Dent Lake, 45 Rods, Bug Lake, 120 Rods, Louse River, 50 Rods, Louse River, 125 Rods, Trail Lake, 21 Rods, Louse River, 56 Rods, Louse River, 41 Rods, Louse River, 20 Rods, Louse River, 131 Rods, Boze Lake, 11 Rods, Pond, 14 Rods, Frond Lake, 22 Rods, Malberg Lake

I wake up at 10:30 still exhausted. It stormed all night and I kept waking up to make sure I was not flooding or rolling off of my pad onto the sponge. I stayed dry however and feel satisfied that I met the challenge head on, even though it was a pain in the butt! I get a fire going and have a breakfast/lunch of bacon and cheese muffins to start the day. This is by far my favorite breakfast on the trail and requires no cleanup or hassle to cook. I get all the gear packed and douse the fire, achieving a lazy 13:00 launch time. Malberg is the goal for today and it looks like a pretty easy day on the map. I head west and hope to make good time in this area that I have never traveled before. On the west portage out of Bug lake I switch into my Teva sandals because the portage is FLOODED. Not just a little bit of water, but about at least fifty yards of calf deep freezing spring melt water. I have portaged in these sandals many times before and feel comfortable walking in them but man are my feet cold! I decide to stay in Tevas for the day because the portages are all flooded and I am not a fan of hiking boots to begin with (this would be the first of many stubborn acts of foolishness for this trip). On the 125 rod portage into Trail lake from the east I encounter a strange portage obstacle I have never seen before. As I am trudging along the portage trail abruptly terminates at a narrow chute of rapids. I am thinking to myself at this point “How in the world am I supposed to launch into that?” I put the canoe down to scout out the situation and see on the other side of the rapids is a steep granite slope, no trail there. I look around for a trail down to the calm water and then it dawns on me that the trail resumes atop the steep granite slope: this is not good. I have not seen another canoe since leaving Sawbill lake yesterday and this looks a wee bit dangerous to be trying alone, but I am here for adventure so I start up the slope with my pack on my back. Climbing with a pack on your back is tricky business; lean back too far and you are done for, lean too far forward and the tread on your footwear will slide out from under you. I experienced the latter and found myself sliding backwards down the slope on my face, plunging into the swift current. The current grabs my feet and legs and twists them into the rocks and my downward momentum keeps my body going until the current is also able to grab my pack and start pulling it down stream as well. I am not sure how, but I lunge with my legs and get my pack onto dry land and then manage to squirm out of it and then get myself completely out of the frigid water. I take a moment to thank the good Lord for saving me and then I start up the slope again, this time dragging the pack and using my other hand to find whatever foliage I can find to hold onto for minimal support. I make it up with the pack and then complete the rest of the portage with just the pack, taking the camera out to take pictures of the madness I just crossed. I also drag the canoe up the slope without further incident and launch into Trail lake a bit unnerved by the whole experience.

