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My First Boundary Waters Solo Kayak Trip | 6-Day BWCA Trip Report

July 28, 2026

Introduction

Overlooking a calm lake Alton

The Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCA) had been on my adventure bucket list for years. As someone who loves kayak camping, fishing, and exploring remote places, it seemed like the perfect destination. This trip would also be unlike anything I’d done before—six days, solo, traveling by kayak through one of the most beautiful wilderness areas in the Midwest.

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Like many first-time visitors, I spent months planning my route, researching gear, studying maps, and wondering what to expect. Would my equipment hold up? Would I find good campsites? Could I handle the portages with a fully loaded kayak? Most importantly, would the experience live up to everything I’d heard about the Boundary Waters?

It didn’t take long to find out.

Over six unforgettable days, I paddled across crystal-clear lakes, carried my kayak over rugged portages, weathered thunderstorms, endured ninety-degree heat, fought afternoon winds, caught some incredible bass and walleye, and spent peaceful evenings watching the sun disappear behind the trees from the comfort of my hammock. Every day brought a new challenge, but every challenge became part of what made the experience so rewarding.

This article is a day-by-day account of my first solo Boundary Waters kayak trip, sharing both the highlights and the lessons I learned along the way. Whether you’re planning your own first BWCA adventure, looking for route inspiration, or just enjoy reading about wilderness travel, I hope this trip report gives you a realistic look at what it’s like to explore this incredible place by kayak.

And one thing became clear before the trip was even over:

I already knew I’d be back.

Trip Overview

Trip Details
đź“Ť LocationBoundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCA), Minnesota
🛶 Entry PointSawbill Lake (EP 38)
🗓️ Duration6 Days / 5 Nights
🚣 Travel StyleSolo Kayak Camping
🏕️ Primary CampsBeth Lake & Alton Lake
🎣 FishingLargemouth Bass & Walleye
🌡️ ConditionsThunderstorms, high winds, temperatures into the upper 90s
🛏️ Sleep SystemHaven XL Hammock
🗺️ RouteSawbill → Alton → Beth → Alton → Sawbill

🎥 Watch the Full Adventure

Gear I Used on This Trip

A successful Boundary Waters trip starts with reliable gear. Everything below was used during my six-day solo kayak adventure, and many of these items played a major role in keeping me comfortable, safe, and well-fed throughout the trip.

Note: Some of the links below are affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. Thank you for supporting GearThatWins!

MODL infinity straps holding gear on kayak

Kayak & Safety

Shelter & Sleep System

Cooking & Food

Water Filtration

Fishing Gear

Electronics & Camera Gear

Camp Essentials

BWCA gear loadout

Every piece of gear taught me something during this trip. Some items exceeded my expectations, while others showed me where I can improve before my next Boundary Waters adventure. As I continue testing equipment in real-world conditions, I’ll update this list and link to my in-depth reviews so you can see how everything performs over time.

Day 0 – The Adventure Begins

After leaving work a little early, I hit the road with the anticipation building by the mile. My Toyota Camry had been packed the night before, so all I had to do was grab a few last-minute items and head north. I was hoping to beat the worst of the traffic through Madison and the Wisconsin Dells, and fortunately everything moved along pretty smoothly.

Rather than making the entire drive in one day, I planned to spend the night at Pigeon Creek Campground in Black River Falls state park. It would break up the trip and leave me with a much shorter drive to the Boundary Waters the following morning.

Since I was only staying for one night, I kept camp simple. When I reserved the campsite, I wasn’t even sure there would be a pair of trees suitable for hanging my Haven XL hammock. Thankfully, I found two trees that were just close enough together. With the help of my whoopie slings, I was able to get the hammock set up exactly how I wanted it.

Since there were no trees in the area to use, I used my trekking poles to support the corners of my tarp. It was a simple setup, but it worked perfectly for a quick overnight stop.

With camp established, I gathered some firewood before deciding there was still plenty of daylight left to enjoy. Since I already had the kayak with me, I launched into the Pigeon Creek Flowage for an evening paddle.

