canoe cancer fundraiser journal entries rich pagen

"....It rained last night and in the AM I kept hearing a weird sound as water collected in drops and slid off the tent. I soon figured out that it was ice. The weather forecast said that it would be cold today, so I guess it's not surprising. But the predicted high of 44°F seemed ambitious, as snow squall after snow squall came through until mid-afternoon. The wind would pick up during those squalls, and I saw some guys trying to dry out after their canoe had capsized on Hudson lake. From then on, I made sure that everything was waterproofed and secured to the canoe, set plenty of weight in the bow, and sat on the bottom of the canoe when the wind was whipping. It was still freaky...."

"....This campsite is up high above the shoreline, and was glowing orange in the sun, sheltered from the wind when I first arrived.....The island is small enough that I can roam all around it, and now I'm sitting on the windward side (which is slightly less windy now), the sun due to set soon. A flock of snow geese was just calling and a V of 40 or 50 of them went overhead. I also saw a Swainson's thrush and a hermit thrush, both of them picking through the leaf litter around my camp. And a yellow-rumped warbler was snatching water striders off the water's surface like a flycatcher...."

"....A beaver is splashing off the shore, not too happy about my fire I guess. I just tied the food up (a mouse was just climbing all over the bag and me) - didn't go super well this time, and I then I realized that if one line broke it might just launch the food bag into the lake - not ideal. So I put a third line up to keep that from happening...."

"....The evening float into the marsh was really cool. The wind blew me all the way in, and nicely died once I got to the end - it was silent. Saw a beaver and ring-necked ducks in there - the beaver was making strange huffing breathing sounds - at first I though I'd stumbled across a rutting moose. The lily pads were extraordinary. A trickling stream, the setting sliver of a moon, paddling back in the near dark with a loon flying overhead calling, a sharp-shinned hawk trying to snatch a calling yellow-rumped warbler as it crossed the water (it was that quiet)...."

"....The signs of the fire were eerie, all the rock outcroppings exposed and looking very white with all the lichens burnt off of them. I was going to try and clear Little Saganaga lake and camp in Mora lake, but I wanted to stop and get some photos of the burn (you know, I bet I may see more of the burn then I realize in the next few days). There was a rock outcropping but too steep, and then I saw a campsite and stopped there for photos. The view was too amazing to leave: the lake stretching off to the west, dotted with islands, a green shoreline, and a burnt shoreline, with my little island nestled really close in between...."

"....In the evening, I found a spot to land and get up on top to see the burn - pretty crazy. I had ambitions to go further inland to the next bay of the lake, but downed trees everywhere made getting around challenging at best - plus I had visions of getting crushed by a falling dead tree, so I just climbed up a couple of big rock outcroppings. I made it back to the canoe just as thunder started in the distance. A couple nice strikes, enough rain to send me running for the tent, and now I'm back outside watching distant lightning flashes. Some stars now...."

"....I had the small camera out at the portage to photograph the canoe and lake, when I heard a weird noise. I turned out to be a yellow-bellied sapsucker. After watching the bird for a bit, I went back to taking the picture and pulled out the upside down camera bag and the camera fell out. Oddly (or perhaps because of too much hacky sack growing up), my instinct was to kick it so it wouldn't hit the ground and drown in the soggy mud of the trail. I kicked it up onto a decomposing log and then it toppled into a muddy puddle which I snatched it from as fast as I could. Left it out to dry and it seemed to work fine - so far, so good....."

"....The rain started a little after midnight and woke me up good again at 5AM when it became driving with very high winds. I got up at one point to move the canoe up top, as the white caps had grown to the point where they were smashing up onto the rock landing and hitting the canoe (Yesterday evening I had written: So nice to be on the big lakes when it's this calm.). ....."

"....I packed up and got the canoe down onto the rock landing and waited.....and waited.....Finally, around noon, I went for it though it wasn't as much of a lull as I had hoped for. I made sure everything was well tied down, and paddled into it like a madman - keeping the bow into the wind was a struggle...."

"....The log bridge at the stream crossing on the way to Snipe lake had been totally destroyed by the huge amount of rain from the night before. So much water all over all the portages, and that stream crossing I actually did by canoe, dragging it over some rocks in the middle...."

"....Cross Bay lake is superb, long, skinny arms, lined with marsh, tamarack, black spruce swamp - looks like moose heaven. I arrived to several spruce grouse, one of them a spectacularly plumaged male, fearlessly roaming the corridors of the campsite - as I was setting up the tent, he constantly walked right past me. His display consisted of loud wing beats as he flew from one area to another, settling down to the ground with some backpeddling flight. He then walked almost back to where he had flown from, looked around, and flew awkwardly to a spruce tree branch 10 feet or so up in the tree, sat there for a minute, and then back to the ground where the cycle started over again. Occasionally, he would quickly fan and unfan his tail feathers....the whole thing started over at sunrise...."

"....I camped at the east end of Long Island lake, deciding to stop and warm up on a little island and ultimately staying as the wind, cold and rain continued. I cooked wild rice under my propped up canoe to stay out of the rain...."

"....I went for a walk down along the west side of the island, beautiful and mossy in the rain. The wind picked up again, putting its earlier cousin to shame. I heard one snap, and I see a tree down across the way. Amazing that nothing else has come down. The spruce trees just keep on bending, shrugging off the wind, though their root systems are the weak link with such shallow soil. With each gust, the ground goes up and down beside them. One tree with a large rock on the upwind side of its roots kept moving the rock up and down with each gust - I thought for sure it was going over. I stood on the rock, and the rock still easily lifted up and down in the wind...."

"....Insane lines of grey clouds crossed the sky. Then 3 large battleship-like clouds (heading east) appeared while wispy low rain clouds headed west in a hurry. Then a larger aircraft carrier went through. And now the mothership is on its way: time to pay the piper. It's massive and contorted and dark, and I can hear the distant thunder like rage in its voice, eager to eat up cocky little campers 'conquering' the wilderness. Funny, I feel like I can hear a bell going off, more like a train bell than a tornado siren, though of course there are neither in reality. I am at the storm's whim now - to the tent I'll go and cross my fingers if it comes this way. This seems unavoidable...."

"....I was hugging the south shore of Kiskadina (due to heavy fog) when I heard a stick snap in the bushes just back from the shoreline. I stopped, turned and drifted back in the direction of the sound when I heard a deep snort. I looked and looked and never heard another sound - I thought for sure that a moose was sitting tight, watching me from the cover of the thick brush. I found a spot to tie up and get out, and gradually crept closer. Finally, I found the spot where it had been laying (plants all smashed down), hairs here and there on twigs and on the ground, and branches it had browsed on...."

"....A glorious day, wind at my back, as I made my way across Poplar lake to the landing. The north shore of the lake was peppered with small cabins, a strange sight after so many days out of the grasp of humans. I found myself kind of mad at the owners of those cabins, wishing that the wilderness didn't have to have a boundary. A dump truck was backing up at a cabin that was under renovation, the repetitive beeping sound and the drone of its engine sounding very foreign...."

"....Those clear and still nights are probably the most powerful of moments - when the night sky is incredibly bright with stars, many of which I suspect I've never seen before as they usually live in the obscurity of urban light pollution; and when it's so silent that one’s ears struggle to register any sound whatsoever...."