Day 9: Homeward Bound

Heading back to civilization....well, to Atikokan anyway.

Everyone was up bright and early this morning. The feeling of excitment was pretty similar to the morning nine days ago when we first put our boats in the water. We were on the water by 7.

The morning was beautiful and clear. The water was like glass, and some light fog was lifting. Perfect conditions to start our last paddle. We planned to meander our way to the ranger station, partially to ensure our 100 miles, but also to make sure we didn't arrive too early and have to just hang out waiting for our pick-up. Our route followed the shoreline rather than straight across open waters. We've come to appreciate this longer way around. You see more, and have time to notice the details and differences that otherwise are lost. Like the entire trip, the journey is more important than the destination. Our last trip in our boats was an easy six miles.

Last night we skipped 'thorns and roses' and asked the crew what they would remember from the trip. They were reflective and thoughtful, often chiming in to support each other's memorable moments:

• Floating bogs. Difficult, but so unusual and an amazing feat of nature.
• Beaver dams and ponds. Amazing feats of engineering and perseverence.
• Slow paddles through the creeks and marshy connections between the smaller lakes.
• Eagles soaring overhead
• The haunting calls of Loons and Wolves.
• Beautiful landscape, unspoiled lakes, and amazing views from our island campsites.
• The overwhelming size of the entire park, and at the same time, the intense quiet. How that made them realize how small we are in the greater scheme of things.

What else stands out? We had fun. Not always in the 'ha-ha' sense of the word, but some of that. More often, in the sense of testing yourself, relying on each other, and accomplishing something special together. The boys worked well as a crew, and genuinely enjoyed the experience.

But they added their unique personalities to the whole:

• Charlie's "song of the day", which mostly made us laugh. Combined with more random knowledge than a jeopardy game show convention, we never lacked for interesting conversation.
• Sam's boundless ability to finish any food. More noteably, was his role as our Chaplain's Aide. His willingness to share his personal reflections and relate them to our daily inspirational reading was wonderful.
• My new daughter's, Barb (AJ) and Grace (Cam). AJ's nickname earned while hooking himself helping with Al's first fish. Cam (later upgraded to 'Amazing Grace'), for his somewhat frequent stumbling, but his occaisional 'amazing' recoveries.
• Alex our crewleader. Leading us with few words, but always a great attitude.
• Zach discovering that this trip was as unique as his first trek through NTier.

And we can't forget our interpreter, Drew. We certainly won the 'interpreter lottery'. He was more than an knowledgeable outdoorsman. He added direction and humor, sometimes bordering on just plain crazy. But while we think he might need to spend a little more time in base camp, we all learned from his passion for nature and the environment, and we learned better how to co-exist within it. Pretty impressive young man.

There is no way to adequately describe what nine days of wilderness adventure means, and it surely means something a little different to every individual. We will take back our stories of the trip, our personal highlights, and our thorns, but those are just fragments of the larger experience. It is the journey, not the destination.

Did I accomplish my goals for this trek? Absolutely (if we forget about that moose sighting that never happened). I am hopeful that AJ and Cam saw a different side of me. I tried not to be 'the Dad' all the time.

I certainly saw them as capable, confident young men. I saw them work together with long time friends, and create new friendships. I saw them push themselves physically, and sometimes emotionally as well. And every time, they came out better for the experience. I realize I did not learn anything about them that I didn't already know.

What I did learn was more a lesson for me..... to look more closely every day. Its easier to see out here, when there's nothing cluttering the view. But when there are more distractions in the way I need to look closely to make sure I see what is always there, and deeply within them. I am committed to keeping that lesson with me.

I will treasure the time we spent for the rest of my life.

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For those that have followed along with my rambling entries, I hope you enjoyed my story. We've been home now longer than we were away, and writing these last nine days helped me relive the trip. I smile each night as I sit down and remember the day I wrote my notes. I hope everyone has a chance to share in a special journey like this with their family and friends.

Day 8: Starry, Starry nights

Starry, starry nights.....almost.

