We were up by 5:30 and dropped off at our entry point, No. 32, South Kawishiwi River, by 7 a.m. The 147-rod portage was much easier than expected, we double-portaged and had no problems. The mosquitoes were terrible by the trail head but not bad once we got to the water. We loaded up the two We-no-nah canoes and shoved off into the South Kawishiwi. My first impression was how stunningly beautiful and pristine the landscape was, and that was an impression that lasted with me throughout the trip. It was a cool, overcast day, with scattered rain throughout the morning and early afternoon. We immediately headed southwest to a set of rapids, beached the canoes and took our first few casts of the trip. Derek lost a nice pike on his first cast, and I had a big smallmouth throw my jighead after a spectacular jump on my first offering. Nice way to start off the trip. We could have fished this spot for a while, but were eager to get a few miles under our proverbial belt, so we quickly headed northeast. There’s a short portage over a set of rapids an hour or two into our paddle that again offered some pretty good fishing. I tied on a small while Beetle Spin and had probably five smallmouth on in maybe 6 or 7 casts, but again, we were anxious to keep moving, so we pushed off and followed the river as it bends to the east. We had been told of a nice campsite on a peninsula facing south just before the river turns back south, and that spot was open, so we pulled in and set up camp. After a quick lunch of peanut butter pitas, we hooked up our portable fish finder and went out looking for walleyes. We never found them that night, but did get into quite a few pike, with orange inline spinners taking the most fish. Around 6 p.m. we heard thunder in the distance, and before we could contemplate heading back to our camp, we were slammed by the fiercest rain I’ve ever witnessed. It rained so hard, we could barely see the shore 20 yards away. It looked like a scene out of CBS’s “Survivor.” We abandoned our attempts to catch walleye and put all our emphasis on finding our way back to camp, which we did. Amazingly, the three-inch-deep streams of water pouring down from the higher ground wound around our tents, and after about 90 minutes, the rain let up, and we thanked God that our packs and tents had somehow remained dry. With no fish to eat, we enjoyed a meal of Spam and Zatteran’s rice. Nobody believed we could get a fire going because everything was drenched, but I’m generally considered the fire master, and proved my worth by dragging a big dead rotting log into camp. We used our Gerber camp axe to chop the log into 2-foot sections, then split these sections into small pieces. The wood was soft and dry on the inside, and within minutes we had a roaring fire going. It was the saving grace for an otherwise drab evening.