It was a bit hard to find the portage to Frederick, as beavers had dammed the entrance. Libby noted that the outflow of this portage into Zenith was beautiful -- a huge swath of floating bog filled with pitcher plant flowers, sundews at edges, with sphagnum moss holding it all. It was sometimes tricky to follow the channel.

The portages to Duck, Hug and Mesaba were nicely built and maintained. We stopped for lunch at the northern campsite on Mesaba, which was on a nice hill with a good view. Libby snacked and caught up on trip notes while I tried to catch a fish for lunch but I declared the lake “fish free” as I threw out everything I had, including a Mepps spinner, with no bites. A couple of canoes went by while we ate and we told them that we weren’t staying the night. They checked out the other sites and came back just as we were leaving.

We ran into another group on the portage from Hub to Fente -- feeling busy all of a sudden, as we had hardly seen anyone since leaving Malberg the second time three days earlier. One of these guys mentioned a solo traveller who had just done the Frost, and that he said he had to lift over 20! beaver dams. And that he had bare feet. That gave us a little pause but we were committed now. We saw the solo canoeist from a distance but could tell that he was singing exuberantly, obviously off in his own glorious world. The 300 rod portage to Fente was smooth, so no problem. We had to lift over a few rocks in Fente. Fished in some nice pools between portages -- got a hit or two but no hooks. Really beautiful spots.

The portage from Fente to Afton, although only 20 rods, was probably the most difficult of the trip. Libby yelled back “double portage!” and after seeing how steep (and short) it was, I took her advice. Good choice, as part way up the “cliff” with only the canoe I came between a tree on the right and a steeply sloping rock on the left, and paused to decide what to do. I reached out with my right hand to get a pull from the tree, and momentarily forgot about gravity, which pulled the canoe off my shoulders and left me standing in the front of the canoe, still stuck in the same spot. Hmmm… this is interesting. I managed to wiggle my way forward with the canoe, and into a place where I could lay down the canoe and re-start. Going down was steep as well, but with no obstructions like the other side.

We set up at the only site on Afton -- nice and high with a commanding view of this sweet, small lake. An hour or so after we arrived, we heard whoops of joy coming from the Frost River outlet -- obviously travellers were finishing up and very excited about it. I knew they would be hoping for our site after a long day, and we briefly talked about whether we should invite them to stay with us. As they came by, they didn’t seem interested in talking much as they realized they needed to canoe on to the next site, and so we let them go. Another canoe from the same party -- all young men -- soon emerged and one said “we were gunning for your site!” They too zoomed up the lake to the portage. But not before telling us “the water level is really low -- we had to do a LOT of wading”. Hey, we know how to wade!

Before dinner, we explored the lake, trolling and looking at a nice beaver lodge. No fish were biting after a few trips around the lake, so we paddled over to the rocks on the southeast bank, across from the campsite, and I started casting toward them while Lib guided the canoe. Nothing doing, until I put on the Mepps and bang, we had a nice pike for dinner. Motto: “If they aren’t biting on a Mepps, there aren’t any fish.”

Libby noted that “the delight of the site was an adorable and constantly active red squirrel (she named it Afton) -- either eating or gathering pine cones the whole time, seemingly without regard to our presence.”

When I hung our swimming towel on a branch of “his” pine tree and came back later, it was on the ground, although there was no wind. The same thing happened overnight. He obviously did not like us using his tree for a laundry line.

For the day: 8 portages, 639 rods, 5 miles paddling