By Tim King
Perhaps you’ve been on Knife Lake in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. If so, you know that to go there from Moose Lake, just off the Fernberg Road, there are five portages. They aren’t difficult portages if you are young. I’m not, so I only go there now in my memories. To travel from Moose Lake to Knife the first three lake are Moose, New Found, and Sucker. Going from one to the other of these medium-sized lakes does not require a portage. A canoeist can pass through narrow channels separating them without stepping out of the canoe.
The canoeist must make a decision at Sucker. There is a portage to the northwest that leads towards Basswood Lake and the beautiful Basswood River, which makes up part of the boundary between Ontario and Minnesota.
But, to get to Knife Lake, one must portage to the northeast, out of Sucker and into Birch.
I know this not so much from the memory of having done it, which I have, but from studying the tattered remnants of the oil skin map that I carried with me when the Boy Scouts of America employed me to guide teenagers into the Boundary Waters. The paper on the map where the Sucker to Birch portage is, is too worn to tell how long it is, but it looks short.
Portages are measured in rods and the Birch to Carp Lake portage is 46 rods. That’s 62.5 feet. After Carp comes the Melon and then the Seed portages; both of which are just over 20 rods. You’re hardly out of your canoe before you’re back in.
Next, paddle across tiny Seed Lake, find the portal to the portage trail amongst the trees, flip your pack and canoe on your shoulders, and make the short carry to the south end of the long, and narrow, Knife Lake. Dorothy Molter lived on the Isle of the Pines not far up Knife Lake from Seed Lake portage.
I had several encounters with Knife Lake Dorothy during the mid-to-late 1960s. Dorothy, who had lived there since the 1930s, was also known as The Root Beer Lady. That root beer was what brought thousands, including me, to the Isle of the Pines over the decades that she lived there.
The root beer was homemade, Mr. Nemanich, our towns’ Explorer Scout leader told us as we paddled among the Knife Lake rocks towards Dorothy’s landing. We boys would stand under the pines sipping her fabled concoction, which was brewed with pure Knife Lake water. The next summer I landed a job leading those canoe trips and I took my boys to visit Dorothy.
It was marvelous paddling the lakes, cooking over open fires, and some times not seeing another human for days. So, I went back the following summer.
I had just finished a nine-day trip when word came into the Scout camp that a boy from another group had drowned at Little Falls, pretty far into the Canadian side of the park. Somebody was needed to bring the remaining boys back while the leader of the group stayed with the Canadian authorities looking for the body. I was chosen for that job and another fellow was to transport me in a small motorized canoe. Both parks were designated as motor-less areas so we had special permits.
We set out in mid-afternoon. I was in the bow and the other fellow operated the little motor in the stern. We were heading towards Knife Lake. We made good time, carrying that heavy canoe and awkward motor over the portages in only one trip. But by the time we got to the Seed Lake portage it was dark. We had only star light to travel by and that last portage was inky black. But we made it! As we motored onto the lake we saw a light, perhaps a lantern, twinkling off towards Dorothy’s place. We were drawn to it like moths.
Neither one of us knew what a shear pin was when we hit a rock as we approached the island. But Dorothy, who was waiting in the star light as we paddled our disabled canoe to her shore, explained that we had broken one. We needed a new one if we were going to continue our motorized journey northward. We didn’t have one; failing our Boy Scout motto to always be prepared. Dorothy, resident of a roadless wilderness area, happened to have one of the right size. She showed us how it was installed, gifted us root beers, and sent us on our star-lighted way.
A pink sunrise was coloring the cliffs at Ottertail Lake as we passed through there and we arrived at Little Falls at noon, thanks to Dorothy Molter. She lived on the island, helping others in need, until she passed on December 18, 1986. An Ely museum is dedicated to her.