SUNLIGHT. Fucking FINALLY.
Steve immediately began running laps with small items while I broke down camp. I’m still touch and go but feel significantly more human, and since the water is somehow STILL RISING we have no choice but to keep moving.
We got the essentials to the logging slash and I stayed there to rebuild camp while Steve and his obnoxiously long legs kept shuttling gear.
Putting up our loaned 4-season tent by myself in the snow made me understand why my parents never go camping together any more. There are two kinds of people in this world: those you can assemble a tent with without anyone getting stabbed, and those who you will forever want to slit the throats of before systematically hunting down every member of their family. Also, this tent sucks and there’s a good chance I’m going to set it on fire when we get out of this.
The last order of the day was to move the boat. Dry suits on, waist-deep in swamp, dry-heaving the canoe over logs and through piles of brush and moose shit… and we’re at the slash above the next set of rapids.
We have a rock-solid base camp, a textbook bear bag, and our stuff is still dry. Tomorrow we’re going to find a portage route, and hopefully it’ll be smoother sailing. Or walking. Whatever. Hell, if we have to walk to the confluence from here we will- at least we’re moving forward again.