Day 3:  Wednesday, June 9th.

My sleep was mostly undisturbed during the night, and as previously indicated, I became aware that the rain finally stopped sometime around 4:00 am.  I must have been exceptionally tired because, even with my early bed time, nothing much disturbed my slumber until about 7:00.  This disturbance was something that I couldn’t ignore … a nature call.  At this point, I guess I should mention that when I said everything was wet, with was another exception, toilet paper.  I use the small packs of Kleenex tissues for this job.  I had one pack in my fanny pack for quick access during the day.  It was dry!  Then I had about 6 additional packs, overkill I know, but you never know what can happen in the woods.  The previous evening when I checked my supply the previous evening … pack 1-drenched, pack 2-the same, pack 3, 4, 5-the same.  Only precious pack 6 was still dry.  Well, based on my use pattern, this is going to be close!

In any case, it was time to make a sojourn into the woods.  I put on my now DAMP skivvies and tee shirt and camp sandals for my excursion.   As I stepped out of the tent, I was expecting to be immediately chilled by the morning air.  However, it seemed relatively warm to me, perhaps in the 60’s.  The next thing that occurred to me, which pushing along the trail through encroaching vegetation was that there was little water on the leaves, so I wasn’t compounding my condition by becoming soaked again.  Finally, as I sat doing my business, it also occurred to me that I wasn’t being eaten alive by the morning skeets.  In fact, there was very little insect activity of any kind.  This observation would hold for several more days with mosquitoes only becoming an issue on the very last day.

By the time I returned to my camp, I was feeling just a tad cool, so I slipped back into my tent for a warm-up.  Well, I warmed up until 8:00.  Finally, I willed myself to don by mostly damp shirt from the day before … I skipped the pants for a good chunk of the morning.  Hey, who’s going to know I’m walking around in my skivvies?  You can only see the small bay behind the campsite from here at it’s mostly obscured by trees.  On the canoe-route side, which is below a rock ridge on the campsite side, you can’t even see the water without making a few steps to gain a bit of elevation.  So, skivvies it is, at least until I have something resembling dry to wear.

Since this is a layover day, I’m not scurrying around trying to do everything at once.  And, layover days are usually when I plan to spend more time cooking breakfast.    On this morning’s menu:  Crystal Light Classic Citrus Orange Juice, coffee (TWO large cups) and Cache Bay Cinnamon Raisin Bread (with extra raisins added).  Of course, it takes a little time to cook this up, but I can enjoy the morning coffee at leisure during the process.  I usually try to cook 3-4 inch patties rather than one large blob because it cooks faster and turns easier.  (On this trip, I used PAM Canola Oil spray to grease the pan.  “Cans” are not banned in WCPP as far as I know.  The product is relatively light weight, spreads well and you don’t need much for cooking bread.)  I ate as I cooked, thus insuring a warm cinnamon “roll” at each eating.  Ah!  Heaven!!

By 9:30, I’d finished my breakfast and started to set about camp chores.  First up was to find a suitable ridge pole for my rain fly.  I’d brought a miniature tennis ball with a slit in one side to serve as the cap for this pole.  Before long I had secured such pole and erected it in the center of my fly.  With some minor adjustments in my tie-downs, I now have a superior space in which to sit, work, dry things, etc.  My next step was to locate my cordage.  I didn’t bother searching for my purpose-brought clothes line.  I had WAY more things to dry than that length would afford.  So, I then strung multiple lines from nearly every available tree on the south side of my camp site because this was the direction from which the morning breezes were blowing.  I’d soon extracted all of my clothing from their stuff sack and gathered up other items that could be line-hung for drying and before long I’d exhausted all of my VERY ample line space.  Next to become fully filled … my tie down lines for the rain fly.  Then tree limbs and branches rounded out my drying racks.

By 10:30, with the “laundry” attended to, I slid into the driest pair of pants available for my next round of chores.  I hung out my “Welcome” sign between nearby trees where it would be clearly visible from anyone passing on the “route” side of my campsite.   On last year’s WCPP trip, each group had some form of flag or banner which was prominently displayed in front of the campsite.  While I’d taken small handkerchief-sized flags before, I was amazed at how easily last year’s flags were to spot from a very significant distance.  I guess I should also add that the color choice of these banners was typically some shade of pink, a color that clearly doesn’t occur naturally in the woods.  In guess it is also important to note that many of the banners also were emblazoned with a flamingo image.  With my “Welcome” sign appropriately hung, I had to stand back and admire the glory of it, and commemorate the initial hanging with a photo.
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Welcome Sign

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The view EAST from my campsite.

