Up at 5:00 AM, we reloaded both vehicles and rolled over to Brittons for some of their famous 'last breakfasts'. ("Portion sizes out of control with an order of doughnuts to go")

We skipped the doughnuts.

Our tow was naturally handled out of Moose Lake. Willie, our young boat driver, helped strap my well worn Sundowner and Pete's shiny Souris River onto his jonboat. Willie was pretty impressed with the Souris River - evidently they don't see that many unscratched canoes on their docks.

As we backed away from the dock, I clicked on my GPS.

Up the lake we went, the slight chop creating a rhythmic banging on the flat bottomed craft as we sped past loons, shallows and paddling canoes. Within 30 minutes we were at Prairie Portage - the canoes were flipped down and the packs found their homes. The customary exercise of paying our fees and buying our licenses inched along as per usual.

Nonetheless we met the usual interesting characters - pensive rookies and chatty veterans - while waiting in line.

Our transactions handled, we headed off. The day was cool with scattered showers and patchy blue skies…. we left the crowds at Carp portage in our wakes and soon had the world to ourselves. Our goal this first evening was the famed Emerald Lake and a particular campsite backing up on ancient cedars. After a solitary paddle over to the Emerald Lake portage, we found a group heading over for a day trip to fish. (From where??) A cheerful bunch of folks, one of their group included a kid who seemed to be suffering a bit of wilderness overload as he staggered down the narrow portage path, Nalgene bottles clanking and dragging in his wake. We quickly passed him up and left them behind as we paddled off on the magical green waters of this lake.

Emerald Lake lies on Greenstone - an unusual geological feature up there and when the light is right, the waters exhibit a very unusual and pleasing green hue. As we approached the Eastern end, I strained to see if to campsite I had circled last January on my Fischer map was open. This time it was! We pulled our canoes into this site and set up camp. We'd covered 14 some miles this first day.

Logan was encouraged to break out his fly rod and he was quickly successful in landing Smallmouth after Smallmouth from shore this cool Quetico afternoon. We had this sparkling green lake to ourselves.

Later I encouraged the group to join me as we followed the path back from camp into a grove of towering virgin Cedars. This is an area that escaped the logging that denuded the Northland a century ago - the Emerald Lake Cedars are generally estimated to be 300-400 years old. The grove exists in deep silence…. and sunshine seldom reaches the forest floor amid these giants. We were properly quiet and reverent.

I sent Logan and Pete out to get some beaver wood for the fire, but they came back with assorted dead branches - they couldn't locate any beaver wood.