Sunday, June 15, 2025 I wake during the night feeling chilled and pull on my long-sleeved running shirt. Around 3:00 a.m., I wake again and can't get back to sleep. Travel days always make me a little anxious, especially when I'm heading into country I've never explored before. Lying quietly in my sleeping bag, I listen as the forest slowly begins to wake. By 5:00 a.m., I finally climb out of the tent. A thin layer of fog hangs over the lake. Coffee comes first. As I break camp, the familiar routine settles my nerves. By 7:00, I'm ready for breakfast—eggs and bacon—before pushing off. I've never paddled this section of Lac La Croix, and the thought of exploring new water excites me. Leaving North Lake, I paddle west into Lac La Croix before turning east. A short portage allows me to avoid one of the larger expanses of open water. The lake is calm, making for an easy crossing. About three hours later, I arrive at Takucmich Lake. The campsite I hoped to claim is occupied. I paddle over and ask when they're leaving. "About an hour," one of them says. I ask if I can leave my gear nearby and spend the next hour fishing while they pack up. Thankfully, they agree. After a few promising strikes, I return to find the campsite vacant. One of the departing campers warns me about an unusually friendly red fox that often wanders into camp around dinnertime. I make lunch, set up camp, and by early afternoon I'm back on the water searching for lake trout. The forecast calls for several days of light winds—perfect conditions. Even in this remote country, reminders of civilization are never far away. Boats move across the Canadian side of Lac La Croix, and later I hear a helicopter pass overhead. For lake trout, I keep things simple: a silver Little Cleo behind a three-ounce weight with roughly a hundred feet of line. Nothing fancy. Usually, that's all it takes. After an hour of trolling, I reel in my line and discover my spoon has twisted around the leader. I haven't been fishing at all. Laughing at myself, I head back to camp to straighten everything out. Ten minutes after getting back on the water, I land my first lake trout of the trip. This time of year, trout spoil quickly on a stringer, so I always carry my stove and frying pan for impromptu shore lunches. I fillet the fish with the skin on, season it with garlic salt, pepper, and paprika, and fry it until the edges are crisp. The trout isn't quite enough for dinner, so I supplement it with dehydrated Mexican beef in red sauce. Throughout the afternoon, painted turtles crawl onto the warm rocks near camp, searching for places to lay their eggs. Whenever I move, they quickly slide back into the water. Sure enough, around dinnertime, the red fox strolls confidently into camp. He's beautiful—but entirely too comfortable around people. It takes nearly fifteen minutes to convince him to leave, and I'm fairly certain previous campers have rewarded his boldness with food. Later that evening, I send my wife a short InReach message letting her know I'm safe. As darkness settles, I watch one of the turtles finally choose a nesting site before slowly making her way back into the clear waters of Takucmich.