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The view WEST from my campsite.

My next duty was to rig for fishing.  It was relatively obvious to me when I planned the trip that I’d not likely get much (if any) fishing in until I reached this point in my journey.  So, I returned to my canoe, flipped it over and began to prep the craft for fishing.  First step was to get the depth finder ready to go.  That only took a couple of minutes because it’s mostly just a matter of placing the transponder in the water cup at the bow of my boat and attaching the battery and cable to the video unit.  (I’d mounted the video unit on the foot brace before I left the Leano parking lot, but I still needed to remove the protective covering before making the electrical connection.)  With all parts assembled, a quick button push confirmed the unit was working perfectly.

Next, I unsheathed my rods from the rod socks/sleeves I used to protect them while portaging.  After tying on new ball swivels, it was time to locate the other items that would be needed for my planned fishing excursion … titanium leaders, selection of lures to be used, lip gripper, forceps, clippers, stringer, confirm fillet knife is sharp, plastic bags for storing fillets.  OK.  Everything is ready to go.

By now, items had been hanging on the line for a while and the breeze was making a dent in my drying efforts.  In fact, a few of the small, less-wet items were already amazingly dry.  Other items I turned so the breeze could get to the wetter side.  This would be so much quicker with a bit of sunshine, but alas any blue sky was miles away.  During this day, I only got one shaft of light on my face, which lasted all of 30 seconds.

My puttering had taken a good chunk of the morning and coupled with the late hour of my arousal and longish breakfast, it was now approaching lunch time.  Rather than pack up my lunch and paddle the short distance to the “walleye hole,” I decided to just pack a snack and have my lunch before departing camp.  Last night’s dinner was more than ample and I’d saved the balance (perhaps a third of the total meal) in a plastic container.  Even cold, some pasta dishes are still not a bad meal.  So I finished off the previous evening’s dinner.  I also had a few of the chocolate chip cookies that I frequently take along for “special occasion” and certainly a fishing day would fall into that category.

While sitting and munching on a cookie, I was aware of that special circumstance where wind passing through the trees reminds me of people talking.  Although it usually takes more than 3 days before I sometimes hear it, I wasn’t surprised by the phenomenon; that is, until I could begin to make out sentences.   I arose from my seat and headed over toward the route side of my camp site.  As I peered through the trees I spotted a tandem canoe with occupants.  In another couple of minutes, it was joined by a second, 3-seater (fully occupied).  While I couldn’t make out the specifics of the conversation, it seemed clear that they were planning to stop at my camp site; maybe for lunch or maybe for overnight.  I walked out a bit so that I would be fully visible and waved, but received no acknowledgement.  It was exceptionally obvious that they knew I was here—welcome sign and lines of laundry pretty much give me away!  In any case, they continued one east toward Mexican Hat Falls and I did not see them again.  I assumed they were on their way out because Leano is about the only place you can wind up going in that direction.  OK.  Now I’ve been on my trip for 3 days and I’ve seen people EVERY day.  This isn’t exactly solitude!  (OK, given the first day was a put in day and you’d LIKELY see someone in Red Lake, maybe I shouldn’t count day 1.)

By 1:00, I made a final laundry inspection.  I turned those items that still needed more drying and took down those that seemed dry.   The dry items went into the tent just in case the skies opened up while I was out fishing.  Then, I’m into my canoe and beginning the paddle to the fishing grounds.  As soon as I hit the end of the point just west of my campsite, it becomes obvious that the in-camp breeze is more like a reasonably stiff wind coming out of the west-northwest.  I quarter into the waves as I cross the waist of Mexican Hat, heading for the western arm.  I make descent progress, despite the wind and wave action as the lake is just beginning to throw white caps.  I eventually make it to the west side of the main body and angle down toward the west arm under the protection of the western shore.  