HAVEN XL setup with trekking poles

I spent about an hour slowly paddling around, making a few casts here and there. I wasn’t focused on catching fish as much as I was enjoying the warm afternoon, calm water, and beautiful scenery. It was the perfect way to unwind after the drive and ease into the adventure that was waiting for me.

Pigeon Creek flowage on kayak
Pigeon Creek flowage on kayak 2

Back at camp, I loaded the kayak onto the car, started a campfire, and roasted a couple of hot dogs over the coals for dinner. Sometimes the simplest meals taste the best after a day outdoors.

As darkness settled over the campground and the last conversations around neighboring campsites faded away, everything became quiet. I let the fire burn down, climbed into my hammock, double-checked that my alarm was set for an early start, and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, my alarm went off around 5:00 a.m. I packed up camp, loaded the car, and got back on the road. My first stop was a Kwik Trip for a fresh cup of coffee and breakfast before continuing north toward my first sightseeing stop—Amnicon Falls State Park.

Day 1 – The Journey Continues

After a good night’s sleep at Pigeon Creek Campground, I packed up camp and continued the drive north. With every mile, the excitement continued to build. This was my first time making the drive to the Boundary Waters, so everything along the way was a new experience.

Before reaching Superior, I made a planned stop at Amnicon Falls State Park. After spending several hours in the car, it was the perfect place to stretch my legs and take a short hike. The waterfalls were beautiful, with water cascading over layers of ancient rock surrounded by towering trees. I took my time exploring the trails, snapping a few photos, and enjoying the peaceful scenery before getting back on the road. It was a great way to break up the drive and gave me my first real taste of the Northwoods.

Amnicon Falls 1
Amnicon Falls 2
Amnicon Falls 3
Amnicon Falls 4
Amnicon Falls 5
Amnicon Falls 6
Amnicon Falls 7
Amnicon Falls 8
Amnicon Falls 9

Back on the highway, I continued toward Superior, Wisconsin, and crossed into Duluth, Minnesota. I couldn’t help but be impressed by the massive ore docks lining the waterfront. Seeing giant ships docked in the harbor—some being loaded with cargo destined for ports across the Great Lakes—was incredible. Photos don’t do them justice. Standing next to one would make you realize just how enormous these ships really are.

Driving over the high bridges overlooking the harbor was another highlight. Looking down at the water while ships passed beneath me gave me a whole new appreciation for the scale of the port and the engineering behind it.

Once through Duluth, the scenery became even more impressive. The highway wound through the rocky hillsides, and driving through the tunnels carved into the rock felt like I was leaving the city behind and entering a completely different world. The farther north I traveled, the more the landscape transformed into the rugged forests and rocky terrain I’d been looking forward to exploring.

Duluth tunnel

By late afternoon, I arrived at Sawbill Canoe Outfitters to pick up my Boundary Waters permit and complete the required orientation. With my permit in hand, the adventure suddenly felt real.

That evening, I settled into the Sawbill Lake Campground, made a few final gear checks, organized my kayak for an early start, and took a moment to appreciate how far I’d come. After months of planning, tomorrow would finally be launch day.

Day 2 – Launching Into the Boundary Waters

The alarm went off early once again. This was the day I had been looking forward to for months—the day I would finally launch into the Boundary Waters.

The morning was cool, with temperatures in the upper 50s to low 60s. A blanket of overcast clouds covered the sky, and there was almost no wind. Sawbill Lake looked like glass. It couldn’t have been a better morning to begin what would become the longest solo paddling trip I had ever attempted.

I packed up camp at Sawbill Campground, carried all of my gear down to the public landing, and began loading the kayak. Every dry bag had its place inside the hatches, and I found myself double- and triple-checking everything. Once I pushed away from shore, there wouldn’t be any quick trip back to the car for something I’d forgotten.

After I was satisfied everything was packed, I parked my car for the week and walked over to Sawbill Outfitters. It was the only place with Wi-Fi since there was no cell service in the area. I sent a few last text messages to my girlfriend and family, letting them know I was heading into the wilderness and when they should expect to hear from me again.

