We got an early, yet hesitant start to our journey back to Sawbill Lake today. We knew we were in for a long day, but we felt more prepared for it than we had two days ago. After we broke camp and had fueled our stomachs, we said goodbye to our temporary home and headed for Cherokee Creek.

The creek was still beautiful and paddling against the current went smoothly. We passed all of the same sites as before but found the beaver dam to be more of an obstacle this time around; but, again, we made it over. I remember feeling a little lost after it seemed like we had been paddling too long, but we kept going and soon enough we arrived at the landing for the 180 rod carry-- it would’ve been hard to miss.

My shoulders were quickly reminded of the physical hardships they had been put through just two days prior. But our group had better rhythm now. We knew what had to be done and who was responsible for certain tasks. We had learned on the go before, and now we were putting those lessons to use. The long portage went smoother than it had, and we were making better time.

Honestly, I don’t remember all of the details from our trek back but things went much better for us. No one sank waist deep in muck, we just carried the canoes across the portages instead of trying to line them through which had been more work than help previously, we all put on bug spray before the portages, and the weather was cooperative again. We still often broke sweat and had to work very hard to get to our destination. We did not see any moose or much else for wildlife on our way back to Sawbill, despite our high hopes. We paddled most of the length of Sawbill, because sites were scarce and we hoped to have an easy exit the next day for the drive home.

We managed to find a decent site that was well sheltered and almost completely shaded; it had a nice fire ring and a good pad to set up our tent. The sun was approaching the horizon by the time we had settled in. I had a difficult time taking off my tennis shoes and socks near the shore, for they seemed suction-cupped to my feet. My feet were shriveled and deathly white from being wet all day. While I was grossing out the girls by showing them off, we all heard an odd droning sound that seemed to approach us. It was LOUD. Really LOUD.

We ran to the shore to discover that a float plane had been circling over our heads. The sound was very unnatural and it displeased me to see a motorized vehicle out here. The plane circled a few times and then landed in the middle of the lake. We thought it was strange that the plane was here, maybe there was a fire near by? Was it an emergency landing? Forest rangers? None of us were sure, but we speculated.

We enjoyed our last night in the boundary waters thoroughly. I believe I caught another small mouth bass near camp, but I am not really sure. The details are hazy. Not sure what was on the menu this evening, but I am sure it tasted great-- most things do out here. We all settled in pretty early as well, because of the grueling day we had just finished. It was nice to have one last night out here and be able to rest knowing that tomorrow would be an easy day. My first boundary waters experience was a pleasurable one.