I waited at the site until shortly after 11, at which time I did another quick weather check. Indeed, the wind was supposed to get less intense as the afternoon wore on -- down to a 'breezy' 18 km/h by 3 PM. I decided to go for it. 

A couple of guys from the lodge at the north end of the lake were fishing in an aluminum boat along the west shore of the bay as I paddled out. "There are huge whitecaps out in the lake," they warned. 

"Yep, I'll stick to the shore. The wind is supposed to get calmer soon," I tentatively replied. I was sincerely hoping that my weather app was correct! 

By 11:30, I was at the north end of the bay and decided to do a little fishing behind a point while the wind was still raging. On my second cast, I tapped into a nice bass of at least 3 lbs. He put up a nice fight. No sooner had I released that fellow, when the wind seemed to subside. I waited a bit and indeed it started up again, but sporadically and in gusts. I decided to make a break for it and off I went around the point and into the expanse of Aston Lake. 

I only had three kilometers to paddle to the end of Aston Lake. In calm conditions, this would normally take 40-45 minutes at the most. On this particular day, it took an hour and 45 minutes! I slogged up the west shore but had to make an open crossing across a bay lest I paddle quite a distance out my way along the shoreline. The waves weren't that big by this time, so I wasn't afraid of swamping, it was just incredibly gusty, and the bursts kept pushing me back and sideways. It was pretty much a direct headwind which also forced me to tack to and fro, causing me to cover much more distance than I needed to. It was all very exhausting and I eventually made it to an island about halfway up the lake where I could take some much-needed rest behind a rock ledge. 

Eventually, I made it into the large northern bay and by this time the gusts were a little less ferocious and a little less frequent. I spotted the creek coming from Lynx Lake and paddled into its mouth to look for the portage. 

My notes for the trip stated that there was supposed to be a beaver dam that I had to lift over before reaching the port. I ended up paddling a good couple of hundred meters into the creek without encountering a dam. There, the creek separated into a number of small and shallow channels. It didn't seem right, so I paddled back out to the mouth and saw a grassy landing area on the east side of the creek. I spotted the remnants of an old beaver dam sunken in the water in front of it. At that location, I could spot the faint unmarked trail leading into the forest; I had found my portage. 

This trail was a longer one at 1250 meters in length, but to be honest, I was just happy to be out of the wind! Despite being long, the portage wasn't terrible for the first three quarters. There were a ton of fresh moose tracks and droppings which got me thinking that I must have just missed the creature earlier in the day. There was a bit of deadfall that I had to move over and around, but nothing large enough to cause me any concern.  

Toward the end, I came to a creek that had a solid two-foot drop to the water that was also at least a couple of feet deep. There was a single narrow log precariously placed across the creek that seemed to act as some sort of bridge. Well, tightrope walker I am not, especially with a huge fully-loaded drybag on my back. I dropped my pack and went back for my canoe. 

Back at the creek with my canoe to act as a bridge, I found a wider spot where I could lay it down and walk my gear across to the other side. I didn't even need to get wet!

From there, it was just a short distance to Lynx Lake,  where I put in at its sandy south end. As I was doing so, a large shadow flittered above me and blocked out the sun on this cloudless day. I gawked above me and saw an incredibly massive bald eagle flying less than 10 feet above my head. It must have been perching at the top of a nearby tree when I emerged from the forest. I hadn't even noticed it sitting above and watching me. 

The birdlife on Lynx Lake was plentiful, indeed; there was a whole lot of waterfowl splashing about. Though relatively small and narrow, Lynx Lake acted as a wind tunnel, funneling the air into me from the north. It took a bit of elbow grease again to make it to its northern shore. There was a pretty little chute of water coming into its north end from Cole Lake. 

At the portage next to that trickle were three guys in two canoes heading in the opposite direction. We chatted on the way out and they were also doing the Turner Loop in the reverse direction -- you know, the direction with the wind at their backs, not in their face. Sigh. 

