The sky not at all promising June 22, I am fed up with effect of revolving wind and weather on camp 5.
Canoe loaded at 05:35 ready to leave.
A gull just offshore anticipating more fish leavings.
Campsite 5 after gear all packed.
One last look at the bald eagle nest and the exit of the target river which I am ambivalent about trying to head up later.
Arriving at camp 6 (old camp 4) on June 22, gear covered with Tarp against rain at 07:36.
Clear skies June 23 at 06:15, looking up the lake through a layer of dissipating fog.
Big hatch of mayflies leads to good fishing from shore as pike feast on the bugs. They are dormant first thing in the morning because of the cold.
A boo-boo with saw proves how sharp the blade is and the need to wear leather mitts even when just doing a quick chore. Triple antibiotic ointment, bandage and waterproof tape to the rescue.
Ominous looking sunrise on June 25 at 04:37. An interesting predawn sky, eerie light stretching the entire eastern horizon under dark clouds. The bottom photo at 04:38 facing south.
Bear spray discharges one squirt in the Tent choking me up, burning my eyes and throat and forcing me outside. Top photo of the offending bear spray holster shows the absence of an enclosing flap. My handmade trigger safety of wood and duct tape will now prevent accidental discharge (bottom two photos).
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Summary:
Fed up with effect of revolving wind and weather on camp 5 return to old camp 4 to recover using canvas Tent and stove. Failing to use map and compass, taking the wrong route helps prove the saying 'Men never ask for directions', making me think of some quotes from Yogi Berra. Big hatch of mayflies makes for easy fishing from shore. Prepack to move on from camp 6 but gale force wind changes the plan; wind is so strong I fear for the Tent during the night; sure glad not to have endured this weather at vortex island. Accidental discharge of bear spray forces me out of Tent; finally prepare a wood and duct tape trigger safety for the bear spray. Amused by a greater yellowlegs shorebird looking so out-of-place perched on top of a tall spruce tree as it scolds me with its strident call.
June 22:
Up at 03:00, 6°C, I was in the sleeping bag most of the night. From my journal: "Go outside in PJs and boots. Weather not promising, heavy fog and drizzle, dark grey overcast skies. Decide to leave anyway; don't want any more of the revolving wind and weather causing a very uncomfortable camp. The plan is to go back to old camp 4 to set up the canvas Tent and stove to recover. Momentarily think of starting fire to dry pots; instead have a big drink then dump water and overturn pots on the spruce boughs under Tarp to drain. Dressed in rain gear, canoe packed I shove off shortly after 05:35. Thinking I recognize the route, wouldn't you know it, I go into a bay past the turn to head south. My bad for not checking map cause I 'know' the way. Should have known better. As the saying goes 'Men never ask for directions'. I ably prove the point. Stupid, stupid ... Barry." After figuring out my mistake, paddling one extra kilometre, I am on course. It is interesting how I can get a suspicious feeling but make the wrong direction fit the route, easy to paddle for example into a dead end bay before figuring it out. Of course the best thing to do is to stop, get out the map and compass, even GPS if necessary. However I am never comfortable again until I know for sure the landmarks do fit the map instead of me making the map fit the landmarks. I will not be lost, just not sure where I am." Several appropriate quotes from Yogi Berra (1925 -2015): "If you don't know where you are going, you'll end up someplace else." "You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there." "When you come to a fork in the road, take it." "Yeah, but we're making great time! In reply to 'Hey Yogi, I think we're lost.'"