The Louse river is really beautiful and I am enjoying the calm paddling while coasting downstream. I am especially enjoying the opportunity to soak in nature without the pressure to hold a conversation with a tripping partner. Don’t’ get me wrong here, those conversations are great, some of the best I have ever had in my life, but the peacefulness here is awesome in its own right. As I approach the 20 rod portage that is 4 portages west of Trail lake, I am a bit troubled by the fact that the portage is not visible from the water. Once on shore I search both sides of the rapids and cannot come up with a trail. I quickly dismiss heading back the way I just came and decide that I will bushwhack on the west side of the rapids, it is only twenty rods right? I start into the woods, like a moron, still in sandals. I drag the canoe thirty yards or so and follow my broken trail back to my pack. I take up the pack and pass the canoe by thirty yards or so and then head back for it. I continue on in this short leap frog fashion so as not to get separated from any of my gear in this thick forest. I know that it will be easy to lose anything in all this brush and dense pine. As I near the end with my pack, I set it down and head back for the canoe. I head back for the canoe a different way than I had come, spotting a more clear route to drag the canoe through. It happens just that fast: the forest swallows a sixteen and a half foot boat made of bright yellow kevlar. Sure that it is just around the next tree; I keep wandering in circles trying to find it, all the time my pulse getting faster and my stomach growing queasier. Finally I realize that now I have no idea where my pack or my boat are and stop walking, trying with all my willpower not to panic. I decide to make my way back to the top of the rapids and follow my broken trail down to, hopefully, my boat and then my pack. While heading back to the top of the rapids I stumble across a familiar blowdown that was definitely in my broken trail and follow it down to find my bright yellow craft lying in the forest exactly where I left her. I link up with my pack shortly after that and drag them both together the last 20 yards to the river’s edge. For the second time today, I stop and thank the Lord for watching over me. Standing in the middle of the forest in a t shirt, nylon pants, and a lifejacket while you are chilled, wet, and separated from your gear is not the most comforting position to be in, you’ll just have to trust me on this one, I wouldn’t recommend trying it for yourself. (That was the second act of foolish stubbornness of the trip and I was happy to be out of it safely.) While paddling down the Louse, I notice an orange/brown spot growing in the pocket of my pants. I open the pocket to realize that all of my water purification tablets have just purified my pocket. Now I am extremely happy that I decided to bring the 1 quart coffee pot at the last minute during the “final cut”. I push onto Boze lake and think about camping here, happy to be alive and wanting to enjoy the feeling, but the camp on Boze looks uncomfortable from the water and Malberg is the goal. As I launch into Malberg at 18:00 I am looking for the first site on the right, which is directly in front of the portage exit. The site is open and I race to it, jump out of the canoe, and do the “happy to be home” jig.

I have stayed at this site before and am absolutely in love with it; it is a very flat site only about one foot above water level with the firegrate only about 2 feet from the water. The toilet trail is good and there is a decent food pack tree about 60 yards down the south shoreline (a little close, but a good hang). The landing here is also a solid dry foot landing with a nice flat place to toss your gear onto and spread out. The abundant cedar trees surrounding the site give off a pleasant fragrance that reminds you of where you are and how great it is to be here while at the same time providing great tarp setup options. Since the last time I was here the bench has been rebuilt and they did a pretty good job of doing so. This will be home for the next three nights. I find perfect trees for hanging my makeshift hammock about four or five feet away from the firegrate. I make this hammock by folding my 10X10 tarp in two and bunching up the 5’ ends. Using stout rope I tie a hitch knot around the bunched up material and run it out to the trees. I finally get it hung super tight about four feet off of the ground, just enough to hold my two hundred and thirty pound frame about three inches off of the dirt. I string my Stingray14 over the hammock using the same trees and set the bug net up in between the both of them so that it will hang down over the hammock and eventually be tucked in around my sleeping bag. While changing into boots and socks I notice a huge bruise developing on my right shin and a sizeable scrape on my left foot which is also attached to a sore left ankle. Quit laughing at me, lesson learned, I’m a believer in boots. BUT, it is nice to have dry boots to relax in tonight………I will salvage at least that much of my dignity. Now in dry boots and warm socks with a shelter erected, I know that I am cold and need to get a fire burning. I walk down the south shoreline with my bear pack rope and while in the area hanging it look for beaver wood to burn. I find a bundle of beaver wood and head back to camp. I am very tired and do not want a huge blaze, just enough to warm up and boil drinking water for the morning and coffee water for tonight. I setup my homemade aluminum twig burner, which has four sides and is just big enough to set my one quart coffee pot on top of. It stands about seven inches tall, is seven inches wide at the base, and is about 5.5 inches wide at the peak with a feeder door cut into one side. With a minimal amount of wood and effort I boil my water and warm up while eating lunch for dinner at 21:00. I am really too tired to eat but know that I need the calories after the day I’ve had. Lunch/dinner is 3 beef sticks, 4 oz of cheese and one tube of Club crackers. I enjoy a cup of coffee at lakeside and fireside all at the same time before heading to bed. Chilled from the day, I will sleep in long underwear and Wigwam socks with my stocking cap on to keep my noodle warm. I feels so good to be dry and warm lying in bed. So sleepy……