Tuesday, July 24, 2012 Clear, still morning. Galli dog trundles down to the water and drinks her fill. We have oatmeal with blueberries and talk about logging... wondering if this area was logged and when (might be in Bud Heinselman's book).
After breaking camp, we paddle up to the northwest bay and start portaging towards My Lake (removing all of yeserday's flagging off the first stretch). Up in the meadow we carry along the south edge and it is pretty good going, except for some soft ground at the end...
We alternate carries along drier parts with paddling whatever stretches we can, and a bit of thicket crashing, to get to My Lake. At My Lake, it is nice to paddle again, and we take a late lunch along the south shore of this small, pretty lake. Salami, cheese,mustard, homemade bagel sticks... lunch can be a pretty good deal, and a welcome break! The bagel sticks and great dried tomatoes and herbs were the work of Tom's sister, who helped grubstake us.
Fed and rested, we paddled to the west end of My Lake and worked our way south over a saddle to Van. This involved taking packs and flagging a route by compass bearings up through brush and some ledges. We put down the packs part way up and went back for the canoe and 3rd pack. Had to 2-man the canoe up and through some of the brush, but Tom managed to 1-man it in other parts, farther along. (we pulled the flagging on this second trip). Tom picked the route up; although necessarily circuitous on the ground (to get around ledges, down trees, etc), it turned out to add up to a good straight bearing, overall. We did the scouting thing twice more (one more up, and then one down) and were really glad to come out to the bluewater of the middle north bay on Van. The last part picked up a game trail (? didn't see any blazes) that came down to the lake near a big white pine. After paddling about for a bit, we choose a rocky point near the south end for a campsite (there is another open rock slope on the peninsula just west of the bay pointing south towards Bewon). This one is cozy for the tent but works out just fine, with the blessing of a pair of loons out front. Still no luck at the fishing... I think it is about here that Tom starts muttering, and it ain't contentedly. At one point, he remarks that PMA must mean the fish are Pretty Much Absent. Hope he keeps his spirits up, as he carries most of the stuff and does most of the work. I allow that the solitude is the gift of the thing, and maybe get a grunt back (did I mention, Tom has a pretty good BS meter?).Galli dog don't care; she finds her spot near the tent and sacks out til dinnertime.
Tom whips up some eggs and couscous, and we are blessed with a beautiful sunset.