As I round the point of the western shore into the western arm, I’m again hit by the full force of the wind but I continue to paddle up the arm beyond the fishing hole so I can drift back across dragging a lure.  I repeat this paddle-up, drift-back a few times without success.  I’m drifting pretty fast, and I have to do constant adjustments to maintain my direction of drift.  I finally decide to pull toward the south bank where there is just a little knob of land that will help shield me from the wind.  From there, I can cast into a small portion of the walleye hole, so maybe I can collect my dinner without having to do battle with the wind and waves.  

First cast … BINGO!  Dinner is on the line and soon on my stringer.  It’s a nice health looking 20-22 inch walleye, more than enough for my dinner.  I continue to work the spot for the next hour but only manage a few more walleye, all of which were a bit smaller than my initial catch.  During this period, the wind chose to remain a factor and if anything, it increased slightly.  Maybe I need to leave well enough alone and head back.  Before I do, I take the opportunity to fillet my catch and place it (with water) in a plastic zip-lock for transport back to camp.   No need to have fish smells around camp.  

Paddling back to camp took little energy with the wind at my back.  I let the wind do most of the work and only paddled to maintain my heading.  I was back at camp by 3:45.  I quickly did an unload and tie down of the canoe and strolled back to my tent area.  After dropping off the fish under the rain fly/cooking area, I returned to my remaining laundry.  With just a few exceptions, the wind that had been problematic for fishing worked for a positive benefit in drying my clothes.  So, I stripped the clothes lines of most of my apparel and tossed my freshly “washed” clothes into the tent.  I left the lines up for a bit longer and added a few of the items that were rack drying to the clothes lines.  At 4:15, I decided that I might take a little nap.  So, I joined my dry clothes in the tent and crawled atop my sleeping bag in what were now the fully dry clothes I was wearing.  

My brief nap lasted nearly two hours, as I arose near 6:00 … must have been more tired than I thought!  However, with the still ample “sunlight” (NO, I didn’t actually SEE any), there was still sufficient time to have dinner, clean up, and pack away my gear which was by now strewn everywhere before turning in for the evening.  I began this task by making a final check of the laundry.  It was all sufficiently dry now, so I took in the last batch of laundry and took down my clothes lines.  

At 7:00 I began my dinner preparation.  I decided to limit my meal to a combination of wild & brown rice and seared wall with an ample sprinkling of Paul Prudhomme’s Blacked Red Fish seasonings.  The rice would take a few minutes to prepare, so I started that first.  I also dropped a couple of “cold brew” tea bags in my water bottle.  It’s always nice to have something a little different to drink with dinner.  Otherwise, I decided to eliminate some items from by consumption, as I was finding that I just wasn’t all that hungry (at least to this point in the trip).  So, I cut out fry bread and dessert.  I basically prepared some kind of bread for each evening meal, but I found I wasn’t that hungry nor did I want to take the time prepping and cooking it.  I only cooked bread once for the entire trip.  I’d also packed dessert for each of my three planned layover days;   I came home with three desserts.

As the rice neared the end of its cooking cycle, I fired up my second stove to begin cooking the walleye.  (Yes, that’s right.  I’ve been carrying two stoves—a Coleman Peak1 and an MSR Dragonfly.  Having two stoves pays off when preparing a multi-hot dish meal.  I also had an experience some years back when I took one stove and it started to spit and sputter about mid-trip.  I have no interest in coaxing a meal from an uncooperative stove.  And yes, I know I can cook over the fire, and yes, I did carry a fire grate for that purpose … but most of wood was still pretty soggy after nearly a full day of rain.)   Before long, I was enjoying the aroma of fresh walleye cooking.  I had enough fish to cook up in two batches, so as soon as one batch was finished, so was the rice and I could begin my feast!  I’d still have nice hot fillets coming out of the frying pan with my second batch as soon as I’d finished the first.  My first bite of walleye convinced me all over again as to why I enjoy canoe country so much.  There is nothing like eating fresh walleye in the middle of the wilderness.  It just doesn’t get any better that that!

