Nemo Espri 2 Review

I have used this tent on several canoe and camping trips. I started out by having very mixed feelings but by now it's growing on me and every time I set it up again, I find something new to like. I have used the tent in torrential rain and windy conditions, no complaints. The Nemo Equipment Espri Ultralight Backpacking Tent comes with an interchangeable tent door and small vestibule. I have used it with the vestibule. There is a larger vestibule available for this tent (Espri 2P Trekking Pole Vestibule, trekking pole, separate pole or stick required) which I own but have not yet used.

Pros:

• Feels rock solid when erected, even without additional guy lines, for which several attachment points are provided. (Guy lines are provided, stakes for guy lines are not)
• Once you have mastered the setup, this tent is very quick to erect and tear down.
• Well ventilated
• Worked well in strong rain
• Worked well in strong wind
• Lightweight and compact
• Comes with eight good quality tent stakes (similar to MSR GroundHog Stake Kit) in a pouch rather than a plastic bag. Not sure that this is standard now, it's been a while since I purchased a tent.
• Nice to get a tent pole repair tube. I personally have not broken an aluminum pole yet, but I know it can happen.

Cons (many of which can be reduced or eliminated after repeated use):

• The permanently attached center connector takes some getting used to. The clip for attachment to tent has to point towards the ground and I have had to inverse the pole setup several times.
• The patent connectors are on the small side. The poles attach to plastic tent corner connectors via a ball (on poles) and socket (on tent corners) system. The rain fly attaches to that same connector via a hook. Both are rather small and have a very tight fit. There are several issues related to this:
• The tightness makes it hard to insert the tent poles and hook the fly during setup and harder to pull out and unhook during tear-down. Because of the small size of the parts, mud or grit in the works is a definite factor and exacerbates the tightness. If you don't want to step on the corners of your tent, you will need both hands to pull the pole from the socket and unhook the fly. Especially unhooking the rain fly with cold fingers is a pain. I found that twisting the hook will help. I assume that a little wear and tear on these parts may help.
• The rain fly attaches to the side walls of the tent via a tiny snap hook, which I like. I do not like that the snap hook is so small and the snap is so tight that it is next to impossible to unclip it during tear-down, especially with gloved or cold fingers. I am seriously considering to cut off part of the snap.
• If you are using this as a two person tent, there is very little room for gear inside the tent or in the very low-profile standard vestibule.

All in all, in spite of its shortcomings I do like this tent because of its sturdiness and light weight.

Flambeau River 2012-Day 3

On this last morning we woke up to sunny weather, still air and frost. Our freshwater supply contained more ice than liquid water and I had to ask Mellie to sit on Craig's jerrican for a while to melt enough water for coffee. We took our time, got our potluck breakfast going. Pressed the griddle back into service, this time making eggs over-easy, which was less challenging than beaten eggs. Craig had provided some little-sizzler-like sausage which provided the grease coating on the pan.

Weather data and route for today.  More info here.

As we were taking down camp after breakfast we noticed that the wind was picking up again, coming from a southerly direction. That meant another day of headwinds. Ben and I were more concerned about having to face some Class I water with little space to maneuver. But we took off undeterred. We saw bald eagles, kingfishers and a variety of waterfowl along this stretch. Not sure whether they are a little more active in nicer weather or simply more visible.

The first two unnamed rapids did not provide much of a challenge and we barely touched ground. During the calm stretch between the two, we came upon three otters having a little shore lunch, munching on a fish. They did not seem in the least bothered by our presence. They'd probably read about their cousin's attack on a swimmer in the Duluth area and knew that we humans would keep a respectful distance.

Three otters having a little shore lunch.

Negotiating Porcupine Rapids. Not much of a threat but we wanted to avoid
wading.

Porcupine Rapids 1 and 2 were fun to run and the only stretch giving us a little trouble was Porcupine 3, which was very wide and very shallow. This was the only place where I had to drag the canoe free. As we exited Porcupine Rapid #3, we started looking for Camp 41. I thought it was close to the big boulder river right but it was another 200-300 m farther downstream. No trouble landing here and good teamwork carrying everything to the car. After a parting photo I finished bringing our gear up while Ben and Craig did the shuttle. Craig would head for home after dropping Ben off at Dix-Dox.

After I was done organizing the gear, I took my ritual post-canoe-trip ablution in the Flambeau's cold waters and read in the warm sun while waiting for Ben. No trouble on the way back home, we made it back to St. Paul by around 1900. Another great fall trip!

