Pardee Lake- 8:30 pm
Evening lullaby – White throated sparrow. Spring peepers. Loon. Distant rush of water . Barred Owl.
There is a different quality to the silence here, a few lakes deeper into the backcountry. The rush of water (from waterfall or rapids, I cannot say for sure) more distant, in the background, makes space for the songs of fellow creatures to be heard. As it is when something moves into the background inside of me, making space for other voices to be heard.
Oh, how we drown the sounds of life in our world…
Don and I are both quite tired this evening. A planned short day became a long one, as things turned out, because the thermarest did not hold air at all again overnight, though I did sleep slightly better with the addition of 2 kneeling pads beneath my torso, between my body and the cold ground, and a mylar sheet atop my thermarest to reflect my body heat back to me. It also helped that the overnight temperatures were a bit milder. But we both decided that it did not make sense to continue deeper into the park on what will be a 2-week trip with known-failing gear when we were still close enough to remedy the problem.
So, we packed up camp after breakfast, piling our packs near the edge of the water at the campsite, then paddled and portaged our way back to the car, where we hoped a short drive to Canoe Lake, where this is an outfitter, would supply us with a new sleeping mat. It took us about 90 minutes to arrive at the car, without having to portage all the gear this time. The portage trail between Head and Cache Lakes was only slightly less soggy today, but I was delighted by the hillsides abloom with dutchman’s breeches, swathes of pantaloons strung in the sun on those slender stalks; as later in the day, on the portage between Head and Harness, we were tickled by the congregations of trout lilies, nodding their yellow heads in the laze of late afternoon. I’ve not experienced such vast swaths of either and I wonder if this year’s wet spring has something to do with it. We all need to quench our thirst from time to time in order to bloom.
I’m only sorry that the day ended up being so crunched for time that I was not able to pause with my camera to gather up of the beauty, to carry it back home where the images refresh my thirst there. The eyes of heart will have to suffice for today…
Back to our ‘out-ing’- it turned out the outfitter that was close was just stocking up for the season, by had nothing on the shelf but a summer weight sleeping mat, which seemed foolish for us to purchase since we camp most often during the shoulder seasons and the higher R values of our mats have made such a difference in our comfort. Though anything would have been better than a mat that didn’t hold air, we felt that if we were going to spend that much money, it seemed wiser to buy what we have found works for us. So, after a few phone calls, the outfitter was able to find a mat that suited our needs at another one of their stores, another 20 minute drive to the eastern edge of the park.
So, our ‘quick trip’ to the outfitter and back ended up taking us 4 1/2 hours– 2 hours of paddling, an hour of portaging, and an hour and a half of driving and shopping. Arriving back at camp, where we’d left our packs, @1:30, we ate a quick lunch and were soon back on the water, making our way east toward the portage to Harness Lake and beyond that to Pardee Lake– following our intended itinerary.
The water (did I mention it was high?!) in the beaver runs at the eastern end of Head Lake was flowing fast over the flooded dams, making upstream travel there a bit more technical than we expected, but soon enough we were at the 1000m portage, disembarking and stealing one last backwards glance over the waters upon which we had just paddled
By then, the day had grown quite warm– near 70– and we stopped before beginning the trek to shed some of our morning layers. The trail began upon some old, spring-slick, narrow boardwalks before it came to a 20 foot climb, that felt to us like it was nearly vertical, though of course it wasn’t. With the help of some tree roots for footing, we climbed up the rise and were soon walking along a flat, picturesque trail through what appeared to be a forest meadow. Though I was growing weary, I soaked it all in.
The footing was too tricky for Don, so I shouldered the canoe for the second pass over the portage. Surprisingly, but as is often the case, I found carrying the canoe to be easier than the food barrel, though they weigh about the same. It’s a balance thing for me. After getting all the gear across, we paused again on the sandy landing overlooking the length of Harness Lake, extending south before us, to remove yet another layer, to refuel ourselves with a few handfuls of GORP and to quench our thirst with fresh water drawn from the lake.
We noted that Harness was empty of both canoeists and campers as we passed through, and wondered how it will be when we come back out this way in 12 days or so. The paddle south through Harness soon brought to our last portage of the day, at short 140m up and over a pinch between the 2 lakes, where today the water was roaring down the granite shoot beneath the footbridge. I’ve been there when that water scarcely trickled through that crevasse, but today it was torrent. There was so much power that the wind created by that rushing water was too much for me to handle the canoe atop my shoulders, so, bowing to Don’s upper body strength, I asked him to take the canoe. Even so, he had to take care that the torque of the wind-blown canoe did not pull it from his grasp.
Across the footbridge, we dropped the gear, and made our way to the water’s edge below it, where today the water slick granite slabs made for precarious footing. The last time I passed this way, the group of women I was with had spent the better part of the afternoon on the rocks there, exploring the aquatic life in the sliver of water and shallow pools. I remember one of them being fascinated by the leeches lolling –reaching and retracting. That was a late summer trip. Spring is a livelier time here– so much life force pushing up through the earth, out through the buds of limbs, and gushing through the waters. (Though, I also remember how it was that last spring was so dry that the earth crunched beneath our feet and wildfires blazed in the aftermath of abberant spring lightning strikes!)
Oh, I would love to write more — say more about the hairy wolf scat we spotted today, most notable for its placement directly next to a deep moose track, for instance. I would love to write about the notion of enoughness that I’ve been reading about in the book that I brought on Wise Aging. I’d hoped that today’s schedule (in fact the more relaxed flow planned for this entire trip) would’ve allowed more space to do so, as the actual travel time today from Head to Pardee was in reality only 3 hours, even with our pauses, but it seems this Spring has a flow of its own that may not match my Winter self. As always, we learn again the necessity to be flexible out here— in both body and spirit!– as the truth that we are not in control blesses us.
Now I must sleep.
Day 4 morning, Pardee Lake
I have been awake for hours, since sometime before 6, the view from the open tent door too compelling to keep me inside its walls, wandering this captivating shoreline with my camera, observing, listening, gathering it all in. No space in my morning reverie for words in my journal until now…
A solo loon– plaintively calling and calling, though as yet there is no response— has been my sole companion in this, my morning floating, my morning longing.
The water is blissfully still, reflections of the lingering moon, a solo cloud, of evergreen trees, of boulder, fill her mirror. Overnight the stars littered the dark dome above us all until the brightness of the moon- though only at half power in her waning -lit up the sky, diminishing their number. Now the sun breaks over the horizon, casting her own golden glow upon that sky, these waters. Already, I feel her warmth on my shoulder. She seems to have awakened the sandhill cranes, as well. They rattle their way across the dome towards her light.
Don stirs awake now too. I must leave my reverie, join him.
an algonquin affair 