It was another beautiful morning, and there was another pancake breakfast - although without the butter today. Somewhat reluctantly I packed up and started heading east. I had people food for 2 more days, dog food for 3, and was confident in my ability to get lakers, but felt I should push on. I honestly wasn’t sure, though, whether when I got to Flying if I would turn north and spend one or two nights up on Bingshick or if I’d turn south and paddle out. It was actually a sort of enjoyable uncertainty. In the back of my mind - from what I had read about Bingshick - I expected a lesser used, more overgrown site like back on Bologna, and my imagination was supplying the bugs.

I portaged into Bat where I had ice fished two winters ago, and then on to Green. The portages definitely had more bugs than the campsite I had just left. Then I did the portage to Flying, up and over that hill, with still more bugs starting to pop up, especially on the Flying side. I pushed through some muck and out into the lake, looked both directions, thought of mosquitoes, and turned south. The brookies would have to wait. I portaged on to Gotter and then on to Brant, where I paddled over to where I had set up my Snowtrekker a two winters ago. To my surprise, the small stack of split firewood I had left tucked in the trees was still there, though I guess there is no reason for it to have been disturbed in such an isolated spot.

I stopped on the island to filter some more water, as I it was getting hot out and I had already gone through my nalgene. Well hydrated and snacked, I paddled one to the south east bay to have a quick look at where I had camped for 6 days last January in a black spruce swamp, though I could neither se much from the water nor go into the swampy shore. Then on to Edith and West Round and Round, with the mosquitoes getting substantially worse at each portage. I was starting to feel glad I was heading out. Regent and I have feed enough bugs for this trip.

I pull up at the entry point on Round Lake, and though he has never been there (he is not a big winter camper) Regent somehow just knows this is the end of the trip, and is eager to get out, get up the hill, and wants to start wandering the lot looking for our Escape, which is actually still over at the Cross Bay lot. Note: this is about where most trip reports end, right? Hmmm.

I lug the boat and bags up the short hill, have most of the rest of the water (that nalgene went fast!), and start digging into my camera bag for my car key. No key is found. I look in other spots in my camera bag. No key is found. I look in the wet bag that the camera bag sits in. No key is found. I go through my under-seat bag, my fishing bag, my camera bag again. No key is found. I check the inner, inner pocket of my life jacket - nope. I am usually so meticulous about this - there are only two places I EVER keep my car key - in my camera bag’s inner pocket or, when kayaking, in my life jacket. I’m at a loss, and Regent seems as annoyed with me for failing to produce our ride as he is at the deer flies circling him. I can’t think of anywhere else it would make sense to look, so start wondering if I had either dropped my key at the other landing or had somehow left it in the car? I call Regent and we start walking the half to three quarter mile over to Cross Bay in the now hot sun, my mind racing trying to figure it all out. I’m trying to remember every step I can of the day we set out. It was drizzling. We were late. Mosquitoes were terrible. And as I get to the Tuscarora Road, it hits me! When I unloaded, my camera bag was already secured in a dry bag because of the rain. The last bag I handled before closing the car had been Regent’s backpack - a Mountainsmith product just like my camera bag - and I had put the key in the inner pocket of THAT pack!! I turn Regent around and we head back up the road to the Round Lake lot where I dig out Regent’s pack (I had put it inside a Duluth pack for the last couple of days instead of making him carry it). There is the key! Relief!

We walk AGAIN up the road to the Tuscarora Road and over to my car in the lot. Regent jumps eagerly to the back and I drive over to Round Lake with the AC on full. I decide to leave the car running for a few minutes while I finish getting the gear ready to load. I leave Regent in there there to cool off and avoid the deer flies. I’m always a bit worried my dog will accidentally step on the door lock button, so I leave the car running with the ignition key but take the rest of the key ring with a door lock fob and set it on the hood where I can’t lose it.

Once the gear is organized I open the back hatch and side doors and get everything in its place, then the canoe strapped down up top. We head down the road toward Grand Marais and stop for some tacos and a cold pint before heading south. It was much, much cooler by the big lake, and more than safe and comfortable to leave Regent in the car with the windows down briefly, in fact I felt like digging out a wool shirt for me. About five hours later near downtown Minneapolis I pull up to the garage door of my building, pause, and wonder “where’s my garage door opener fob?” Ah, its with the other keys that I put on the hood back at Round Lake. Thankfully my front door key was also separate so I could get in my door and settled for the night. Amazingly, the next day Andy from Tuscarora Lodge was weed whipping by the Round Lake road turn off and guess what he found in the dirt over half a mile from where I had loaded up my gear.