I was up bright and early. A canoe with three went by around 6:30. I think sometimes people don’t realize how much their voices carry when on the water. I’m sure we are guilty of being too loud ourselves from time to time. Audrey and Dave slept while I walked out to the tip of the peninsula, sat on a log and updated the camp journal. As I was writing, two more canoes went by, heading toward the portage to Korb Lake. Both of these were loaded with gear – looks like people heading out of Cummings. I was also visited by a duck, who seemed quite startled to see me.

Audrey fetched me from shore for breakfast – simple oatmeal today. The loons called while we sipped our coffee. Audrey’s mastered the art of the loon call; she had the loons engaged in conversation for a few minutes. Following a brief discussion, we decided to paddle to the west end of Cummings and cross the 5 rod portage into Otter Lake. We also wanted to check out some of the other campsites on Cummings.

Our area of the lake was protected from the wind, so we didn’t have to paddle hard until we hit the west arm. There were some white caps, but we paddled vigorously. We took a bathroom break at the campsite on the south side of the lake at the narrowing. The site looked like it doesn’t get much use. It’s very open and exposed. The upside of this site are the BLUEBERRIES! We picked and picked and picked. There were many berries left behind, not quite ripe enough.

At the 5 rod Otter Lake portage, we decided to carry over the large rock separating two small waterfalls. It wasn’t too bad and I’d say it was approx. a 2 rod carry. The right-side waterfall was not a good put in, but there were some rocks on shore at the base of the left side that were decent enough to put in the canoe. I’m notoriously unstable on wet rocks, so for me I’d rate it an ankle buster. We paddled over to the campsite on the north shore and found a high rock in the shade that gave us a great view of the lake. We sat and ate lunch, talking and laughing for 45 minutes. Back in the canoe, Dave trolled as we paddled to the portage. No luck. We opted for the five rod carry this time and it was easy.

Back on Cummings, the west wind helped blow us back toward our campsite. We trolled the entire way and had much success. We caught ten smallmouth, mostly in the narrow channels, with the largest being 14 inches. We observed two campsites occupied, one we had noticed had campers previously and the other was vacant just a few hours prior. This day trip made for a 9 mile paddle round trip.

In camp, Dave noticed a couple of HUGE red pines in the woods behind the tent. Dave and Audrey combined could barely get their arms around them. After all of the tree hugging, Dave cooked up another fabulous meal – chicken and wild rice soup, garlic mashed potatoes and garlic fryin’ pan bread with fried summer sausage. Dessert was an encore: banana cream pie. Something about all of the paddling and fresh air that makes me so hungry! We always eat well in the BWCA.

Little did we know, while I was cleaning up and Dave was lying in the hammock, Audrey was collect ammo (pinecones) for a covert bombing of the enemy (her parents). She snuck up on us by hiding her petite profile behind pine trees and treading softly on the pine needles that littered the ground. It wasn’t long before we were onto her and bombing her right back. As the sun set on our last night in the BWCA, Dave got a roaring fire going while Audrey and I broke down and put on some bug dope. The biting flies were really bad this year. Maybe it was the wet spring? Maybe it was the timing of our trip?

While I finished the dishes and updated the journal, the master anglers took the canoe out to fish around our peninsula and some rocks just off our camp site. They promised to return in time to avoid the attack of the bloodsuckers. It kept getting later and later and there was no sign of them. I walked around the peninsula and saw them fishing to the north. Dave noticed me watching and said, “We’re catching fish on every cast!” I prepared our camp for bedtime and got the food pack ready to hang. Sitting by the fire, I hear the wings of a loon as it taxis down the lake. It’s peaceful and quiet and all is right with the world.

Just then, I hear, “POW!” echo across the lake. It sounds like a gunshot, but I know that can’t be right. When the anglers return I ask about the loud noise. They report that the noise was actually a beaver slapping its tail at them while they fished. Ah ha! Two beavers were swimming near our site. That pretty much confirms our suspicions that the mystery creature who circled our tent was a beaver.