05:18 July 30, sunrise through wildfire smoke at horizon.
Planning to camp here again on my return, after taking down the tent, I fell a tall dead spruce tree that is overhanging the site perched in the boughs of a live tree. I drag the tree off to the right.
Heading down the lake I stop for breakfast in the channel connecting the small section of the upper lake where camp 6 was with the main waterbody.
In the bright sunshine I don sunglasses and a bandana tied under my chin beneath Tilley hat to help protect much of my face and eyes against UV rays. It would be nice to know the sun-protection-factor (SPF) rating of the bandana material.
Another configuration, the bandana hanging loosely under hat is useful for shooing bugs away in camp as it flaps in wind or with head movement.
Thanks to Jeanette for hemming the rayon material several years ago. I tried smaller sizes before settling on the 3'x2' dimensions.
Once through the channel into the large lake I head for a string of small and large islands to provide some defense from the moderate headwind.
On the shore of one island I stop for a stretch and to check if it would provide a campsite if ever needed. On exploring around the corner amongst many down trees I find the deteriorating remains of an old log cabin. Behind it is the outhouse and a junkpile of bottles and rusting cans. I always wonder in these locations who lived here and when. One advantage of such a build is it eventually returns to the soil.
Near the cabin is a natural block of stone that almost looks manmade.
Heading past the last island I have to cross a wide open expanse of the lake, still against the stiff headwind until finally approaching a long narrows, the wind becoming much stronger. Paddling is a chore, one steady stroke per second after another, hugging the east side to get some protection occasionally within indentations along the shoreline. The last six km are tough seeming to take forever.
The tent set up on August 4 in a levelish spot ... that proves not to be so as I find out when sleeping there overnight.
The next day I prepare a new tent area to the left a few metres. After emptying the tent I carefully drag it to the new actually level setting.
I try an improved way of tying barrels to trees. Originally I threaded the bells on one of the bow loops of the rope but it was hard to tie tightly enough. Now I use some thin rope just to suspend the bells. The bells are intended to alert me when sleeping if a bear tampers with a barrel. Before tying barrels I had one taken by a bear and never recovered having to cut my trip short. The expectation is that the rope would slow the bear enough that I could intervene. But hopefully I never find out. Thanks to son Steven for the thin rope which he asked me to test. Although strong it proves too thin to work with for chores such as tying the Tarp shelter but is good for this new purpose.
A toppled spruce tree near camp provides a good source of boughs to make a level spot under Tarp shelter for the Bug Tent. The boughs also serve as a clean work platform. A small bunch works well as a portable mat wherever I place the chair to sit in some shade.
This spruce tree is probably at least 35 years old. The reason it fell is plain to see with its base on a thin layer of humus over bare sloped rock. The tree is about 30 feet tall; I base a rough estimate of age on growth of one foot per year plus five years to get established.
I have always resisted carrying a metal fireplace grill being one more thing to carry. But the package only weighs three pounds and is compact. It is simply an old fridge shelf doubled over for strength to size 17"x12". It makes a world of difference burning less wood, boiling water quickly, holding three pots. It is also safer as the fire can be kept smaller and contained within a stone surround. I saw firewood in 12" lengths, the same size as used for the stove, and split some for more efficient burning.
I am proud of the heavy canvas sack holding the grill which is my father's World War Two kit bag complete with his identifying information. He carried gear in it to all the theatres where he served (England, France, Belgium, Netherlands).
The Kitchen Barrel is a good platform for mixing bannock. The grill fireplace works well to contain heat for faster bannock baking.
A walleye and a pike filleted and cubed for supper chowder. Typically I fish early morning so it is stored in a Ziploc® bag placed in the shade under stair-step moss wetted down with water from the bailer.
A mayfly ('fishfly') resting on a hanging towel. Various species hatch throughout the seasons, not just in May.
My pucker stitch on a cotton/leather glove, the right hand. This hand wields the top of the paddle and I was getting a sunburn through the split.
Large birch tree all on its own having somehow survived many years not overshadowed by conifers.
Smoke is visible most days worst on August 2 - 3 when the tent is coated with white ash fallout. There are two ominous looking smoke layers at the horizon, smoke thick in the air with a strong smell.
August 4 morning is quite clear, a welcome change.
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Summary:
Feels like I travel in slow motion, aggravatingly slow progress against a strong headwind most of the 20 km to camp 7. Use of fireplace grill makes for safer, faster cooking using less firewood. 'Level enough' tent ... is not and must be moved. Camp 7 is the best site so far, more comfortable with fewer bugs. Good walleye fishing continues. A fallen spruce tree provides a good source of spruce boughs ... and a wasp nest. Thick smoke blown in from the Flanagan fire to the west deposits ash on tent and affects my breathing. Various encounters with wildlife including a strange one with a flying duck that hits a tree behind me while I am fishing.
