Leaving camp 20 in a mixture of thick smoke and fog.
Once fog has lifted the smoke becomes more obvious. I wear N95 mask all day until reaching camp 21, only removing to eat breakfast and lunch.
18:45 - 18:58 sunset, smoke still heavy at horizons.
Arriving late at camp 21 I do not erect Tarp shelter until the next day. The canoe is placed to provide a partial shield from strong wind. However there is limited protection from wind-driven rain. The Tarp, canoe and tethering ropes require a frustrating amount of manoeuvring and re-manoeuvring to best situate.
06:30 - 06:35 September 13, sunrise heralding a much needed rain.
Heavy rain September 12-14 leads to putting up the canvas Tent and wood stove.
Medium tarp is placed where the nylon tent was located the first night. It serves as shelter to store and saw poles for stove wood. This spot provides the most protection, meagre as it is, from wind anywhere on the small island.
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Summary:
Getting up to candlelight becomes the norm, as does the use of eyedrops for chronic smoke irritation. Wear mask against wildfire smoke all day while paddling. Camp 21 is reached after 24 km of lake paddling with a favourable wind. This is a fair-weather campsite; strong wind and heavy rainfall for several days lead to erecting the canvas Tent and stove. Wind hits Tent broadside, rattling and shaking it and endangering the stovepipes. Meet the Cree owner of the cabin where I had stopped for lunch who kindly gifts me some food, a welcome change. Though I would like to move on to a more sheltered camp I am both windbound and stormbound.
September 11:
The alarm signals time to get up at 05:00 and light the candle in order to pack gear. When the candle burns out half hour later I can see to finish with only a bit of use of headlamp. Smoke is quite thick with strong smell. I launch easily from my branch slip dock. Visibility is less than one kilometre, at first smoke mixed with heavy fog. Cool and damp I add my heavy shirt, temperature estimate 5°C. After a few kilometres I stop for breakfast on a bare rock point. Thinking gnats would be bothersome I am prepared to start a fire to see if it would help; however there are only a few, the light north tailwind helping to keep them at bay on the exposed rock. After eating I wear an N95 mask for the next four hours until a welcome break for lunch. It is especially nice to escape into a cabin to shed some gear and rest on a chair while eating. Moving on I wear the mask again until reaching camp 21 at 16:00 after paddling 24 km, all lake, no portages. From my journal: "Last few kilometres seem to take forever. Finally arrive. In the afternoon the wind switches to a light south headwind. But make it anyway in the time estimated (at three kilometres per hour). My limbs are stiff after spending so long sitting in the canoe. Takes a few minutes to limber up, stumbling a bit before adjusting to walking." After unloading the canoe I stash gear underneath not needed tonight including the shelter Tarp. A priority is unpacking the pots to boil water for canteen and supper. In the meantime I start erecting the nylon tent, walking back twice to check the pots. Tent up and sleep gear laid out I return to the fireplace to make macaroni and cheese supper. There is a beautiful rosy sunset - due to the smoke ... but pretty regardless. Back to the tent after the sun sets below the trees on the lake's mainland it is darkened by the time I am in bed at 20:00. The eyedrops used at least twice per day prove to be quite helpful. This is the first time ever I have used them well before the dry winter months, but am sure it is because of chronic exposure to wildfire smoke; there is no mask for eyes. Although doubtful about how level the bed would be I sleep well, the only downside having to place the mattress on the door side to find a decent spot.
