Wednesday, June 13, 2018

I was up at a reasonable hour; my alarm-dog rarely lets me sleep in too much. Back to the bug shelter for a couple cups of coffee and my standard get-going breakfasts of oatmeal, crushed walnuts, dried cherries, a little dried milk and a little bit of butter. After breakfast and clean up, it was time venture up the little path into the dark woods - a task I was dreading given the mosquitoes. Amazingly, my dog who nearly always wants to follow me everywhere decides he is very content to lay in the dirt under the bug net until I return.

Camp is packed up and I’m on the water about 9:30 with the first portage barely 5 minutes away. The sun is coming out and a bit of a west wind is coming up as I cross Rib Lake. At the south end portage I pull into the gentle landing area, step out and start unloading. With my two Duluth packs and food barrel ashore, I reach for my camera bag and get a shooting pain in my lower back. I have no idea why - it was neither an odd angle lift nor even a moderately heavy bag. I’ve never had back trouble of any kind what so ever, so I am surprised, puzzled, and bit spooked by this. The pain settles down and I spend the next 15 minutes or so stretching and wondering what would happen the next time I tried to lift my camera bag, or any of the much heavier bags, or the canoe. It even crossed my mind whether I should continue forward, go back to the last camp, or what. Well, no one was going to carry my bags for me, so I decided to go forward, but very slowly. Normally at a portage I carry one Duluth pack on my back, a smaller one on my front, and my camera bag over my shoulder, then a second carry with my canoe and food barrel. This time, however, I did my first quintuple portage - carrying each bag and the canoe over one at a time. The dog looked at me with disappointment and confusion. The back was still a bit sensitive, but did not flair up again, so onward I go to Lower George and Karl lakes.

Both to avoid the now stronger winds and one 35 rod portage, I chose to paddle around the big central peninsula toward the river. Hugging the shore of the peninsula I waved to a couple campers at the southwest site - these were the only people I had seen all day, and the last people I would see for about 5 days until I got to Mora.

I went down the passage to Gordon and over to the portage to Unload. The portage was buggy and had some very mucky sections - I have to say I was very glad to get through it, and yet more glad to see I could paddle directly into Frost by pulling over one beaver dam.

Though I increasingly find myself worrying about being able to find a site, perhaps from years of experience or perhaps from reading too many frightful stories on BWCA.com, I paddled into the wind on Frost and found the lake was all mine. I passed up the first two site and took the third, middle site which gave some shelter from the wind. It had a nice sandy beach, a decent fire area and tent pads, and a big wide open area with lots of down wood. It was one of the few sites I’ve seen in the BWCA where its easy to find a supply of quality firewood so close to the site.

Even with the wind, the tarp and bug net go up and I do another boil in bag dinner on my stove, then hit the sack pretty early.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

I was up at a reasonable hour; my alarm-dog rarely lets me sleep in too much. Back to the bug shelter for a couple cups of coffee and my standard get-going breakfasts of oatmeal, crushed walnuts, dried cherries, a little dried milk and a little bit of butter. After breakfast and clean up, it was time venture up the little path into the dark woods - a task I was dreading given the mosquitoes. Amazingly, my dog who nearly always wants to follow me everywhere decides he is very content to lay in the dirt under the bug net until I return.

Camp is packed up and I’m on the water about 9:30 with the first portage barely 5 minutes away. The sun is coming out and a bit of a west wind is coming up as I cross Rib Lake. At the south end portage I pull into the gentle landing area, step out and start unloading. With my two Duluth packs and food barrel ashore, I reach for my camera bag and get a shooting pain in my lower back. I have no idea why - it was neither an odd angle lift nor even a moderately heavy bag. I’ve never had back trouble of any kind what so ever, so I am surprised, puzzled, and bit spooked by this. The pain settles down and I spend the next 15 minutes or so stretching and wondering what would happen the next time I tried to lift my camera bag, or any of the much heavier bags, or the canoe. It even crossed my mind whether I should continue forward, go back to the last camp, or what. Well, no one was going to carry my bags for me, so I decided to go forward, but very slowly. Normally at a portage I carry one Duluth pack on my back, a smaller one on my front, and my camera bag over my shoulder, then a second carry with my canoe and food barrel. This time, however, I did my first quintuple portage - carrying each bag and the canoe over one at a time. The dog looked at me with disappointment and confusion. The back was still a bit sensitive, but did not flair up again, so onward I go to Lower George and Karl lakes.