At the end of my meal, I’m completely stuffed despite the fact that I’ve only consumed about half of the rice I prepared.  So, step 1 of my after-dinner cleanup activity was to find a suitable place to bury my leftovers.  I would have probably packed it up for later had I not been planning to move tomorrow, but  I soon had a hole a fair distance from camp in which to deposit the balance of my rice dish.  Then I'm on to the washing phase.  I collected my wash buckets and proceeded to the rock shelf that constitutes a landing point and sunning area (when there is sun).  I also dragged along my trusty stool.  So, I happily attended to my cleanup chores while gazing at the lake just a bit to my front.  This rocky point sticks out a bit into the lake and offers nice views both east and west down the lake.  It is also sufficiently large and flat to have its own fire-ring, although the camp fire-ring (for cooking, gathering, etc.)  is near where my tent and rain fly are parked.  This spot is so nice that I return here, after dumping my dish water in the woods, with an adult beverage.  A nice way to end the day!

Yet, my day is not quite over.  Before I turn in for the evening, I collect and re-stow as much of the gear and clothing as makes any sense.  I leave the rain fly up just in case of an overnight shower.  My cooking gear is partly stowed because the morning’s breakfast is back to the standard oatmeal/coffee arrangement, so not much will be needed.  In any case, tomorrow’s plan is to only go as far as Hansen Lake, which is only 4 portages away and I’ll only be crossing a section of Glenn Lake to get there.

Tonight, it’s near dark when I’m finally ready for bed.  But I feel very good about today.  I needed the layover for rest and dry-out.  I also enjoyed not having to rush around because I didn’t need to be any place in particular.  Finally, the fishing was a nice bonus.  It wasn’t outstanding, but it put “meat on the table” and it was truly delicious!

Next:  Day 4:  Headed for Hansen (but it says “chute” on the map!)

Great story DD.
I'm glad your alright.
I admire your honesty about some of your mis-haps.
Just shows that even seasoned paddlers can find themselves in trouble when they don't keep their head in the game.

You were lucky the weather was co-operative with your clothes all being wet. It could of been much worse.

I worry about that too, so I pack all my gear in those Coleman roll type space saver bags. Sort of like a zip-lock bag on steroids. Much tougher and durable. There a laminated/rip stop type material, Water and bug proof. Cheap for what they do, and weigh only oz.

Day 4: Thursday, June 10th.

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Map:  Day 4 ( (You need to Login or Register to view media files and links) to open this image in an independent window)

This morning I awake around 6:15.  I’m instantly aware, as I crawl out of my sleeping bag that the temperature is a bit crisp compared to the other mornings of the trip thus far.  A quick check of the thermometer indicates the temperature inside the tent is 49 degrees.  I completely pack-up the gear within the interior of my tent before exiting, which is my typical procedure.  

My early morning was filled with the standard break-camp rituals.  First order of business was a quick preparation and consumption of breakfast, followed quickly by the take-down of my rain fly and tent.  Of course, my large mug of coffee is my constant companion during this activity.  There is no real need to hurry this morning because my ultimate destination is Hansen Lake, and only Glenn Lake separates me from Hansen.

By 8:30, I’ve moved all my gear down to the water’s edge in preparation for departure.  The gear is quickly loaded and I return to the campsite for a quick check to make sure all of my possessions have been collected.  Before departure, I check the thermometer again and it shows little improvement -- 53 degrees with overcast skies and light winds.  I step into my canoe and push off.  The lake is relatively calm and the paddling is little effort.  I look forward to finally encountering some new water on this trip so as I continue northward, the first of my portages beckons.

I’ve soon reached the first portage, which can’t be much more than 10 rods.  I unload and start hauling my first load across.  As I approach the next landing, I observe a canoe with two occupants approaching.  They see me, but they seem more intent on working up to the outflow and fishing.  So I dump my load and beat a hasty retreat to collect the balance of my gear.  On my return, the tandem canoe has now been joined by a 3-person canoe … another 5-some.  Well, now I’ve CLEARLY surpassed the number of other paddlers I encountered on last year’s trip!