Those messages marked the end of my connection to the outside world.

Walking back down to the kayak felt different. There was no more planning or preparation left to do. It was finally time.

I climbed into the kayak, pushed away from shore, and with the first stroke of the paddle, my Boundary Waters adventure officially began.

Across Sawbill Lake

Despite knowing this trip was coming for months, I couldn’t shake a mix of excitement and nerves. This would be the longest solo trip I had ever taken. Ahead of me were unfamiliar lakes, multiple portages, and navigation that would rely entirely on my map and compass. I knew how to use them, but there is a big difference between navigating somewhere you’ve never been and traveling waters you know by heart.

The calm conditions helped settle those nerves. The paddle across Sawbill was peaceful, the kayak gliding effortlessly across the smooth water.

Wildlife was already active. Birds darted through the trees, squirrels chased each other along the shoreline, and a few loons drifted quietly on the lake. Fish were visible beneath the incredibly clear water. Throughout the entire trip I would never see a moose, bear, wolf, or deer—just the smaller residents of the Boundary Waters going about their day.

About fifteen minutes after leaving the landing, I reached my first portage into Alton Lake.

Learning to Portage a Kayak

I had spent plenty of time thinking about how I was going to handle portages with a kayak.

Unlike a canoe, where gear can often be packed into one or two larger packs, everything in my kayak had to fit through the storage hatches. That meant several smaller dry bags instead of a few large ones. To make carrying everything easier, I packed those smaller bags into inexpensive IKEA tote bags for the portages, along with one larger 55-liter backpack dry bag.

Because of all the gear, I planned to double portage.

The first trail turned out to be a great confidence builder. It was wide, relatively level, and smooth. In fact, I think I spent more time unloading and reloading the kayak than I did actually walking the trail.

The only thing I noticed was that carrying the kayak on one shoulder became tiring quicker than I expected.

Before long, everything was loaded once again, and I paddled out onto Alton Lake.

Alton Lake

My next destination was the portage into Beth Lake, about two miles south across Alton.

This was where the Boundary Waters really began to leave an impression on me.

The lake felt enormous.

Towering pines lined the shoreline, growing impossibly from thick moss covering massive granite boulders and rounded rock cliffs. The water was astonishingly clear—clear enough that I could still see the bottom in surprisingly deep water.

The air smelled of pine, mixed with the occasional faint hint of wood smoke drifting across the lake from campers finishing breakfast somewhere in the distance.

For long stretches, the only sounds were my paddle entering the water, birds singing from the forest, and the distant calls of loons echoing across the lake.

About three-quarters of the way across, I passed the only canoe I would see that morning. A couple of paddlers were heading back toward Sawbill. We exchanged a quick wave before continuing in opposite directions. Within minutes they disappeared around the shoreline, leaving me alone once again.

The Beth Lake Portage

By the time I reached the Beth Lake portage, the temperature had climbed, and after nearly two miles of paddling, I was beginning to feel the effort.

Once again I unloaded every dry bag into the IKEA totes and prepared for the carry.

This portage was about a half mile long.

The first portage had not prepared me for this one.

Instead of a smooth trail, it immediately climbed uphill over large uneven stone steps. The trail narrowed as it wound through the woods, with sections that were nearly overgrown. Large muddy potholes filled with water dotted the trail, several crossed by narrow wooden planks. There were multiple natural stone staircases carved into the hillside, one of them surprisingly steep.

By the time I reached the far end, the kayak felt considerably heavier than when I had started.

I was incredibly relieved when I finally saw water shimmering through the trees.

Then reality set in.

I was only about a quarter of the way finished.

I still had to walk all the way back, pick up the rest of my gear, and carry nearly the same amount of weight across the trail again before everything could be loaded back into the kayak.

Double portaging has a way of humbling you.

But the reward was worth every step.

The first view of Beth Lake was spectacular.

A massive granite wall rose immediately to my left while dense forest stretched away to the right. Ahead of me, cool, crystal-clear water shimmered in the morning sunlight with just enough tannin to give it that beautiful northern tea-colored hue.