Both to avoid the now stronger winds and one 35 rod portage, I chose to paddle around the big central peninsula toward the river. Hugging the shore of the peninsula I waved to a couple campers at the southwest site - these were the only people I had seen all day, and the last people I would see for about 5 days until I got to Mora.

I went down the passage to Gordon and over to the portage to Unload. The portage was buggy and had some very mucky sections - I have to say I was very glad to get through it, and yet more glad to see I could paddle directly into Frost by pulling over one beaver dam.

Though I increasingly find myself worrying about being able to find a site, perhaps from years of experience or perhaps from reading too many frightful stories on BWCA.com, I paddled into the wind on Frost and found the lake was all mine. I passed up the first two site and took the third, middle site which gave some shelter from the wind. It had a nice sandy beach, a decent fire area and tent pads, and a big wide open area with lots of down wood. It was one of the few sites I’ve seen in the BWCA where its easy to find a supply of quality firewood so close to the site.

Even with the wind, the tarp and bug net go up and I do another boil in bag dinner on my stove, then hit the sack pretty early.

Thursday, June 14, 2018

When I got up the next morning it was mostly calm, clear, and beautiful. While having leisurely pot of coffee and Denver omelet, I realized I was not going to move forward today. Instead I relaxed, read a bit, processed more fire wood, then went out to fish and explore. I love lakers and made a good effort to learn more about how to fish for them last winter and was eager to try.

I paddled down to the south side of the lake and fished and explored a bit. Hooked a moderate and cooperate northern who provided a nice fight then conveniently released herself right at the boat. I wandered over to scout some of the other sites, then late afternoon set myself to catching some dinner. The winds had picked back up a bit, so it took a bit of work to control the boat. The underwater ridge on the west side near the southern most campsite was holding a good number of fish according to my depth finder, and one perfect sized eater came up willingly.

Back in camp with a nice fillet and supply of wood, I decided it was a good night for paella. I cut up some Boar’s Head dry sausage and smoked cheddar to tide me over while I did my prep work. With the garlic, onion, and peppers rehydrated and chorizo sliced, I lit the fire and let it start sizzling. Then more olive oil, saffron, water, stock, and the Bomba rice to simmer for about 20 minutes. Finally I tossed in the sliced lake trout fillet and let them cook through. I was sorry I forgot to bring dried shrimp on this trip, but it was really good anyway. I moved my chair down to the sandy beach, got a glass of wine, and sat down to eat. I love paella.

Friday, June 15, 2018

Overnight storms developed, and I woke up to wind, rain and thunder somewhere around 4 AM. Then lightning started with flashes and ground strikes not too far off. Most of the tall trees and tall ground was a little ways behind my campsite, but as a precaution I invited Regent to crawl up onto my sleeping pad to help insulate him as much as possible from the ground. He was happy to oblige.

By morning the worst of the storm had passed but the strong winds and some rain remained. Worse, they were now blowing straight off the lake into my campsite, and there were decent sized white caps on the lake. At times I could not see the opposite shore. The more trips I take, or maybe the older I get, the less interested I am in forcing myself to paddle in bad weather. It takes about two cups of coffee to decide I’m going to wait for better weather. After breakfast I go back to my tent to read and write for a while and then take a nap.

I woke up to the sound of something outside flapping in the wind. I stepped out and found one of the corner guy lines for my tarp, which had been tied to a tree in front of my tent, and untied from the tree and through relentless whipping about tied itself into a complex knot. It looked like a wind knot at the end of my fly fishing leader, and took about 5 full minutes to untangle.

