages in

who is alone though far from lonely.

A moose deep in the woods

far from the road

and without concern for how many fish

we caught that day

or any day.

It was supposed to be this way.