September 12 at camp 36, up to Wilson at 4:30 am. When I exit the tent to rinse the pee bottle ... and my face ... using water in the bailer, I look up and can see a lot of cloud. From my journal: "I seriously thought of unpacking and staying but, as John Denver sings in 'Leaving on a Jet Plane', '... my bags are packed, I'm ready to go ...'." That tune is stuck in my head for quite a while afterwards. At 7:30 am as I am leaving, there are a lot of angry looking black clouds but a bit of blue sky, calm, 10℃. Crows are very talkative this morning, as too are several gray jays, one of whom can whistle better and louder than a human. The first time, the whistle surprised me and I was not sure who made it. I make good time with no headwind. From my journal: "As I canoe the narrows towards the next lake the wolves really set up a howling concert - bidding goodbye ... or welcoming me into ...? I'm heading in the direction they are howling from, I think the land near the small lake I'm making my way to where the portage starts. Weather not looking good but at least I have no wind problems, there are no bugs ... can't have everything. C'est la vie."
From my journal: "Didn't get out the map because I would 'remember' where the portage is. Hah ... when I'm canoeing to where I think it is, now I'm not sure if I'm in the correct bay! Aie! But it is, I remember the two abandoned beaver lodges set out in the lake away from shore."
When I get closer to shore I see the long wet shallow ditch to land. Trying to go in bow first (the direction the canoe is carried on the trail), I cannot make any headway with the heavily loaded front end. So I back out, turn around, and I am able to paddle, pole, wiggle close enough to dry land to step out. Thank goodness I do not have to get my wading gear on. It is not only wet, but deep mud. I unload the canoe onto bits of dry land, then pull the canoe up on land and turn it around bow first, wiggling it amongst bigger trees and bashing a lot of shrubs in the process.
The first 50 metres on land is under water a lot so I get the saw out to cut a trail alongside on drier land.
The new side trail is suitable to carry all the gear, but not the canoe because I would not be able to keep my balance, so I pull the canoe the entire 50 metres with the painter rope. Usually I pack the painters in the Laundry Pail to portage, but this time I leave one with the canoe, to wrap around my waist when I carry the canoe, in case I have to drag it through bad sections.
The trail is much wetter and muddier than on my way in, and it was not pleasant then. Thankfully I only have to carry five loads this time. The underbrush is relatively dry so I only get wet to mid lower legs. There is only about 100 metres of drier harder surface on the entire 870 metre trail. I do slip and fall twice with loads. Once is with the canoe, and hard as I try, I cannot stand up again with the canoe still resting on my shoulders, so have to set it down and drag it ahead where I can reload. There are many bunchberries which I would like to stop and pick, but the weather outlook drives me on. As I return on my last trip to carry the canoe and Rubber Pack, it starts to rain. The gear at the upper end is covered with a tarp. The loaded canoe was not covered when I left camp, but now I do, and thank goodness as I see later. Before embarking, I don rain gear. The rain starts lightly but steadily and I know it is going to be an all day affair. I have to go six more km and it gradually rains harder and harder. Aie!
When I get to the island at my previous camp 23 it really pours down hard. Aie! I have travelled 11 km including the 870 metre wet muddy portage. Thank goodness I cleared a canvas tent site and cut poles the last time. The packs get rained on as I unload and carry to bare rock 20 metres from the tent site, before I can cover them with a tarp. The bare rock is best because the moss is squishy wet. There is no sense putting up the tarp shelter as the moss underneath is soaked and I would have to cut spruce branches to lay on the ground, a project for another day but based on the weather lately I will only need the canvas tent. My feet and lower pant legs are soaked from the portage, but the soaking continues in the downpour. Man, what a heavy heavy rain. I get the canvas tent up in the rain. There are no dangerous overhanging trees, but unfortunately one tree to which I will fasten the ridgeline rope leans at a steep angle toward the tent so I brace it with another rope to a separate tree. The weakness in my canvas tent setup is that support depends on a rope strung between two trees. If that support fails, the tent falls. However the advantages outweigh that problem. After the ridgeline is held up with two support poles, I then stake out the sides and anchor the sod cloths with other poles. Although I use spruce poles cut and limbed when I was last in this camp, I do have to saw them to the proper length as I set up the tent. The rain continues, and it is absolutely pissing down hard, so I cover the tent right away with its poly tarp. Now I level the holes in the floor with moss. Laying out the floor tarps, I bring in all the gear except that which will go under the canoe.