I spent the afternoon wandering the woods behind camp and reading, then fired up my MSR stove for another boil in bag dinner inside my bug shelter. I had planned food for a 10-12 day trip, but had gone a little light on my fuel and was already starting to wonder if I would have enough for the whole trip. I had looked at the Solo twig stoves before my trip but passed, and now wished I’d picked one up as this would be a perfect situation to use one, and right inside my bug shelter too. Spoiler alert - I got one before my next trip and love it.

Went to bed early, hoping for better weather tomorrow.

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Today would be a hard day.

The morning was still cloudy and a just bit of wind, but looked like it might be breaking up so I broke camp and started toward the portage into the Frost River, after adequate coffee and oatmeal of course.

About half was across the 130 rod portage I heard a booming sound. Oh please let that have been a dropped canoe. No luck. It was thunder. Again. At least my back has not given me any more trouble. I drop my packs at the end of the portage and dig out my rain jacket in case it starts to sprinkle. The mosquitoes are fierce, and of course when I need it there is nearly no wind back in this more secluded area. I head back over and get my canoe and food barrel, hearing more rumbling thunder along the way.

I shove off and start paddling down the river, thankful to get away from the shore mosquitoes. I feel a rain drop, and before I can even reach behind me for my rain jacket I am in a downpour. I mean it went from full off to full on in seconds. I pulled my jacket on, but was soaked in no time, and would stay that way for the rest of the day. Regent is a water dog, but only when it comes up from below - he dislikes when it falls from above, and he was really not liking this. Nevertheless, we pressed on - there really was no good alternative.

The rain would let up and stop and the clouds seemed to break a little as we paddled and portaged down the Frost River, then it would start over again. The cycle kept repeating. Unfortunately, the low grumbling thunder was gradually becoming louder and crisper.

I crossed a rocky five rod portage just short of Chase Lake and pushed off toward a swampy area and in just a few strokes am passing a rock ledge on the left, behind which was a good sized bull moose grazing in the swampy stuff. I think we were about 30-40 yards or so apart, but after a quick glance at me he decided to retreat back along the shoreline. I hate startling wildlife, but was relieved that he decided to retreat rather than charge as I had no were to back up to. He continued to move around the back of the swampy area as I paddled on. The river channel began curving to the left, and I realized that as I got closer to the next portage I would actually be getting closer to the moose again. Dumb luck. The moose then disappeared from the swamp into the trees to the south, having had enough human/canine contact for the day.

As I pulled up to the 30 rod portage to Chase there was flash of lighting not far away, then clap of thunder. It was getting closer, so I felt more need to hurry. I was clearly not going much further and could only hope the one and only campsite in the area on Bologna Lake was open. I unloaded my packs at the portage, then broke a cardinal rule of solo travel - I did not tie my canoe painter to anything - just pulled the bow up on some gravelly shore. Needless to say, when I walked back to be the canoe, it was floating a couple of yards off shore. My mind races for options. Swim? Why not, Im already wet. Then I thought of a couple downed pine branches just back on the portage. I ran back and grabbed the longest one, about ten feet, which turned out to be just barely long enough to reach out to the bow of my canoe and retrieve it. Thank goodness. Then another flash of lighting. Its getting closer.

Crossing Chase and arriving at the portage to Bologna, I took a moment to scout around wondering if I should just bivouac there, but it was all very dense woods and very rocky - no level ground at all. I start the portage and quickly realize its mostly uphill - great - Im actually going higher as the lighting is getting closer.

I felt no good choice but to move forward. I shoved off on Bologna praying the site would be open and the lighting would seek higher targets. Bologna Lake is actually quite beautiful, and has that rare quality of being a lake on fairly high ground meaning you don’t seem many any tall hills or trees in the distance. In a way it made me think of alpine lakes. There were couple more ground strikes not far away as I paddled, knowing these were bad conditions to be on the water, but the shoreline offered very little to land on.