After they departed south on Lynx Lake, I took out at the portage and made some honey and peanut butter wraps for lunch. This is a staple lunch item for me; it's tasty, easy to whip up and eat in a hurry, and is just the fix for an instant energy boost. It was hard getting up because my view looking south on Lynx Lake was gorgeous in that remote, small waterbody kind of way. 

The 220-meter portage up into Cole Lake was short but good ol' Temagami wasn't going to make it easy. Just when I thought the rocky incline was coming to an end, it veered west and straight into the obstacle in the photo below. You can see the trail continuing on the other side up that steep incline to the lake beyond.

With all the deadfall and rocks in the pond, it made getting a canoe through there challenging. There was little room to maneuver the length of the canoe out into the open pond and to alight onto the shore in the deep water on the other side. Luckily for me, I only had a 15-footer. I wouldn't want to be negotiating a 17-footer through there. I wasn't too bothered, though; the scenery was so damn beautiful.

I made it up to Cole Lake after I humped it up the steep incline, uttering a couple of choice words that my grandmother wouldn't be proud of. That short portage required much more effort and time than expected. Cole Lake, incidentally, was one of the nicest en route. 

Just past the point on the east shore were some dramatically gorgeous cliffs. 

To top it off, the short, 50-meter portage into Turner Lake ascended to the left of a pretty, little cascading stream between the two lakes. Have I mentioned that Temagami is visually stunning?

It was just after 4 PM when I got out onto Turner Lake. Originally, my plan was to camp on Eagle Lake at the end of Day 2, but the late start due to the morning winds had set me back. Honestly, though, I'm not sure I had it in me to tackle the lengthy and challenging 1600-meter portage into Eagle Lake that night. Battling the incessant headwind all day had taken its toll on me. I was ready to make camp.

Purportedly, the campsite at the north end of the large island that dominated the centre of Turner Lake was a gem, so I soldiered on against that dastardly wind to the east side of the island where I could paddle easier in the lee. Unfortunately for me, as I neared the north part of the island, I caught a whiff of burning cedar; it's a delicious and unmistakable aroma. Indeed, a couple of paddle strokes further and I could see smoke coming from the site. To my dismay, it was occupied. 

Retreating south again, I discovered that there was absolutely no campsite to be found at the southern tip of the island, despite one being marked there on my map. The remaining option was back on the southeastern part of the lake where I earlier noticed a large slab of west-facing rock with a fire pit on it. 

When I paddled back there to investigate, I was happy to discover that it was an excellent site. There was a metric ton of deadfall available next to the firepit that a previous camper graciously deposited there, and the views northwest over Turner Lake were top-notch. There wasn't a lot of shade or cover on that slab, but after the previous day's deluge, I was happy to be soaking up those Vitamin-D infused rays. 

The odd thing about the site that I can say is that it wasn't particularly suited for hammock camping. There was a nice tent pad up in the forest at the top of the rock and another along the shore, but there didn't seem to be two decent-sized trees positioned just so to support my hammock. I had to make do with angling my hammock along the downward slope leading to the southern tent pad. After some careful placement of straps, it ended up working out just fine. 

After an attempt at napping, I got out of my hammock and got a fire going to cook dinner. I say 'attempt', because just as I was nodding off, I was awoken by two guys in a canoe from the other campsite talking loudly as they paddled past my site. I mean, seriously, it was a large lake with only two campsites on it, and they had to cruise by next to the shore of the only other occupied site? I don't want to be that old guy who yells at people to get off his lawn, but...jeez...

It was just as well, perhaps, because it was getting fairly close to sunset and I certainly didn't want to miss it with the conditions and views at hand. The air was cool enough that there were still no bugs around. I made another steak for dinner (my red meat fill for the next week, indeed!) and enjoyed some gentle sniffs of whiskey next to the fire in my opulent surroundings. 

Just when it couldn't get any better after the sun fully retired, and not to be outdone, the moon and one of the planets came out on display over the western horizon.