Reaching old camp 4 (now camp 6) I initiate the SPOT™ at 07:25, having made very good time with a tailwind. Distance travelled is only four km (three plus one extra heading the wrong way). By 10:00 I have the canvas Tent up, gear inside, everything secure outside. It is a cold 10°C when I finally take off raingear in the Tent. It would be nice if the stove was on as I eat a late breakfast but at least am out of the wind. Donning the rain jacket again I set up the stove, Tarp shelter and tie the heavy barrels. At 13:00, pot on stove to boil water, I take off my clothes to eat lunch while sleep gear hangs to dry in the now nicely warm Tent. There are only seven pieces of stovewood left from the stash but I did bring a supply of birchbark from the previous camp. At 14:05, falling asleep and vowing to sleep in tomorrow, I dress again to do more chores while a mosquito coil burns in the Tent (saw stovewood, pick supper salad, split kindling, cut a birch root out of fireplace, find enough moss to make a screen door sill). It is very cloudy with a light but cool north wind, 12°C. A greater yellowlegs makes quite a commotion with its loud strident tew-tew-tew alarm call, upset with my presence near its nest; I am always amused to see such a large shorebird irately scolding me looking so out-of-place perched atop a tall spruce tree. At 17:20 I am eating supper of mac & cheese cooked on the stove along with salad of birch leaves, a Daryl's bar and hot water. Blackflies congregate outside the screen door, but no mosquitoes. One good thing about the weather has been that bugs have been good the whole month. Tent window and door closed, stove dying I am falling asleep doing a puzzle and in bed by 21:00.
June 23:
A cold night, sleeping in until 05:00 when I hear many fish surfacing. Once dressed I put together the fishing rod to hopefully catch a pike from shore as soon as I exit the Tent. I am wearing both a light and a heavy shirt, the former the replacement unpacked before the halfway point of my trip (after burning the old one that refused to dry). It is calm and foggy with clear sky above at 8°C. When I walk to the lake there are thousands of mayflies all over tree leaves and the rock shore where I cannot walk without stepping on them. This is why the fish are surfacing, gorging on the dead flies on the lake surface. In short order I catch a 24" pike perfect for supper chowder. While filleting the fish, warmed by the rising sun the dormant mayflies are waking and flying all around me, sometimes into my face. I start the stove to bake fresh bannock for breakfast which I eat with no clothes on in the toasty warm Tent, falling asleep doing a puzzle. (I maintain up to three baked bannocks cut into quarters, one section eaten with daily breakfast and another at lunch.) By 13:00 I have completed other required chores including cutting more spruce boughs for the Tarp shelter where I eat lunch. Boughs come from ten small spruce felled down the shore a ways so as not to rob protective cover from camp. Little yellow spiders crawl over me as I sit on the boughs; hopefully they safely return to new spruce tree homes. It is a beautiful day, 23°C, much clear blue sky with some white cumulus, moderate south wind. Midafternoon I have a hot shower after a final chore of fetching and limbing five stovewood poles. I am in bed by 20:00, in the sleeping bag by midnight.
June 24:
There is no luck fishing from shore this morning, no feeding frenzy on mayflies like yesterday. Paddling to the nearby island I land a 25" pike while small pike surface all over the place still feeding on mayflies. Blackflies are quite bothersome so I wear a hat bandana while fishing. As I eat breakfast, a white-throated sparrow issues its pretty whistle-like three-note song nearby which I imitate back to him. Several warblers cheep their fast long trill. My greater yellowlegs sings its ambulance-siren-like call over and over. A gull squawks before landing to try to retrieve fish leavings. Unlike camp 5 I do not hear any robins. By afternoon temperature rises to 30°C and I am hot, planning to go for a bath in the lake but I chicken out after cooling down. Throughout the day light wind has circled from south to north; thank goodness for the cooling breeze and occasional cloud covering the sun. Because of the heat I wait until 17:00 to start supper of fish chowder. Deciding to move on tomorrow, I prepack tools, stove and Kitchen Barrel. I have aliquoted grub for next week, the fifth week starting month 2. My plan is to canoe up the lake at least as far as where son Steven and I camped in 2003. Hopefully by then the weather vortex of camp 5 will be settled down to allow tackling the target river again. In bed by 20:10 I fall asleep on the bed sheet before getting in the fleece shell for the rest of the night. From my journal: "Shortly after laying down the north wind becomes very strong, shaking the Tent as if wanting to blow it down. My main fear for the next two hours is of a plough wind. Have seen areas where large swaths of trees were toppled, every one, all in the line of direction of the wind, trees snapped like matchsticks. At 22:00 it starts pouring rain for two hours but the wind stays strong all night with intermittent rain. The Tent about 20 metres from the lake, I hear the sound of big waves hitting shore all night. Tent withstands the wind but I will definitely need to check the 10 tent pegs in the morning. Worst thing could happen is if one of the ridge line support trees was toppled. Interesting night! Had checked SAT phone at 19:27; message from Jeanette: 'OK. No fires 4u. Better weather coming. JH.' Ironic because last night was definitely not 'better'. Sure glad not to have endured this weather at vortex island." [A plough wind, straight-line wind or derecho is a wind blowing in a straight line as a downburst from a thunderstorm, unlike a tornado which is a twisting wind.]
