Day 2 Sunday, September 03, 2017

Day 2 is just not going good- behind schedule to start and just not feeling the power in my paddle. I think I am falling further behind and decide not to look at the clock anymore as it’ll just make me feel worse. I regret stopping when I did last night- I had pondered continuing up the Loon River but failed to muster the physical strength and mental toughness needed. Nine hours later finds me approaching Bottle Portage and a solo canoer is sighted ahead. For the first time today, I feel motivated and move in to catch up with this person. Hey, it’s one of us. Paddlinjoe is his moniker and we paddle alongside each other for a mile before parting ways at the portage. He asks me about my progress and I tell the truth-I don’t know because I don’t know the time. He offers the time and I refuse saying “time doesn’t really matter anymore, I just gotta keep paddling”. Heading quickly down the Bottle Portage, mud is sucking at my feet forcing me to work a little. After that, I feel a surge of strength that I can only attribute to the mental pleasure of meeting Paddlinjoe and the physical displeasure of portage mud. A ray of hope emerges now that the power is back in my paddle. Time doesn’t matter, only making Basswood Lake before the next daylight does. This will get me back on schedule and allow me the best opportunity to get across this big lake early in the day before winds usually increase.

Most of today winds have been light NNW but as evening comes, wind speeds pick up with strong gusts. Thankfully I am able to find protection by hugging the north shore of Crooked Lake and still make progress. I feel good that the big lakes Lac La Croix and Crooked didn’t stop me. The second night falls cloudy and dreary with thunder and lightning in the distance. I navigate by compass and map so I have a red flashlight shining on my deck compass mounted in front of me. I keep a bright white-light headlamp on my hat for times I need to watch for rocks or find a portage opening on shore. Rain does not help with this form of navigation. Water droplets form on the compass glass and obscure my bearing. To turn on my headlamp now will only reveal falling rain drops to 10’ in all directions. The chill caused by falling nighttime temperatures and wet clothes combined with occasional flashes of lighting help to confuse me. I count the seconds between the lightning flashes and the resulting thunder to determine the storms distance. Mostly it seems to be far enough away, until a closer flash brightens the night and I think I should get closer to shore, wherever that is. Navigation is tough and there are moments of “where am I”. I almost run into high ground that shouldn’t be there. These moments of confusion and concerns of hypothermia force me to shore early tonight (before 10 pm) and short of my goal. But I promise myself to make up for it by getting an earlier start tonight. Again I put 16 hours in the boat today but with lesser miles of 58 produced. With rain continuing, I put a little more effort into my “camp” tonight and set up a tarp. I crawl into the sleeping bag in mostly wet clothes, set the alarm for 3:30 am, and fall into a tortured sleep of sorts. It doesn’t help sleep when an occasional mosquito buzzes around my head or a bug crawls over my face. I keep my food close to my face so if any animals try to get at it, I will awaken. Mice are brave enough to just crawl on me and a bear I should be able to smell its breath. I try to sleep. Next thing I realize is a slight lightening of the sky not caused by the moon. “Oh Shit” I yell, looking to the alarm clock and seeing it isn’t working. The twilight indicates it’s about 5:30 am and that means two more hours behind to start the 3rd day- not good. I tell myself “sleep is my enemy, oversleeping is killing my goal, I need to try to push harder”.