As I load my canoe, the tandem canoe begins their approach to the portage.  I pull alongside and try to engage the occupants in conversation … I’m interested in what they have encountered on their approach to this point, especially what they found getting here from Hansen, if that is indeed the way they came.  The group was on the back end of a 2-week trip that started with a fly-in to Carroll Lake (a fair distance north and west of here, near the western edge of WCPP).  They related that they had come through from Wrist Lake (one of my stops on last year’s trip).  When I asked about their route from Hansen to this portage, the bowman (the only one really conversant) indicated that they hadn’t come through Hansen.  I was a bit puzzled by this response since the only way (on the map) to get from Wrist to this point was to go north from Wrist to Hansen and then back through Glenn.  Clearly they had not reached this point via Streak,   Amber, and Nutria (which was the route I took last year).  So, I wished them well, gave a quick wave to the 3-some that were in trail and proceeded on to my next portage.  

I was quick over the next portage with relative ease.  It also was not excessively long … something on the order of 20-25 rods.  This put me on a no-name lake where I casually paddled a lazy-S path to the next portage.  It was equally short and uneventful.  Now I’m on Glenn.  This is my first visit to Glenn, but I’ll be returning here later in my trip, so I don’t dawdle.  I make a direct course northwest across the lake to where my next portage begins.  Although skies are still overcast, the cool of the morning remains which I find very agreeable while portaging and paddling.  

Only two average length portages and a chute remain between me and Hansen--my destination lake for the day.  It is approaching 10:00 as I near the first portage, but my attention is momentarily drawn to a float plane low overhead.  Maybe it is heading to Hansen.  Soon the drone of the plane’s engine fades away and the calm of the natural environment returns.   The first portage is maybe 40 rods and not particularly complicated.  Once finished, I am now back in more confined waters until I reach Hansen.  However, I am aware that at the end of this portage is a significant flow of water exiting from a waterfall.  Yet, the current is easily manageable as I paddle an upside-down “U” path to reach the next portage.  This one is a bit longer than the previous portage, perhaps 50 rods—the longest of the day!  It is a bit damp as it periodically approaches the edge of the stream.  Its length is necessary to span two waterfalls before the next put-in.  The exit places me several yards from the outflow of the second waterfall, so the launch is quite easy.  Now, the only thing I have to navigate is a chute and I’ll be on Hansen.  That should be a snap!

WRONG!  As I said before, there was a relatively significant flow after the first portage and the channel leading to the chute was no wider.   I couldn’t actually see the chute from the portage put-in because I’ll have to make a right-hand turn to get into that section of the channel.  I proceed with caution.  At the right edge of the stream, I notice a rock outcropping.  I ponder whether I should step out and do a little recon before proceeding into the chute.  After brief reflection, I decided that I’ve managed chutes before.  This shouldn’t be much of a problem.  The channel appears wide and flat.  Yes, there is a little current, but I can easily maintain my direction.   After all, even the dunking I took earlier on a relatively easy set of “rapids” (more like a ripple) might have been doable if I’d just set up a little differently and THAT set of rapids had a portage around it.  

All of these things taken into consideration, the one factor I did not consider was the amount of rainfall over the past couple of days.  I guess this could have easily added to the flow rate.  In any case, once I got into the channel, everything was going exceptionally well for the first 50 yards.  But at the end of that stretch I noticed that the channel narrowed a bit and that their appeared to be a potential landing area on the right on a rock ledge, just at the choke point.  I didn’t give that too much thought until I got a little closer to the choke point.  Clearly the water is running more swiftly here, but the real problem is that the water drops perhaps a foot into a swirling pool below.  This appears custom made for another dunking, so I quickly consider my options … only one comes to mind.  Head for the rock ledge on the right and do a “lift-over” to put me beyond the “cataract.”  I hastily alter course, taking care not to get myself broad side to the current.  I get the nose of my canoe up on the ledge and I step out into perhaps 6 inches of water.  Of course the rock is slick and down I go … another set of skid marks on my knees.  However, I hardly notice.  Without my weight in the canoe, the current grabs the aft end of my canoe and begins to sweep it toward the precipice.  I grab the gunwale nearest me and lung to grab a hand hold on the rock.  It seemed like minutes (it was probably not more than a minute) passed as I battled the forces of the water to save my canoe and its contents from what lay beyond.  First, stalemate; then I begins to gain ground and finally my craft is securely anchored to the rock and lifted to “high ground.”  