Flambeau River 2012-Day 2

When I drifted from sleep to doze I kept hearing precipitation hit the tent. It seemed too loud for snow but was lacking that certain wet smacking sound so I thought "sleet" and drifted back. At one point I needed to use the facilities and zippering up on my return I heard Ben's startled and sleep-groggy voice "Christian, is that you? Oh good, I thought it was some animal." Morning came, and with it coffee and breakfast. There wasn't much snow but enough to be noticeable.

OK, where's my breakfast?

Craig has smelled the coffee.

Ben made a terrific omelet with sausage, bread and bagels. My newest acquisition, a griddle fitting over both of my Coleman stove burner did an adequate job. The lip around the surface is just not high enough to contain liquid egg batter. It didn't help that the stove was slightly off kilter and that thus the egg pooled and eventually ran over in one corner. But after a while Ben got the hang of it and we all got plenty of egg and sausage.

Route and weather data for today. More info can be found here.

By the time we finished breakfast and were done with the dishes, most of the snow had melted. There was noticeably less wind this morning and we were glad for it. We made quick work of breaking camp and were on the river by 1130. Today's progress was not slowed by wind but rather by gravel banks lurking barely under the surface of the slow moving streams. Craig did much better than we and I want to say that this was due to the extra 5 cm of draft we had but it could just as well have been due to his greater ability to read the current. Either way, I got out of the canoe to drag at least a dozen times.

A little sun and blue sky makes a big difference!

Craig suggested breaking for lunch at Cty Rd W bridge. However, low water made access here difficult if not impossible. When we were able to pull over a few hundred yards further downstream the bank was mucky and covered with black, unsavory ooze. We moved on, like yesterday we did not have much more than 10 km to cover. Indeed, soon we noticed something that looked like bright yellow canoes near where we thought the campsite to be. Instead, it was an erosion run-off prevention fence near what looked like some earth trail work in progress. George's Island campsite was less than 100 m farther downstream and the first thing we noticed was a Caterpillar backhoe in the middle of a three-site camping area. Not very scenic but this was the last option before finishing the trip at Camp 41 tomorrow.

Almost breaking a sweat while unloading in the sun.

So we unloaded, this time under mottled sunshine which made everything appear more beautiful. There were some suggestions on how we could press the Cat into service, like using its arm to provide a support for a tornado-proof wind shelter. We ended up leaving it alone and erected the tents around it. A word about my tent: I started using this lightweight Nemo backpacking tent last summer and was initially disappointed. It was easy enough to set up but the take-down seemed iffy. However, with every setup, I found something else to like. It's sturdy, well thought out and the hangups for the take down just were items that required some getting used to. I am warming up to it!

George's Island campsite comes with its own Cat. No more worries digging
a latrine, collecting firewood or dousing hot embers with dirt.

There is the Rat Pack and there is the Snack Pack, in the proposed new
Olympic discipline, synchronized snacking. Craig and Ben both have work
to do on their makeup and their grin. 

After the camp chores were done, we went for a hike to explore the vicinity. We walked along West Ln, which connects CR W to Camp 41 Landing and then struck out cross country towards the river and the trail our backhoe was breaking. The forest had a haunted quality, which was further enhanced by a light mist fallen trees, pale sphagnum moss and abundant pitcher plants (Sarracenia purpurea). Craig pointed out some rhododendron (likey Rhododendron groenlandicum) to me. Always good to take a road (or no road) less traveled.

Haunted woods. 

Watch out, Mel! Carnivorous plants like young dogs on
a bed of sphagnum moss.

After our return it was lounging by the fire, chatting and reading. After a while, Craig started with dinner preparations and became rather frantic when he could not find the potatoes he had packed in foil to accompany his chops. We told him not to worry as we had enough bread to feed an army. He gave up after a little while and we had pork chop sandwiches which were excellent. Like yesterday, I made some mulled wine for an after dinner drink and night cap and like yesterday, I was the only one to indulge. A cold beer on a cold night just didn't seem that attractive to me.

Sometime after 2000 we called it a night and sought refuge in our tents and sleeping bags.

