By the next morning, Knife Lake had forgotten all about the wind and rain. The lake was perfectly still and warmed by the brilliant sunshine of a cloudless sky. We breakfasted and did some yoga on one of our grassy swards and made plans for the day.

The Mikes elected to take a camp day while EP and I took a day trip to explore the Isle of Pines and Thunder Point. Giddy as school kids, ended up walking nearly the entire permimeter of the Isle of Pines, half in the water and half out. In a small bay close to the shoreline, I found a cool old pocket watch. A friend had told us that you could still find some of Dorothy's junk in the woods, but this exceeded our most optimistic expectations. Although it was hard to do, I dutifully replaced it in the same spot I'd found it, as per Forest Service regulations. Given the number of BW geeks that have visited the island, I suppose the watch has been "discovered" dozens of times. Nearby EP found an old dump or junk pile with lots more artifacts and detritus from days gone by.

I was less enthusiastic to discover a memorial erected on a hill nearby, commemorating someone‘s deceased friend or relative. I sympathize with the desire to make something like this, but I don't think it's justified. Isle of Pines is a historic place - what’s this person’s connection with that history? Even Dorothy doesn’t get plaque on her own island.

I wonder if the Forest Service has a policy on this - it would seem to violate Leave No Trace principles. Eglath and I found a similar shrine by Stairway Falls.

In any case, a little while later, we finally found the famous bacon rock. I could have looked for information on its exact location beforehand, but I had purposefully avoided it to preserve the thrill of discovery. An excellent decision, I have to say.

Feeling satisfied, we left the Isle of Pines and paddled east towards Thunder Point. We enjoyed more radiant sunshine and a nearly empty lake. I had really expected to see more people on Knife but we practically had the place to ourselves. We easily saw more loons than people. On our way back to camp, a loon surfaced 20 feet away from us and gave a series of long, mournful calls as we drifted silently past. I’ve seen plenty of loons of course but I’d never been that close to one when it was calling, and I know I’ll never forget it.

After we got back I still wanted to paddle some more, so Movie Mike and I went to go walk the Big Knife portage. The three different map series have a huge degree of variation between them in this whole area, and the passage between Knife Lake and Carp Lake is a case in point. The Fisher map, which we had, described an 80 rod portage to a slim body of water called Portage Lake (with the larger, unconnected lake to the immediate south also called the same name) followed by two shorter ones into Carp. The Voyageur map doesn't know anything about a "Big Knife Portage" but does describe a 73 rod portage along a Knife River followed by a portage "11 to 33" rods long towards Carp. This is somewhat closer to what we experienced. If there'd been more time, we could have portaged all the way to Carp to decide for ourselves.

That night we changed up the menu - mac and cheese instead of beans and rice. By about halfway through the second day, EP had concluded that she would never again let me pack food for a trip without her involvement. Admittedly, I did go a little Spartan - two oatmeal packets per person per day for breakfast; one Clif bar and a handful of gorp per person per day for snacks; two summer sausage / tortilla sandwiches per person per day for lunch; beans and rice and any fish caught during the day for supper, plus coffee and whiskey and beer, albeit the last of these only for the first two nights (an admitted extravagance). An extra Clif bar would not have been excessive. And maybe a bagel or two in the morning. But you know what? We didn’t die.

Regardless, along with our Annie’s mac and cheese, we also enjoyed a few crayfish, courtesy of Mike B. The boys stayed up late playing cards while EP and I enjoyed an early night turning in.