The winds finally died down about the time we all went to bed. Actually not a coincidence that we head to bed at dusk or when the wind stops blowing because as soon as the sun starts setting, the mosquito's converge on any warm-blooded creature unfortunate enough to be outdoors. Without the wind to keep them at bay, its run for cover or be bled dry. We didn't actually miss any stunning night sky views, as the clouds have an uncanny way of showing up just as the sun dips below the horizon. The clear sky at dusk had us all fooled, but the cloud cover gathered just in the nick of time. So close...

It was easy to tell tonight that everyone is ready to head home, ... and pretty well tired out. Our trek today was very short, ...only about 10 or 11 miles. However, it seemed even shorter because we didn't battle any headwinds. A simple paddle, albeit a roundabout route. We left our camp about 8 am, and were in setting up in our last site in time for lunch. It is amazing at how much distance our crew can cover, even when we are taking our time.

We're spending our last afternoon relaxing on a point of land that looks like a long sandy beach, but is actually a huge outcropping of solid stone gently sloping into the water. Charlie caught two mid-size bass. Not to be outdone, Al caught a 27 inch northern pike, ...twice. The dumb fish wasn't back in the water fifteen minutes when Al hauled it in a second time. The rest of our crew was busy soaking up the sun on our 'beach', some playing cards and others dozing on the warm stone. Overall, our crew is happy with our trip and our progress, and everyone feels like we've accomplished our goals while still having time to slow down and enjoy our surroundings.

Tomorrow we have a short paddle to the ranger's station for pick-up. Unfortunately, there's no way to paddle directly in to the Atikokan base. We'll put in about five or six miles, which really isn't much more than an hour or so paddling time. By then, we'll have earned our 100-mile patches, and the even more coveted Ely-to-Atikokan patch. Lots of folks earn the mileage awards, but the cross-Quetico trip isn't as common. I think we all feel proud of having made that special trip.

Some of the fun of going from base to base is the part our crew played in a traditional competition between the two sites. When we were gathering our equipment back in Ely, Drew met us at our boats carrying a child's plastic ride-on pony. In honor of the pack mule most of our scouts had a Philmont last year, we named it "Eugie" (short for "Eugene"). Apparently, there is a traditional competition to see which base ends up with the pony at the end of the season. It sort of works like 'Old Maid'. Whichever base has it at the end of the season loses. We're pretty intent on making sure Eugie ends his summer in Atikokan. It was a funny sight to see one of our canoes loaded up with gear, with Eugie tied proudly above it all like a figurehead on an old schooner.

We had our most spectacular eagle sighting today. As we rounded a corner, hugging the shoreline, an eagle launched itself into the air from an old log in the water. It flew across the lake a short ways to land in a tall tree on the shore. Paddling as quietly as we could, we approached to within about twenty yards of the tree before it stretched its wings and flew off. I think that brings our total to five eagle sightings. I'm not sure I'll ever get tired of seeing those wonderful birds soaring overhead. Amazing.

Weather permitting, we'll head out early tomorrow for our pick-up. We hope to be in Rogert base by lunchtime. A mid-afternoon shower (and by that I mean the kind involving hot water and soap, not a midday rainy drizzle), sounds like the greatest thing ever. Possibly better than dry socks. (Well, the best thing for me is looking forward to calling Sue and telling her a few of the details of this grand adventure.)

Tonight we're having our last macaroni, sauce, and government-certified-meatlike-MRE mixture. Yum. Early in the trip Mike and figured out a sure fire way to motivate a group of teenage boys to keep moving towards a goal. And after nine days of trail food, no goal is nearly so enticing as a promised trip to the "Ely Steakhouse" for lunch on our way back through town before meeting up with our sister crew. I think they'd charbroil Mike and I if we even think of changing lunch plans. We wouldn't actually have to go back through Ely, but we're giving Drew a ride back from Atikokan. We hit it off pretty well with Drew and the guys are looking forward to hanging out with him a bit longer on the return trip.

