Today would be a hard day.

The morning was still cloudy and a just bit of wind, but looked like it might be breaking up so I broke camp and started toward the portage into the Frost River, after adequate coffee and oatmeal of course.

About half was across the 130 rod portage I heard a booming sound. Oh please let that have been a dropped canoe. No luck. It was thunder. Again. At least my back has not given me any more trouble. I drop my packs at the end of the portage and dig out my rain jacket in case it starts to sprinkle. The mosquitoes are fierce, and of course when I need it there is nearly no wind back in this more secluded area. I head back over and get my canoe and food barrel, hearing more rumbling thunder along the way.

I shove off and start paddling down the river, thankful to get away from the shore mosquitoes. I feel a rain drop, and before I can even reach behind me for my rain jacket I am in a downpour. I mean it went from full off to full on in seconds. I pulled my jacket on, but was soaked in no time, and would stay that way for the rest of the day. Regent is a water dog, but only when it comes up from below - he dislikes when it falls from above, and he was really not liking this. Nevertheless, we pressed on - there really was no good alternative.

The rain would let up and stop and the clouds seemed to break a little as we paddled and portaged down the Frost River, then it would start over again. The cycle kept repeating. Unfortunately, the low grumbling thunder was gradually becoming louder and crisper.

I crossed a rocky five rod portage just short of Chase Lake and pushed off toward a swampy area and in just a few strokes am passing a rock ledge on the left, behind which was a good sized bull moose grazing in the swampy stuff. I think we were about 30-40 yards or so apart, but after a quick glance at me he decided to retreat back along the shoreline. I hate startling wildlife, but was relieved that he decided to retreat rather than charge as I had no were to back up to. He continued to move around the back of the swampy area as I paddled on. The river channel began curving to the left, and I realized that as I got closer to the next portage I would actually be getting closer to the moose again. Dumb luck. The moose then disappeared from the swamp into the trees to the south, having had enough human/canine contact for the day.

As I pulled up to the 30 rod portage to Chase there was flash of lighting not far away, then clap of thunder. It was getting closer, so I felt more need to hurry. I was clearly not going much further and could only hope the one and only campsite in the area on Bologna Lake was open. I unloaded my packs at the portage, then broke a cardinal rule of solo travel - I did not tie my canoe painter to anything - just pulled the bow up on some gravelly shore. Needless to say, when I walked back to be the canoe, it was floating a couple of yards off shore. My mind races for options. Swim? Why not, Im already wet. Then I thought of a couple downed pine branches just back on the portage. I ran back and grabbed the longest one, about ten feet, which turned out to be just barely long enough to reach out to the bow of my canoe and retrieve it. Thank goodness. Then another flash of lighting. Its getting closer.

Crossing Chase and arriving at the portage to Bologna, I took a moment to scout around wondering if I should just bivouac there, but it was all very dense woods and very rocky - no level ground at all. I start the portage and quickly realize its mostly uphill - great - Im actually going higher as the lighting is getting closer.

I felt no good choice but to move forward. I shoved off on Bologna praying the site would be open and the lighting would seek higher targets. Bologna Lake is actually quite beautiful, and has that rare quality of being a lake on fairly high ground meaning you don’t seem many any tall hills or trees in the distance. In a way it made me think of alpine lakes. There were couple more ground strikes not far away as I paddled, knowing these were bad conditions to be on the water, but the shoreline offered very little to land on.

Thank goodness the site was open. Had it been taken, I would definitely either have asked to crash, or just pulled up just down shore anywhere I could as I already had edged past he limit of safe paddling. If most any of us were to pull up at a site like this on any popular lake - Ensign, Knife, Ga-be, Tuscarora - we’d likely say “what a dump”. But given how remote I was, and how hard the circumstances, I felt like I was on the Riviera. Probably faster than ever in my life, I had my tarp and bug net up to protect my unhappy dog, and my tent up immediately next to it. Then a magma-sized scoop of dog food fixed Regent’s worries, and I dug out my dry, warm clothes and settled into my mostly-bug-free zone under the tarp. I am not sure if I have ever been so relieved to get to any campsite. Of course, this was another night to fire up the stove and boil water for dinner - collecting firewood was out of the question. Rain and occasional lighting came and went, and again, I retired early.

Outside my tent, I just didn't have much will to draw my camera.