Having grown a bit tired of the wind, and knowing we would be padddling west against it to get home, our plan was to beat the wind by getting an early start the next morning. We were up at dawn and noted the wind seemed to have subsided a bit. We had a quick breakfast of oatmeal, Fig Newtons, and tea and coffee. However, by the time we had packed up it was howling again.

We packed up, slid the canoe into the water, loaded the packs, and began paddling west. The first mile or so was not bad....in the narrows of the Crocodile River we were largely out of the gale. We soon crossed the old beaver dam, however, and could see the open lake ahead and the whitecaps rolling several miles straight down the lake directly at us! We dug in.

We decided to travel close to the northern shore so that if there was a mishap we'd be close to land. The Wenonah Champlain we were paddling is an ideal boat for this kind of travelling. Plenty of free board, a bit more height at the bow than my MinnII, and a slight bit of rocker for a little better and faster manuverability. The boat was a new model for Wenonah in 2000 and I bought mine shortly after they came out. Had we been in the MinnII I would have worried a bit. I know we would have taken at least a couple of waves over the bow. The MinnII has always seemed to have a hard time riding over an oncoming wave. It wants to plow through. The Champlain did what it's designed for and kept us dry.

On the portage we met a couple coming up from East Bearskin. They were carrying fishing rods, a tackle box, and a minnow bucket. We made small talk as they stood around and we prepared to portage. We asked if they were camping and told them of the site we had just vacated. They replied they were just in for the day and had a cabin on East Bearskin. Seeing no canoe, I asked them where the rest of their party was. Silence at first, then "It's just the two of us." Then it hit me that they probably had an illegal cached canoe in the woods and were uncomfortable about it. Sure enough, as we started down the trail the man told the woman "I'll be right back" and headed into the brush. There was nobody else on the portage and the boat tied up below had a resident BW sticker on it. Oh well, that practice will probably never go away.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, the paddle across Bearskin, gliding past the campground, and finally to the landing. Load up the canoe, change clothes and head off down the blacktop toward Grand Marais. We stopped for a soda and some gasoline at the Holiday and found ourselves in the worst traffic I'd ever seen in Grand Marais. It was Labor Day, the lines at the gas pumps were out to the street and it was stop and go on the highway. People were frazzled and short-tempered. In the midst of it all we watched as a Cook County Deputy ran a footrace with a mentally unstable man who was disturbing. The deputy won, and he and his partner handcuffed the protesting man on the sidewalk and hauled him away.

Ahhh.....civilization. Hard to leave.... harder yet to come back to. I thought about where we'd been and where we were heading back to. I'll take being windbound on Croc any day.

Page Four

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