Upon reaching our destination for the night, we quickly
began the chores of setting up camp, finding wood for the fire, and
starting supper. Carrying a 120# pack of food all day convinced us
to change our menu schedule somewhat and begin with the heaviest food
first. A heart-breaking decision, as this forced us to eat steaks
and fried potatoes the first night. We all agreed we could live with
that choice.
We warmed ourselves with a cup of mocha and watched hungrily as
the steaks sizzled on the grill. The smoke wafted thru the air,
swirling around our heads and advertising to the wilderness around
us that man had invaded the territory again.
As evening arrived, a calm resignation set in and familiar forms
turned into simple silhouettes, black against the flaming horizon,
and we became a part of everything we saw. As the blackening forms
stretched out and enveloped the world around us, the sad lonely
call of a loon stirred some wild, indescribable emotion inside me
and deepened the meloncholy mood, and drew out the desire to live
as one with this untamed world.
Morning arrived cool and crisp. The sky was swirling with color
and reminded me of the old saying, "red sky in the morning, sailors
take warning."
Reviewing the previous day's portaging, and all the time spent
setting up and breaking camp, we all agreed, over another meal of
steaks, to forge ahead to the third night's destination and stay
two nights there.
Next