As we end our last night in the Quetico, everyone seems to be quietly saying their goodbyes yet hanging on to the experience a little longer into the evening than usual. The boys are hanging out on the beach, braving exsanguination to talk and laugh as the sun sets and the mosquito's organize their final hunting party. The sunset was spectacular, even if the stars and northern lights are nowhere to be seen. We're ready for the comforts of everyday life, but at the same time lingering in the deepening dusk just as long as possible.

True, I'm happy to be heading home tomorrow. But I can't think of a single a moment of these last eight days that I'd trade away. Its a rare opportunity to share in this experience with my sons, and I'll treasure each memory for a lifetime. This trip did not meet my expectations....it exceeded them in every way imaginable.

Day 7: The Long and Winding Road

We took the path less traveled. (and with apologies to Mr. Frost,..."and that has made all the difference".

Despite not having far to travel the next three days we put in another sixteen miles today. As the loon flies, it probably wasn't anywhere near that far, but we took the long way around islands and stayed closer to the shoreline rather than take the straight path from point to point. The distance wasn't hard, but the wind was aginst us all day. Visually, paddling into the wind makes it seem like you are moving fast since the waves are moving past you, but it takes forever to get where you are heading. AJ and Charlie are a great crew, and we all worked together, switching our paddling from side to side when someone needed a break from pushing against the waves.

Mike and I are still pretty tentative on open water with strong cross-winds blowing. Steady winds aren't really the problem. What we are looking out for is another one of those sudden, violent bursts like the one that hit us on day 3. They've blown up a couple times since then, but we've been fortunate to not be caught on the water, or out of position when it happens. Because the food packs have gotten progressively lighter, we've kept the equipment pack with us to add a bit more ballast to the front of the canoe. AJ and Charlie need a little help counter-balancing me holding down the back of our boat.

As the days go, this was a mostly steady day of paddling. Based on the route we've mapped out, our heaviest portage days are behind us. The last day has probably our longest portage in store for us, but according to Drew, the ones we have left are flatter and less difficult overall than those we've already conquered. Nobody really has a problem with easier portages.

I'm struggling with new things to add to my journal today. Maybe that in itself is noteworthy. As I think about it, it is a little sad that in just seven short days a lot of what we see or do out here is becoming routine and losing a bit of the magic from the first half our our trek. That is really too bad because I know how quickly the well-worn routines of our 'real' lives will swamp the memories of being out here.

Its a bittersweet thought.

We definitely are missing some of the comforts of home....soft beds, fresh food and cold pepsi, and indoor plumbing. But in all liklihood we'll have those conveniences every minute of every day for many, many years. How often will we have the chance to live so simply, with everything we really need and surrounded by pristine lakes, and stunning scenery? Not every day...not every week... simply not often, and for some, perhaps never again. It is a good lesson to remember to live in the moment, appreciate what you have right here and now, and make the very most of the time you have.

I guess today was more special than I thought.

Day 6: Wastin' Time

Sleep is highly under-rated. Hooray for layover day.

Everyone kind of needed a down day, and judging from the time people poked out of their tents, the main activity for today was likely to be no activity at all. Everyone made the most of it by catching up on sleep. Mike, AJ, and I were up pretty much on our normal schedule. You have to really work at staying asleep when someone decides its time to exit a cramped four-man tent.

Mike and I started out by trying our luck at fishing. Unfortunately, the fish seemed to be sleeping in also. Not even a nibble. AJ decided to give it a try, and its hard to say if his luck was better or not. It was the first time I've ever seen anyone use a lure to actually catch a clam! It literally had the hook inside the shell. Unbelievable. Either AJ needs to reel in his line quicker or this was the world's fastest closing clamshell. He managed to pry it open enough to free it from the hook. I guess if we'd caught eleven more we could try a clambake. Amazingly, about thirty minutes later I saw my second ever clam fishing success as Al reeled in another one. The mollusks were really biting.

Later that day Cam hooked something monstrous. Unfortunately, the only thing we got from it was a good story, as the line snapped almost as soon as it struck. We all agreed it was something big. We ended our fishing today with another nice 17 inch bass caught by Mike. Thanks to his fine selection for our spice kit, we had a taste of cajun spicy and herb/lemon bass as an appetizer. Quite delicious.