Thank goodness the site was open. Had it been taken, I would definitely either have asked to crash, or just pulled up just down shore anywhere I could as I already had edged past he limit of safe paddling. If most any of us were to pull up at a site like this on any popular lake - Ensign, Knife, Ga-be, Tuscarora - we’d likely say “what a dump”. But given how remote I was, and how hard the circumstances, I felt like I was on the Riviera. Probably faster than ever in my life, I had my tarp and bug net up to protect my unhappy dog, and my tent up immediately next to it. Then a magma-sized scoop of dog food fixed Regent’s worries, and I dug out my dry, warm clothes and settled into my mostly-bug-free zone under the tarp. I am not sure if I have ever been so relieved to get to any campsite. Of course, this was another night to fire up the stove and boil water for dinner - collecting firewood was out of the question. Rain and occasional lighting came and went, and again, I retired early.

Outside my tent, I just didn't have much will to draw my camera.

Sunday, June 17, 2018

I wake up to the sound of rain falling on my tent. Regent is already awake as the sun is already up, though he tries to be patient until I stir. Once I move, he knows its feeding time. I get dressed and reach out to undo the tent flap. I’ve set the tent up literally right at the edge of the tarp, so can crawl from the tent directly into the bug net. I wander over a few yards to where I had secured the barrel to a tree and retrieve the dog food, serve, take him for a quick relief and then crawl back into the tent. After yesterday I’m waiting for better weather, once again. We both go back to sleep.

Got up again about 10:30AM. Once again the rain had stopped and it seemed like the weather might be getting lighter. After eating, I hung up my wet clothes from the day before, and Regent and I went to explore the area. There was a big pile of moose poo on the main trail from the fire grate to the latrine. It wasn’t real fresh, yet no one had stepped in it. I realized I was only about 200 yards from where I had seen that big bull moose the day before; this must be his turf. I further explored the shoreline which was really rather lovely, but could not go far without getting wet again. Bologna is really a beautiful lake.

Back in camp I read and write until mid-afternoon, and eventually it looked like the sky was starting to break up. I love those first moments of blue sky. Sadly, they were also the last moments of blue sky, and then it started to rain heavily. Again. I brought in the wet clothes and got out the wine.

Obviously, I turned in early again. I had now had two layover days due to weather, paddled in one light and one heavy day of rain, paddled in one day of wind, and had mosquitoes everywhere. Sometimes its a bit of work to remember how much I love paddling the Boundary Waters.

Saturday, July 14, 2007 We woke up at 6AM and I discovered my sunglasses were broken in half. Nothing a little duct tape can’t fix. Jamie had fun with that for a while (at my expense). We broke down camp and packed everything up while boiling water for coffee. The sky is overcast. We want to get an early start because Ensign is a busy Lake and it’s Saturday. Also, we have a couple of major league portages on either side of Vera. VNO told us the first portage (into Vera) was muddy, and that was before 2 pretty solid days of rain. We’re a bit apprehensive about what we might find there. We leave camp at 8:30AM and see our first glimpse of the sun in a while. We troll shad raps as we travel. We each catch a smallmouth en route. We find the portage trail and I help Jamie with one of the packs, then I hoist the canoe and we take off. Jamie surprises me when she pulls out her cell phone and I find out she downloaded my favorite CD (You & Me by Joe Bonamassa). I know many people frown on music, etc. on a trip like this, but it sure put a spring in my step. The portage is muddy in spots, but not too bad, The first half is pretty much uphill. I think I remember reading that it rises something like 100 feet over the first half of the portage. I hear Jamie up ahead of me say “You’re kidding me!”. I look up and see a very steep rise (50 degrees or more?) that we’re going to have to climb. Tough footing because everything is wet, but we make it up. We walk a bit and everything seems to be leveling off. Jamie has a great idea to drop our gear at the perceived halfway point and go back for the rest of our gear. This way we can cover the tougher part of the portage with relatively fresh legs. On the way back, we find a patch of blueberries and pick a couple handfuls. Jamie has a black and yellow snake cross in front of her on the trail. We reach Vera in roughly an hour, without incident. Jamie is really invigorated. I’m so proud of her and she’s feeling proud of herself too. The sun is finally shining so we decide to take a swim. We load up and paddle Vera, seeing two other groups on our way to the portage to Ensign. We reach the trail and stop there for lunch. The weather is alternating between periods sunshine and overcast. The portage to Ensign is tough, but not as tough as the one into Vera. This one is muddier though. It’s probably 2PM when we reach Ensign. As we start for a couple campsites recommended by VNO, we notice a lot of sites already taken. We troll as we go and I catch a nice smallmouth just off one of the islands. The two sites VNO marked at the east end of Ensign are occupied and we head further east to check out a third. That one is occupied too. We reel in our lines. This is no time to fish, we need to find a site. There are only two other sites to the east, so we make a decision to head back west, where there are many other sites. We are seeing lots of sites occupied, but finally see a site directly on a point and it appears vacant. We start paddling in earnest and as we get closer confirm that the site is open. Very nice site, so we unload and set up camp in a light drizzle. This time we set up the tarp. It starts raining harder around 4 PM and we cook/eat under the tarp. We’re a bit tired and decide not to fish that night. The rain sends us into the tent and we’re asleep by 9:30PM.