September 12:
Breakfast includes fresh bannock eaten under the Tarp shelter which I just finished erecting. North is the only direction the Tarp is partially protected from. Two shirts on, temperature is about 12°C, cool east wind, a few active mosquitoes which seem to be targeting my left ear for some reason. A migrating flock of Canada geese flies overhead. There is a band of smoke on all horizons. Planning to move on tomorrow, I have already asked for good canoe weather. After breakfast I try casting off the leeward point of the island not expecting any luck but land a pike and most surprisingly a walleye both of which I cube for chowder. At 12:00 as I have lunch under the shelter a light rain starts. This entire small island has little protection from wind; beneath the Tarp is susceptible to wind driven rain. I move the canoe to the windward east side of the Tarp. To get it to stand on its side I cut a log to wedge between the top of the stern and a tree. I wrap the painters under and around the keel and back through the end thwarts to then pull the ropes tight to tie around trees at bow and stern that the canoe leans against. Next I tie the windward side of the Tarp through two grommets to another log behind the canoe. At the back of the Tarp I tie a rope to yet another log. The Tarp, canoe and tethering ropes require a frustrating amount of manoeuvring and re-manoeuvring to best situate. By 13:45 the rain falls steadily. From my journal: "Have a feeling in for a long one. Don't know if should put up the canvas Tent. The other option is to stay as is and hope for the best. After dithering, dress in rain gear to check where to place Tent. This is a fair weather campsite. Wind and rain are entering underneath the Tarp. Can't have fire in front either (because of humus, roots and trees). 'Think' the site I have in mind for Tent is okay. Waffle back and forth. Everything damp and cold. Steady rain. Strong east wind. Tarp shelter better with canoe but still uncomfortable. Fell two tall spruce that are each long enough for a ridge pole and sod cloth pole. Not many branches, just at top but enough for Tent door mat later. Cut enough short poles from down dead wood. Gather stones to anchor sod cloth poles and tent pegs (the latter because will be in shallow moss-covered humus). Wind hits Tent broadside and not a lot of bush protection so a bit worried about that. Clear base but the one remaining obstacle is a big tree stump; saw and axe it out but unfortunately will be inside the Tent hopefully out of the way near the side." Tent raised, as I am working to finish, a motorboat pulls in. I had seen the boat earlier go down the lake and waved but was not noticed until the white Tent was up. It is John D, a Cree, who owns the cabin where I stopped for lunch yesterday. He is dressed in orange and out for moose. We have a nice chat. John gives me some store food (half loaf bread, canned meat, canned ravioli, Pepsi, chocolate bar), all a welcome change from camp fare, a kind and generous offer, much appreciated. We met in 2022 at his cabin which was being used as a helicopter base for his fire fighting crew. At the time I had been delayed several lakes back when Jeanette informed me that I could not get through where there was active fire. When I met John then the cabin had luckily been protected with sprinklers still in place as the fire burned up to and around it; active remnants were still smoldering all along both sides of the lake. Now I inform John that when I was at his cabin yesterday I noticed a bear had torn off siding on one corner. When John left I finish most of the setup of the Tent. I install the stove and get a fire going before carrying gear from the nylon tent. After placing spruce boughs at the doorway I light a mosquito coil and close the door. Outside I finish chores (fasten remaining roof tarp ties, saw stovewood). Getting dark by 19:00 I eat supper in the Tent. In bed by 20:30 I sleep on top of the bed all night, keeping the stove going with a minimum of wood added when I get up to pee. My damp clothes and rain gear hang in the warmth of the Tent to dry. Amazingly, although the site looked to be uncomfortable, I have a nice level spot for the bed. Glad I decided to use the Tent and stove, it is a perfect end to a busy day. A much needed rain falls on and off all night.