July 30:
Up by 04:00 before the alarm, it is hot already with just a light wind. By the time I stop for breakfast in the channel heading north into the large lake proper the wind has increased and is a strong headwind. Once I round a sheltering peninsula directly into the wind I head to a string of five islands along with some smaller ones. The initial section is one km of open water and is hard paddling until I reach the first island. Hugging the isles helps combat some of the wind; I stop once to rest and explore what might be a campsite if ever needed. On searching around the corner amongst many down trees I find the deteriorating remains of an old log cabin. Behind it is the outhouse and a junkpile of bottles and rusting cans. I always wonder in these locations who lived here and when. One advantage of such a build is that eventually it returns to the soil which this one will do as trees fall down and more grow. To camp here would entail a lot of work clearing a spot amongst all the down trees. Heading past the last island I have to cross a two km open expanse of lake. After stopping at a small peninsula on the mainland for a stretch it is a tough paddle across another open two km section. Finally approaching a long narrows, the wind becomes much stronger as I stop for lunch. Paddling is a chore, one steady stroke per second after another hugging the east side to get some protection occasionally within indentations along the shoreline. If I had to paddle midchannel it would be a very hard struggle indeed. The last six km are tough seeming to take forever. The sky is heavy with dark forbidding clouds and I hear one crack of thunder. As I paddle, a loon surfaces right beside the canoe; it is as startled as I, quickly submerging, strangling a yodel call. I head down the longer side of a large island at the lower end of the narrows thinking it might be more sheltered; it is not and the steady slog continues. From my journal: "The entire six km after lunch is aggravatingly slow and heavy paddling against the strong wind. Seems like I'm travelling in slow motion. In the narrows I take note of some of the ancient pictographs but it is not possible to stop to take photos. The last two km across a large open expanse is excruciatingly hard and slow. Am I ever going to get there?! See an osprey carrying a fish back to its nest. Many loons on the water waiting patiently as I struggle to pass them. Along the shoreline, I notice several kingfishers and small shorebirds, all with their distinctive flight patterns, the former undulating down and back up as they express their 'krrrrr' call, the latter flitting just above the water voicing a quiet peep, peep, peep. I only see one bald eagle plus a possible golden eagle. Finally landing at 17:30 I'm a bit wobbly and stiff after sitting so long steadily paddling with bursts of harder energetic paddling. I remark out loud 'I did ask for no rain if possible till reach camp, even better till camp up. Also asked for a favourable wind. Alas the wind was the opposite.'"
Emptying the canoe I haul it on shore and stash some gear underneath, including the Tarp which I will erect tomorrow. Most other gear I carry to the tent site having to bypass a large fallen spruce tree with green boughs still intact. Another even bigger tree with lots of dry branches has toppled toward camp. The two heavy barrels get placed beside a tree each to tie tomorrow. At the fireplace site I unpack the pots from the Kitchen Barrel plus macaroni & cheese for supper. After finagling two stones into a good position for the fire grill I boil water in quick time leaving the small pot to stay warm near the coals. Thankfully the smoke from the campfire chases away the bothersome blackflies. From my journal: "Set up the tent stating 'it's level enough' ... famous last words!. Sleep gear tossed inside and the rest stored in rear vestibule I start a mosquito coil before returning to the fireplace to measure and re-boil water in short time for mac & cheese. Eat standing by the fire and drinking LifeStraw® water. Concerned didn't drink enough today, only at the infrequent stops. Back to tent to set up for the night. Alas ... the floor is sloped and still tilted badly on the 'best' side. Didn't position side of tent up the slope enough ... aie! Make do with folded tarp to help raise lower side, pack beside foot of bed to keep my legs in place. Sleep reasonably well; was very weary, not sure if tired but prove to very much be. Midway during the night I place two empty clothes bags along the underside to beef up the tarp and sleep better. In morning still have room in the pee can but surprisingly did not have any leg cramps during the night."
