Spring's timing seemed a little off in NE Quetico this year. I'd say at least a week or two behind what I'd call normal. By that I mean the birches were just starting to leaf out and the plants I'm so used to seeing even earlier were just popping up when I left. The place looked strange without the usual contrast of bright green new leaves. Stands of birch really created more of a purple haze where that bright green should have been.

The three mosquitoes I noticed were the big, slow, really dumb ones. Black flies finally showing up the last day or two. The Lakers were very shallow, mostly everywhere - and extremely hungry. All are still there. I heard absolutely no grouse drumming - ever. Although I did come across two that I think were females. I really missed hearing drumming. (If I'm right and they were females, they probably did too.) The pollen was just starting as I left. All the campsites I stopped at were very clean except many had partially burnt logs almost as big as me. Oh well.

The first half of my trip coincided with a friend of mine's - both of us paddling tandems - solo. (What's an extra 100 pounds to portage between friends?) An unexpected benefit was the ability to quietly converse while paddling, although we shared a canoe for daytrips.

One interesting idea was Mark brought an indoor/outdoor thermometer. The outdoor sensor was in the cooler but it rarely mattered which reading was which. I just know it's cold when my liquid dish soap becomes a paste. Luckly it was so dry that it really didn't feel all that cold. The drawstring on my mummy bag did get a good workout. The only cold part of me was my nose. I used my bivy sack in the tent on the cold nights.

Early in the trip on a photo-bushwack I was walking over a partially uprooted moss covered root ball when one step broke through and I plunged down to mid thigh. It seemed like slow motion and I thought there was no bottom until my shoe finally hit a nice and grippy angled rock that injured my ankle. It was hard enough to get myself out of it and as I rolled around swearing and clutching my ankle I was very glad Mark was around somewhere. Turned out there was no real damage but it was quite tender for a few days and a portage would have been risky so it totally altered my plans for the solo part of the trip.

I essentially ended up base camped the entire time at a good summer campsite. Not a very good choice for a cool weather trip. It was a very exposed location so having two rainflys was wonderful for deflecting a cool breeze. We even got to see snow flurries mixed in with some light sprinkles one day. Good thing it warmed up when Mark left. I didn't feel much like relocating at the time.

Every day we made it a point to paddle over to an island where two moose and a newborn calf were hold up. One of the moose was a light brown with an even lighter face and hind quarters. I've never seen any quite like it. One evening we got out to try to get a closer look. (YA like we were going to sneak up on 'em.) We were only a few feet from the canoe. I could see one of them 50 yards away when Mark said the other one was coming our way. By the time got around to asking "where is it" he's anxiously saying "Oh sh... Dave she's way too close." So we made a hasty retreat back into the canoe and deeper water.

A few days later after we split up I went back and walked around the area they had been staying. They must have been there for a while. There was a lot of pruned of shrubs and trees but nothing real interesting. Of course my name for the island is now "Moose-caca-meca"

When I started heading out I had a breeze at my back so I was contemplating taking advantage of it for the mighty Pickerel and coming out early. I hate that last night with nothing to look forward to anyway. It looked like rain and I hadn't even had my rain gear out the whole trip. A few more hours of paddling that evening would avoid the chore of drying everything out once I got home. For a while I tried beat it.

I was trying to remember the forecasting info I just added to this site before I left but when I saw a few rain dumping clouds catching up with me it became a no brainer. It did however only take the first roll of thunder for me concede and head for a campsite. I had just enough time to unload and get the tent up as the wind picked up. I fired up the stove as it started to rain. (It was a long day... I skipped lunch, I was hungry) A quarter cup of rain fell and there was some close lightning as I brewed decaf, cooked and ate. I didn't bother stringing the rainfly and hoped that wouldn't become a curse and force the rain to continue the next day but I figured the forest needed the moisture anyway.

Before sunrise I awoke to a thick fog that lasted for what I think was a good two hours. I think there was even a full, end to end fogbow at times but the fog was so thick it was hard to see. Watching it lift was well worth risking any wind that might pick up. Pickerel didn't even have ripples until about noon. I love it like that. It seems so very rare. Glad I was there to enjoy it.

My only real regret was staying up on clear nights waiting for northern lights that never came out to play. Maybe next time...

Anyone ever notice that blackflies, like fish, go on a feeding frenzy just before a storm?

Anyone besides me that takes a cooler (or equivalent) keep a thermometer in there? I tend to neglect good cooler practices when the weather is cool or once the critical stuff has been eaten. I was amazed how different the temp at the top and bottom can be. Being lazy and curious has it's disadvantages I guess. Ignorance was bliss.

db

Posted by db on June 03, 2002 at 03:58
From IP address 66.84.234.93