PICKEREL LAKE - Day Twenty Seven

The past few days have brought with them a number of firsts. We paddled six lakes in one day. We encountered our first Canadians on the trail (proximity to the US up until now has meant only running into Americans). We attempted to smoke our first fish. We watched as an end of the world cloud approached camp. We found seven slugs on our sleeping bags in the morning.

Our six lake day began with a two hour paddle down the shores of Kawnipi and then a lengthy search for the first portage. In Quetico none of the trails or sites are marked (campsites aren't even marked on the park map) in order to preserve the wilderness of the region. While this is rarely a problem, there is the occasional struggle in search of the well trampled land. Each lake we passed through had unique features like the tree growing diagonally over the lake or the ring of rocks breaking the surface in the middle. Many also featured spectacular falls and we never ceased to be amazed that such quantities of water can flow without the lake above disappearing.

Departing Russel Lake the next morning we had the best of surprises - something we had marked as a portage for the day was perfect to paddle. We were making good time as we crossed Sturgeon so when two people called from their site asking if we wanted to stop for a hot drink we pulled in for a break. Dave and Ken were our first Canadians on route and shared hot chocolate, tales and laughs before we had to set out.

Midday we found ourselves in the most torrential downpour ever. Looking at the portage trail beneath our feet was like staring down at a miniature Amazon River - lush vegetation lining the trail and gushing water in a torrent under foot. There was the odd crack of thunder but the sky had such bright clouds it didn't feel too stormy. Then as we set out on the water we saw the first patch of blue sky up ahead. We were thrilled... until we realized it was in fact a cloud the deepest blue of all time. That was the cloud that loomed in the distance and dauntingly approached camp as we set up in break neck speed.

Once the anticlimactic storm had blown over, Erik had his sights set on a fish dinner. While attempting to catch the pickerel on Pickerel Lake he brought back instead a pike. He gutted the fish across the bay and came back to fill it with chopped onions and carrots before it was wrapped in wet newspaper and placed in the embers to smoke for an hour. It was a heavenly feast when we unwrapped to find golden meat that slid right off the bone. A perfect note to end our last night in Quetico.