Wow, that was close!  I hardly notice the twinge in right side of my lower back, but I wince slightly as I find two conveniently available pieces of beaver wood.  They serve as perfect roller bearings as I move my loaded canoe over the rock ledge (a distance of maybe 5 feet) and lower it into the water beyond the potential spill point.  I look down the balance of the chute and all appears “normal” although I am aware of a few sweepers along the right shore that I’ll have to avoid as I leave my launch point.  

I’m finally across the brink and pointed in the right direction, but before rejoining my canoe, I take a look at what I’ve just avoided.  It looks to me to be at least 3 times more likely to produce a spill that where I’d dunked earlier in the trip.  I’m thankful that I managed to avert that maneuver this time.  I mount my canoe and push off.  The current gently grabs my bow and easily turns my craft downstream.  I navigate just a bit into the current to avoid the sweepers and the balance of the chute, although still registering a more than noticeable flow, is easy to complete.  

As I exit the chute, it’s roughly 11:45 and I take a short break and have a little snack and a drink.  My reflection on what has just occurred to clear this point is interrupted by the sound of the engine of a float plane come to life apparently some short distance north of me.  I didn’t hear it approach or land, but then back in the channel the sound of rush water could have masked it.  I can’t actually see the plane, but in a few seconds, I can hear it throttle back—a clear sign that it’s airborne.  I soon round the bend and turn more northward out of the chute.  I can now clearly see a large collection of buildings in the location that I’ve marked as “Private Lodge” on my map.  I have also noted that Hansen is a fly-in lake, which is clearly confirmed by my most recent observations.  However, I’ve had my “people contact” for the day (I hope) and so I set my course northwest across the lake to an arm that points southwest, in the general direction of Wrist Lake (and yes, there is a portage at the end of this arm that eventually gets you to Wrist).  As I approach a small island almost immediately across from the lodge, I notice something bobbing in the water.  As I near, I can see that it is a plastic jug with a line attached to the handle—clearly a marker buoy of some kind.

The reason for my route is based on information received from Claire (WCPP Assistant Superintendent).  She has identified the locations of pictographs along my planned route.  One of these pictographs is located about half-way down the southwest arm on the north side of the channel.  As I approach, I notice a wall of stone vertically rising from the lake, a clear indication of a potential site for a pictograph.  As I peruse the rock face as I slowly drift by, it’s not until I’m nearly at the end of what appears to be usable rock face when I detect the signs of a human’s touch on the rock.  I collect a few photographs, but much of the detail is faded.  I can make out what appears to be 10 or so stick figures in a canoe.  There is some form of blurry shape above this image and another collection of marks a few feet to the right of the larger display.  Interesting, but the true meaning and clarity of the images may be lost to time.

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Hansen Lake pictographs.

I do a bit of further inspection, but detect no additional evidence of a pictograph.  So, I reverse my course and head out to the main body of the lake.  My target for this evening’s stop is a campsite a bit further north.  As I enter the larger body of water, I’m appreciative that the winds are still slight, but what does exist is mostly at my back.  As I paddle on, I can easily see why this lake was selected for a private lodge.  It is beautiful.  The trees are abundant and the shore line has some interesting features.  

I reach my intended campsite around 1:00.  While it is small, it has all the comforts of home.  The landing is easily manageable, there is a fire ring and some conveniently placed logs for setting.   There is ample space for my tent and the few from the “front porch” is roughly 270 degrees.  Plus, the lodge is behind me, so I cannot directly see the facility (although I later I think I hear a small motor running some distance away in the direction of the lodge).

I set about to make my home livable.  Tent is up in no time and all my gear that is to be protected from the elements stowed inside or under the vestibules.  And the good news is ITS ALL DRY!  Although I’ve not see the sun all day, I decide not to pitch my rain fly.  Even with the overcast, the temperature has risen to about 67 degrees and at least there are a few gaps of blue in the clouds, although they have to be at least 10 miles north of me.

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Home for the night

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Flat water and just a tease of sunshine

By 2:30, camp is well established and I’ve even added a little firewood to a small stack of wood thoughtfully left by a previous camper.  With nothing particularly drawing me back to the water to fish, I decide to escape to my tent for a nap.  I snooze peacefully for roughly an hour.  