Flambeau River 2012-Day 1

As usual I awoke early and got up to feed my every-hungry dog. I don't know, the way she behaves she appears to be in constant starvation mode. Yet she is and looks fairly well fed. After dog it was coffee for my human companions and me. A French coffee maker was "pressed" into service, extra coffee was poured into a preheated thermos, which because of the cold forecast I made triple-sure to pack. Craig joined me quickly and after we had a couple cups'o'joe we went for a quick survey of the vicinity. We took the interpretive trail down to and along the lake and on one of the signs we read that the area had been devastated by a wind storm in 1977. Many of the old-growth pines had been toppled but we were amazed how much the new trees had grown in just 35 years. Some of them must have easily topped 10-15 m.

When we returned we were met by Ben. After some more coffee, a light breakfast and doing the dishes we broke camp and got on our way. Craig would have liked to stop for a cup of coffee to study the map out of the wind, but all establishments were closed. I stopped at the Flambeau State Forest Headquarters on Cty Rd W, just across the street from Red's Big Bear Lodge. The friendly DNR program assistant Judy and a local guy informed me that the water levels were low and that the last dam opening had been before Labor Day. They both suggested to paddle downstream from here. Since I seemed undeterred, Judy asked if I would mind phoning in a report after we were done.

Today's paddle and weather data. More info here.

Oxbo Resort.

After a quick consultation with Craig and Ben, who had remained in the cars, we headed for Dix-Dox Landing just next to Oxbo Resort. We made quick work of unloading and the water level actually did not look all that bad. We helped Craig to get his canoe ready and set Ben's and my gear near the water. Ben and Craig left to drop off a shuttle vehicle at Camp 41, our finish point which gave me time to load my canoe and set up my cockpit, with compass, map and Garmin FR305 watch.

Looking downstream from Dix-Dox Landing to recreational trail and Hwy 70
bridges 

After I was done, Mellie and I were headed for the recreational (speak ATV and snowmobile) trail just downstream from the landing. As I crossed the parking lot, I was greeted by an oldster in camo. Ed, an 84-year old retired butcher from Chicago was hunting grouse. we chatted, he came up here regularly to spend time in his late brother's house and enjoy the outdoors. He showed off a neatly gutted and plucked grouse he had shot earlier with his Belgian-made (as he pointed out when he heard that I was originally from there) Browning over-under. We parted, he headed for the only car in the lot and I headed for my bridge for some pictures.

Trunk Hwy 70 bridge across the North Fork of the Flambeau. When we went
under this bridge two years ago, most of the boulders were under water. The
car driving across is grouse hunter Ed's.

Ready to take off. Mellie (her tail), Christian, Ben and Craig at Dix-Dox

Craig and Ben did not make us wait too much longer and we shoved off. As we paddled down the river we became quickly aware of two facts: the strong westerly winds and the shallow water. It did not take long for Ben and me to get hung up. A couple of guys of around 80 kg each and 35 kg of solid black lab plus gear (even though we left a bunch for Craig to take) took their toll on our draft. But we managed.

Craig, closing in on the camp site near Log Creek. In 2010, Ben and David got
hung up on one of the now fully exposed boulders, possibly the one top right.

Our first stop was the campsite near Log Creek. Craig likes to visit it because it reminds him of a past trip he guided with a group of kids from the Red Cliff Chippewas. They had a close call, this camp, at which they had planned to pitch their tents had been devastated by a tornado. I remembered this location for a different reason, this is where David and Ben hit a sleeper rock in 2010. Fortunately, unlike today, on that October 9, the temperatures were downright balmy. Today, many of the rocks that had been covered by water were fully exposed.

About 45 minutes later, after a failed attempt to stop for lunch (too muddy), we landed at the chosen campsite for today, Mason Creek. Total paddling time for the 10 km today was little more than 90 minutes but I am sure that Craig would beg to differ that this was an easy paddle. Where Ben and I were sharing paddling duties, he had to face the wind alone. Our only concern had been getting stuck in the shallows. Near the end of today's leg I had to wade and drag the canoe free several times.

Craig, arriving at Mason Creek campsite. 

Ben, lugging up our stuff.

Once at Mason Creek camp, we carried our gear up the hill to the spacious and level area, picked our tent sites and set up camp. Craig and Ben took some time to erect a wind shelter since it was still blowing pretty hard from the west. There was plenty of dead fall in the woods around the camp site and soon we had a respectable wood pile that should last us through the evening hours and tomorrow's breakfast.

Today's weather made a wind break de rigueur.