The crew (and Drew) spent a good part of today napping, fishing, napping, reading, napping, playing cards, or writing. While we have been doing great paddling and portaging all day/every day for the last five days, it seems everyone is greatful for time hanging out around camp. Why not? Everything around us, from the lake that looks like a sheet of glass to the painted turtles that pop up and wait for us to send them our fish leftovers just sort of moves at a pace that encourages everything to slow down. You can't fight Mother Nature.

Cleaning up from dinner we saw another eagle, just barely above the trees overhead. A seagull (clearly not the brightest of birds) was pestering it as it flew. Reminded me of the way other small birds attack the hawks at home when they get to close. It was our closest sighting yet. Spectacular.

We glimpsed an otter today. It was foraging on the shore across the lake (Twin lake is rather small). Maybe it likes to feed on the apparently abundant clams. The wolves serenaded us again tonight. It is a haunting sound, but one that is nice to hear from the slight shelter of an island.

We started to plan some alternate routes so we can reach our 100 mile goal. Unfortunately we can't plan as easily to make sure I see the moose I'm still hoping to find. Because we have a limited set of lakes between us and Atikokan (that we have maps for), we've decided to take the longer way to each point, rather than the shortest, most direct path. We'll meander around some of the islands and follow the shoreline more than if our goal was to simply get through as quickly as possible. We have plenty of time and if the wind and weather cooperate, we'll have fairly light days for the rest of the trip. Drew is confident we'll get our 100 miles.

So well rested, and pretty well dried out, we'll head back on the water in the morning. It was a nice break, but its also fun to see what each new lake offers, and get caught up in the quiet routine of paddling. Wandering through each new lake and trail, much like napping, is highly under-rated.

Day 5: Here Comes the Sun

Oh, what a feeling.... a whole night and all day rain free!

We started today practically dry...all the way down to our toes. I'm sure this is kind of a 'grass is always greener on the other side of the fence" sort of thing. When you are always wet, being dry is just about the best thing ever. There is probably some boyscout hiking around Philmont right now who is hoping for wet socks just as badly as we want dry ones. Well, maybe not that exactly.

Although our routine doesn't change much every morning, we were somehow up, ready, and on the water by about eight. That is our earliest start yet. Our plan was to head to a camp on Sturgeon Lake and hang out there for a layover. Drew planned that in so we'd be guaranteed our 100 miles (probably closer to 120). The camp is out of our direct route to Atikokan, but we have plenty of time. Unfortunately, there was a strong northwest wind, which would have meant paddling miles across the lake with waves hitting us broadside the whole way. Go figure...nobody thought that was a good idea, including Drew. We replanned the route for today, but that means we'll have to be creative in finding a path to get our 100 miles in. Our detours are limited by the maps we brought. Not a good idea to wander past the boundaries of those, especially since we are in parts of the Quetico that Drew hasn't been to before either.

We paddled until around 3:30, passing several campsites until we ended up at a great site on an island on Twin Lake. We were careful picking a location that we could stay at for the extra day (that is, no TNP islands for an extended stay). After today's paddling, we're sitting around 70 miles total, so even with a layover we'll have three days to cover thirty miles. Even if the weather doesn't cooperate those are going to be pretty light days. Honestly, our crew could cover more than 125 miles if we had the maps and open water left to do it in. Nobody wants to go in circles just to claim distance. It will be nice not have pack up, haul, and paddle everything for a day.

As I write, Alex is fishing (like he does every night) and just landed another nice bass. Probably about 15-16 inches. We had dinner, but Zach is going to filet it so we can cook it up and everyone can have a taste of fresh fish. Most of the kids aren't big fish eaters, but every one said they were excited to try. Not that whatever pretends to be meat in the MRE packets isn't a treat, but nobody is going to turn down having some fresh caught bass, even just a couple bites. Encouraged by Al's success, Charlie and Sam improved their luck and came up with a few more fish to add to our total. Charlie pulled in an 11 inch walleye and Sam got a bass that rivaled the one I caught earlier in the week. Neither ones were keepers, but that didn't seem to matter to our successful anglers.