Stone wall on Beth Lake
Overlooking Beth lake from portage

I sat down for a few minutes to catch my breath, refilled my water bottle directly from the lake through my water filter, and enjoyed the view before loading the kayak one more time.

A Change of Plans

Originally, my goal had been to continue on toward Phoebe Lake.

But sitting there on the shore of Beth, I started thinking differently.

The portage I had just completed had taken more out of me than I expected, and I knew the portage from Beth to Grace had a reputation for being even more challenging.

There was no reason to push myself simply because it had been my original plan.

Beth Lake was absolutely beautiful.

I decided I would save Phoebe for another trip when I had lighter gear and a better idea of what to expect.

Sometimes the best decision in the wilderness is knowing when to adjust your plans.

Finding Home

I checked the map and started searching for a campsite.

The first site was occupied.

The second one was too.

Thankfully, the third campsite was empty.

As I pulled the kayak toward shore, I immediately knew this was the one.

A large, flat granite boulder extended into the water, creating the perfect landing spot. Instead of fighting mud or balancing on uneven rocks, I could simply paddle up, step out onto solid rock, and pull the kayak completely out of the water. It would make loading and unloading gear incredibly easy for the next few days.

The campsite only got better from there.

Hundreds of butterflies fluttered around the clearing, constantly drifting from flower to flower. They seemed to be everywhere, adding an unexpected touch of life and color to an already beautiful campsite.

Group of butterflies
Butterfly at camp

Just a few feet from the shoreline, I found two perfectly spaced trees for my Haven XL hammock. Waking up each morning with the lake only a few steps away was exactly the kind of campsite I had hoped to find.

HAven XL setup in wind

This would become home for the next two nights.

I started setting up camp one piece at a time. My Helinox Chair Zero High-Back and Trekology backpacking table went beside the fire grate, creating a comfortable spot to cook meals, relax, and enjoy the evenings by the fire.

One of the first things I set up was my water filtration system. I filled my 3-liter gravity water bag directly from Beth Lake and hung it from a nearby tree using paracord. Connected to my Sawyer Mini filter, it provided a steady supply of clean water for cooking, coffee, and drinking without having to pump or squeeze a filter every time I needed water. It quickly became one of the most convenient pieces of gear I brought on the trip.

I also used paracord to hang my screen shelter over the campsite latrine. Mosquitoes and biting flies had been relentless throughout the trip, and having a bug-free place to use the bathroom turned out to be one of the best campsite upgrades I could have made. It might not have been the most glamorous piece of gear, but it made a noticeable difference in comfort.

As I walked around camp, I noticed something that made setup even easier. The previous campers had left behind a neat pile of split firewood near the fire grate. Instead of immediately heading into the woods with my saw, I already had enough wood for my first evening’s campfire. It was a thoughtful gesture that I really appreciated, and I planned to return the favor before leaving.

With camp finally set up, it was time to make lunch. I grabbed a Bridgford BBQ Beef Sandwich from my food bag and enjoyed it straight from the package. After spending the morning paddling, searching for a campsite, carrying my kayak and gear across the half-mile Beth Lake portage, and setting up camp, it hit the spot. One of the things I liked most was that it didn’t require any cooking or cleanup—perfect for a day when I was already exhausted and just wanted something filling.

Looking back, it’s no surprise the portage had felt like such a beast. I had been so eager to get on the water that morning that I skipped breakfast entirely rather than cook and clean up before launching. By the time I finally sat down to eat, I had burned a lot of energy without putting any fuel back into my body.

After lunch, plenty of water, and a chance to relax, I felt like a completely different person. With a full stomach, camp finally established, and nothing else demanding my attention, I climbed into the hammock.

That afternoon nap felt incredible.

Exploring Beth Lake

When I woke up, I grabbed my fishing rod and headed back out onto the lake.

With nowhere I needed to be, I spent the afternoon simply exploring.

