Chapter 5

The next morning we awoke to rain. Not a nice gentle rain. Not a warm misty rain. No, it was the hard, bone chilling rain. I put on my rain suit and went out into the nasty weather. Fortunately, the water appeared to be draining nicely away from my tent. It was a good quality tent. It had high sidewalls, so I wasn’t too worried about water getting inside.

I remembered those camping days from my youth. Hard rains would tend to creep inside the tent. Somewhere in the night, your air mattress would have deflated, and you would begin to feel wet spots in your sleeping bag. I hate even thinking about trying to get to sleep under those circumstances as an adult. I try to do everything I can to insure that I never had to endure those long, restless nights again.

Ron and I climbed out of our tents about the same time. I walked over to where our gear was stashed and dug out the rain tarp. It was brand new. I had ordered it from Amazon a few weeks before we left. It packed very small, but had a large surface area.

“Hey Ron, help me set up this tarp.”

“Be right there, I’ve got to take a leak.”

Fortunately, we were able to located two trees that we could suspend the rope between. We placed the tarp a safe distance above the fire grate and anchored the sides with ropes and rocks. Once we had a dry area to work in, Ron went about getting a fire started, and I worked on the breakfast. I had learned long ago to cover the wood at night and keep in a dry place, out of the rain.

The food seemed extra tasty that morning. After breakfast, we sat around drinking our coffee.

“Looks like it could be an all-day rain,” Ron said with a sigh.

“I think you might be right.”

“I hate it when it rains.”

“I’m with you on that. If it was a sprinkle, we could go out and do some exploring, but that wind is creating some large whitecaps on the lake.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it. I’m going to read my novel. What are you going to do?” Ron asked.

“I’m going to do a little wood carving. I usually don’t have the time it takes to make something at home. I might as well take advantage of this opportunity.”

I grabbed my knife, a piece of wood, and then returned to the shelter of the tarp. I could see already that the smoke was beginning to darken the inside of my new shelter. Well at least we had somewhere to sit without being cooped up inside the tent.

It rained all day. Lunch was a big event. It was a welcome break from just sitting around. We ate our lunch and made a new pot of coffee. Soon we were settling back into our old routine of reading and carving. My crow was beginning to take shape. It was actually beginning to look like a bird. The template I had brought along was a big help. When it got down to the details, I would need to work from memory.

By dinner time, the rain had started to let up. Everything that was not covered was soaking wet. I made dinner and then took my hot cocoa down to my favorite rock by the shore. The sun finally broke through the clouds. It was magnificent. The water soaked leaves sparkled and gleamed in the golden rays of the warming disc. The rocks and moss gleamed and took on a whole new appearance. The sky became radiant as various hues of color competed for attention. It seemed as if some giant artist had decided to use the heavens as his own personal canvas.

“Hey Ron, come down here.”

Ron had become rather surly during the day. He hated the rain.

“This is more like it,” he said, as he sat down on rock next to me.

“Since the sky has that reddish color. I think we should be in for a nice day tomorrow.”

We talked for close to an hour before finally retreating to our tents. It had been a long dreary day. We both hoped it was the last rainy day we would have to endure.

The next morning we ate up the last of our eggs. After breakfast, I packed us a lunch. Our plan was to take a day trip to several nearby lakes. Ron had found a loop that would take us a better part of the day to complete. We loaded up a small pack, jumped in the canoe, and pushed off from shore.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was bright and warm. The woods were fresh with the smell of recent rain. It felt so good to be out and moving again. We both looked forward to exploring new terrain.

During our talk the previous evening, I had mentioned to Ron that it might be better if I sat in the back of the canoe. After explaining my reasoning, he reluctantly agreed to give it a try. It was immediately apparent that the canoe appeared to be sitting better in the water. Once seated, he handed me the map and said I might as well navigate too.

