Saturday, September 17, 2011 - ** Day 5 ** We were greeted the next morning with more wind, and some much colder air than the night before. The camp was getting NO sun in the early morning hours, so we figured that was a part of the cool temps. Breakfast for the day was bacon and omelettes, which made for a pretty good start. Afterwards, we completely broke down and packed up our camp, and decided to try the small bay opposite us again for a little bit of fishing before heading South. We left our gear stacked nicely at the shore’s edge, and paddled across. The wind didn’t let up a bit, and again, not even a bite, and as we turned to paddle back to camp, two canoes appeared from the left, heading down the lake towards the next portage. Even a mad paddle, and the fact that we only had to load our already packed gear, wouldn’t save us from being queued up being them now for the day. So, we slowed our progress to one of leisure, grabbed our gear, and turned down towards the bottom end of the lake. We pulled against the headwind that was blowing up the lake, and got to the portage just in time to see their last canoe going up the trail, and disappearing into the treeline. It’s funny how different portages look from that aspect, versus just an opening in the trees on a shoreline. The trail over to Rocky Lake took almost no time at all. Along the way, on our right, we noticed another reminder of the low water conditions . What used to be a marshy pond around a solitary beaver lodge was nearly dry, with the lonely mound sitting out in the open, the water around it nearly gone. Again, we had to contest with a brisk wind at the portage end, and the entire length of Rocky. The lake lived up to its name, with steep, rocky shores enclosing most of the shoreline. The water had a dark, murkish tint to it, unlike the greenish hue of Green Lake, or even the very clear water of Takucmich the day before. I prefer this feel of high, close-in water edges more-so than the openness of lakes such as Lac La Croix. After an easy jaunt over to Oyster, and seeing the short lappers racing towards us from the South, I was glad we had decided to only go here for the day. And, thankfully, the campsite at the neck of the middle peninsula was just across from us, and open. This was another campsite we had stayed in on another trip previously. When we stepped out of the canoe onto the long, solid rock that ran the entire length of the camp shoreline, we remembered the camp layout immediately. It was a well-positioned camp. The next day when it was time to move on, we could just load and push off from the backside of the camp, shoot straight across the main lake body to the Oyster Creek trail, and bypass having to paddle down and around the peninsula. We set up our camp, hung and laid some items out to dry in the gusty wind, and then tried a bit of shoreline fishing. No luck again. We did, however, joke – talk – and laugh a lot that day, one of the biggest pluses of the trip. After, we laid down and napped on and off for the better part of the afternoon. Mostly, it stayed cloudy/overcast, pretty cool, and very windy. Around 5:45, I stirred and got up, mainly checking the hanging stuff, writing in my journal, and getting ready to make some dinner. Even with the wind blowing hard, we could still use our burner to cook, but I doubted we would be able to get any fishing in. Disappointing. Matthew helped me make a decent meal. The overcast skies were making for an earlier evening of sorts, but despite the wind, we grabbed our poles and hit the water. After 20-25 minutes though, we both were skunked, not even a bite for either. The highlight of the evening was having a group of five Canadian geese, coming from the portage we came in on, flying low towards us, just above tree level. They flew right over our heads, and on down the lake. We could almost “feel” them as they whisked by, and then laughed as a sixth straggler came as fast as he could trying to catch them, honking like crazy, a few seconds behind. It was definitely neat to see. We both were talking about it as we drifted up to our camp shore, and then were nearly scared out of the canoe by a large, sudden splash just ahead of us. In the closing light, we didn’t see anything, but figured it must have been a beaver. We roasted some marshmallows well after dark over our little stove, a bit sad that the cloud cover kept us from enjoying the stars like the night before. Again, there were no loons to be heard at all. As quiet as it had been on our most laid-back day yet, it had still been another good one, and more memories in the bank.