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With
no portages ahead, David and I dug into paddling. We zipped
through the set of rapids we had to walk through before. However,
David’s steering invited a number of trees to take a bite out of us. The
twists and turns of the stream returned although they were not as
annoying. David and I had at last passed Neil and Ruth in the home
stretch out of the creek thanks to my intense paddling. Once on shore we loaded the gear into the trailer and changed clothes. David and I took our usual places in the back of the pig smelling pickup and we began the eight-hour journey home. We stopped to eat a few times and laughed at the retelling of our escapades. “You can come along anytime.” Neil told me during a meal at a café. “That is if you want to go again.” I hesitated for a moment. Memories of constant paddling, strenuous portages, and bogs went through my head. Just then I realized that I made it through them all and I’m not dead. “Sure thing.” I responded. “Next time I’ll be ready.” Plan your trip to the Quetico. Start here. |