Think of it as backpacking with canoes. So went the first two days of this year’s Algonquin canoe trip.
Nearly two miles of hiking, lugging canoes and gear — uphill.
Not that I’m complaining. I just sucked it up, soldiered on and kept my mouth shut, mumbling under my breath. Mumbling very loudly under my breath.
We put in at Cache Lake Friday afternoon. The plan was to press on Saturday through Head, Harness, and Pardee lakes to Kirkwood Lake, where we’d spend the next two nights.
By the time we reached Head lake, after a portage of over a mile, storm clouds had gathered at the southeast shore and were lumbering toward us. We dumped our gear into the canoes and hauled ass for the nearest campsite.
We managed to get the rain tarp up before it began to rain in earnest. Steve and Ken pitched their tent in the rain. I waited it out, pitching my tent inside there’s after the rain stopped.
It didn’t stop for long; it rained all night. But, after the portage from hell, it didn’t matter. I slept like a baby — waking up wet and crying.
As is often the case, the next morning the sun was shining and life was good. Until the next portage. And the one after that. And the one after that.
Next: No one here but us and the beavers.