Tuesday came at us a little differently...

We had every intention of putting in in the morning and making it back to the landing by afternoon, compensating for the general direction of the winds. We'd have to be fighting normal lake stuff, and in the winter, the prevailing winds tend to come from the West to Northwest. Every other morning had been crystal clear. A little cold, but a generally prevalent sunshine kept the days relatively warm.

A pretty stiff breeze had kicked up overnight. Up until sundown the day had been beautiful...possibly the best one of the trip. We had hunted and ate and lived it up for three days and this was the last. Yeah, I know what you're thinking...and you're right. I noticed the change in the pressure right off. Tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore it. Hope that it dies down...it was just a gust. We all did that. Breaking camp the next morning wasn't easy. None of us said anything about the waether, but it had kicked up quite a bit. I for one didn't relish the thought of putting in and paddling in such a stiff breeze, which by now was pretty intense.

We attempted it nonetheless. Thirty five or so knots of cold wind right down my throat. Trying to paddle. With a Paul on back, eighty pounds of gear and twenty five pounds of dog between us...we headed out. A few yards out it was a struggle. After that things were a blur. For about fifteen minutes we fought against the icy wind out into the lake and off toward the portage. After that point, I started to get really tired and panicked a little. My fingers hurt...I couldn't feel them. I kept paddling as hard and as fast as I could, all the while feeling the canoe begin to slip to port and bring us broadside into the wind. We were rocking really bad and threatening to go over, Manau wasn't panicking, but I could feel every shift in her weight in the canoe as I looked at the water I was about to fall into...in slow motion. I almost gave up for a moment.

I've never been at that point in my life. In a way, your life does flash in front of you. The situation I was in at that moment was the most dire I have ever experienced. Big deal...fall in water out of canoe, swim to shore, dry off. That simple. Big problem. Well, a few actually. The least of them being that I don't like water. Toss in air and water temps and proximity to ready heat sources, and there is a huge probability for disaster. So, I was at that point in my life (no not THAT point...the OTHER point), or the closest I've ever been. I was afraid. Really and truly afraid.

Fortuantely for me, Paul was the man on back. Kept me in the shit. Kept me moving. Kept me from losing it, from going into the drink. When we went broadside to the wind, we were a few yards off the bank of an island a few hundred yards out from where we started. He managed to get us started in that direction and we struggled for a few minutes more until we slid around the Eastern point and into the calmer water of the lee side of the island. We landed in a small cove where I got out of the canoe and furiously attempted to warm up my fingers, which by now were pretty numb. I was panicked. How that man ever kept his shit together, controlled Manau and got me on a course where we could safely navigate is a total mystery.

We surveyed the weather from the windward side of the island, where the fire pit and grate was located. The winds were kicking up pretty fiercely by now, and the other two canoes in our party were still trying to make it to the portage, but got turned back when they could no longer make any way, and were actually being pushed backward by the wind. After beaching, the group made the decision to stick it out for a few hours to see if the winds would subside enough for us to attempt the crossing again. This wasn't to be the case as the afternoon turned to evening and then got dark as we munched on the snacks and food we had left from the weekend.

We weren't in danger of running out of that. We just didn't have any alcohol left, so the mood of the camp that night wasn't as lively as previous nights. Everyone was a bit apprehentious as well. I wasn't worried about work so much as I was about my family. I knew that Tamara was worried, and Hazel too young to know what was going on. Tams had told me that if she hadn't heard from us by Wednesday evening, that she was calling out that cavalry. She did jump the gun a bit, as I hoped she might have, and called in just to say that a group was overdue.

Physically, we were good and wanted to remain as such, so we decided to hunker down and get with the program at first light. That night I didn't even set up my tent. Nobody did actually. Just like a few days ago at the landing, I just rolled my big tarp out on the ground and folded it on the windward side a few feet away from the fire, slid my sleeping bag into the crease and jumped in for the night. My companions did the same around the fire as well. A look at the thermometer in the morning told me that it was about twenty degrees out. The frosted condensation from my breath on the tarp above reinforced that. I had been a little worried about the cold, but I knew that my sleeping bag would keep me warm.

Somewhere between four and sunrise, Aaron woke up, sat up in his bag, and started shouting, whistling and clapping his hands..."Hey Bear! HEY Bear!!!" This automatically set off the rest of the camp, and Paul immediately woke up and started doing the same thing. A couple of us joined in to frighten off the invader. Manau was awake and ran over to investigate, barking all the way. Finally, Paul asked Aaron if he actually saw the bear, because we didn't hear any sounds from his escape. Apparently, a chipmunk got into the food pack that Aaron was sleeping next to. It was rummaging around in there and eventually jumped out and landed on Aaron's sleeping bag, causing him to startle a bit. Everyone finally fell back asleep for a while longer until Paul decided that we needed to get up and out. No coffee, no breakfast...just go.