On the water at 7:30 and into the south wind that had not relented overnight. It was a bit of work heading south on Sand Point lake. My plan was to get as far as I could before the storms. The new forecast had pushed them out until evening, but it sure would be nice to be in camp and in a warm hammock when they did arrive. My good friend and his father and two other friends were due to enter the Moose river north today and planned to camp on Oyster Lake. I had planned to at some point meet up with them for a night or two. I thought I might camp tonight on Loon lake and make my way over there tomorrow, but as the day went on my plan evolved into possibly trying to get to Oyster lake tonight.

I paddled the winding trail of the Loon river, and most features were familiar from a trip I had done here the year before. Just after the eastward turn, I overtook a green olde town canoe with a man and woman that was heavily loaded. They were friendly, and had never been on this route before, so I gave them some beta about the approaching loon rapid. They asked about my canoe and if I was a part of the watertribe group. I said, no, why do you ask?” and they explained that they had just started the Crane lake voyageurs challenge that day (a day early). I told them my name and that I had paddled the challenge last year and it turns out they had read my trip report and were all excited about the route. I matched their pace for awhile and we had a nice chat.

When we reached Loon falls, I portaged my load over to Loon lake, and then went back to help them carry stuff. I briefly marked some route features on their maps, and wished them good luck before padding off into Loon lake. By now the sun had come out and gave a good solar beating for a mid-September day. After the fairly long portage east into Heritage creek, I was pretty hot and going through a lot of water. I was thrown a twist when the portage crossed the Sioux Hustler trail and I wasn’t expecting any forks or intersections. I rightly assumed it must be the trail and I made my way just fine, without any errant turns.

The low water had left plenty of barely-submerged rocks to dodge in the still Heritage creek, but I was slow and careful and didn’t hit any as I traveled through. There were two parties on Heritage lake: one in camp and one out fishing. Then an uneventful portage east to an easy crossing of Lynx passing by a few more campers out enjoying the sun, and then the long portage to Ruby, where I again paused to re-fill water bottles.

Hustler lake was next, and I almost wished I had stopped to camp, but I was at this time excited to see my friends only a few miles away- and to make a solid camp for a few days of storms. Hustler lake seemed really cool with the varied terrain on different arms of the lake- It is definitely on the ‘need to return sometime’ list. The portage from Hustler to Oyster was long, with a good amount of climbing and descending, but it was a pretty trail. I landed on Oyster lake around 5:30pm and I knew the lake well from previous visits. This was my longest day at just over 32 miles.

My rendezvous strategy was just to paddle past all the campsites until I spotted someone familiar. I didn’t take too long and I found my friends hanging tarps and making dinner at their site. I was hot and smelled like fitness, so I took a swim in the lake while it was still light out. I rehydrated dinner and set up my hammock. I took a fair amount of time seeking out a more protected hang and received couple comments in jest for ‘taking so long when there are all these good trees around’….but my careful consideration would payoff later. We shared drinks and snacks and good conversation into the night around a fire, and eventually retired to bed.

About 5 minutes to midnight, I was awakened to heavy sideways rain and near constant lightning. I clicked on my headlamp and saw that the bottom edge of the tarp ended in a curtain of horizontal water blowing clear underneath my hammock. The ground beneath me had become a river of mud and pine duff swirling downhill. I stayed good and dry, though, and the low-pitched tarp performed well (yay DIY tarp!).

Off to my right was a friend who- on that very night- had been persuaded to try hammock camping for the first time. His borrowed hex tarp was 90degrees to mine, and the wind must have been blowing right in through the end. I saw his light come on for a minute or two as he assessed the situation, and wondered what in the world he must have been thinking. What a night to try hammocking for the first time! After a few minutes he turned the light off and I reasoned that he must be okay.

I could tell that another of my friends who was hanging further across camp also had a light on, but when I started to see it outside his tarp and walking around I knew that something was amiss. His tarp had doors on each end, but was hung closer to the lake, and with a bit more exposure to the wind. There may have been some shouts of frustration coming from his direction, but the storm was loud enough I couldn’t really tell. With my low-pitched shelter, I couldn’t directly see over there, but it was about ten minutes before the activity settled down and he also turned off the light.

I lay awake for an hour or so listening to the storm. The sensory input was rich all around. Even though it was dark, the strobe of lightning flashes dazzled my eyes. The deafening sound of sheets of water hitting the tarp and the woods all around. The wind both swaying the hammock and shaking the trees that were holding it up. The big, deep thunderclaps that you can feel rattling around your insides. I was perhaps a little afraid with thoughts of whether trees could fall if it intensified- but overall I enjoyed the exciting show from my warm nest. Eventually, the rain slowed to a constant patter and I again drifted to sleep.