Maps provided courtesy of Toporama which contains information licensed under the Open Government Licence – Canada. I have marked my route in blue and portages in red. 

I had an interesting alarm clock on the morning of Day 9. Shortly before 5:30 AM, I awoke to a noise that was like  Thung! Then another. Then another. Thung! Thung!

With the weather a bit dicey the day before, I had pulled the guy lines of my hammock fly very taut in anticipation of some rain when setting up my hammock. I awoke to the sound of 'things' bouncing off it. Thung. Thung. My mind immediately went to wind, you know, the logical assumption that gusts were blowing bits and bobbles from the trees and onto my hammock fly. When my brain became fully awake and I peeked outside, I saw the lake was like glass. Hmm, no wind. So, what the heck was falling on my tent? 

Then, I heard him. Sammy the Red Squirrel was apparently not pleased to have woken up with an annoying human camped under his favourite tree. That shrill, high-pitched, prolonged chatter sound that a red squirrel makes as a warning when it's p!$$ed off is unmistakable. At first, I laughed at Sammy and his irritability, and just rolled over on my side in an attempt to fall asleep again. But the unripe pine cones kept coming. After about 8 or 9 cones had fallen from the heavens on my hammock fly, my smile evaporated. Sammy, you little $#!@. Are you seriously not going to let me sleep? 

That little jerk was actually raining down little green pine cone bombs on my hammock. All right, Sammy, you win! 

I begrudgingly got out of my hammock.

It was just as well, and in the end, I secretly thanked Sammy. (My pride wouldn't let me say it to his face at first!) It was a glorious morning. The clouds were slowly drifting away under the shadow of the still visible moon to the west and the sun had just emerged over the eastern horizon. It was the first rays of sun on my face in three days. 

Ok, I said it aloud, "Thank you, Sammy. If you hadn't gotten me up, I would have missed this beautiful morning!" 

After a slow and nice, long breakfast with an extra coffee, I broke camp and was on the water at 9:30 AM. I took my parting shot of that incredible campsite as I paddled away, ecstatic to have a gorgeous sunny morning on the water. 

Within minutes, I arrived at the top of Russell Rapids, feeling hopeful that I could run them in the high water. Indeed, after getting out at the top of the portage and walking to the water's edge, I could see that it was an easy float down them. All the rocks appeared to be well-submerged. 

It was a fun little ride all the way into Sturgeon Narrows. What a difference it made heading in that direction! What took me a couple of minutes to glide seamlessly from Russell Lake to Sturgeon Narrows on that day, I had spent a couple of hours going the other way seven days earlier. 

I fished in Sturgeon Narrows for a while and had much better success than last time through. I caught quite a nice-sized pike along the western shore but let it go. I contemplated keeping it but I was bound and determined to have a pickerel meal before leaving Quetico! With a little patience, I was able to reel in a decent eating-sized pickerel off the point where the narrows met Sturgeon Lake. I spent another 20 minutes or so trying for a second one to make it a proper meal but came up empty. Oh well, the one would have to suffice with a sidekick. 

It was during this time that another solo paddler came up behind me. From which direction, I did not know. I was intently fishing and he just sort of appeared. He was a young man from Duluth (It seemed many Duluthites? ...Duluthians? ...Duluthish?...paddled in Quetico. Makes sense given the proximity.) named Luke. He was the only other solo paddler I had encountered on my trip and because of this fact, I immediately had an affinity for him. In my mind, solo backcountry canoe trippers are a select group that do what they do in an effort to seek solace, self-discovery, and self-reliance. It is quite a different experience from travelling with others in a group. Would I always like to do it? No. Do I sometimes really want to do it? Yes. It is fantastic for the soul from time to time and truly helps a person organize his/her thoughts and perspective.  

We chatted a bit and shared a little about our respective trips. We were both on our way out and we were both looking for a shore lunch. I watched Luke pull in a nice pike which he kept for his lunch. Not having more luck in getting another fish, I regretted not keeping the pike I had caught. It probably would have been too much fish to eat all at once, however. 

Luke made his way north into Sturgeon Lake and I paddled over to the rocks on the eastern point where the narrows met the lake. There, I cleaned my walleye and put the lovely-looking fillets into a zipper bag. I would have a fish fry at the next available vacant campsite, which I was hoping would be Blueberry Island. 

The lake was calm. It was a much nicer paddle on Sturgeon Lake than it had been a week earlier. When I arrived at Blueberry Island, I discovered that Luke had already claimed it. We chatted a little more and he said that he was going to call it an early day since the site was so nice. A good call. He held up the lovely fillets he had cut off his pike in anticipation of his lunch. I hope he had a great meal. There is nothing better than eating a freshly caught fish on a canoe trip. 

