Knowing that we’d allotted two days to exit, we kept our paddling casual as we headed back through Koma, Polly, and the burned area including Kawasachong and Square.

A day or two ago, we had realized that we would have some trouble on the way back: We had accidentally left the keys to the car at our exit point on Kawishiwi Lake in the car at our entry point on Sawbill Lake. As we paddled, we were extra sociable to passers by, asking each group we met if they had a sat phone. No one did, but we met a group of two fathers and their daughters who told us they were headed out and back to Sawbill Lake that evening. We wrote a note to Bill and the Sawbill staff. The note outlined a plan wherein the Sawbill staff could retrieve the missing keys from the vehicle parked in their lot, deliver them to the Kawishiwi entry point, and hide them (but not too well) for us to find the next day. Entrusting our fortune to the kind gentlemen and their daughters, we exchanged contact information and passed them our note and remaining set of keys (to open the car at Sawbill).

Despite some key-based anxiety, the weather was again perfect and we enjoyed a leisurely pace. My thumb felt better enough to portage and the only excitement was a mud hole at the end of one portage, which claimed a Keen sandal.

That evening after dinner, as the sun was setting, we fit all five of us in the old Grumman. This canoe was a beast and stayed fairly stable even when overloaded with us all. It was a fun, silly ride in a beautiful, solemn twilight.

That night was clear and the moon was nearly full. I fished from the sloping rock face that made up most of our campsite. No fish, but the calm water, moonlight, and silence were more than an ample substitute. It felt like cool daylight. I could see to the far shore of our campsite's bay and make out each lily pad and reflected tree on the smooth silver surface of the lake. It was absolutely peaceful; a perfect last night.