On July 17 at 3:30 am at camp 17, I arise to dark clouds and hundreds of mosquitoes as I break camp. Just as I start to take down the tarp shelter, it rains hard for a few minutes. Most gear is already in the canoe. For a moment I think I should leave the tarp up, and heaven forbid, set up camp again. Looking at the sky from shore's edge I can see the storm appears to be passing over.
Shoving off with no breakfast or bathroom break, I encounter a large group of young mergansers splashing madly away from me, probably at least two families.
When I stop soon after, at the bare burned end of an island for breakfast, even with the wind, the blackflies are bothersome but a small smoky fire clears them away.
After 16 km, I stop at a clearing across from which is a large white cross. (I check out the cross the next day when I move on, but there is no indication of its purpose.) It is a hot 30℃ and I am weary after battling a headwind all day. The horseflies are bad and biting as I take a welcome bath.
In the clearing are wild carrots (top) and clover, both good to eat, the former for its flowers and the latter the flowers, leaves and stems.
In the clearing I hear the distinctive loud warning whistle of a woodchuck as he complains my presence. I get a glimpse of him once dashing for his burrow. His home is certainly in a good location for plants he likes to eat.