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.