I paddled toward the Grace Lake portage and continued up the small creek beyond it. Along the way I was able to slide the kayak over one small beaver dam, but eventually another much larger dam blocked the channel completely. Getting past it would have meant unloading the kayak, so I decided it wasn’t worth it and turned around.

The fishing was steady enough to keep things interesting.

I caught several small bass throughout the afternoon, nothing trophy-sized, but enough to make every stop worthwhile.

Small bass on line
Kayak fisherman with fish

As the sun began dropping toward the horizon, I paddled back to camp.

My First Evening on Beth Lake

Evening over Beth lake

Back at camp, I fired up my stove and prepared a ReadyWise Chicken Vodka Pasta meal.

After a full day of paddling, portaging, and exploring, it tasted fantastic.

When dinner was finished, I built a campfire and settled into my chair.

The flames crackled quietly as daylight slowly faded from the lake.

One by one, the first stars appeared overhead.

Without the glow of towns or cities, the night sky came alive in a way that’s almost impossible to experience back home. Sitting beside the fire, surrounded by towering pines and complete wilderness, I realized just how far removed I was from everyday life.

No phone.

No traffic.

No notifications.

Just the warmth of the fire, the sounds of the forest, and an endless sky full of stars.

After months of planning, I was finally living the adventure I had imagined for so long.

Day 3 – Storms, Fog, and a Lake to Myself

I woke up naturally without an alarm and, for the first time on the trip, felt completely rested.

The wind had been pretty steady through the night, and my tarps had flapped hard enough to wake me a few times, but the temperature had dropped into the low 50s and made for excellent sleeping weather. My sleep system did exactly what I needed it to do. The Haven sleeping pad kept me comfortable, my Enlightened Equipment quilt kept me warm, and my Therm-a-Rest pillow was as comfortable as always.

There was no reason to rush, so I took my time getting up.

Once I finally climbed out of the hammock, I lowered my food bag from the tree and started making breakfast. I had another ReadyWise meal along with a cup of Death Wish instant coffee. I have tried several instant coffees over the years, and Death Wish is still the best one I have found so far. Sitting beside the lake with a hot breakfast and coffee felt much different from the rushed morning before.

The weather, however, was not nearly as inviting.

The sky was overcast and dreary, and it looked like storms could move in at any time. Even with the gray skies, I was still happy and grateful to be there. I had prepared for changing weather, and I was not going to let a gloomy forecast bring down the experience. I was finally in the Boundary Waters, and every part of the trip—even the bad weather—was something I wanted to experience.

After breakfast, I cleaned everything up and hung my food bag back in the tree. Then I grabbed my fishing gear, climbed into the kayak, and headed back onto Beth Lake.

I spent the next several hours paddling around, exploring different parts of the lake, and fishing wherever the water looked promising. I continued catching bass, none of them especially large, but enough to keep the fishing interesting. More than anything, I enjoyed having the freedom to paddle wherever I wanted without worrying about a schedule or covering a certain number of miles.

Fog coming in over calm water

As the morning went on, the weather slowly began to change.

The wind picked up, and the waves started to grow. I continued fishing, but I gradually worked my way back toward the side of the lake where my campsite was located. I stayed near that shoreline for a while longer, casting as I went, until I heard thunder in the distance.

That was my signal to get off the water.

I paddled back to camp, pulled the kayak ashore, and started gathering up anything I did not want getting soaked. I moved loose items beneath the tarp and made sure camp was ready before the rain arrived.

Once it started, I settled in under the tarp with a book.

The rain fell across the lake while the wind moved through the trees and pushed patterns across the water. I sat there reading and occasionally looked up to watch the storm. Fog began blowing across the lake, slowly hiding the islands and the far shoreline. Before long, the lake seemed to close in around me, and I could no longer see very far beyond camp.

It was one of those moments that made the campsite feel like more than just a place to sleep. It had become a shelter and a front-row seat to the changing weather.

After the storm moved through, I climbed back into the kayak and returned to the water.

I did more fishing and paddled around the islands, exploring areas I had not seen yet. While I was out, I noticed that the other campsites on Beth Lake had cleared out. They had been occupied when I arrived, but at some point the other groups had moved on.