Craig tells a story

We shared a beer and some stories around a mid-afternoon fire and then the short hike to Mason Creek along the grassy ATV trail in the woods. Several times we stirred up game birds. They took off too fast and all I could see was a longish beak on a smallish bird but based on habitat in the woods rather than wetland and the length of the beak I assume they were American woodcock (Scolopax minor) and not Wilson's Snipe (Gallinago delicata). It amazed me that Mellie, who was allways exploring ahead would not see or stirr up the birds and it was us, literally stepping on them who would get them to take evasive action. I guess Mellie is not a flusher.

Stroll to Mason Creek

After we returned, we spend some time reading, tending the fire and chatting. Around 1800, I set up the grill to cook the steaks. As usual, I got some nice marbled New York strip from Widmer's, the best meat market in St. Paul. Since I had re-sliced the steaks to make them thinner and easier to eat on a sandwich, they were cooked very quickly and soon, three happy campers were munching. The marinated tomatoes were an excellent topping. Note: it was so cold that the olive oil in the marinade had congealed.

Time to turn in.

As darkness fell, the snowflakes that had been dancing down sporadically throughout the afternoon began falling more regularly and around 2000 they drove us into our tents. In previous years, Mellie, who is after all a spoiled city and indoors dog had shivered and shattered her teeth throughout the night to a point that she kept Joel awake. This year I had come prepared and covered her up with a fleece blanket and my rain coat. No shattering and shivering this year. I read for a little while, but was soon lulled to sleep by the whispering of snowflakes on the tent walls.

Flambeau River 2012: Prep and Drive Up

With a new job this year I just could not help with planning and preparations as I had in years past and Craig had to do it all. He did not need much coaxing and jumped right into it. The drought in the Upper Midwest did not leave us with too many options and when Craig suggested either the Namekagon or the Flambeau, we quickly decided on the Flambeau since we thought that the regulation of water level by dam would provide some more regularity in water flow.

Our group of the past few years was pared down, too. Joel was dealing with his dad's recent passing and his mom's move to Colorado. David had a conflict, too and so did Paul, who is running for Inver Grove Heights city council. Tom, who had not been along but always wanted to had his anniversary and Jim, my past companion of four BWCA trips was headed for Lake of the Woods. That left just Craig, Ben and myself, of course including my faithful lab and partner in adventures Mellie.

By now we are old hands on putting together this fall trip and picking a location is probably the most complex task. The gear list is a no-brainer with variation for weather being probably the other major variable. That left planning for meals. We decided to meet at Lake of the Pines Campground in the Flambeau State Forest on Thursday night, so we'd have three dinners and three breakfasts. We decided on the following meal schedule:

Thursday:

• Everyone for themselves. I volunteered to bring a prepared meal from home, one of my favorites, kale-potato-sausage stew.

Friday:

• Breakfast-potluck snack
• Lunch-potluck snack
• Dinner-Christian: steak sandwiches with marinated tomatoes and fresh mozzarella

Saturday:

• Breakfast: Ben: omelette with sausage, bacon and a variety of breads
• Lunch-potluck snack
• Dinner: Craig: pork chops with baked potatoes

Sunday:

• Potluck breakfast with eggs, cheese, tacos and whatever leftovers everyone had. 

On Thursday morning I was frantically finishing up everything, even though I had been fairly well organized. My employer had decided not to renew my contract the week before so I had had quite a bit of time to prepare and most everything was packed. Still, when Ben arrived punctually at 1300, I was just finishing up the kale stew. But that was pretty much it. We packed up, Ben reading through my check list which reminded me of  grabbing the paddles which are NOT on my paddling list. We left a tiny spot in my Pontiac Vibe for Mellie to curl up and were on our way.

We stopped in Turtle Lake for a quick pit stop and Made it to Lake of the Pines by 1700. We set up camp, paid the fee and said hi to our neighbors who had just erected a gigantic Cabela's dome tent. They invited me to take a peep and while the tent could probably hold about eight guys in sardine-can arrangement, the two cots seemed to make this a comfortable two-person camping installation.

Craig arrived around 1845 and after he pitched his tent, we ate a quick but delicious kale stew dinner and crawled into our sleeping bags, away from the brisk wind. I'm always worried when sleeping under tall trees during a windy night and indeed I heard a branch break off and crash to the ground nearby before I dozed off.

Big Fork River--Conclusions

Some general thoughts about this trip.

