I woke up at around 6AM with overcast skies and about 30mph+ sustained wind with 2-3 foot whitecaps. I grabbed the weather radio to get the most current forecast since today was our planned exit day. The computerized man’s voice gave us the bad news: “ in grand MARAIS, winds THIRTY to THIRTYfive miles an HOUR increasing to FORTY miles an HOUR after twelve PM…” (that’s my lame attempt to describe the voice) Anyway, it meant that it was only going to get worse, so I woke Tawney and we hustled to break down camp and get the boat loaded. I think we set an all time record. We had everything packed and loaded in about 35 minutes. After a quick sweep around camp to make sure we hadn’t left anything behind, we hoisted Slim Jim into the boat, put on our life jackets and full raingear suits, and said a quick prayer to call on Tawney’s Grandpa Allan to help us get the motor started. He had passed away about 2 weeks previous to our trip and he had owned the boat for 30 years prior to giving it to us in 2009. I remembered his description of the motor as “a little finicky but she runs good once you get ‘er goin’”. From our campsite location we were going to have to push the boat out as hard as we could to get away from the rocks so I could get the motor down and attempt to start it. The problem was that, by doing this, we were starting out sideways in the large waves and would be fully committed. If the motor didn’t start in time, we would be pushed up on the rocks in the bay about 200 yards from camp and in this type of wind, it wouldn’t take long for that to happen. It was do or die, I shoved with all my might and jumped on board. I immediately put the motor down, choked it, and began to pull. The waves were coming over the side and after about 20 pulls I decided to try the trolling motor to see if we could at least get our bow into the waves. This turned out to be a waste of time since the electric motor did not have nearly enough power to do anything. I quickly abandoned that plan and resumed my attempt to start the motor. We were only about 25 yards from the rocks and there was that heavy silence in the boat that only happens when people are getting really nervous. I tapped the motor twice and muttered “c’mon Allan”. The next pull got a sputter and then it died. I put the choke to half and pulled again. This time it started but died when I attempted to shift it into forward. I took the choke off and pulled with all my might, hoping that the frayed section would not give out on me. To my relief, the motor kicked to life and engaged as I shifted into forward just a matter of 10 to 12 feet before we hit the rocks. Tawney and I both let out a whoop of joy as I gassed it up and turned the bow into the wind and waves, headed west toward the EP. The ride back to the EP was very rough and Slim Jim looked very nervous as the waves crested the bow and soaked him. He seemed to grip the pack that he was lying on with all his might and looked very stiff. We attempted to find some protection from the wind and waves but the east/west orientation of Clearwater Lake offered no shelter. Even with a 10HP motor, we were making very slow progress and we were sure that very few canoes would be able to make it out that day. We scouted for Mr and Mrs Gbusk to see if we could offer them a tow but once again did not find them. As we came past the point near the EP my hat blew off my head. I never even attempted to turn around to get it. I was relieved that a hat was the only thing lost in that situation. At the EP, Tawney and I quickly changed back into some dry clothes and loaded up the truck with our gear. I re-hitched our trailer and loaded up the boat and we celebrated a successful trip with a big hug. The ride back was long but uneventful. Since it was Sunday, the traffic in Duluth was really brutal but we made it through all the detours and the road construction on I-35 and picked up the kids around 5pm. When we got home we ordered pizza and unpacked from our trip and put away the kids’ bags from their stay with Grandma.