June 25:
From my journal: "Alarm rings at 03:00 to remind me we're leaving today - NOT! Ironically at same time it is raining. A bit later I pull on boots to step outside in PJs to check the sky. Cold north wind, very dark clouds. Take photos of the interesting predawn sky, eerie light stretching the entire eastern horizon under dark clouds." Back in bed rain starts again. By 06:00 I arise for good, the rain stopped, but the wind still strong from the north.
From my journal: "While getting dressed bear spray comes out of flapless holster. Trigger strikes the floor, a momentary spurt hitting the Therm-a-Rest® Mattress. Aie! Only small amount but chokes me up, making me cough. Pull boots on (otherwise dressed while hanging up bedding). Go outside to finish coughing and spitting. Rinse mouth. Open door and window fully. Use handkerchief to rinse mattress at lakeshore, almost slipping in on the wet sloping rock. The spray stain quite evident on mattress. Put back in Tent to dry before rolling up. Tent, Tarp and trees covered in dormant mayflies. At least the 'may'flies have emerged before July. At 09:20 eating breakfast in Tent warmed by the stove. Stove on feels good. Door and window wide open because of bear spray incident. It is 8°C, chilly strong north wind, clear sky. After breakfast fashion a trigger safety for the bear spray, though first temptation is to burn the damn thing! (If I had created a safety after the previous incident the second one would have been avoided. And if I had thought about the issue of no holster flap when purchasing would have been prevented the first time. Could have, should have ...) A piece of split kindling fits the trigger space nicely so cut it to size with multitool saw. Then tape in place with a piece of duct tape. Not the fastest to be able to use but better than burning. Will keep an eye on the tape." [Another problem was that the plastic tie securing the trigger safety had come off; it allows the safety to dangle from the bear spray container when you have to disengage the safety. I could have and should have fashioned a replacement tie from rope or snare wire. However the main problem was the lack of holster flap so bear spray would still have continued to get pushed from holster.]
At 12:55 lunch in the Tent, temperature is 15°C, clear, moderate north wind. With the north wind in the doorway I only need the screen open about 18" to be comfortable with the stove on, sitting unclothed. Before breakfast I had to unpack everything I prepacked yesterday; I plan on prepacking again later today if weather cooperates (like I thought it did yesterday). Before lunch I do more chores (stovewood, stovewood poles, kindling). I finally find a small patch of fireweed for salad. Fishing from shore with the onshore wind is not possible so at 13:45 I canoe to the lee of the island to catch a pike for supper chowder. At the island I discover a flat boulder where I fillet the fish. The boulder is too high from the water to reach easily so not totally convenient, having to step into the canoe to rinse fish, hands and knife, but preferable to using the shore at camp; now the attraction for a bear is a long way from camp. By supper at 17:50 the wind has died to light, sky has been clear all afternoon with only a few clouds, a beautiful evening. I let the stove die and prepack to hopefully move on tomorrow. In bed by 20:15 I need the sleeping bag most of the night.