Mike and I were hanging out watching the boys fish when we heard the most amazing sound. Wolves howling in the distance (well, we hope it is the distance). At home we have coyotes, but that is nothing compared to this. Its different than I imagined, but unmistakeable at the same time. A haunting sound. All things considered, it is a bit reassuring to be on an island tonight. (Hmm, how far do wolves swim?).

The wolves quieted down almost as quickly as they began and the silence rushed back in to fill the space. As a loon flew overhead, its beating wings were easily heard, sounding like a distant helicopter. It could only be more breathtaking if some night the high clouds would clear to let the stars shine through. It is hard to feel overly significant when surrounded by so much quiet beauty.

So what lesson for today? I'd have to say that its a humbling experience to spend a day with no distractions except the quiet splash of a paddle and the soulful call of the wolves. Our everyday lives are as hard to imagine out here, as this experience is to understand from afar. (OK, so if that's sounding too philosophical, the high pitched whine of the swarms of mosquitos looking for an opening in the netting of our tent does ruin the mood a bit.)

Layover day tomorrow. Hard to believe but a little rest from all this relaxation is sounding pretty good.

Day 4: Against the Wind

Last night was miserable.

Not only were Mike, AJ, and I completely soaked from our dunking into the lake, but it rained buckets all night long. The wind howled through the trees and rattled our tents. Everything we left out hanging to dry was even wetter by morning. What's worse than putting on wet wool socks in the morning? How about putting on wet everything.

We hung around camp longer this morning to see if the wind would die down or the rain subside. Needless to say, several of us weren't in a hurry to launch into the wind-driven waves. My real concern was keeping the boys warm enough with the combination of strong chilly winds and wet clothes. Everyone layered their clothes as much as possible, and we finally headed out onto the water about ten.

With yesterday's experience fresh in our minds, paddling across a large open lake with driving winds wasn't exactly the most welcome way to start. As it turned out, most of the day tested our nerves. We were much more aware of our boat position against the waves, and despite some white knuckles grasped firmly to our paddles, we managed pretty well.

We pulled into camp earlier than other days, just as the weather was finally breaking. Drew knew we all needed to take advantage of the improving sky to get our gear and ourselves dried out. It was a great decision. The weather continued to clear, with the sun shining and a strong wind roaring through the pines. Everyone's mood improved as we gradually dried off.

Our campsite tonight was another amazing location. It didn't look like many crews had used it in a while. After our hard day with the wind in our faces, it was a welcoming place to rest. As we unpacked our gear and setup camp, we were treated with a definite bald eagle flyover. They are majestic birds. It was an awesome sight.

My other animal encounters today were less impressive. While wandering about the woods I came upon a pile of moose droppings. Sadly, this might be as close to a moose as I get this trip. So much for my goal of "100 miles and a Moose". Not giving up hope just yet, though. Later, when passing time sacrificing fishing tackle to the granite filled lake, I managed to snag a small bass. Only about eight inches so I let it go. Well, actually I dropped it and it bounced back to the lake. Oops. Somehow despite my obvious love and respect for nature the boys felt obliged to harass me on my fish releasing technique. We're all a little surprised that the fishing isn't better, but we're catching just enough to keep everyone's interest alive.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, we hope to be at Sturgeon Lake to have a layover day. We're making plenty of progress so that getting to Atikokan would be manageable in six or seven days, rather than the nine day trek we have planned. Despite the challenging paddle today, we were surprised to have covered another 13 miles, pushing our total to about 53. Everyone seemed to be looking forward to a layover, and there's no reason to push so hard that the trip is remembered only as a death-march. If tomorrow works as planned, we will visit three waterfalls along the way to Sturgeon. We're all looking forward to tomorrow's trip.

Today's memorable moment? It is happening now. I'm sitting on a granite ledge at the water's edge, scribbling these notes in my journal. AJ just wandered down to sit with me, take in the view, chat a bit, and write his own memories. We're sitting side by side, quietly recording our thoughts while we share a piece of rock. I can't imagine anything better than the privilege of having this time together with my sons willing to include me in their adventure. I am truly blessed.