Route Selection

Good overall. We should have started the trip at MN Hwy 1 instead of Bigfork, for a more leisurely pace. On the other hand, the distance between the camp sites we selected (by recommendation of Bill of Wild River Adventures) was good and the camp sites were hard to beat. One portage of a couple hundred meters at Little American Falls. It's marked as "steep bank" on the map but really, it's very easy, even with a couple of good-sized trees down across the trail.

Camp Sites

Good, muddy landings but nice, grassy and level tent sites with a picnic table and a fire box. Beware of poison ivy at Little American Falls, the place is crawling with it. Too bad, since this is a gorgeous site.

Water

Must be considered, especially in hot weather. No public access to drinking water between Bigfork and Johnson's Landing, that's 70 river miles (116 km). As I stated in my earlier entry, I was able to ask for water from a home owner along the river. It seems that more than half of the river runs along private property, many cabins and year-round homes. But if I had to do it again, I would not rely on finding a kind soul and would have my filter along.

Gear

New Tent: NEMO Espri 2P. I have to figure out how to use the DAC poles with the patent center connector. They seem to be bending inward. One time it worked, twice it did not. For one person and dog it is nice, for two it would be cramped. I like the built-in gear loft. Have not tried the big vestibule yet.

Solar Charger: GoalØ Nomad 7m and Guide 10. In one word: awesome! I have tried several chargers over the years and none worked satisfactorily. This package fits the bill. Will top off my Garmin Forerunner 305 used for 6 hours in less than an hour. Recharges a depleted Guide 10 battery pack (4 AA batteries) in 3-4 hrs, of course if the sun is out.

GPS Fitness Watch: I have been using my Garmin Forerunner 305 for years to track distance, estimate speed of progress and plot my route on a map once back home. It works great. During a heavy downpour on Day 3, my FR 350 took on water. Not just a misted glass, there was water inside. I still worked and I was able to dry the unit out once I returned home by letting it sit in the sun, using my GoalØ to recharge it at the same time. Maybe time for one of the newer waterproof units? I would love the FR 910xt, but it's just too expensive ...

Galyan Woodsman III: my own canoe. Reliable, turns well, lightweight yet sturdy. See my initial write-up here

Grumman G-17S: sturdy square stern canoe. Joe and his dad got it for free. Heavy as hell but a great canoe. Had a chance to paddle it during the long day, no complaints. Certainly more sluggish in tight situations when quick reactions are key but still very maneuverable.

Camera

Nikon Coolpix AW100: Essential to have at least one waterproof camera along for adventures like this. It performs very well.

Day 4: Easy Half Camp to MN Hwy 6 Bridge Landing

I woke up around 0200 and could not go back to sleep. That happens to me when I had 4-5 hrs of sleep. I could not tell whether it was raining or whether it was just drops falling off the trees overhead. The worst: no pencil. The ballpoint pen I had must have dried out a long time ago. Nothing to do but let my mind wander. At 0400 I got up and made a nice cup of espresso. While I was making my coffee, I heard a barred owl (Strix varia) call its phrase, appropriately "who cooks for you, who cooks for you all." "I for myself," I wanted to call back.

Since everything was dripping, I got back in the tent, from where I had to evict a swarm of mosquitoes that got in. I thought some more and I dozed and finally got up at 0600. I took some pictures and lured the jungens out of bed with a promise of spamini sandwiches. They were a hit: a slice of fried Spam with pepper jack cheese between two slices of pan-toasted bread, the whole compressed with a spatula. Yum!

James contemplates the morning and how to get out of chores.

Better a few raindrops on your tent than one tree.

Get me out of this place.

Thus fortified we packed up and got in the canoes, back to our original pairings for the remaining 10 km. James cast his lure, without any success. The sky was cloudless and as the sun gained height it became hot again. The river was quiet, with a mirror-like surface. We saw a deer and a few kingfishers, but that was it.

Lazy paddle on a lazy river.

State Highway 6 bridge and landing

The bridge materialized as expected, behind a bend and the landing was mucky, also as expected. But there was a nice parking lot with a grassy staging area. After I helped James to bring everything up, I went to the road to hitch a ride. There wasn't a lot of traffic, especially northbound. For every eight cars going south there was one going north. I soon tired of waiting at the bridge and of being turned down by passing drivers. I thought 20 km, that's three hours and took off at a good pace. I wish I had had my running shoes, I would have made a jog of it. After about 3 km and a few more cars, one stopped and covered the remaining distance in a quarter of an hour.