I had the entire lake to myself.

There was something special about realizing that no one else was camped nearby. The only sounds were the wind, the water, and the occasional distant rumble of another storm moving through the area.

The weather never fully settled. More storms passed nearby, the wind remained steady, and fog continued to hang over parts of the lake. Still, I stayed out fishing and exploring until the sun began to drop.

As daylight faded, I paddled back to camp and pulled the kayak ashore for the night.

Foggy Beth Lake

I made dinner, built another fire, and settled into my chair beside it. The lake disappeared into the darkness while the fire crackled in front of me. I stayed there relaxing until it was completely pitch black outside.

Eventually, when I started to feel tired, I put out the fire and headed to bed.

Day 3 had not been about covering miles or reaching a destination. It had been a day of waking up rested, drinking coffee beside the lake, fishing through changing weather, reading beneath a tarp, and watching fog swallow the shoreline.

For a while, I had an entire Boundary Waters lake to myself.

That was more than enough.

Day 4 – Heat, Another Portage, and a New Camp

I woke up sweating.

The day had barely started, but it was already hot inside the hammock. I checked the forecast on my Garmin and saw that temperatures were expected to climb into the upper 90s. After several days of wind, rain, and cooler nights, the trip was about to give me a completely different kind of challenge.

I lowered my food bag and made breakfast along with another cup of Death Wish instant coffee. I had another ReadyWise meal that morning. ReadyWise had outfitted me with meals for the trip, and after eating them for several days, I continued to be impressed by how good and convenient they were.

While eating, I started thinking about the fishing.

So far, Beth Lake had produced plenty of bass, but nothing else. I checked the fishing legend on my Voyageur paper map, which showed that Alton Lake offered great walleye fishing and better northern pike fishing than Beth. I had enjoyed my time on Beth, but I wanted to try somewhere new and improve my chances of catching a different species.

I decided to move camp.

Before packing everything up, I took a quick dip in the lake to cool off. The cold water felt incredible in the growing heat and gave me a little relief before the work ahead.

Afterward, I broke down camp, packed the kayak, and paddled back toward the portage leading to Alton Lake.

That meant tackling the half-mile trail again.

Just like before, I had to double portage, carrying everything across in separate trips. I walked the trail four times—there, back, there, and back again—while hauling the kayak and all my gear.

It was still hard work, especially in the heat, but the portage did not feel nearly as bad as it had the first time.

There were probably a few reasons for that. I had eaten breakfast and had coffee before starting, unlike the first time I crossed it. The trail was also more downhill than uphill in this direction. Most importantly, I knew what to expect.

It was still extremely hot, and carrying everything across the trail took plenty of effort, but the experience no longer felt overwhelming. I had already done it once, and this time I knew I could do it again.

Once I reached Alton Lake, I took a few minutes to rest before getting back onto the water. I looked over my map and noticed two campsites near the southern end of the lake, not far from where I had entered.

I decided to check those first.

After paddling around for a while, I finally located the first campsite and pulled ashore to look around.

The site sat on a peninsula that almost felt like an island. It had landing areas on two sides, which would make getting in and out of the kayak easier depending on the wind. The trees offered excellent cover from the strong afternoon winds that had become common throughout the trip.

More importantly, the shade made the campsite feel noticeably cooler in the 90-degree heat.

There were also plenty of well-spaced trees for hanging my hammock and good options for setting up the bear hang. It checked nearly every box I was looking for, so I decided there was no reason to search any farther.

Bear hang

I set up camp, made some lunch, and took a short break before heading back onto the lake to fish.

According to the map, Alton was supposed to offer better opportunities for walleye and northern pike. I paddled to different areas, tried different depths, and switched through several lures.

No matter where I went or what I threw, I still caught bass.

Turkey vulture

The move had not immediately produced the species I was looking for, but the fishing remained steady enough to keep things interesting. I continued paddling, exploring, and casting until the sun began to set.

Around sundown, I returned to camp and pulled the kayak ashore for the evening.

