Later Friday night it started raining. A nice steady rain pelted my tent, soothing me to sleep. No worries, as all of my painstaking efforts to pack my gear in waterproof bags inside of waterproof bags would certainly pay off in wet weather conditions. Saturday morning found me drinking coffee while wearing full rain gear and hanging out under my tarp. I waited for a break in the rain, then struck my tent and packed my bags. Today was going to be just a short journey over to Tuscarora. Three hours maybe. I wanted to get to Tuscarora early to get a good site and to spend a fair amount of time chasing Lake Trout around, hopefully catching at least one eater-sized fish. I took my time traveling through the rain, and took a little journey around the burned areas of both Mora and Crooked. That Crooked looked like a neat lake too, with an identity problem. Parts were beautiful, parts were charred to a crisp. There is something eerie to me about the burned areas on a rainy day, and especially the burned campsites. It's almost like they have ghosts of some sort. I first experienced this phenomenon while on a trip with my brother a few years back up through the Kawasachong and Polly area north of the Kawishiwi entry point. I should mention that the portage into Crooked from Tarry has no real canoe landing area, but is rather just a field of boulders. Tricky. So....the rain was one thing, but I haven't mentioned the 25 mph north wind yet. I was beginning to become concerned about this, since Tuscarora was going to be the biggest water traveled on this trip. When I arrived I was immediately greeted at the portage by foot-high waves with white caps. Hmm...Maybe I'll just make it to the campsite right by the portage and wait it out before making my next plan. Oh, and did I mention that I hadn't seen a person in 42 hours? Well, that campsite was taken. As I approached, a fella invited me to join he and his friends to warm up and such, but I politely declined. I couldn't make it to the north side of the lake, as the wind was blowing too strong. I decided to travel the length of the lake while hugging the south shore. I stayed just 20 to 30 feet from shore, except in a couple of spots where the waves were crashing off of rocks and creating a "double wave" effect. It was slow going, but thanks to the awesome performance of the Northstar Magic I was paddling I was never in much fear of going over. Each campsite I passed (I believe there are only 3 on the south side) was occupied. I guess everybody else wanted to catch some trout too. Did I mention that I hadn't seen a person in 42 hours? Oh well. I trudged on. My three hour travel day just became a lot longer, as I made the decision to make it to Snipe and stay "small water" on a "big wind" sort of day. I was a little disappointed about the lost fishing opportunity, but overall happy with my decision to stay on the move. That much wind makes sitting in a campsite miserable, unless you're just going to lay in your tent and read, so my vagabond spirit took over and I continued on my way. I took the 255 rod portage out of the southeast corner of Tuscarora and left that mess behind me.

That big portage was plenty long, but otherwise not bad. It has that little break in the middle at Howl Lake, where you actually need to get in your canoe and paddle about a hundred feet to the other side. One of the best engineered beaver dams is right here, holding back a wall of water. Impressive work by those busy rodents.

By the time I got to Snipe I was ready to find the first campsite and get comfortable. I had planned to be done traveling for the day by noon. It was now 5:00. I get nervous whenever I'm looking for a campsite after about 3:00. I paddled by the first campsite at mid-lake. It was empty, so that was reassuring. I decided to paddle to the site on the west end of the lake, but on my way there I met a fella who was staying there. He said he regularly catches Northerns on Snipe, so I promised I'd wet a line too once I got settled into my site. I turned around and headed back to the site I had just paddled by, #555. It was nothing fancy, but plenty good for me. Shortly after unloading the canoe I looked up and noticed a pair of Golden Eagles circling above, looking for a meal. Striking in their size and grace, these are beautiful birds. I watched them for a while before they drifted out of sight and I got back to the tasks associated with setting up camp. I enjoyed a quiet evening, casting from shore for pike, catching and releasing couple of little ones. I actually had a campfire this night, as the rain early in the day had softened up the conditions some and the strong north wind had subsided. Since I had come this far, rather than stopping on Tuscarora, the remainder of my trip would be gravy, and I was really looking forward to spending Sunday morning exploring this pretty little lake. Who knows, I may even stay in the same site two nights in a row (gasp!).

The day's travels brought me from Mora through Tarry, Crooked, Owl, Tuscarora, Howl (barely), Hubbub, Copper, and into Snipe. I moved 11 miles this day, rather than the 4 I had planned.