I continued north and found a fantastic vacant site on the northeastern point of the main bay where the lake narrowed. There were a couple of very cool artifacts on display at the site -- a moose skull and half a moose antler. 

Now, those are some molars! Was it a moose or a molar bear? I wasn't sure! This quandary was a real deep-rooted issue for me. Some may feel that I shouldn't display such tooth pics, but my aim is to include my readers in on everything I encounter on my trips; you know, the molar the merrier. I guess that is just my floss-ophy. 

Anyway...the site was a nice one. I brought up my food barrel onto the site and got a fire going at the mountain of a fire pit to cook my pickerel. 

I was due for a rest, so I spent a bit longer than I normally do relaxing there at lunch. After applying my homemade concoction of fish crisp (shake, shake, shake in the zipper bag), I blackened the fish in oil and applied some lemon. It was delicious.  I voraciously tucked into it and remembered to snap a photo halfway through. What a wonderful change from dehydrated meals. 

With the fish not completely filling me up, I chased my meal with a guilty pleasure that I first enjoyed in 1995 in Daegu, South Korea. The entrepreneurial owner of a local noodle shop in Daegu, next to a popular bar where North American teachers and American soldiers frequented, discovered that Canadians and Americans love cheese. She started throwing cheese slices into a popular Korean fast-food noodle soup. Voila. Cheese Ramen. When the bar let out in the middle of the night, her shop was open for some post-inbibing, late-night slurping of cheesy goodness. It hit the spot. 

Now, some may say "ewwww"! Don't knock it until you've tried it! Imagine, Kraft Dinner in a spicy soup base. Mmmmmm. Just like Mom never used to make.  

At the site, I had a decision to make. From the north end of Sturgeon Lake, I could get back to my vehicle in a new and purportedly very scenic route through the B-Chain of Lakes. That route would have taken me east from Sturgeon Lake into Oliphaunt Lake, and up the Pickerel River through Fern, Bud, Beg, and Bish Lakes before heading upstream into the south end of Pickerel Lake. It was a scenic and recommended route that I really wanted to see. Unfortunately, my knee was just not having it at the time. Just walking around that campsite while making lunch, I was limping.  Sigh... I begrudgingly decided that I would continue north through Twin Lakes and Dore Lake, and back to my vehicle the same way I came in. It had the least amount of portaging and was the easiest of the two routes by far.

By 2 PM, I was paddling through the wild rice at the northern tip of Sturgeon Lake, once again. This time, however, under some slight gastrointestinal distress. Cheese Ramen at 53 years old has a bit of a different effect on the body than it does at 25. Let's just say that it was a good thing that I was travelling solo. It was worth it, though; it would be good ammunition if I were to encounter Trumpy, again. 

Again, I made my way through Deux Rivieres. Trumpy was conspicuously absent. 

Water levels were much lower. This time, I had to lift over a beaver dam that had been completely submerged a week earlier. What a difference a week made! 

Back into Twin Lakes...

...and across Deux Rivieres portage. I had a bit of a brain fart accessing the portage. I was on autopilot mode, having done this part of the route already, and pulled up to a campsite, thinking I was at the take-out to the portage. I unloaded my boat and started humping it down the trail, only to discover the trail went about 25 meters to the back of the site and nowhere else. Doh! 

When I emerged onto Dore Lake, I decided I would keep on trucking into Pickerel Lake. The wind was relatively tame on Dore Lake and I had all but made up my mind that I would leave the park the following day. The closer I could get to my vehicle, the more time I would have to drive home. Besides, I needed to give this dang knee a rest. 

I humped it over Portage des Morts and out into Pine Portage Bay. After another half hour or so, I was beginning to feel tired. It was nearly 6 PM and I thought I should look for a campsite. Approaching the west end of Wetasi Island, I spotted a fire pit there. With the west-facing view, I thought, "Why not?" Maybe, I'll get a great sunset. 

By 7 PM, I was set up and ready to make dinner. 

Eating my rehydrated meal, I thought about the name of the island, Wetasi. Did a voyageur fall bottom-first into a mud puddle at this location many moons ago? At any rate, I wondered why such a tiny island was named on my map when so many others were not. Something must be important or significant about it.

I was planning to hit the water early the following morning and retired to my hammock immediately after the sun went over the ridge to the west. Not the most incredible sunset I have seen, but it was an incredibly beautiful and quiet evening in its own right. Bliss.