September Friday the 13th:
While still darkish I arise by 05:30. Still raining intermittently I saw more stovewood under the Tarp shelter after first fetching suitable poles. Before breakfast John D and his friend arrive by motorboat on their search for moose. We have a chat; I usually tell people that I meet in the bush that because I have not seen anyone for many weeks I tend to be talkative, hopefully not too much so. They heft a large care package for me; I thank them for the offer but decline because I have lots of grub yet and will probably have more than enough left by the time I reach my vehicle. They were heading for John's cabin not just for hunting but to erect a new white cross to honour his uncle. I had seen the cross and wondered about it. This will replace the previous cross trashed by a moose; however that cross replaced the very first one torn apart by a bear a few years back. After the company leaves I eat breakfast in the Tent at 08:00, stove on low. Because it is a 'warmer' day I decide to let the stove die. After doing some chores I am back in the Tent at 11:20, dressed only in moccasins, while catching up on my journal and doing some puzzles. I would like to have a bath but the strong south wind discourages me; my direction of travel is south so would be windbound today unless heading north. Temperature is not that cool but in the wind it sure is. At 12:00 before lunch, dressed again, I decide to pack the nylon tent which has dried well enough in the wind. The sky is very cloudy and the wind is blowing hard. While outside I realize the Tarp shelter is threatened, in danger of ripping. There definitely would be no shelter beneath it now; I have to be careful to leave one last rope anchoring the windward side as I pack the Tarp, the wind whipping it up and down. I store the gear under the canoe. Just before finally eating lunch at 13:35 I have a bath after finding a small partly sheltered spot beside the north point. Because the stove only has warm embers left, I locate a small safe spot for the grill to heat supper where I had the bath. The strong south wind continues all day without letup along with completely overcast dark clouds. Not wanting to stay in this weather I decide to prepack including the stove.
September 14:
Having slept well, warm without the stove, I am up by 05:30, dressing by the light of the candle. It rained heavily all night finally stopping by 05:00, with just one brief shower after. From my journal: "Still have visions of leaving. However heading outside that proves impossible. Continuing strong south wind. Windbound again. Stormbound too, completely overcast dark cloud cover. This weather (much needed) could go on for a week!" Gear prepacked yesterday, I have to unpack again. To provide shelter for cutting wood I erect the medium tarp where the nylon tent was the first night. The site is not big enough for the large Tarp. This spot provides the most protection, meagre as it is, from wind anywhere on the small island. Underneath I pile the pieces of the split trunk removed from the canvas Tent site to function as a sawhorse. I retrieve poles that I had leaned against a tree and saw them for stovewood; some I split to make starting fire easier. From my journal: "Unpack stove. Aie! I disobeyed my own caution about prepacking the stove!" After getting the stove going well, I gather more poles to store under the tarp. At 08:30 I am eating breakfast in the Tent, just wearing moccasins. Fifteen minutes later the wind has shifted a bit southwest and is hitting the side of the Tent with strong gusts; with the door wide open to moderate the heat of the stove the wind affects the Tent even more. Adding more wood to the stove, my pile is smaller again so I have to go cut more. Running low on bannock last prepared at the fireplace, at 11:00 I put fresh bannock to bake in the Dutch oven on the stove; with just the right amount of heat, the bannock is done after 10 minutes per side. From my journal: "Darn wind gusts are rattling and shaking the stove pipes, worse with the door open to keep Tent from getting too hot. Wouldn't be good thing if the pipe came out of the stove. Will build a tripod stand if necessary. Out loud I say 'as soon as weather better, no rain, favourable wind, will move on.'" Bannock done, I close the damper most of the way and shut the Tent door. Despite the wind, flies have gathered on the door screen because of the warmth and perhaps the bannock smell. Before supper I light a mosquito coil in the Tent while I vacate for half hour to do some puzzles outside and to saw more stovewood. The wind has shifted to the west, hitting the Tent directly broadside, still strong and gusting, shaking pipes and Tent. I have opened the stove damper wide to let the wood burn out. At 19:00 the sun makes its way through the clouds, the first time today. There is obvious smoke on the north horizon extending high up in the sky. The wind now is light, no more gusting. I had already decided to take down the pipes to protect them and the Tent during the night; though the wind has dropped I take no chances, extinguishing the remaining stove embers with several palmfuls of bailer water, removing the pipes and sealing the port. After packing the tarp and standing up the remaining stovewood poles, I retire to the Tent, doing a puzzle until 19:30, already too dark to read well. From my journal: "Darn flies hung on and around the screen door all day. I manage to dispatch several that made it into the Tent. A few mosquitoes linger on the door and on entering I did see one in the Tent. Hope it doesn't come out to haunt me after dark."