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The
route consisted of more twists and turns. Ruth and I disembarked once
again as the canoes were pulled over a beaver dam that blocked the width
of the stream. Getting into the canoes we put on our bug netting, since
the gnats were getting bad. So far, I was clean and pretty dry. I really
did not want to soil my fine hiking shoes and expedition pants and I
didn’t think I would have to. Nearing
seven, we reached the first portage. Efficiency in
portaging is a must, otherwise you’ll be going back
and forth quite a bit. So carrying as much as possible
helps tremendously. Our first portage was measured around
80 rods I think-- not long but not really short either.
With the canoes on shore we, removed all the packs and
placed them in a pile. I then helped David get the canoe
on his shoulders. Neil had already started ahead of us
with the other canoe. I grabbed my pack and a few smaller
bags and started up the trail. The path looked worn and
neat until the standing water and mud. I navigated around
it the best I could, but there was more standing water
and mud plus two large fallen trees blocking the way.
With my best effort I forded the trees only getting my
shoes full of mud. I assumed that’s the only mess
I’d have to deal with. Wrong! Most of the portage
went through a bog—those notorious water saturated
areas. David ahead of me was not faring any better. With
the canoe he could not tip toe around the bog. Next
the trail turned and there were more fallen trees and a
nearly unavoidable bog. With a canoe paddle in hand I was
able to keep balance as I climbed over the tree. The next
straight portion was all bog. I tried to avoid it but it
pulled me in. I then gave in and walked right through the
bog, getting both dirty and wet. My countenance changed
from grin to frown. The bog grabbed at my loose right
shoe as I trotted through it. Next a small stream
cut through the portage. It was almost too wide to jump.
I set one foot as far forward as I could and crossed
getting only one show wet. More bogs were ahead. I
was getting exhausted. Then there was a hill. About half
way up a fir tree blocked the path. Finally at the top, a
whole bunch of fallen trees made the path almost
impassable. Since I could not climb over these trees, I
was nearing my breaking point. Somehow I straddled myself
over a trunk on one side and turned my face like flint
towards the end of the trail. I dropped my packs and
dreaded the return trip to get the rest of the gear.
Already most of the party had fallen prey to this
portage. The canoes did not even make it to the end on
the first try.
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