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.