Five Winter Days in the BWCA

In The last week of January 2026 my wife Pussanee and I traveled to Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCA) for 5 days of snowshoeing. We stayed a little over a mile outside the wilderness at Loon Lake Lodge’s only winter cabin, The Shack. Its location on 4-mile-long Loon Lake is ideal as it is near many Wilderness entry points. It is about a 1-hour drive north of Grand Marais, Minnesota via The Gunflint Trail which is a 57-mile paved National Scenic Byway. We used a different entry point each day and each trip was spectacular and we saw no other humans. Below is short account of each trip as remembered by my mind’s eye.

Day 1: Wilderness Entry Pint # 62- The Caribou Rock Trail and Moss Lake

As the saying goes, if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans. Mother Nature clearly heard ours and responded with maniacal laughter. We set out intending to hike the entire Moss Lake Trail. About half a mile past the split with the Caribou Rock Trail, the trail did not just get bad—it ceased to exist. Gone. Vanished. Even with snowshoes, it was completely impassable unless your goal was to disappear into the wilderness forever.

We pivoted to the Caribou Rock Trail, because optimism dies hard. Same story. At one point, one of my snowshoes popped off and I immediately dropped into 3 feet of snow, sank up to my waist. Every time I tried to lift my foot, the snow attempted to steal my boot as a souvenir. I eventually resorted to digging myself out with my ice axe. Standing upright was no longer an option, so I crawled out on all fours like a very determined, very tired polar bear—while wearing a 30-pound backpack.

After admitting defeat (temporarily), we retreated to the car and walked the road to the snowmobile trail connecting Hungry Jack Lake to Moss Lake. We managed a short loop there and decided to head back via the powerline trail. It was very hilly, but at least the snow was packed down by a snow machine. That lasted right up until I stepped slightly off the track and fell sideways, burying one arm up to my neck straight down in deep snow. Before Pussanee helped me up, I insisted she take a photo first, because priorities.

It was a challenging day, but as they say, you do not get exceptional stories from easy days where everything goes right. We laughed, we struggled, we survived—and Pussanee and I will remember this trip for an extraordinarily long time.

Day 2: Entry Point #47 Lizz, Swamp and Caribou Lakes (Via The Banadad Ski Trail)

Today’s Boundary Waters’ Wilderness snowshoe adventure began with a 0.7-mile walk down the Banadad ski trail. (Don’t panic, we stayed well away from the beautifully groomed tracks!) From there, we took the portage running from Poplar Creek into Swamp Lake. Once again, Pussanee and I were struck by the stunning silence and beauty of that portage. the kind that slows you down without even realizing it. Out on Swamp Lake, the wind picked up, and finding the portage into Caribou — where we planned to have lunch — proved a bit challenging. But we found it, and the walk over to Caribou was beautiful. We didn’t see a single track — not even an animal track — on either Swamp or Caribou. Truly wild and untouched. Honestly, the Swamp Lake–to–Caribou portage alone is worth the price of admission. When we climbed back up onto Swamp Lake, the temperature had dropped sharply. We were expecting it, but it still delivered a jolt. As we headed back toward the Banadad portage, we came upon an igloo, partially built, or with a collapsed roof. It seemed likely the igloo like structure was constructed as a massive windbreak rather than a fully enclosed shelter. There were coals at the bottom, so winter campers were clearly using it for a fire.

Inside was a well-built ice bench, which Pussanee immediately took advantage of to get off her feet. The igloo itself was made of enormous ice blocks, some as large as 2’ x 2’, clearly the work of very sturdy and determined winter campers. Overall, just another beautiful day on the Gunflint Trail side of The Boundary Waters. We felt truly blessed to be able to be here.

Day #3: Entry Point #51 - Missing Link Lake via Round Lake

On this day, we set our sights on an adventure into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness where silence has weight, and winter reshapes everything it touches. We entered Round Lake after receiving permission to park at Tuscarora from owners Andy and Ada, a small kindness that felt like part of the ritual of heading into the wild. It quickly became clear we were alone. No tracks. No snowshoe prints. No sign that anyone had ventured onto Round since the last snow. The lake lay before us in deep, untouched powder flawless and unbroken.

Progress was slow, stubbornly so. Each step sank into soft, knee-deep snow. But there was no frustration in it. We do not rush through the wilderness. We walk mindfully — deliberately — absorbing the stillness, the cold air, the muffled hush that only heavy snow can create. The world was stripped down to white and granite and sky. With the landscape erased into winter minimalism, even finding the portage required patience and instinct. The Missing Link portage from Round is unlike most — a passage framed by towering granite walls, first rising on one side, then closing in from the other. In summer it is beautiful. In winter it feels ancient. The stone faces stood silent and immovable, dusted with snow, as if guarding the route between lakes. Missing Link itself offered more of the same breathtaking austerity: deep powder, crystalline air, and the quiet kind of beauty that makes you instinctively lower your voice.

We considered pressing on to Snipe Lake. The map suggested it. Curiosity encouraged it. But wisdom prevailed. Time, safety, and the sheer effort of breaking trail in that depth of snow made the decision for us. In the Boundary Waters, humility is part of survival. Standing there in that frozen stillness — surrounded by nothing but white and stone and sky, you cannot help but feel close to something greater than yourself. Whether one calls it God, creation, or simply the vastness of nature hardly matters. Even my wife, a Buddhist by faith, feels it there. The wilderness has a way of dissolving labels. In that silence, belief systems fade and awe remains. And that is enough.

