After a fairly uneventful Monday night, we went to bed early and very much enjoyed a warmer night of sleep. Though the rain was over, the winds still howled throughout the night, which made us feel even more snug in our tents. Well, most of us anyway; poor Joey slept in an open hammock and found himself prey to the swarms of post-rainstorm mosquitoes. He's a resilient one, though, saying that he was ready and willing to sleep in the hammock again the next night. I envy his grit and spirit!

With the sun came a greatly satisfying breakfast of egg-beaters and sausage along with re-hydrated hash-browns. Seriously - it was delicious. It was also about this time that the three female members of the group were more than ready for a shower, given the amount of built-up bug spray and dirt that coated our limbs and hair. The showering process was a simple one: get wet, lather up, rinse, dry off, and proceed to coat oneself with a fresh layer of deep woods, 40% deet; ahh, refreshing!

Because Monday turned out to be a bit of a fishing bust, Tuesday was to be devoted to testing out new waters. The plan was to canoe across Sawbill and portage to Alton Lake, the much larger body of water to the West of us. We would fish there for a while and eventually make the arduous portage to Beth Lake to test the luck of our poles there. Two canoes, six people, nine fishing poles, and far too many bug bites to count: we were ready. 8:00 AM rolled around and we were off, sailing smoothly on the calm surface of Sawbill Lake headed toward Alton.

The portage to Alton was short and easy, but the trip across Alton Lake was a different story entirely. The wind had started to pick up and Alton's size was becoming more daunting by the minute. My already-aching shoulder blades can attest to the amount of heavy paddling we did that day - roughly 8 miles, but it was worth it! Each lake we explored was different from the last. There was Alton, awesome in size and ominous in nature; small Beth lake, with her crystal clear water where we all caught our share of small mouth bass (unfortunately too little to keep and cook); and familiar Sawbill, surrounded by the most green and tall pines I have ever seen, the loveliest home we could ask for.

One of my favorite aspects of the Boundary Waters has been the mere silence that comes with leaving behind everything man-made and electrically-powered. Every gentle breeze, every rustling leaf, every water ripple and bird song is perfectly audible and undisturbed. No car, phone, or even low hum of a refrigerator could upset nature's soft symphony.

One of our favorite sounds of the trip was the loon's cry in the mornings and evenings. We heard him often and I am sure he took notice of us as well. As we were making our way across Alton Lake, a friendly and playful loon amused himself by repeatedly diving under our canoes and reappearing on the other side of us a few yards away; he was showing off to be sure. He followed us for quite a while, popping up here and there around our canoes. I would safely say we made at least one good friend on our trip.

The smell of garlic bread and summer sausage gathered us all around our make-shift dinner table that night. Eight miles canoeing works up a serious appetite! Davy actually caught one walleye that afternoon and it had to have been the best fish any of us had ever tasted. Speaking of Davy, we believe he found his true calling and vocation on our trip: fire-tending. He stayed by our campfire for hours upon hours, attentive to the arrangement of the logs, making it his personal mission to achieve maximum burnage (can that be a word?). He for some reason thought it also necessary to sit directly in the line of smoke so that his poor eyes began to water profusely and his nose drip. So devoted.

Quotes of the day:

"Davy is our Diana, goddess of the hearth." - Emma

"You can't blame everything on your grandma!" - Davy

"Joey did the mosquitoes eat your face?" "No, just my legs and feet"