July 31:
After sleeping in a bit, I am almost done breakfast at 08:25 as I sit in the shade, no hat, heavy shirt tail out, belt loose. The knife and bear spray off the belt lay in easy reach beside me on a portable mat of spruce boughs which I can move to wherever I set the chair. The boughs come from the three metre top section sawn from the fallen spruce tree and dragged to the fireplace where a small fire shoos blackflies. Yesterday's sweat-soaked light shirt hangs on one of the Tarp shelter ropes erected before breakfast; bedding hangs on clothesline. After eating I don the now dry light shirt and decide to move the tent to a better spot. First it is necessary to clear the area selected just a few metres to the left. This requires sawing an eight inch log in two places in order to remove, saw and prune small trees on the bush side, axe out a big stump, break out two dead logs. I move out gear from rear vestibule and inside the tent place all items into a dry bag except gun and bed underlay pad; the bedding all hangs on the clothesline. All gear now removed except for floor tarp I untie suspension ropes and remove pegs. The tent can now be carefully pulled to the new location, making sure not to snag on any projections. The base is fairly level stair-step moss. Tent moved I enter to make sure it truly is level enough, then repeg and tie and install gear again. My light shirt is now sweat damp again so exchange it for the heavy shirt and rinse the former in the lake along with a pair of daytime undershorts. Hungry I eat lunch, younger self saying we should fish but older stating we have chores still to do. Next I axe off all the boughs from the spruce top and place under the Tarp shelter to raise the front level for the Bug Tent. First though I use the big mat as a base to aliquot grub from the heavy barrels into the Kitchen Barrel for the fifth week which is a lot because it includes items used for all of month two as well as the usual one week's worth. From my journal: "Finally can tie barrels to trees. After tying the first and starting the second realize I had not fastened the barrel clamps, so have to untie and do again. Wouldn't do much good to tie barrels but leave tops unfastened!" Next up is a much needed bath. At 16:10 I am sitting unclothed in the Bug Tent beneath the Tarp shelter out of the sun. I just had a nice bath, drying myself at the shoreside on the bare rock and slipped boots on to go to the Bug Tent. This is the best campsite all round so far and likely to be the best the whole trip. After sewing a tear in a canoe glove I catch up on my journal and do a quick puzzle. From my journal: "Asked for favourable north tailwind yesterday but got a strong headwind. Today you give me a strong south wind, ... [chuckling] ... my tailwind a day late. C'est la vie. Yesterday's wind tired me enough to sleep well despite an unlevel bed. I had remarked 'I'm weary but don't know if tired.'. But sleep very much demonstrated I was tired." Close to shore a loon serenades me for many minutes with at least three of the four main calls. From my journal: "Hah ... 'quick puzzle' ... NOT. It's a small looking one but I soon get stumped. It's going in the fire." At 17:15 it is a hot 29°C but the wind and no clothes makes it bearable. Now time to get dressed and have supper, at 18:25 I eat sitting on a boulder at shore to catch some breeze. There are hardly any bugs, just a few flies. To bed by 20:30 starting with no clothes, I wake in one hour to don pajamas. In the fleece shell my morning after a steady rain for at least one hour during the night.
August 1:
Up by 05:00 I slept well in the new tent location, a nicely level spot all moss. Before arising a grouse was beside the tent softly clucking in its distinctive voice before flying off in its characteristic loud pattern. After performing the first morning chores I assemble fishing gear to start casting directly from shore at camp. Working my way along the shore I try all the good spots catching a 19" walleye with a very deep body. Trying for another the lure gets snagged on shallow rocks when I did not retrieve fast enough. Nothing I try releases the hook so I lay the rod down on the rock shore to walk back to camp. Hauling the canoe to shore all I take out besides me and my waist pack are two paddles and the attached painters. Picking up the rod I paddle out past the location of the lure retrieving the line intact. After paddling back to camp I pull onto shore but do not park until sure not to need once more. Walking to the farthest point from camp along shore I catch and release a very small walleye, then land a 17" walleye. To walk there I have to wind my way through bush, picking and eating here and there a few blueberries, lingonberries and fireweed flowers and seed pods. Carrying the two fish suspended on a small alder branch back to camp I fillet them for supper. At 10:50 I finish eating a late breakfast which includes fresh bannock. It is 22°C with a very strong wind creating whitecaps on the lake surface, visibly breaking on the shore of an island one km away. I axe a bunch more boughs from the fallen spruce to add to the mat under the Tarp shelter. Progressing down the trunk I uncover the entrance to a wasp nest in the ground hidden by the branches so ending my bough collecting. I have been bitten by wasps a few times while clearing trees on portage trails; that is when the trail takes an automatic detour around the offending spot. Wasps and skunks are the two encounters that I quickly back off. At noon lunch very strong wind gusts blow up the Tarp. At 15:30 I am in the Bug Tent not because bugs are bad but to sit unclothed in comfort. Because of the strong wind and not having sweat much today a bath is not on the schedule. The all day west wind is bringing in wildfire smoke that I assume is probably from the Flanagan fire. Getting chilled I have to put on clothes while continuing to write journal entries and do several puzzles. At 18:00 I exit the Bug Tent to make supper of orzo and a full pan of fried walleye.