Day #4: Entry Point 60- Duncan Lake to Rose Falls via West Bearskin Lake

Falling through the ice in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness—three miles from your car—is never a good thing. It has happened to me twice. Today was one of those days. We headed out across West Bearskin Lake toward the portage to Duncan, then on toward Rose Lake. There is a well-known creek connecting Duncan and Rose that runs right alongside the portage. We have done this route before, and I’ve always managed to skirt that creek without trouble. This time, we chose the right side. Someone had already walked there, and the tracks looked like reassuringly solid proof once again that following footprints can be a terrible decision. I took one last fateful step. I heard it before I felt it: that hollow, sickening crack of ice giving way, followed immediately by Pussanee’s scream. My right foot and leg dropped into frigid water up to mid-thigh, not touching bottom. I went down hard, my 30-pound pack driving me onto my left hip. Under normal circumstances, there’s no way I would have gotten back up with that pack. But when I felt the ice under my back begin to fracture—and realized I was about to take a full-body ice bath nearly 3 miles from the car—adrenaline showed up right on time. I scrambled out and yelled for Pussanee to backtrack toward shore.

Once safely off the ice, we did what we always do: stop, breathe, and talk it through. We give ourselves ten minutes to decompress and decide how to proceed. Continuing onward is never automatic, both of us must agree. Remarkably, I did not need the dry clothes we always carry sealed in a waterproof bag. My boots and knee-length gaiters had done their job. When I pulled up a photo of this same route from 2021, saved offline, thankfully. It became painfully clear why today went sideways. We took the left side of the creek back then. So, we backed up a couple of hundred yards, moved away from the creek mouth, and crossed over to the left side where there were clearly more shoreline and better support. That route carried us safely to the Rose Lake portage, to Rose Falls, and eventually back the same way we came—about six miles total.

My waterproofing held, but my outer pant leg froze solid. That cold sent a sharp reminder into my titanium knee, so we picked up the pace and made it back while I could still move it. This could have been much worse. We carry ice spikes around our necks, throw rope, dry clothes in a waterproof bag, an emergency cold blanket, fire-starting materials, a small tent, and a Garmin InReach Explorer. I’m confident I would have survived full-body immersion—but not cheerfully. The wilderness in winter is a stern taskmaster. It hands out lessons whether you ask for them or not.

Back at the cabin, I discovered my blood alcohol level was at a dangerously low level, a condition promptly treated with Buffalo Trace Bourbon. No photos of me in the ice—but I did manage to get one of the snowshoe sized hole I had made when I broke through.. And despite the drama, it was a beautiful day, and we always feel grateful and blessed to be here, regardless of what the journey brings.

Day 5: Access Point- Crab Lake Trailhead, Border Route, Loon and Crab Lakes

This snowshoe trek allowed us to walk right out of our cabin and took us into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, linking Loon Lake, Crab Lake, and the Border Route. It delivered everything that winter travel promises effort, solitude, and breathtaking beauty. We did not encounter another person all day. Staying in the only winterized cabin at Loon Lake Lodge offers a profound advantage, as you can be at the edge of the BWCA quickly. From there, the wilderness opens in every direction. Steep climbs lead to the quiet bowls of Little Mayhew and Mayhew Lakes, while longer treks along the Border Route lead toward Bridal Veil Falls and one of the Gunflint’s finest experiences.

As the Border Route looked like it had not yet been traveled this winter, our progress was slow, deliberate, and deeply satisfying. We passed the BWCA entry sign after about an hour of slogging. From the intersection of the Crab Lake Spur and the Border Route, the view was stunning; Gunflint Lake stretched far below, framed by the ridges of La Vérendrye Provincial Park across the Canadian border. One goal of this trip was to scout a future route into Little Mayhew Lake. What looked manageable on the map proved to be an extraordinarily steep climb that demanded patience and careful footing. We climbed halfway to scout the terrain before returning to the Crab Lake Spur Trail for a break.

For the return trip, we chose lake travel over retracing our steps. We crossed Crab Lake and tackled the portage back toward Loon. No one had used the trail this year; the snow was deep and the path nearly invisible. Once we reached Loon Lake, travel remained challenging, alternating between soft, unconsolidated snow and sections of sheer ice. By the time we returned to the cabin, we had covered just over six miles, which took most of the day. In the winter wilderness, travel is measured not in distance, but in effort and experience. It was another spectacular day in the Boundary Waters—quiet, demanding, and exactly as it should be.

George Pastorino has been backcountry skiing and snowshoeing in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness for over 30 years, joined by his wife Pussanee for the last 22. They are experienced winter wilderness expedition leaders and George has been the invited featured speaker of various outdoor organizations about the subject of keeping comfortable while participating in silent sports during deep sub zero temps and what to pack to survive in winter wilderness

Snowshoeing the B.W.C.A 2026

Loon Lake Lodge

65 Loon Lake Road
Grand Marais, MN 55604

Derek, Andrea, Dax, Otis, and Niles Hofeldt

https://visitloonlake.com/ 

 

Tuscarora Lodge & Canoe Outfitters
193 Round Lake Road
Grand Marais, MN 55604
Andy McDonnell and Ada Igoe

218-388-2221
info@tuscaroracanoe.com