Day 3: Blowing in the Wind

Today was a killer, figuratively in most ways, and also nearly literally. More on that later.

While we are generally up and moving just after the sun rises, I’m surprised at how well I’ve been sleeping. Probably the combination of comfortable night temperatures, and physically tired bodies. Even crammed four people in a four man tent (which usually means three people comfortably), I’ve managed to sleep better than I expected. Not so sure about AJ. He’s the odd man out when it comes to sleeping lightly, surrounded by others who sleep a little noisily (not me, I’m sure).

The day started out bright and sunny, with light winds. (Isn’t it amazing how much of our attention is focused on the weather when we are so dependant on it?) Looked like a great day for paddling. Had I looked more closely at our route I might have realized it was also going to be a great day for portaging. True to expectations, the paddling was fairly easy and relaxing.

The portages.....not so much.

I think by the end of the day we'd done nine portages. At least three of them were simply painful. One of the early portages was a steep hill made of many small, (uneven, loose, slippery) rocks. Great fun. Unfortunately, so were two other portages. Its pretty easy to see why one of the biggest injury risks out here are twisted or sprained ankles, or injuries from catching yourself as you stumble. I am quite amazed at the way Cam, Charlie, AJ, and Zach managed to carry the canoes through this treacherous terrain. These kids are in terrific shape. Even though the canoes are considerably lighter than the gear, food, or equipment packs, they are awkward and uncomfortable. Add in the condition of the trails, and its a pretty impressive task getting from lake to lake.

So what's trickier than rocky cobblestones? Try floating bogs.

We hit several portages, both getting off the water and back on the water, that involved negotiating our way across 'land' that was nothing more than about six inches of intertwined roots floating on a couple feet of water. Its the first time I've seen the 'land' ripple in waves as we walked on it. Mostly we managed to only sink through a couple inches, but Drew and AJ discovered how much fun it is to sink up past your knees in 'moose muck', which lies at the bottom of the water under the bogs. A person could easily sink up to their chest in the muck that is the bottom of the ponds in these spots.

Once through, it was easier to look back and appreciate the accomplishment of navigating our way across both types of challenges. Each boat crew worked together to figure out a way to get the job done. It was great to see the teamwork develop. At "Thorns and Roses" I shared what actually was my appreciation for these difficult portages. I was reminded of a quote from Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture". He said, "Brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want something badly enough. They are there to keep out the other people". I think the same is true if you think about our portages as those brick walls. They are there to show how much we want to get to the next lake.

Despite all this, our three day total is about 40 miles. Pretty amazing.

We finally arrived at the island for camp. Another picture postcard scene: granite boulders, pristine lake views, wild blueberries. Our tiny island had everything we wanted....except it was too small for taking care of 'business'. Since this little chunk of granite wasn't named on the map, the crew creatively designated it "TNP Island" (Tiny No-Poop Island). This is when wilderness living does start to lose a little bit of its charm.

Later that afternoon, we loaded up a boat to take a trip to the mainland (you can fill in the blanks here yourself). Since we were without the camping gear, Drew suggested we could take 5 people in the canoe. Yeah, right. People just aren't as stable as strapping in our gear. After nearly swamping in a foot of water, we kicked out a couple passengers and Mike, AJ, and I set out to cross the couple hundred yards of water between the island and the shore.

Trouble struck as we were leaving the mainland to head back to the island.

Just as we shoved off, the wind kicked up something fierce. Obviously I'm guessing, but it felt about thiry miles an hour and it was a sustained wind not a short gust. We weren't all paddling together yet, and got caught broadside to the wind in the now white-capped waves. Without much warning, we flipped over. AJ and I came up on the open side of the canoe, but Mike was nowhere to be seen. Even with AJ and I both holding tight, the canoe continued to roll in the wind, flipping over three more times. Finally we heard Mike calling from the far side of the canoe, upwind of us, so at least we knew everyone was above the water. As Mike made it to shore, AJ and I held the canoe and swam with waves, angling towards the shoreline. We drifted a hundred yards down the shore before we could settle in against the rocks and touch down.

Ten minutes later, the wind was gone.