At 3:30, I was out of the tent and doing a bit of exploring my home.  I was aware by now that my back feels a little stiff, but I pass it off as just part of the nature of portaging and paddling.  I set at the front of my campsite enjoying my view and reveling the fact that the wind has died out and the lake is like glass.  Yet, even in the stillness, no bugs!  

As I set, I recount the earlier events of the day with my maps in hand.  As I reflect on the chute, it occurs to me that if I had problems getting down that way that it was going to be a REAL challenge exiting that way.  Bad enough that I’d have to find a way to get back up to the flat rock again, the current was pretty stiff and I wasn’t sure that have the muscle to paddle against it.  Worse yet, I could get myself into a spot where the sweepers could cause me some grief.  So, what are my options?  If I can’t paddle against the current, then perhaps there is a trail that is not marked that would lead me beyond the problem area.  If not, there is still the prospect of bushwhacking that distance.  Overall, it was well over 100 yards, but I’d been a little busy on my entrance to pay much attention to what the bush looked like through that area.  Worst case scenario, I can exit to Wrist and work my way back to Mexican Hat using last year’s route.  Then I can proceed to Glenn from Mexican Hat.  However, this is likely to be more than a day of travel.  That choice seems a little pointless.  Even if the bush up the chute area is tough, it can’t take me a whole day (or even half a day) to do it.  In any case, I have options.

As the evening wore on, I prepared and consumed my evening meal.  While filling, warm and enjoyable, it was pretty much nondescript.  Clean-up followed, along with my first campfire of the trip.  It is usually more trouble than it’s worth to do a solo campfire (unless you need it for cooking), but it also have be property of lightening your spirits.  So, with a small campfire ablaze, I set back and enjoyed my little piece of heaven.  I was even treated to a little evening entertainment.  The neighborhood beaver paid a visit and registered his discontent with my presence.  Well, that could be an understatement.   He made it abundantly clear that I was persona non grata.  He did a tail slap to my right.  Paddled over to the left and did a repeat performance.  Swam away a short distance and did a repeat.  Returned and did a series of S-turns and a repeat.  Finally, in total exasperation, he dove under water and swam away.  While I’ve been briefly entertained by resident beaver before, this was quite a floor show.

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A little warmth and comfort

As darkness began to draw across my campsite, I decided it was time to turn in.  I did the normal check around camp to make sure canoe and other gear were properly secured.  It was near 9:30 as I entered the tent … no need to stay up and take in the stars … no stars to see with all these clouds.  It wasn’t until I started to recline that I realized I had a problem.  That small twinge in my back came storming to life.  I found that it was so painful to do a regular set-up that I completely avoided doing that.  So, to change positions, it was a matter of rolling to my side and doing an awkward push up from that position.  A couple of times over night as I changed positions, I could feel a knot of muscle sliding over the end of the ribs along the right side of my lower back.  

This was not a peaceful night, as it was necessary to throw down a few pain killers a couple of times during the stretch of hours leading to sunrise.  At one point, I was lying there contemplating how much trouble I might be in if this gets any worse.  Even then, I had questions as to the possibility of not being able to paddle or portage.  The image of me hoisting a canoe over my head at this instant was filled with a huge number of question marks.  As the mind wonders in the dark (both figuratively and literally), I even contemplated that possibility of getting a flight out of here.  After all, this is a fly-in lake and surely the people at the lodge have communication to the outside world.  It was a LONG NIGHT!!

Next:  Day 5:  My return to Glenn (and one more time into the chute)

I'll be going from Hansen to Glenn in July. I'm curious to know how you made out with the chute going back to Glenn.

Day 5: Friday, June 11th (Part II)

By perhaps 1:30, I’m inspecting the first campsite.  It sits on the southern end of a small island.  It looks acceptable, but there is supposedly another campsite on a point that lies just beyond.  So, I decide to paddle on to see if better options lie ahead.  I search around the supposed location of this peninsula campsite, but find little evidence of its presence.  It could be obscured by deadfall, so I don’t really have any interest in spending a lot of time clearing out a place to stay.  I decide to press on toward the next set of narrows.  However, as I reach them, I also take a look at my map.  The next camp site could be a good 3-5 miles away.  There was not anything wrong with the island campsite, so I decided to reverse my path and claim the island campsite for my stay on Glenn.

