Day 3 of 5: With most of our things already packed and ready to go, we made an easy transition out of camp and into the canoe. The sun was just rising and the fog was angelic over the mirror-like water, misting across the lake and hovering between the bows of the pine trees.

As we paddled back down Knife, I clicked endless photos while we sang a song that had been trapped in our brains since the ride up – The Brady Bunch. I’d purchased season 1 and the kids watched one episode after another all the way to Ely. Five hours of the Brady’s must be some kind of record. So there we were, happily singing and paddling, not realizing that it was long past sunup and the wind had absolutely remained still. We came to the Isle of Pines where Dorothy Molter used to live and make rootbeer and we found her beautiful ribbon rock.

With calm water still on our side, we decided to canoe for as long as mother-nature made it easy – which led us to a conundrum that every canoeist crosses. We came to the point where we had to decide to either stop and camp, or portage on and hope for a campsite on the other side. Our dilemma was a bit more complicated since we needed to make four portages before coming to the possibility of available campsites. We took a vote and determined to forge ahead. “And that’s the way they became the Brady Bunch!” Our daughters were troopers, often carrying packs that weighed more than they did. After tackling portages, hunger, and 90 degree weather, our daughters looked at the map and told us where to go. We got to Birch Lake and found the mapped out campsite available and absolutely gorgeous. Every tree had an imaginary yellow ribbon around it - as it felt like we were coming home from war. We naturally fell into our routine – quickly setting up the kitchen, tent, and Barbie fort. When my husband walked out onto the little island adjacent to our camp and saw loads of smallmouth bass, he figured that it was a two-night stop for sure, and we agreed.

With sore muscles and full bellies, Jack London put us all to sleep within minutes. When I heard my husband get up in the middle of the night for a potty break, I knew exactly why he didn’t come back right away; he was looking up in utter amazement at full moon surrounded by the star-filled sky, just as I’d done minutes earlier. The wilderness has a way of screeching everything to a halt and freezing us in our tracks to gaze across the water or marvel at the moon.