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Today would be a hard day.

The morning was still cloudy and a just bit of wind, but looked like it might be breaking up so I broke camp and started toward the portage into the Frost River, after adequate coffee and oatmeal of course.

About half was across the 130 rod portage I heard a booming sound. Oh please let that have been a dropped canoe. No luck. It was thunder. Again. At least my back has not given me any more trouble. I drop my packs at the end of the portage and dig out my rain jacket in case it starts to sprinkle. The mosquitoes are fierce, and of course when I need it there is nearly no wind back in this more secluded area. I head back over and get my canoe and food barrel, hearing more rumbling thunder along the way.

I shove off and start paddling down the river, thankful to get away from the shore mosquitoes. I feel a rain drop, and before I can even reach behind me for my rain jacket I am in a downpour. I mean it went from full off to full on in seconds. I pulled my jacket on, but was soaked in no time, and would stay that way for the rest of the day. Regent is a water dog, but only when it comes up from below - he dislikes when it falls from above, and he was really not liking this. Nevertheless, we pressed on - there really was no good alternative.

The rain would let up and stop and the clouds seemed to break a little as we paddled and portaged down the Frost River, then it would start over again. The cycle kept repeating. Unfortunately, the low grumbling thunder was gradually becoming louder and crisper.

I crossed a rocky five rod portage just short of Chase Lake and pushed off toward a swampy area and in just a few strokes am passing a rock ledge on the left, behind which was a good sized bull moose grazing in the swampy stuff. I think we were about 30-40 yards or so apart, but after a quick glance at me he decided to retreat back along the shoreline. I hate startling wildlife, but was relieved that he decided to retreat rather than charge as I had no were to back up to. He continued to move around the back of the swampy area as I paddled on. The river channel began curving to the left, and I realized that as I got closer to the next portage I would actually be getting closer to the moose again. Dumb luck. The moose then disappeared from the swamp into the trees to the south, having had enough human/canine contact for the day.

As I pulled up to the 30 rod portage to Chase there was flash of lighting not far away, then clap of thunder. It was getting closer, so I felt more need to hurry. I was clearly not going much further and could only hope the one and only campsite in the area on Bologna Lake was open. I unloaded my packs at the portage, then broke a cardinal rule of solo travel - I did not tie my canoe painter to anything - just pulled the bow up on some gravelly shore. Needless to say, when I walked back to be the canoe, it was floating a couple of yards off shore. My mind races for options. Swim? Why not, Im already wet. Then I thought of a couple downed pine branches just back on the portage. I ran back and grabbed the longest one, about ten feet, which turned out to be just barely long enough to reach out to the bow of my canoe and retrieve it. Thank goodness. Then another flash of lighting. Its getting closer.

Crossing Chase and arriving at the portage to Bologna, I took a moment to scout around wondering if I should just bivouac there, but it was all very dense woods and very rocky - no level ground at all. I start the portage and quickly realize its mostly uphill - great - Im actually going higher as the lighting is getting closer.

