July 5, a camp day. 2:40 p.m., returning to cabin with some firewood poles after fishing. A filleted pike is in a Ziploc® bag sitting on top of the wood, all waiting to be unloaded.
July 6, beautiful early morning moonset, 3:19 a.m., 3:50 a.m., 4:12 a.m., over the lake in front of the cabin.
A beaver lodge on unnamed lake 10, on my way to cut more portage. I saw the beaver swimming in the lake and investigated further to find his home.
After starting at the 300 metre mark where my trail ended on July 4 (above), the photos below represent another 850 metres of cutting and clearing on July 6.
I humour myself by arranging a version of handrails in one spot, albeit for very very short people.
Looking back to unnamed lake 10 and unnamed lake 9.6. On the right of the photo, the small valley extends down to unnamed lake 10, but on investigation on July 4 proved to be unsuitable for a trail, with very deep muskeg and thick spruce bush, spared by fire.
Axe marked blazes on two small jack pines to steer me correctly. Opposite sides of each tree are blazed to identify the trail in either direction.
A thick area of brush that requires use of pruner as well as bow saw to cut a trail.
Logs on or close to the ground have to be stepped over, as sawing requires too much work.
Logs placed at the base of a steep place to ease the step up or down, two examples of several such spots.
Beside my trail, a black bear, searching for ants, has mauled this dead tree.
A long stretch of muskeg with deep moss and Labrador tea brush, both adept at creating a struggle for walking. Nice though because not much cutting required, mainly clearing of a few down trees.
The end of my long trail for July 6, 850 metres (for a total to date of 1150 metres), much progress because of so much open muskeg. In the distance (centre of photo jutting up into the sky at the horizon) is the tall large fire-killed tree landmark that I have been steering towards for a while.
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Summary:
July 5 is a camp day, catching a pike for supper, drying clothes, topping up gas tank. Thanks to Brian for helping to get wood stove working. July 6 is a very productive trail making day, 850 metres (for a total now of 1150 metres of the long portage). Exploring ahead, I run into obstacles. Some motorboat issues resolved. A welcome lake trout from Brian and a much appreciated care package from Candy.
July 5:
It rained a lot last night, but morning dawns calm and sunny, 17°C, although there is some thunder in the distant grey clouds at the horizon. By midmorning, the sky is filled with very dark clouds with more thunder. With the heavy rain last night plus a strong onshore wind creating big waves, the boat is flooded with water over top of the stern seat and the gas tank is floating, a disadvantage compared to the canoe which gets parked on land and overturned to keep dry. There is at least 40 litres to bail out; thankfully I can use a pail to remove the water, versus the bailer which would have taken much longer. Yesterday, I put dry spruce branches kindling and birchbark tinder under the overturned boat behind the cabin, so a fire starts easily, to bake fresh cinnamon bannock for breakfast. Today is a chore day, including going to the fishing lodge to get more gas. I sure do not want to run out of gas up to 11 km away; there is no way I could paddle the boat back to the cabin, especially in a wind, one important difference from being completely mobile with a canoe. My boots got soaked yesterday and even after stuffing overnight with newspaper they are far from dry; I will probably be in wet boots for the duration of cutting portage. Wearing the boots at camp minus insoles and with laces loosened helps dry them faster. Today is Sunday so I do my weekly satellite phone check for Jeanette's text: "OK. No fires 4u. 2 way up N. Some rain next week. Cool here. JH." Sleep gear is hanging on the cabin line and I string all my damp clothes on the outside line (everything I wore yesterday). When I motored to the lodge, Brian filled the gas tank and topped up the oil. Brian generously comes to the cabin with a ladder to check the chimney which proves to be clear. I am thinking there is a problem with the stovepipe damper, but Brian spots an in-stove damper that needs to be opened. Finally the stove works ... yeah! A big thanks to Brian! I keep a small fire burning in the stove for a while to dry the hanging sleep gear, the temperature in the cabin rising to 25°C. After lunch I catch a 23" pike, just enough for supper; I hope to catch another for tomorrow, but no luck. Brian asks if I would like a fresh lake trout ... yes! He will bring one to me tonight; I do not think to say that I go to bed by 8 p.m., so as it turns out I am asleep when he visits with his catch later. After cleaning the pike on the rockface of a small island, I load the boat with about 10 dry spruce firewood poles. On returning to the cabin I have a welcome bath, hanging all my clothes on the outside line, which I immediately have to retrieve because the rain that threatened all day finally falls, thunder rolling back and forth around me. On or in the lake is not the best place to be in a lightning storm. By late afternoon, there is steady rainfall. The stove fire died long ago, temperature in cabin 21°C, supper cooked in firepit. Because of the rain, I dry my few dishes with toilet paper; it is amazing how two sheets of double-ply toilet paper can dry so well (or at least "good enough"). Seated at the kitchen table, I do several puzzles while cooling down after drinking a whole pot of hot water with supper. Having not had leg cramps waking me at night, I know I am hydrating well enough. Thank goodness I have a fly swatter, as I have killed hundreds of various kinds of flies in the cabin since arrival. Falling asleep doing a sudoku at 7:30 p.m., still raining, I go to bed by 8 p.m. and sleep well. Today was a good day.
