This was a travel day, so I intended to wake up early, but it was 6:20 before I stirred in my bag. It was a noticeably warmer morning, more than 55 degrees, and felt humid. We enjoyed another clear, calm morning, with less mist on the lake than in previous days.

A few canoes were heading out this morning, but of course it was Friday. I suppose most people need to get back to work—not like us retired folks for whom every day is Saturday! We would be turning homeward ourselves soon; however, we did intend to camp on Kawishiwi Lake and spend part of Saturday in the BWCA as well.

We had a small fire for warmth, and enjoyed our hot chocolate early on, with the loon calling in the distance for accompaniment. For breakfast I cooked the last two eggs and the last of the bacon. Then a nice big skillet of hash browns.

Today would be HOT! (we heard after the fact that Ely set a record on this date with 86 degrees, September 9, 2011). The sky was completely clear and the lake totally calm. It took us the usual interminable amount of time to break camp and it was nearly 10:30 before we were on the water. I know we could do it more quickly, but since we have no deadline and we are not hurrying anywhere, I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. The days of “break camp and make time” appear to be over for us. Some things about getting old aren’t all bad.

We are taking out some items from this camp that are a bit annoying. It is difficult to pretend that you are in the “wilderness” when people abandon their shorts (a nice pair of mesh-lined nylon camping shorts, size 32-34, olive in color) out in the woods; when they leave their Helbros watch with a broken expansion band lying along the trail; when they festoon the bushes with brown-stained sh##y toilet paper for “decorations” six feet behind the biffy. (I took a long stick and fished that prize down myself—it was quite a challenge! But at least I didn’t have to pack it out. I just dumped it in the hole.) When I encounter such evidence of people’s thoughtlessness or rudeness, I become impatient.

Then again. . . .a pristine reflection, a loon calling, a grouse dining on clover as I eat my lasagna, a moonlight paddle over the mirror surface of our small lake home, having an entire lake to ourselves when only one portage away from an entry point, mist rising in the morning as I sip my hot chocolate by the fire. . .if it isn’t “wilderness”, it is, nevertheless, a pretty good treat!

Still, I wish.

I wish we were still young and strong. I wish I didn’t have pain that keeps me from doing what I used to do. I wish we were out for 10-12 days as in the past, instead of this measly 6. I wish we were paddling 10-12 miles a day with 5-6 portages, and that I could carry my packs and feel like I really were a partner once again.

But I must be content with this—a beautiful little lake, a good campsite, a partner who’ll do the lion’s share of the work without complaining so that I can still be here at all, and four decades of BWCA/Q memories shoring up a quiet relaxing time on six sunny days in September. Life is good.

We left firewood for the next campers. Or, ironically, for the wildfire. I wonder if we were the last campers in this spot?

And so we headed back to Square Lake and then back to Kawishiwi Lake. Back over the pull-overs, the beaver dam, the little tiny streams and the deeper river sections. We made the portage about noon, including a muddy landing. It was hot and humid and not a cloud in the sky. And we camped on Kawishiwi Lake at a site with a large expanse of sandy beach.

Our campsite has a western exposure, and decent sun shelter. It also has a grassy area for the tent site. It was about ninety degrees, with a light breeze (thankfully), and it felt humid. I was limp, a bit dehydrated, and suffering from the heat. I don’t do heat well. While Neil was setting up the camp I filtered four bottles of water. The filter was now working hard, so it was tedious work. Once we got things set up and had the sleeping bags on a line to air out, I decided to go for a swim. It was MOST refreshing! Spartan1 was less enthusiastic (he is always less enthusiastic about swimming than I am), but I did get him in for a partial dip, at least.

There were a few clouds in the sky, and a puffy cloud in the west turned out to be the smoke plume from the wildfire. I had thought for a while that a thunderstorm might come in after the increased heat and humidity, but it never materialized.

Our supper was Back Packers Pantry Thai Satay with Peanut Sauce, which got a so-so review from both of us. Messy to make and not something we will seek out again. We also had Mountain House corn and a Cache Lake Lemon Pie. I tried the recipe instructions for cooking the pie and if we get it again (unlikely) I would do it as a no-cook. Very hard to cook without scorching. With our Thai entrée we decided to have some green tea instead of coffee.

A group of five mergansers paddled by after supper. And we had a resident chipmunk at this site instead of the squirrel.

I wrote in my journal: “ there may be a nice sunset”. I was sitting in the wonderful chair under the tarp after chasing a butterfly around for a photo, and when I looked at the sun in the west I suddenly realized that the orange glow of the sun was reflecting, not through clouds, but through the huge plume of smoke of a large wildfire on our western horizon. This looked, for the first time, as if there were a serious fire developing. And I wrote, “We hope all is going OK over there. Looks like a lot of smoke. Sky very orange to the west.”

I photographed for a long time. Spartan1 washed the dishes.

I wanted to sit out for a while in the dark of the evening and watch the smoke cloud for as long as I could see it, but there were some bats swooping around and that discouraged me. I know they are harmless, but they still startle me. We retired at our usual 8:50 or so.