Day 3: Afternoon

Finally the wind died down enough so that we could paddle downstream. We ended up finding a lovely, tiny island close to a portage into a small unnamed lake to the west, which is said to be full of lake trout. After setting up camp, we headed off, portaged over 5 beaver dams, and into the lake.

Three people in a canoe, the woman in the middle with a dangerously extended forearm.
Hint: Always take your very own canoe paddle.

A man crouched by the water, his hand 
hesitating over a flipping fish. We had not bad fishing here--enough pickerel for more supper than we could eat. Even though, as you can see, Paz didn't actually like to touch the darn things. Gene let me use his back-up rod (with a pretty crappy reel--sorry Gene --it seemed to slip and I had a tough time telling whether it was actually reeling in line or not). I caught a really nice pickerel. But we didn't see a sign of the much-touted trout. We decided we'd better head back to camp.

In the middle of the lake my line snagged on something. It wasn't a pike or pickerel, because there was just a long steady pull--no jerks. All I could do was reel in, and not very well, since I couldn't determine the rate the line was coming in. So it broke. I think I had hooked a nice fat trout.


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