We camped along a beautiful pristine lake with only the sound of silence occasionally broken by the call of a loon, the lapping of waves on the rocks, a song from a bird, or the drone of a million mosquitos trying to carry us away. I love the solitude of God’s great creation with not another human anywhere around.
The campfire grill was perched on the top of a big, not very flat, rock but there was a nice flat area to set up our tent. Thankfully, we found some well-worn directions to guide our erection efforts. After everything was in its place, I went searching for the toilet or what I call the “throne on the hill.” I followed the worn path that led away from the campsite and up a very steep hill deep into the woods – just the place I want to go in the dark of night. The approved toilet in the BWCA is always an upturned plastic box with a hole in it, situated in the middle of the open woods. It is truly an outside toilet. There one sits amongst the trees to take care of business while the spiders occupy the inside of the pit and the mosquitos search for some tasty meals on fresh undeeted anatomy.
Cooking does take up a large portion of one’s day as the water has to be pumped from the lake through a micron filter for drinking and cooking or boiled for twenty minutes. My hubby did the cooking over a small, very small, propane gas stove. The rehydrated food that actually gets fully rehydrated is pretty tasty, the rest is chewy and rubbery. After supper, it was time to wash dishes – my job. This required another twenty minutes to boil a pot of water, followed by a trip deep into the woods to wash them so none of the dishwater ended up in the lake. It was quite a juggling act while swatting at my visitor friends, the mosquitos, every few seconds. Then, it was back to the campsite to store things away for the night under the canoe for bear protection. I wondered as I brushed my teeth if electric toothbrushes and shavers are considered motors and would be banned here.
There was a beautiful sunset as the sun sank below the western horizon. Finally, it was time for bed. Bed was a small self-inflating mattress covered by a sleeping bag in our tent. This did not look at all like my soft memory foam covered mattress at home. My body soon agreed with my mental assessment. There was no way for a fifty something body to get comfortable after our strenuous day of portaging and canoeing. Knees, hips, shoulders, and backs all protested. There were no pillows as they take up too much space for carrying into the wilderness. Hubby and I became resourceful and made pillows by stuffing all our remaining clothes into the sleeping bag covers – not perfect but workable.
Our night was punctuated by turning from side to side over and over. I constantly looked at my watch. “Is it morning yet?” I groaned. Everything hurt and there was no comfortable position. Finally at 5 am, my hubby was driven from his “bed” by the torture of our sleeping situation. Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten and the scene was a painting from God’s hand. The mist hung low over a mirror calm lake. Everything stood in awe of its creator. My hubby was in his glory too for the scene begged to be photographed.
We spent our morning paddling around Snipe Lake and then returned to our campsite for an afternoon of fishing by hubby and reading by me. We capped off the evening with a campfire as the sun sank below the horizon. Happy 60th Birthday Hubby!