It was cold on Sunday morning. We don’t know quite how cold, as our thermometer had died during the night after giving us a low battery warning. I crawled out of the tent to see a tiny patch of blue sky disappear into a blanket of charcoal gray, and that pretty much lasted until mid-afternoon. There was a light mist falling occasionally. Neil was chilled, and now he was also nauseated. Immediately I recognized Challenge #4: he was ill.

He insisted that he would be “fine”, so I fixed breakfast about 7:30 as usual. 16 ounces of Tang, pecan pancakes with maple syrup, and bacon. As we were eating the last of it and savoring our hot coffee, I remarked, “I am too old for this anymore. Perhaps we should just do a cabin and take day trips from now on.” He replied, “We’ll see how you do after your knee surgery this fall.” And I said, “I’m pretty sure that this is my last trip.”

Just as I said that a loon piped up, “Oooh, nooooo!” It was eerie, the timing and the way it sounded. It brought tears to my eyes.

Neil went crashing off into the woods, battling his nausea, and came back in a little while with a nice center pole for the tarp. At 8:30 I was finishing up the dishes and having a second cup of coffee, and he was snoring in the tent. That’s when I knew he was really not feeling well.

He moped around, tried to drink water to keep hydrated but couldn’t keep much down, ate very little lunch and had no energy all day. For some reason bending down or moving his head brought on the nausea, so he tried to keep still as much as possible. It wasn’t a fun morning.

We made the decision, in light of a weather forecast for a warmer and nicer day on Monday, that we should just bail on the rest of our trip and try to get back to the entry point tomorrow if Neil was able to travel.

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The sun came out nicely about 11:00 and it warmed up some, but with a breeze it still didn’t feel very warm. It was pleasant to sit in the sun, and I wrote a few post cards while sitting in the chair.

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I got into my miscellaneous pack and robbed a battery from a small reading light to fix the thermometer, as we do like to have a temperature reading for our journal.

I took a few photos of lilies and plants in the open area behind the campsite. The clintonia were sending up buds but not open yet. There weren’t really any flowers except for pin cherries in the woods. The trees had leaves, but they were small, pale green, baby leaves. Spring was so late this year—the lilacs were in full bloom in Ely on June 1st and the May tulips were still blooming. We didn’t pick the best year to plan our earliest trip, since we don’t really have cold-weather gear.

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Suddenly, at 2:30, Neil said, “Let’s go see the waterfall!” I had wanted to try to cross the portage to Vernon and see the waterfall, so this was a pleasant surprise: still, I really wondered if either of us were up to the task. But we set out across to the portage, about a five-minute paddle, and Neil took the only photos, as I was busy with my trekking poles and a portage trail that was really beyond my capabilities. So sad to have declined to that point!

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The portage from Brule to Vernon is rocky, with a steep climb downhill. I made it down the first big hill and thought I was making good progress, but Neil, who had gone ahead much faster, met me on his way back and said I was only about 1/3 of the way, and it was just as bad or worse further on. He said I would never make it, and if I did, it looked like the pathway to the falls was another difficult, rocky trek that would be beyond me. I usually have learned to trust his judgement. Sigh.

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I was SO disappointed. But with him not feeling well, and me toiling to make the climb back up after struggling on the downhill sections so much, it just didn’t seem wise to even attempt to go further for the waterfall.

We went back to the campsite and sent a “We’re OK” message at 4:20, but I didn’t feel very “OK”. I felt pretty crappy, and I knew he did, too. It was clear skies now, windy (whitecaps on the lake) and promised to be a colder night. I cooked the most bland freeze-dried entrée we had on hand, AlpineAire Chicken with Pineapple and Orange (rice-based), and it was so-so, but Neil just couldn’t eat anything much, and was ill again afterwards. I was getting worried about how we would keep the blood sugar within normal limits during the night. He was shivering and looking demoralized.

We had a small fire. Not for cooking, but just for warmth. It didn’t help much. So we put it out and went into the tent at 7:30.

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It was a rough night. Neil battled the nausea and tried to remain as still as possible. The blood glucose sensor sent out warnings from time to time and he would eat marshmallows to keep from crashing. I don’t think either of us slept a great deal. We kept warm enough in our sleeping bags, but having to get up (senior citizens usually have to get up to pee in the night) was a chilling experience.