We made short shrift oft loading up and when I took my ceremonial and cleansing parting bath in the river, the boys joined me. Refreshed, we started the drive home and only stopped in Grand Rapids for a submarine sandwich. Like the drive up, the return trip was uneventful and we made it home in about 5 hrs.

Odd to be sitting on a soft bucket seat.

Day 3: Little American Falls to Easy Half Camp

I got up at 0640 to an overcast sky. I did notice starry skies earlier in the morning and while I had my first and second (I splurged, I'm typically a one cup a day guy) cup of coffee and kept log, the clouds dissipated. We had a frugal meal of PB&J sandwiches, washed down with some of the remaining precious water. By the time we were heading for the canoes, we had just one liter bottle remaining for each of us, so unless we'd boil water or use iodine tablets, we'd have to depend on the kindness of strangers.

The boys had one last dip in the waters around Little American Falls, and, after we finished loading the canoes, Noah cast his lure one more time and caught a nice largemouth bass.

The 1030 departure was poor planning and foresight as this was, at close to 40 km, our longest day. Noah and I were in the Grumman while James and Joe manned the Bell. I really liked paddling the 17 footer, a little more leg room with my beast of a dog. 


As we left, it started clouding up again and soon it started to drizzle. The flies were even more ferocious  than during the previous two days. They were attacking us in thick swarms and Noah used a towel to protect his head. Somehow they focused on the bowman and left me alone. I have to say that I was covered well and except for my hands, feet, face and ears there wasn't much to get. Again poor Mellie was the one who seemed almost defenceless.

Deer flies were attacking us in swarms, focusing especially on the bowman.

We kept our eyes open for an opportunity to ask for some water. I decided to take a chance and stopped at an abandoned-looking ranch house just above Powell's Rapids. I hoped for the owner, or in his absence for a standpipe. I knew we were in luck when we saw a pickup truck, and soon thereafter the owner. He introduced himself as Robert, was very friendly and talkative. We walked to the house and chatted while I was filling up our containers. Robert, a retired Navy Seal had moved to the area half a dozen years prior and had just acquired the Powell farm. He knew a lot about its history which included a land swap. Robert also told us that he travels the river by snowmobile in winter and that he has a neighbor with a pontoon boat a few miles downstream with whom he goes fishing. After some tips on good fishing spots and retrieving my hat from the kitchen where I had forgotten it, Robert sent us on our way with good wishes for the remainder of the trip. 


Noah and I drifted, giving him a chance to fish, and Joe and James a chance to catch up. Sometime after we passed the neighbor's pontoon boat (well equipped with all kind of fishing gear) we decided to check out the Old Hudson Bay Farm camp site where the fire box was still warm. Since the place was buggy and did not have much to offer in terms of fishing opportunities, we continued for the first MN Hwy 6 bridge and landing. As we pulled away from the site, we noticed that it was immediately adjacent to a house that looked inhabited. Not exactly the wilderness experience. 


Like many of the landings, the MN Hwy 6 one was quite muddy. Furthermore, the storm had left quite a mess of fallen trees. Someone had started to clear the windfall away and from the road we heard quite a ruckus, young cheerful voices bantering and laughing. My initial thought was volunteers clearing the trail but when I got to the top I saw that it was a youth camp of about 10 boys and their two counselors, one from Scotland, the other from California. They had just left the river and were waiting for their ride. Theirs had been the camp with the hot ashes. We exchanged some pleasantries, wished each other good luck and I headed back to the river where Noah had waded underneath the bridge to try his luck fishing. I decided to cast a fly but neither of us had any luck. When a downpour started we packed up and moved the canoe under the bridge to wait for our companions. As if on cue, we saw them appear through the rain, wet but cheerful. 

Mellie looks pretty miserable, poor dog. 

By now it was 4:30 PM, raining hard and we had 15 km left. The weather was a motivating factor and we stuck together for a long time. Sometime thunder and lightning seemed to be at the same time and the rain was so hard that we had to bail. After a while it let up and thanks to my Garmin Forerunner I saw that we were making about 7 km/hr.

We made it to the Easy Half Camp in record time. This site had been damaged even more heavily by the storms of the previous week and I was thankful that this hadn't happened while we were camping here. We quickly pitched our tents, finishing just in time to avoid another downpour. The boys that is since I was cooking dinner. Mellie started to be so miserable in the rain that she began to burrow a den under one of the fallen trees. Funny how instincts take over ...