I made dinner, built a fire, and sat beside it relaxing as darkness settled over the lake. Even after the sun went down, the heat lingered. It was strange sitting beside a campfire while the air still felt so warm, but the fire had become part of my evening routine.

Day 4 had been one of the most physically demanding days of the trip. I had packed an entire campsite, crossed the half-mile portage four times in extreme heat, searched for a new place to camp, rebuilt everything, and spent the afternoon fishing.

I still had not caught the walleye or northern pike I was looking for.

But I had found a shaded campsite protected from the wind, completed a portage that had seemed intimidating only two days earlier, and settled into another quiet evening beside the fire.

The fish had not changed, but I had.

Day 5 – Finally Finding the Walleye

I woke up to a much cooler morning than the day before, and it felt fantastic.

After enduring temperatures in the upper 90s the previous day, the cooler air was a welcome relief. I climbed out of the hammock feeling rested and ready to spend another full day on the water.

Like every morning, I lowered my food bag, made another ReadyWise breakfast, and brewed a cup of Death Wish instant coffee. The routine had become one of my favorite parts of the trip. There was something satisfying about sitting quietly beside the lake with a hot meal and coffee before the day’s adventure began.

Once breakfast was finished, I grabbed my fishing gear and launched the kayak.

Not long after leaving camp, I found a shallow bay that immediately looked promising. It didn’t take long before I started catching bass. These weren’t the smaller fish I had been catching earlier in the trip either. This bay held some impressive fish, including one that measured 17 inches—the biggest bass I caught during the trip.

Large bass on kayak

I stayed there for several hours, enjoying the steady action and taking advantage of the calm morning water.

Eventually, the familiar afternoon pattern returned.

The wind began to build, and before long the waves were growing across Alton Lake. By then I had learned not to fight the conditions. Instead, I paddled back to camp, made myself some lunch, and took the opportunity to rest while the wind did its thing.

Alton Lake campsite

After lunch, I headed back onto the water.

Rather than returning to the same shallow bay, I decided to explore a different part of the lake. I paddled around to the back side of the peninsula where my campsite was located and found a deep bay that looked completely different from the water I had been fishing earlier.

As soon as I rounded the corner, everything changed.

I started catching walleye.

After spending several days catching nothing but bass, it was the moment I had been hoping for ever since deciding to move from Beth Lake. The fishing was excellent, and I continued catching walleye throughout the afternoon. Even the smallest one measured 16 inches.

Walleye on Lake Alton

I kept a few for dinner and released the rest before continuing to fish until late in the day.

As evening approached, I paddled back to camp with fresh fish waiting to be cleaned.

After taking care of the day’s catch, I built another campfire and cooked the walleye over the fire.

Cooking Walleye over a campfire

Fresh walleye after a full day on the water is hard to beat.

Every bite reminded me why people talk so highly about Boundary Waters fishing. After several days of searching, changing lakes, and trying different spots, it was incredibly satisfying to finally enjoy a meal that I had caught myself only a short time earlier.

I sat beside the fire, enjoying dinner as the daylight slowly faded into another peaceful Boundary Waters evening.

Looking back, it had been one of the best fishing days of the entire trip.

The cooler weather had returned, I had caught the biggest bass of the trip, finally found the walleye I had been searching for, and ended the day with a fresh-cooked meal over the campfire.

It was the kind of day I had imagined when I first started planning this adventure months earlier.

Day 6 – The Journey Home

I woke up slowly on my final morning in the Boundary Waters.

There was no rush to get moving. I made another ReadyWise breakfast, brewed a cup of Death Wish instant coffee, and spent some time simply sitting around camp. After nearly a week in the wilderness, the routines of camp life had become second nature. As much as I was looking forward to seeing my family again, I wasn’t looking forward to leaving this place behind.

Eventually, it was time to break camp for the last time.

As I packed everything into the kayak, I noticed how much lighter my food bag had become compared to when I first launched a few days earlier. It was a small reminder that the adventure was coming to an end.