I felt no good choice but to move forward. I shoved off on Bologna praying the site would be open and the lighting would seek higher targets. Bologna Lake is actually quite beautiful, and has that rare quality of being a lake on fairly high ground meaning you don’t seem many any tall hills or trees in the distance. In a way it made me think of alpine lakes. There were couple more ground strikes not far away as I paddled, knowing these were bad conditions to be on the water, but the shoreline offered very little to land on.

Thank goodness the site was open. Had it been taken, I would definitely either have asked to crash, or just pulled up just down shore anywhere I could as I already had edged past he limit of safe paddling. If most any of us were to pull up at a site like this on any popular lake - Ensign, Knife, Ga-be, Tuscarora - we’d likely say “what a dump”. But given how remote I was, and how hard the circumstances, I felt like I was on the Riviera. Probably faster than ever in my life, I had my tarp and bug net up to protect my unhappy dog, and my tent up immediately next to it. Then a magma-sized scoop of dog food fixed Regent’s worries, and I dug out my dry, warm clothes and settled into my mostly-bug-free zone under the tarp. I am not sure if I have ever been so relieved to get to any campsite. Of course, this was another night to fire up the stove and boil water for dinner - collecting firewood was out of the question. Rain and occasional lighting came and went, and again, I retired early.

Outside my tent, I just didn't have much will to draw my camera.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

I was up at a reasonable hour; my alarm-dog rarely lets me sleep in too much. Back to the bug shelter for a couple cups of coffee and my standard get-going breakfasts of oatmeal, crushed walnuts, dried cherries, a little dried milk and a little bit of butter. After breakfast and clean up, it was time venture up the little path into the dark woods - a task I was dreading given the mosquitoes. Amazingly, my dog who nearly always wants to follow me everywhere decides he is very content to lay in the dirt under the bug net until I return.

Camp is packed up and I’m on the water about 9:30 with the first portage barely 5 minutes away. The sun is coming out and a bit of a west wind is coming up as I cross Rib Lake. At the south end portage I pull into the gentle landing area, step out and start unloading. With my two Duluth packs and food barrel ashore, I reach for my camera bag and get a shooting pain in my lower back. I have no idea why - it was neither an odd angle lift nor even a moderately heavy bag. I’ve never had back trouble of any kind what so ever, so I am surprised, puzzled, and bit spooked by this. The pain settles down and I spend the next 15 minutes or so stretching and wondering what would happen the next time I tried to lift my camera bag, or any of the much heavier bags, or the canoe. It even crossed my mind whether I should continue forward, go back to the last camp, or what. Well, no one was going to carry my bags for me, so I decided to go forward, but very slowly. Normally at a portage I carry one Duluth pack on my back, a smaller one on my front, and my camera bag over my shoulder, then a second carry with my canoe and food barrel. This time, however, I did my first quintuple portage - carrying each bag and the canoe over one at a time. The dog looked at me with disappointment and confusion. The back was still a bit sensitive, but did not flair up again, so onward I go to Lower George and Karl lakes.

Both to avoid the now stronger winds and one 35 rod portage, I chose to paddle around the big central peninsula toward the river. Hugging the shore of the peninsula I waved to a couple campers at the southwest site - these were the only people I had seen all day, and the last people I would see for about 5 days until I got to Mora.

I went down the passage to Gordon and over to the portage to Unload. The portage was buggy and had some very mucky sections - I have to say I was very glad to get through it, and yet more glad to see I could paddle directly into Frost by pulling over one beaver dam.

Though I increasingly find myself worrying about being able to find a site, perhaps from years of experience or perhaps from reading too many frightful stories on BWCA.com, I paddled into the wind on Frost and found the lake was all mine. I passed up the first two site and took the third, middle site which gave some shelter from the wind. It had a nice sandy beach, a decent fire area and tent pads, and a big wide open area with lots of down wood. It was one of the few sites I’ve seen in the BWCA where its easy to find a supply of quality firewood so close to the site.