We headed off in a westerly direction. The map indicated a narrow river that emptied out into another lake. We soon found the river, with little difficulty, and then came upon a good sized lake. I pointed the canoe to the north, where the map showed a portage should be. As we got closer, the shoreline flattened out and it looked like one giant marsh. I couldn’t see anything that looked like it might be a portage. I headed in the direction where I thought the map showed the portage should be.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Ron said.

I didn’t appreciate the fact that he didn’t think I could read a map. It made me a little angry.

“I think the portage is just up ahead. Just bear with me.”

“There’s nothing up there. It’s a dead end.”

Keep your cool, I thought. We don’t have that much father to go.

After another forty strokes, I noticed a narrow path between the tall grasses. You couldn’t see it until you were right on it. It wasn’t much, but it was our portage. I was right after all. Man that felt good.

“That is one hidden landing,” Ron said. “I thought you were way off.”

It was an easy walk through the grass. We only had to transport the canoe and one pack. The path was nice and level, with few rocks or branches to worry about. After about a hundred rods, we came upon a wide channel that wound its way off into the distance. I saw a number of indentations where other canoes had left their marks in the dark sand. A few small minnows could be seen, as they swam back and forth through the water. A great blue heron flew off squawking, disturbed by our appearance.

Ron flipped the canoe off his shoulders and slid it into the water. It was hard to believe that in a few months, the lakes around us would become frozen wonderlands. The ice would become so thick that fisherman would need to put extensions on their drills in order to reach the water below. For now, the temperature was perfect and the air was calm.

We paddled until we came to a dam where the water level was about three feet higher than the water below. Large logs had been placed so strategically that a small lake had formed above the dam. We learned quickly that we would need to get wet, if we were going to lift the canoe up and over the dam. We carefully maneuver over the logs and branches, trying to prevent any injuries or sprains that could cause problems later. Once we were back in the canoe, we continued on our way.

The grasses and reeds on either shore, extended for quite a distance. Where they ended, we could see the beginning of the tree line, which extended up the sides of the hills. I saw what appeared to be an eagle’s nest in one of the tallest trees. I thought about the eagle that lived about a mile from my house. It had been forced to abandon its nest. Apparently, the main branch which had supported it had rotted away. The eagle had been forced to relocate to another site about two miles away.

I thought about Angie and wondered what she was doing. Was she thinking about me, or was she so busy with her everyday activities that she hadn’t even give me a second thought? How I wished she was in the seat in front of me. What a pleasant view that would have been. Instead of looking at Ron’s bald spot, I could have been looking at the backside of a gorgeous woman. For a moment, I could almost see her hair as it cascading down her back.

Maybe she would be flinging her head back and forth, as women are known to do. Maybe she would take off her sweater, due to the warmth of the sun. Then I would be able to admire her beautiful and nicely shaped shoulders. Oh, the wonders of a woman. How mysterious and lovely they are.

“Hey, look at that!”

Ron snapped me out of my daydream. He was pointing at a large snapping turtle sitting on a huge, flat rock. It had to be almost three feet across.

“I’d hate to have that creature latch onto me,” Ron said. “You know they don’t let go until it thunders.”

“They do if you cut their heads off,” I said with a chuckle.

“Oh no,” Ron said, “Their mouths still continue to bite.”

I looked at his face. He seemed to be serious. It’s funny how things you are told as a kid stick with you. I have always had this fear that while I’m skinny dipping, some big creature from the depths is going to latch onto my trailing member. I can only imagine that it would look like a long wiggly worm. Whether it is a giant turtle, or a monster Muskie, doesn’t make any difference. Either one could do major damage to one of my most important body parts.

I remembered my friend from Brazil telling me about some of the dangers of swimming in the Amazon River. He said if the water is clear, you really don’t need to worry about piranhas. It was the small creatures looking for warm crevasses that you had to worry about. Once inside, they would extend their barbs, which would prevent them for being dislodged. In order remove them, a doctor would need to cut them out. It gave me the willies just thinking about it.