We woke up to sun and six inches less water, so we optimistically applied sunscreen thinking we’d get to work on our tans. (Read: STEVE might work on his tan. I can never hope for more than a color change from “paste” to “ivory”.)
NOPE. Cold wind picked up less than two miles in and we layered up. We spied a stop sign on the edge of the river (most likely for snowmobilers in the frozen months) and took it as a literal sign to stop for coffee. I picked up Canadian snack foods (Ringolos, anyone?) while Steve lounged in the boat.
The sun stayed out, but it stayed cold and we fought a gnarly headwind pretty much the entire day. We made our budgeted 23-ish miles to Beechwood Dam, but by the river gods we had to fight tooth and nail for every inch of it.
We pulled out at a not-unreasonable public boat launch above Beechwood around 3pm and were pleasantly surprised to find a labeled canoe portage… that we didn’t take, because it was WAY easier to take the paved road/rec path through the mile long yard/park of the power company. (The portage trail was also swarming with local kids zooming around on dirtbikes, so it worked out better for everyone.) It was an eerily lovely stroll, despite Steve’s strong feelings about the lack of port-o-potties or trash cans.
Camp for the night was behind the dam at a site obviously used as a dumping ground for flood debris that had gone through the wood chipper. Despite the grim setting, we had a lovely dinner of Chili Mac Round 2 and jalapeno cheddar. We fell asleep to the intermittent release of water from the dam gates, which we realized would need to be carefully timed the next morning.