July 6:
From my journal: "Up at 3 a.m., dark, as the amount of daylight lessens with the progressing season. Mosquitoes bothersome in cabin so don't eat here. Pack up and leave, stopping at the unburned isle near eight metre portage for breakfast. Regret not wearing fleece sweater on trip but put it on when I arrive. Moderate wind is cool, no shelter where I stop, the only good place on this island on its narrow peninsula. I know this island; in 2018 I had checked for a campsite here with no luck, no level spots on the high inland, very steep shores all round except for the point. When I get to the canoe, I don my headnet which I wear all day except for the boat ride and lunch fire. Clear and cut 850 metres, much not needing cutting across open muskeg, but thick moss and Labrador tea brush make hard walking. My path wanders a bit, taking the route of least resistance, around trees in this case. Blackflies bad, but okay with headnet and bandana. Don't get sweat soaked today, not as hot at 20°C, also helped by the wind which strengthens and lasts all day. Another way to tell not as hot is that I don't need to drink any canteen water. My feet get wet though, boots in wet moss and pools of water a lot; at least I don't go over the top of boots. Thank the gods for giving me a relatively easy day and making such a long distance, obviously total already over one km. I take a GPS reading where I stop cutting trail (which proves on track when I check back at camp). The terrain has started sloping down which is a good sign. Anxious to see how close I am to the target, I walk ahead, having to veer a bit several times to get around thick bush. I pass the tall blackened tree that has been my last marker, saying out loud 'Thanks for guiding me.'. Reaching a big patch of very thick fire-downed large spruce trees, I can see in the distance what I 'think' is probably the target river valley's far edge (hopefully its far side). I walk on, over, through the jumbled mess to a bit of a mound, surrounded by all the tall down trees, some at least 18" diameter. There is a small valley to the right running down towards the direction of the river, thick with spruce trees, choked with much deadfall. To the left is a section of standing spruce in muskeg spared from the fire. Further ahead to the left is a steep hill covered in dense brush, as is the area straight ahead. Walking across a terrible pick-up-sticks scenario to get to the mound, I take another GPS reading. (The device lets me mark these readings as 'waypoints' in its memory, to be analyzed later in conjunction with the map.) Looking at all the down trees that would be almost impossible to cut a trail through without a chainsaw, I am a bit discouraged but hopeful that tomorrow I can find a route through or around. There appear to be so many logs that even with a chainsaw I would be looking for an alternate route. I 'think' (hope) I can go around by heading down into the little? valley on the right. Back to my tools at the 1150 metre mark, I head to the canoe at 10:30 a.m., glad that I got an early start today. Hungry, a well deserved lunch at the fireplace at unnamed lake 10, glad to get a reprieve from the headnet. Then repeat the process to return to the boat, canoeing across unnamed lake 10, portaging two carries to unnamed lake 9.6, paddling across the latter. Even with the long birch pole, I have a difficult time poling the boat away from shore into the strong onshore wind, which direction was much appreciated while working but now is a big deterrent. Aie! Then the motor would only run for a few seconds at a time. When that is straightened away, the engine cover blows off, thankfully into my lap; I must have accidentally unlatched it. Will have to be careful of that when tipping the motor. (The motor is tipped up to protect the propeller when parked at the shallow shore and then is lowered once backed into deep enough water.) Travelling home, I go the extra 1-1/2 km to the lodge to ask Brian about the engine problems. He confirms that I have the cover back on okay. Because the engine is running smoothly now, Brian thinks the issue is probably related to the gas hose being too elevated with too many kinks, creating air locks, even though I was keeping the in-line bulb pumped to expel air. He fixes that issue, so now I know about more cautions. Paddle and canoe are certainly simpler. Mentioning my concern that I could get stranded if the motor fails, if not back at the cabin by 4 p.m., there could be a problem. Brian says that he typically checks that I am back each evening when they go out fishing. (I don't mention though that probably doesn't include poor weather evenings.) Before I leave, he gives me a filleted lake trout caught yesterday that he tried to deliver but I was sleeping already, didn't even hear him. Candy gives me a care package too. Supper includes the 10" Dutch oven pan crammed full of the thick fried lake trout ... scrumptious! Accompanied by a half loaf of rye bread, an orange and an apple from Candy. Even a cold beer before my meal. This is the life! Candy's package proves to include six much appreciated meals. Brian and Candy are too kind! At 7:45 p.m. time to check firepit and get ready for bed. Long day, weary, but strangely not that tired (as he yawns!). Glad I got up at 3 a.m., leaving to return after lunch about noon is a good plan. Check the length of the target river, which includes a series of many small lakes; from the upper end of the waterway above where my portage bearing lands, it is about 24 km - possibly? doable in one day - IF no portages! - IF no clearing of the river narrows of fire killed trees! Optimistically pessimistic? ... or realistically optimistic? ... or is that the same thing? To bed by 8:30 p.m. Sleep well. Nice having a flat (almost) level bed."