I made 2x a pre-packaged Alfredo Pasta dish that serves four and added two pouches of chicken. Everyone ate pretty much a double portion. After dinner I crawled into my tent, followed by my wet dog. I was lulled to sleep by gentle rain falling on my rain fly, punctuated by heavier drops falling from the trees.

Day 2: Busticogan Camp to Little American Falls

I got up around 0530 to see the sun rise and to have an excellent cup of coffee. While I was writing down my impressions of the trip, a small raptor, probably a sharp-shinned (Accipiter striatus) or Cooper's (Accipiter cooperii) hawk swooped at head-level through our campsite. Mellie was aghast and jumped up to investigate, but the bird was gone in a flash.

I roused the boys at 0740 for an oatmeal/granola/raisin breakfast, which they wolfed down. Like yesterday, it promised to be a hot day. We broke camp and were on the water by 0930. Today's pairings were James and Noah and Joe and me.

It felt quite a bit warmer, probably because of the higher humidity. Joe pointed out an animal in the water, it was lighter colored than the otters we'd see later, so probably a beaver or muskrat. We stirred up a deer, when we paddled by just steps from where it was drinking. It melted into the thick undergrowth.

The river is flanked by dense second-growth forest with few interruptions and hardly a mud, sand or gravel bank. Only rarely some rock formations remind of the proximity of the Canadian Shield.

Muldoon Rapids. 

Muldoon Rapids were a welcome diversion. Marked on the map as a Class II, it was still fairly tame. Joe and I had one hangup where we needed to get out of the canoe. We got the canoe off the rock, straightened out and hopped back, making it through the remainder of the rapids without further ado. James and Noah got stuck in a similar way but were also able to extricate themselves.

The deer flies seemed worse today. We noticed that they seemed to be attacking in swarms, either in the vicinity of riffles or when we came too close to overhanging trees. Joe's bare back became bumpier and bumpier from the many bites and poor Mellie let me pick the flies from her face. when I called out to her she would lean towards me to let me take or swat at the flies.

We took a quick break at a rope swing where Joe insisted to jump into the waist-deep water. He decided it wasn't worth the effort to climb up the muddy bank again for a second try. Later we heard that James and Noah had stopped, too.

Joe, on top of Little American Falls.

We made it to Little American Falls, the only portage of the trip by 1500 or so. The July 2 storm had taken down many large trees in the area, including two across the portage trail. and several more into the campsite. We started our portage with some trail clearing, cutting the branches off the top side of one tree and beneath the second. 

A little trail clearing is in order. 

The camp site was lovely but unfortunately overgrown with poison ivy. We would have to be very careful. I told everyone to avoid Mellie, who was hard to keep out of the stuff ...

After Joe and I had finished our portage, we prepared for a dip in the water. That's when James and Noah arrived, full of stories of their adventures from today's leg. After they finished their portage and we pitched the tents, we were finally ready to jump in.

Little American Falls. A campsite with a view, in
spite of the poison ivy. 

Little American Falls is a great location for all manner of water fun. The boys swam across the top of the falls and found a place where they could jump off the rocks. I waded and swam across below and climbed up to explore the camp site, hoping to find a source of water. No such luck, we would have to find some tomorrow since the 8 gallons we started with were nearing their end.

Tonight's dinner consisted of brats on a bun, the last of our perishable items. Like the previous night's chops they came across very well.

After dinner the boys took Joe's Grumman to fish the opposite side of the river. Noah, who is quite experienced, caught two 30+ inch muskies in half an hour. The first one got away when James and Joe came back for the camera. The second one was returned to the river after having been duly appreciated, photographed and and measured.

As I was getting camp and myself ready for the night I needed to get down the steep river bank several time, following a rocky ledge. While jumping down, I felt a jab of pain in the ball of my foot. A glass splinter had pierced my Croks and while I pilled it out from the sole of the shoe, I single big blood drop formed under my foot. It could have been worse, it was sort of like the lancet to take blood from your finger. I only wonder whether the splinter had been at the camp, or whether I had picked it up some time beforehand. I also found a little piece of half-burned scrap lumber with the following inscription in black marker: www.thebigforkriverrunners2.blogspot.com June 25 2011. I checked it out, it's kind of a funny blog.

The boys sat around the fire till about 2130 or so and I heard voices drifting from across the river, too. The owners of the one occupied site had come back, maybe? By 2200 everything was quiet except for the rushing of the falls and by 2300 I had finished the book I was reading and turned off my light.