Even with the wind, the tarp and bug net go up and I do another boil in bag dinner on my stove, then hit the sack pretty early.

Monday, June 18, 2018

Woke up with the light thinking I have to push through this if at all possible; not the kind of thing one hopes for as a first waking thought. Got out and saw a little blue sky, then more, then more. Had a quick, standard breakfast and packed up my wet gear to get going. The sky continued to clear, so despite feeling in a hurry (expecting the weather to double back on me) I had to take a paddle around the lake. I really am not sure why, but some BWCA lakes just really look more beautiful than some others. I retraced the portage down to Chase, then a quick up and down portage to Pencil. Across Pencil I was thinking of another trip report I read this spring stating that the maps showed the portage on the wrong side of the river. I was very grateful for this information, as I could easily have spent too much time looking for it in the wrote place.

The 65 rod portage out of Pencil had plenty of wet, leafy branches across, so my pants and shirt got pretty wet right off the bat. Hauling my boat across the portage I kept noticing something snagging the overgrowth along the trail. I’d soon find the culprit; the rock guard and a small piece of wood on the blade of my paddle had split loose and were snagging brush as walked. Then as I went to set my canoe in the water, I slipped on the muddy bank and one of my rubber boots went deep and filled with muddy water. I get in the boat and get going, then wring it out. At least it is now sunny, so I can deal with it.

The lower portion of the Frost River seems to have a different, slightly more open flavor to it. I lost track of portages, as some were needed and many were avoidable by pulling over beaver damns. I was able to really start enjoying the paddle now, though the split guard on my paddle was continuously snagging river grass which had to be cleaned out about every five strokes. Still I’d finish out the day with it then switch to my bent shaft. There were a few deer flies following us but Regent was happy too. He is actually quite skilled at defending himself against deer flies, so they were preferable to swarms of mosquitoes. And he liked all the big frogs we’d see when pulling over beaver dams.

Eventually I rounded a corner and the river opened up into Afton Lake, where I stopped at the campsite to filter water and have a quick lunch of a protein bar and some trail mix. By now there were just a few puffy white clouds, and the warmth of the sun felt great as I started to dry out.

I paddled on through Fente and Whipped where I saw another open campsite. Finally I reached the last portage (hopefully) of the day, 100 rods into Mora. I felt like I was crossing an invisible border onto a more well traveled route, a route I had taken from Little Sag through Mora to Tuscarora decades ago. I paddled on to Mora and headed toward the site on the small channel near the island. It was open. I started up the channel thinking I’d scope out the island site too as it was still fairly early, but seeing the channel north of the island was not passable turned back to take the the other site. I pulled into the site and as I set up my tarp and bug I heard the clanking of aluminum and muffled shouts, then moments later came 4 canoes from the Little Sag direction. They moved swiftly past with just a wave. These were the first people I had seen since Long Island 5 days earlier, and were the only people I’d see for a while longer. The sun was still warm, so I spread gear all over the open boulder face like a garage sale, then relaxed a while as everything dried. Thought I had set my bug net up, for the first time in many days the mosquitoes were thankfully minimal.

For dinner I was very much in the mood for something more than boil in bag stuff, but was also not much in the mood to gather fire wood. I had brought along, as I usually do, one meal of pizza which usually do over a fire but decided to try on right on my stove. I was a little worried about how much gas I had left, but I knew this would hit the spot. I mixed my dough - flour, salt, yeast, water and sugar - just as I do at home and let it set a while. I noticed Regent was thoroughly amused playing with something he had found. It turned out to be a small sun-dried moose skull, which I traded him for a couple dog biscuits thinking it best for him not to chew up. Dough ready, I rehydrated sauce I’d made, grated some parmesan, and made stringy the string cheese, separated the pepperoni slices and tossed in some kalamata olives. I separated the dough into two portions, one for the bottom and one for the top. Calzone would be easier to heat and cook properly on a stove. I was surprised it was ready in just about 7-8 minutes; much faster than I had feared. It was enormously satisfying to sit and eat with shining sun and a gentle breeze drying my things.