August 2:
There was a light rain last night and the sky is cloudy; smoke is visible at the horizon but I cannot smell it. From my journal: "A bird calling this morn before I get up puzzles me with its voice. Till I realize it was a gray jay; they have a myriad of sounds, including mimicking other birds. This one was talking to me but I couldn't understand." By late morning the wind is strong again from the west and bringing in thick smoke. I hike around the island taking about one hour keeping close to the shore. It is easier than I thought although I did use the saw to clear a few branches to ease through three tight spots. Some places have high cliffs where I have to veer away from the shore which is often hidden by thick brush. Along the way I pick and eat fireweed flowers plus a lingonberry, three raspberries and some green dock seeds; when not abundant it is easier to eat than to save for a meal. A grouse flushes in front of me as I walk through an open area of leafy plants on a height of rock overlooking the bush several metres below. It flies up into a tall spruce tree growing from the forest floor below so it is almost at eye level. I am quite sure it is a ruffed grouse rather than spruce grouse; the former seems to be migrating farther north each season. It is probably the grouse that was at the tent yesterday morning. At the shore-end of the rock sloping toward the lake is a large birch tree all on its own having somehow survived many years not overshadowed by conifers. It grows in a deep base of soil. Back at camp by noon it is 26°C and I am a bit sweaty. A few drops of rain prompt me to place gear under cover but does not amount to anything. After lunch I have a glorious bath and move into the Bug Tent under the Tarp shelter. The Tarp is ideally suited to shield from sun the entire day. All clothes now dry are in the Bug Tent. Wearing Crocs™ sandals as usual for bathing I take boots, shampoo bar and towel to shore. Toweling off on the bare rock I slip on the boots to return to the Bug Tent. Before long I am chilled with the wind and have to dress again. The wind is so strong that the Bug Tent would blow over if it was empty. At suppertime the smoke remains thick with strong smell. There are two ominous looking smoke layers at the horizon. Wind has dropped to moderate; mosquitoes and blackflies are bothersome. In the tent I lay on the sheet until 21:00 when I put on pajamas to continue laying on top of the bed all night, sleeping well.
August 3:
The last day of the fourth week and of month one. Up by 04:45 I catch a pike and a walleye for supper chowder. It is 12°C first thing, 16°C at 08:40 breakfast, very smoky, almost calm, white ash on tent. I can feel the smoke affecting my breathing. From my journal: "Back at camp start a fire to shoo pesky blackflies. Mosquitoes also bothersome. Ironic when smoky still need campfire to scatter blackflies. Get a glimpse of a pileated woodpecker with its bright red cap as it lands nearby giving its distinctive loud wuk, wuk, wuk call. Also hear the soft murmuring of a gray jay and the raucous cawing of a crow." Flies seem to be decreasing in number but mosquitoes bothersome all day. While I bathe midafternoon a bald eagle soars high above. After bathing I sit unclothed in Bug Tent but get dressed after cooling off. At supper I sit at the shore one metre above and one metre away from the lake. From my journal: "A breeze ripples the lake surface, occasionally lapping on shore, a gentle soothing sound. The sky at the horizon is layered with smoke up 12 fingers-width (three hands). A loon is just around the corner; there's a pair that frequent here. They have more claim than I. Oh ... one just surfaced in front of me out 30 metres. Dragonfly whizzes past my head, close enough to feel the draft, chasing mosquitoes, good on you! Now the two loons surface together in front of me. A good evening." On bed by 20:30, I am snuggled in fleece shell by morning. Every evening going to bed there are thousands of buzzing insects flying high in the air above, I think probably mayflies.
August 4 Sunday:
From my journal: "12°C on arising, wearing two shirts. Beautiful morn, no smoke ... yay! Back early from fishing by 07:15, 18" plump walleye, enough for supper. A strange thing happened when fishing along shore. A duck came in over the bush behind me. I hear a loud drawn-out quaaack and craaack, not sure which first. The duck had turned abruptly in its descent hitting a tall spruce tree top. Obviously it was going to land in front of me on the water but was surprised on seeing a person standing there. It did an abrupt 180° and I heard it landing on the lake just the other side of camp presumably to recuperate. After a solitary quack the duck was gone, hopefully with no permanent damage." At breakfast the bannock has a strong sourish taste; the mix is lumped together in each storage bag. I think with the heat the butter is melting and currants are fermenting; this has never happened before. So far there are no other side effects than taste but I will definitely be revising the recipe for next year. From my journal: The weekly satellite text from Jeanette: "OK here. No fires 4u. All fires west. Smoke. No rain. Mid 20s temps." Because I am concerned about the thick smoke, Jeanette's weather report makes me feel better. I send Jeanette a text: "Thx fire wthr. Was concerned hvy smoke temps. Clr this morn. Luv." From my journal: "While eating lunch hear a woodpecker tapping nearby, smaller than a pileated probably. There are some very large spruce and pine trees at the fireplace site that are dying, full of tiny holes drilled by woodpeckers, bark all flaked off lying below. Who knows where or when they'll fall. Could 'ruin' the site for camping. Have seen it happen many times." I finish prepacking to move on tomorrow, in bed early by 19:30.