The word for today is: VINCIBLE. No, wait: INVINCIBLE! We had some unfortunate setbacks, but in the end we came out on top. I felt kinda like that prehistoric possum character from Ice Age 2 who tells stories about how he dies… but then he lives!

We got up around 6:30 this morning, but were in no hurry to go. Some ducks came by looking for breakfast as I had my coffee at my lakeside tent location (which I determined when I went to bed was a little more sideways slanted than I thought. Relatively free of rodent sounds last night, but fishermen were on the water after dark and we could hear every conversation. Dave commented this morning about an interesting one where some guy seemed to be asking advice from his fishing buddy about what to do with his girlfriend when they go to the bar and she starts looking for an OxyContin dealer; after all, what are fishing buddies for. I didn’t pick up any of this conversation as I was listening for loons which chimed up for hours, but Dave didn’t seem to hear them. 🤔

The day began with a 4 mile crossing of Lake Cass. The lake crossings are exhausting physically and mentally, but it was nicer to start this way than end. The wind started blowing before I got up, so it was a little rocky out there. Though the wind was at our back nearly all day – thanks God for that little gift.

After Lake Cass we had our second portage around the Knutson dam, where we broke not 1, but 2 of the carts for traveling overland with 115 pounds of boat and 100+ pounds of gear each. Things seemed a little dire, but I engineered a fix for my broken cart (interestingly by breaking it more then reassembling in a different form). As for Dave’s, the shredded wheel was beyond repair. But guess who ordered a spare cart in the event of this type of thing! Sorted. Though the whole episode, plus a quickly growing hunger and exertion from lifting the boats 5 or 6 times each took a toll that resulted in a two hour portage, recovery and lunch stop (daylight wasted!)

Once we got back on the water, I was feeling good. Then I heard a faint, but definite blub-blub-blub-blub coming from the right side of my boat. It sounded like small but fairly regular bubbles coming out of the hill. In a plastic boat filled with air, it’s not a sound you want to hear; maybe only two worse sounds: 1) pirates coming along side saying “prepare to be boarded”, and 2) banjo music. This blub-blubbering was not there earlier, or was it just too windy and wavy to hear? I grew more concerned as I tried in vain to find a small hole in the side where bubbles were escaping. Then, I put my mind to work and quickly engineered a fix using a safety pin and super glue (which I brought along in case I need to “stitch up” a wound, or reattach a severed limb), and some melted nylon rope. I was now excited to get to camp and again prove my solutioneering mettle! Sometime later, I had another idea – maybe the blub-blubbering was coming from a loose drain plug in the seat under my right cheek? 😕 Problem less dramatically solved.

Feeling a little deflated, God brought me another gift to lift my spirits: horse flies! We hadn’t encountered any yet, and now we seemed to come into their neighborhood and they were eager to greet us. First, they buzzed around keeping some distance and planning their approach, and then one came at me meaning business. With one deft swipe with my paddle blade, he was 15 feet away, on his back in the water, doing the fish snack dance. Ha-ha! Like a watery version of Mr. Miaggi. Other flies approached cautiously after that, obviously fearing the taste of my plastic. I was feeling pretty proud until one little pesk, obviously a youngster, snuck in from behind and bit the back of my arm before I could even see him. Horse fly kids these days; have they no respect? There used to be a code of honor amongst humans and horse flies, where you look one another in the eyes before waging battle. But after that bite, they all seemed to disappear. It’s as if the whole community was now ashamed to show themselves, which I think was the proper response, like a silent bow to the swashbuckling king of the pedal craft.

We saw lots of great sights today: Several otters (Dave, I know the difference between an otter and a muskrat). Some white pelicans. A pair of swans. A bear track (no bear, yet). A very small snake (like the length of my index finger). And Dave nearly lost his hat and paddling gloves, until Matt had a final heroic moment in spotting them floating away.

We had a great day today. 17 miles got us to Lake Winnibigoshish. Planning for the 10 mile crossing at first light tomorrow to beat the wind. It’s a beautiful campsite overlooking the big lake tonight. I’m glad we had a chance to stay here for the evening.

I thought about a number of appropriate tunes for today: Gloria Gaynor’s one hit wonder (Roman – why did we have a great laugh over that song one time?), James Taylor’s Handyman, but I was in such high spirits I decided to go with B.B. King and Eric Clapton Riding with the King.

Of course, many kings are eventually dethroned. Lesson #1 on arrival at camp: immediately put on dry underwear (pants for you Brits), trousers, socks and shoes (preferably sock-shoe-sock-shoe order). I will have to and an addendum to lesson #1: check for…