Next, I need to find soil to form a base for the stove, and even though I have been keeping my eye out for overturned trees with roots disclosing soil, I have not found any. I sure hope I do not have to venture too far as I would have to carry a half pail at a time using the Laundry Pail. There is some bare soil scuffed up by my feet within one metre of tent. Eureka ... when I shovel the hard clay it reveals just what I need. I can shovel directly into the tent, as well as a thin layer in the bottom of the stove to insulate against burning wood. Usually I start a fireplace fire to obtain coals to quick start the stove, but the deluge continues. Aie! There is an overturned spruce tree stump that is fractured into dry pieces of resinous wood underneath that I saw and split with the axe. Using birch bark that I cached last time, I get a good fire going in the stove in short order. Thanks to the gods for providing me soil, tinder and kindling right at my doorstep. Needing more stovewood, I fell a pine tree that looks dead, but when I get it down and start limbing it, I realize there are some live branches at the very top, so no good to burn - too green. Aie! But there are several other stovewood trees nearby and I saw enough to fill the stove once it is burning well. Yeah, the tent is warming up nicely already.
I open the barrel to get out the pots and fetch water for the largest pot to put on the stove to boil. Hanging up my wet gloves and rain pants to dry, I keep my rain jacket on to fell and saw more stovewood, building a full pile inside the tent and some outside the open door. Next I fell and limb a spruce tree to place boughs in the muddy doorway.
Now at 4:45 pm I can turn on the SPOT Satellite Messenger® to notify my family of my new location. Normally I would use it as soon as landing at a campsite, but I have been rather busy getting shelter in the continuous rainfall. Finally, I can hang up my very wet rain jacket, leather mitts, socks, and my other damp clothes. Man, it feels great to be in the warm tent, and to put on some dry clothes, a cotton sweatsuit for use in the canvas tent. Life is good! Ravenous, I make supper - macaroni and cheese, hot water, plus my lunch which I never ate because of the rain - protein bar, Mini Babybel™ cheese, almonds, 1/4 cold cinnamon bannock. I planned to eat some canned corned beef and a berry salad, but no way am I going out to the coolers that I had already placed in a moss "fridge". After washing dishes, I get out my sleep gear and am in bed at 8:35 pm. From my journal: "Weary. A long tough day, but rewarding. It's good to have the occasional bad day to really appreciate the others. And it could have been worse - I had no wind, only minor bug problems, a campsite waiting with tent poles and cleared site, birch bark and kindling readily available, soil at my doorstep, camp setup before dark. Yes ... could have been a lot worse. I leave wet and damp clothes hanging to dry all night. Rains all night! Aie! And strong north wind. Woke at 10:30 pm with severe leg cramps, oh my were they ever bad, taking several agonizing minutes to subside. Aie!"
When I get to the island at my previous camp 23 it really pours down hard. Aie! I have travelled 11 km including the 870 metre wet muddy portage. Thank goodness I cleared a canvas tent site and cut poles the last time. The packs get rained on as I unload and carry to bare rock 20 metres from the tent site, before I can cover them with a tarp. The bare rock is best because the moss is squishy wet. There is no sense putting up the tarp shelter as the moss underneath is soaked and I would have to cut spruce branches to lay on the ground, a project for another day but based on the weather lately I will only need the canvas tent. My feet and lower pant legs are soaked from the portage, but the soaking continues in the downpour. Man, what a heavy heavy rain. I get the canvas tent up in the rain. There are no dangerous overhanging trees, but unfortunately one tree to which I will fasten the ridgeline rope leans at a steep angle toward the tent so I brace it with another rope to a separate tree. The weakness in my canvas tent setup is that support depends on a rope strung between two trees. If that support fails, the tent falls. However the advantages outweigh that problem. After the ridgeline is held up with two support poles, I then stake out the sides and anchor the sod cloths with other poles. Although I use spruce poles cut and limbed when I was last in this camp, I do have to saw them to the proper length as I set up the tent. The rain continues, and it is absolutely pissing down hard, so I cover the tent right away with its poly tarp. Now I level the holes in the floor with moss. Laying out the floor tarps, I bring in all the gear except that which will go under the canoe.