Although we lost our water bucket and shovel, we managed to hang on to all the paddles, and most importantly, our canoe. We learned later that Mike's chin strap on his hat caught on a thwart, holding him under for what seemed like a long time. Given that the canoe was flipping, it couldn't have been more than 20 seconds, but that is plenty long enough when you aren't able to get free. Perhaps at that point the wind was helping by flipping us those extra turns.

The rest of our crew was helplessly watching from the island. There was nothing they could do, and until we reached shore, they couldn't see AJ or I to even know if we were ok. I'm sure that was as difficult for them, as it was for us. Cam and I talked about it later. He was clearly shaken, mostly due to the helpless feeling of watching it all unfold with no chance to help. I can understand. My worst nightmare is a lot like that....seeing your family in a serious situation but not being able to do anything about it.....that alone would nearly kill me.

We all learned some lessons today, and thankfully we are no worse for the wear. The reality that we are on a rugged trek and not a disneyland vacation was made crystal clear. We talked as a crew about what happened, how it happened, and what we learned. We're not disheartened by it, but I think we're all more prepared. What would be a minor issue in many other places could very quickly become a serious situation when help is 4o miles away with no good way to call for it.

Probably because of all the events of the day, I also realized just how much I miss talking with Sue each day. Not that this is a trip most women would completely enjoy, but it doesn't feel right not being able to simply tell her about my day. I love this experience with AJ and Cam, but I really miss sharing the moments with her. Today had many lessons, but if I carry anything forward from this, I hope it is the realization of the importance of those seemingly small, simple daily routines shared with someone you love. Those are truly gifts.

Day 2: The Sounds of Silence

Today was a tough day on the water.

The rain started overnight, but stopped about 6 a.m. Just enough time to get a quick (soggy) breakfast of granola, then pack up camp and on the water by 8:30. About an hour after that, the rain started again. Fortunately, there was little wind.

Our path took us across or around 3 or 4 beaver dams. Those are impressive feats of engineering for a glorified rodent. AJ, Al and Drew saw a fairly large beaver before he slipped below the water. In and around the dams we had several places to paddle through streams and swampy, shallow water. Made for tricky, slow progress. By the end of the day we'd covered 9.5 miles mostly in a soggy, rainy drizzle.

Although beaver ponds are an interesting habitat, they lost a lot of their charm when we looked through the clear water and discovered several large leeches swimming about our boats. They were quite colorful, but rather creepy none-the-less. We all decided that our method of 'blousing' our pants inside our boots was going to be our standard approach. More than a mere fashion statement with the leeches swimming about while we hefted canoes across beaver dams.

By early afternoon the rain stopped and the sun struggled through the clouds. We pulled up on shore and took advantage of the dry time to have a lunch of summer sausage, cheese, and pita bread. A gourmet meal wouldn't have been better than this simple lunch, but an ice cold diet Pepsi wouldn't have hurt any. Iodine purified water, masked with gatorade mix isn't quite the same.

After lunch we paddled several more hours and made it to Sarah Lake. Except for a short shower right about the time we were drying out from the morning rains, the rest of the day was warm and gradually sunny. By the time we set up camp, we were able to get our tents up and dried out from having packed them wet in the morning. Clothes dry pretty quick, but wool socks are likely to stay wet forever.

Our pleasant surprise was discovering our campsite was overrun with wild blueberries, apparently at the height of the season. They were a fantastic, delicious treat. I'm sorry to say we didn't leave many ripe berries for those that came to camp after us, but there were plenty ready to ripen shortly thereafter.

Our campsite is very cool. As I write this, I'm sitting atop a granite hill, looking down at the camp and across Sarah Lake. Visually stunning, but in addition to the magnificent beauty of the lakes, granite boulders, and unspoiled forests the most amazing sensation is the absolute quietness of it all. There are no distracting background noises that aren't provided by mother nature. Our 'normal' lives are deafeningly loud in comparison. The sound of silence is breathtaking.

We think we saw our first eagle today. It was a little too far off to identify for certain, but its wingspan was huge, and it soared on the air currents in a way typical of a hawk. Although we haven't seen any loons today, their calls have echoed in the distance, both soothing and sorrowful at the same time.