Knowing I had a long paddle across Alton Lake’s open water ahead of me, I took extra time to make sure everything was packed securely and balanced inside the kayak. If the wind was blowing, I didn’t want anything shifting around while crossing the lake.

By the time I reached the big open water, the wind had picked up just as it had several afternoons throughout the trip.

The waves were rolling across Alton, and I found myself wishing I had put my spray skirt on before leaving camp. Instead of trying to rush across, I slowed down, stayed aware of the conditions, and paddled carefully. It wasn’t the easiest crossing of the trip, but eventually I reached the portage back into Sawbill Lake.

For the last time, I unloaded the kayak, completed the double portage, and loaded everything back into the boat.

Then I pushed off for one final paddle toward Sawbill Campground.

Back at the landing, I found my truck keys, walked up to the parking area, and drove back down to the boat launch. After loading the kayak and all of my gear, I stopped at Sawbill Outfitters to connect to their Wi-Fi and let everyone know I had made it back safely.

After several hot days on the water, a cold Gatorade and an ice cream sandwich sounded perfect. I took my time, cooled off, and let my body unwind after the long paddle.

Eventually, it was time to head home.

As I drove away from Sawbill, I couldn’t help but notice the landscape around me. Much of the area had been scarred by past wildfires. The forest floor had recovered beautifully, covered with fresh green vegetation, but the trees told a different story. Blackened trunks stretched for miles, many still standing while countless others had fallen, slowly returning to the forest they once formed.

View of the road home
Fire cleared forest
Burned forest
More burned forest

The long gravel road leading away from Sawbill seemed to give me one last chance to soak everything in. Nearly twenty miles of winding dirt road separated the Boundary Waters from the highway and everyday life.

When my tires finally rolled onto pavement, the feeling hit me.

The trip was over.

Over six days, I had crossed unfamiliar lakes, carried my kayak across rugged portages, weathered thunderstorms, endured oppressive heat, learned more about wilderness travel, caught incredible bass and walleye, and spent evenings around a campfire under the stars.

It had been my first trip to the Boundary Waters, but somewhere along the way it stopped feeling like a place I wanted to visit and started feeling like a place I wanted to return to.

As I continued the drive home, I wasn’t thinking about the miles behind me.

I was already thinking about the next trip.

Final Thoughts

When I launched my kayak from Sawbill Lake six days earlier, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. I had spent months planning, researching gear, studying maps, and watching videos, but nothing could truly prepare me for experiencing the Boundary Waters firsthand.

Over the course of the trip, I learned that success in the BWCA isn’t about sticking to a perfect plan—it’s about adapting. The weather changed daily, the wind often dictated when and where I paddled, fishing required patience and persistence, and every portage reminded me that traveling by kayak through canoe country is as much about determination as it is about the destination.

There were challenges along the way. Thunderstorms forced me to adjust my plans, the heat tested both my gear and my endurance, and crossing open water demanded respect for changing conditions. But those moments made the rewarding ones even better. Catching my first Boundary Waters walleye, cooking fresh fish over a campfire, relaxing in my hammock after a long day of paddling, and watching another peaceful sunset over the lake are memories I’ll carry with me for a long time.

If you’re considering your own first Boundary Waters trip, my biggest piece of advice is simple: go. Prepare well, respect the wilderness, travel within your abilities, and be willing to adjust your plans when nature has other ideas. The Boundary Waters has a way of rewarding patience, good judgment, and an adventurous spirit.

This may have been my first trip to the Boundary Waters, but it definitely won’t be my last. There are still countless lakes to explore, new routes to paddle, and more adventures waiting just beyond the next portage.

Thank you for following along on my journey. I hope this trip report helps you plan your own adventure, answer a few questions, or simply inspires you to spend more time outdoors.

If you enjoyed this trip report, be sure to check out my other camping, kayaking, fishing, and outdoor gear reviews here on GearThatWins. And if you’d like to see this adventure unfold on the water, don’t forget to watch the full YouTube video and subscribe for future trips and gear testing.

See you on the water!

Planning Your Own Boundary Waters Trip?

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