Next, I need to find soil to form a base for the stove, and even though I have been keeping my eye out for overturned trees with roots disclosing soil, I have not found any. I sure hope I do not have to venture too far as I would have to carry a half pail at a time using the Laundry Pail. There is some bare soil scuffed up by my feet within one metre of tent. Eureka ... when I shovel the hard clay it reveals just what I need. I can shovel directly into the tent, as well as a thin layer in the bottom of the stove to insulate against burning wood. Usually I start a fireplace fire to obtain coals to quick start the stove, but the deluge continues. Aie! There is an overturned spruce tree stump that is fractured into dry pieces of resinous wood underneath that I saw and split with the axe. Using birch bark that I cached last time, I get a good fire going in the stove in short order. Thanks to the gods for providing me soil, tinder and kindling right at my doorstep. Needing more stovewood, I fell a pine tree that looks dead, but when I get it down and start limbing it, I realize there are some live branches at the very top, so no good to burn - too green. Aie! But there are several other stovewood trees nearby and I saw enough to fill the stove once it is burning well. Yeah, the tent is warming up nicely already.
I open the barrel to get out the pots and fetch water for the largest pot to put on the stove to boil. Hanging up my wet gloves and rain pants to dry, I keep my rain jacket on to fell and saw more stovewood, building a full pile inside the tent and some outside the open door. Next I fell and limb a spruce tree to place boughs in the muddy doorway.
Now at 4:45 pm I can turn on the SPOT Satellite Messenger® to notify my family of my new location. Normally I would use it as soon as landing at a campsite, but I have been rather busy getting shelter in the continuous rainfall. Finally, I can hang up my very wet rain jacket, leather mitts, socks, and my other damp clothes. Man, it feels great to be in the warm tent, and to put on some dry clothes, a cotton sweatsuit for use in the canvas tent. Life is good! Ravenous, I make supper - macaroni and cheese, hot water, plus my lunch which I never ate because of the rain - protein bar, Mini Babybel™ cheese, almonds, 1/4 cold cinnamon bannock. I planned to eat some canned corned beef and a berry salad, but no way am I going out to the coolers that I had already placed in a moss "fridge". After washing dishes, I get out my sleep gear and am in bed at 8:35 pm. From my journal: "Weary. A long tough day, but rewarding. It's good to have the occasional bad day to really appreciate the others. And it could have been worse - I had no wind, only minor bug problems, a campsite waiting with tent poles and cleared site, birch bark and kindling readily available, soil at my doorstep, camp setup before dark. Yes ... could have been a lot worse. I leave wet and damp clothes hanging to dry all night. Rains all night! Aie! And strong north wind. Woke at 10:30 pm with severe leg cramps, oh my were they ever bad, taking several agonizing minutes to subside. Aie!"
September 14 at 6:37 am.
6:38 am.
6:38 am.
6:44 am.
6:44 am.
6:45 am.
6:45 am.
September 13 and 14 are 3℃ early morning, rising later in the day to a high of 5℃, with a strong north wind and some rain and a few snowflakes. There is a glimmer of sunshine, but it does not last. Failing to catch anything from shore on September 13, I take canoe out the next day and catch three pike for supper.
The wind dies on September 15 and the temperature rises to 7℃, no rain or snow. I finally find a good spot on the island to fish from shore and catch two pike easily. I even manage to still find some reasonably fresh fireweed shoots. There are snow geese overhead, but have not heard Canada geese for some time. It has been a while since having a lake bath, so I have a very cold one, measuring the water temperature at 12℃. Man, does this feel great. A washcloth bath only works so long. This proves to be my last bath until returning to civilization.
I fell and saw stovewood each day to keep the stove going day and night.