Our crews have settled in, I think. I'm sticking as sternsman, but now with Charlie and AJ taking turns in the bow and the 'princess' seat. Not to worry, we make our princesses paddle from the middle of the boat. It was funny to hear Charlie calling AJ by his given name "Andrew". AJ seems to like the change. I wonder. Will he come home from Alfred and decide its time to define himself without his lifelong nickname? Sigh. He'll always be "AJ" to me.

Cam rode with Mike and Zach. That seems to be a good balance overall, but their paddling and steering is not the classic style. I think Cam and Zach are the two strongest paddlers of our scouts so as a crew they seem to be settling into a pattern that works for them. Al, Sam, and Drew are in good shape with Drew securely at the helm.

As day two draws to a close, I can start to see the crews drawing together and setting up the routines and the teamwork that will help us throughout the trek. Dealing with dampened clothes did not seem to dampen our spirits yet. The enthusiasm of being underway is still carrying the mood.

Reflecting on the day, the most strikingly memorable observation was what couldn't be observed at all. There is something magical about the quiet stillness of the Quetico. The stillness doesn't just soothe the senses, it almost seems to accentuate the experience simply by the absence of the background chatter. Silence is good for the soul.

Day 1: Underway

First day on the water.

Everyone was up early and ready to go by breakfast. We picked up our food (man! are we going to eat!), got our kevlar canoes, and were on the water by 9 am. AJ and Charlie were with Drew, our interpreter. I was with Cam and Zach. Mike was in the third boat with Sam and Alex. That last combination didn't work so well....they probably covered twice as much water as the rest of us, but didn't get any farther along the lake. Still, we made it to Prarie Portage in about an hour and half. Drew said it was about a six mile paddle, and that our crew was doing very well.

After checking in with the border crossing, we decided to switch up the crews, still trying to find the best combination for our boats. Charlie took the stern for Mike's boat, Alex went with Drew and AJ, and I was sternsman for our boat. This helped a bit, but we'll probably make one more change to get a better balance between our boats.

Overall, a great first day on the water. The weather was cooperating. Everyone's spirits were high in anticipation of the 8 more days ahead. We were able to quietly slip nearby a Loon this afternoon. When we were about 10 feet away it dove under the waves and came up further away from where we watched it go in.

We paddled....a lot. Drew figured we covered about 15 miles. Not bad for our first day out without a lot of experience. Paddling wasn't too bad, although Bailey Bay was a tough crossing into the wind and on fairly open water. The portage's were progressively more difficult (Prarie Portage must have been put there to give us a false sense of what a portage would be like...it was way too easy compared to the rest today). We camped on John's Island.

At camp, Al caught the first fish very quickly. No official way to measure, but it was around a 30" Northern Pike, followed shortly by a 14" Bass. We released both (albeit a bit unceremoniously as the bass slipped through my fingers and bounced into the lake). Al also caught AJ. As he was trying to help Al remove a fish from his hook (Al loves to fish, but hates to touch them!), the fish decided turnabout was fair play, flopping around enough to catch AJ with the hook. Drew was able to get the hook out and we patched up AJ's finger pretty well. Hopefully that starts and ends our injuries.

Cam and Zach jumped right in and fixed dinner. Drew was impressed, since he expects to have to hand hold the cooks and crew the first couple days. Chicken Fajitas and Rice. Pretty great after a full day of hard work.

I'm trying to end each day's posting with a personal reflection. The solitude of the park, even with the occasional passing crew, creates an atmosphere for thought and introspection. For me, today was the perfect start, and touched on the reason I wanted so badly to be on this trip. I had a great chance to watch AJ and Cam, and see them for the capable young men they are becoming. They are very comfortable on the trail, and work well with the whole crew. Cam was checking on me all day, concerned that I was doing OK and handling the physical challenges. (I'm doing great). Still their compassion and consideration is something I've often seen, but sometimes forget. I wonder what else I'll have the chance to learn from them this trip. This is why I'm so greatful to be here.