I’m back at the island campsite by 2:45.  By this time the rain has stopped, but the wind had begun to pickup.  I have to carefully negotiate the landing spot in the cross wind, but I’m soon ashore and unloaded.  I decide to take advantage of this lull in the rain and make haste to pitch my tent.  It is up quickly and as luck would have it, the same items that were dry on the last dunking are also dry this time … tent and sleeping bag.  In addition, one side of my Thermarest is completely dry and the other side only slightly damp.  Yet, like the last time, I have several items that need drying.

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Glenn Lake:  My "Welcome mat" indicates it's a tad breezy.

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Glenn Lake:  Tent pitched at a bit of an angle, but at least it is on duff and should drain well.

Since I’m going to be here for a layover day, I take the opportunity to pitch my rain fly.  The sky is still overcast and I imagine that the rain could return at any time.  This time, I choose to go with a ridge-line set-up.  This gives me quite a lot of exposed cordage that I can also use for clothes line.  After it is up and all available spaces are occupied with drying apparel, I add additional lines to offer drying opportunities to the balance of my gear.  I’m fortunate that the wind continues to be active until about 6:30.  This gives me lots of drying time.  And by dinner time, most all my gear is now back in the “dry and usable” category.

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Glenn Lake:  Rain fly pitched in "ridge-line" mode.

As before, I decide to use the area under my rain fly as a cooking area.  This is a fortunate choice for a couple of reasons.  The rain fly lies on the western side of the island and the wind is coming from the east, so there is a way I can place my stoves so that they are not significantly impacted by the wind.  The second reason for the rain-fly cooking option is that the rains eventually returned.  So, my cooking gear and other camp gear collected under the fly remained mostly dry.  

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Glenn Lake:  Fire ring is on the east side, but fully in the wind.

With the cool and damp of the day, I decided to go with Chili for dinner.  So, I began early because I needed to re-hydrate my hamburger meat.  However, this didn’t take all that long by 6:00, I was into full meal-prep mode.  So, just about the time the wind died down, I was able to consume my dinner in relative peace.  The Chili was warming, tasty and filling.  I even threw in a few chips to give extra texture to the meal.  And, as I consumed my dinner, I finally reach the point of being satisfied with about a third of the meal still in the pot.  So, I transferred it to a plastic container for overnight storage.  

I didn’t let any moss grow under my feet as I was soon in clean-up mode and with all my dishes cleaned, I took the opportunity to set out on the point of my campsite with a little adult beverage.  However, before I could completely savor my libation, the rain returned.  I scurried back under the rain fly to continue my after-dinner treat.  It was nice to be in out of the rain and it was nice to hear the patter of drops on the fly.  It was holding up well, and pitched in such a way that most of the water drained easily away.  However, there were a couple of spots where the rain collected.  They were near the edge and when about a quart collected, the weight of the water was sufficient to droop the tarp at that spot so the water drained out.  One of these drained down and away from my fly, but one was on the up-hill side.  So, after a few dumpings, I had to create a small trench to insure the water didn’t go through the middle of my little refuge.  And after a few more draining episodes, it was clear that my work was going to be successful.

I stayed out for perhaps another hour, but it seemed clear that the rain had set in and it could be a while before it subsided.  So, along about 8:30, I did secured the camp and checked to make sure my canoe was safely tucked in.  As I crawled into the tent, I was glad that I had had the opportunity to do some drying work before bed time.  Clearly I would be comfortable tonight since I had dry clothes to change into.  Yet, as I started to recline my old nemesis returns.  WHAM!  The back is BACK.  This entire day, it has never been much more than a slight inconvenience.  However, if my back muscles have to hold my torso at an inclination for any period of time, I’m getting a convincing argument that I shouldn’t do that.  So, it’s back to rolling to one side to get myself up.  Before lights out, I pop a couple of pain killers.  Hopefully, I won’t have a repeat of last night’s on-and-off agony!

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Glenn Lake:  Canoe tucked in for the night.

Next:  Day 6:  A day spent fishing on Glenn Lake.