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Low Waters and High Spirits on Marshall L loop

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We’d originally planned to drive from home to Geraldton “all in one go”, but after hearing of dusk-dawn-night time encounters with moose, decided to limit our driving to daytime. It also allowed us a family visit 5 hours into a 15 hour trip. Friday morning we departed late from North Bay and after frequent highway construction delays finally rolled into Geraldton. Miranda and I were very nervous meeting our internet friends for the first time, but we needn’t have been. It felt like we’d known each other for years. Perhaps we have.
Rob and Irene threw one heck of a BBQ bash. We feasted and drank while getting to know some of their friends and each other. It was a perfect start to a Marshall Lake trip.

DAY 1


After Rob and Irene plied us with a hearty breakfast and pots of good coffee we drove miles of gravel back roads to begin the shuttle. Gear was portaged 1.2 km from the parking lot to Marshall L., while Rob, Robin and Christine delivered the 2 trucks to the final bridge take-out. The three drivers arrived back before we had finished the carry, and so gave us some much needed help. I remember thinking this must surely be the hardest carry of the trip. Yes it was certainly the longest, but far more challenging trails awaited us. P8071064.JPG

The wind grew during the carry, but not enough to dampen our spirits for crossing the lake. I dreaded being wind bound before the trip even started. Despite the first put-in being clean and tidy, no one relished spending the first night surrounded by boat trailers. Once we got on the water the slow swells weren’t as intimidating as they’d first appeared, but the steady headwind made us all work for the far shore. P8071065.jpg

We paddled along the lee of the north shore seeing our first eaglet in a nest, and first pelican bobbing in the waves. The sun burst through the clouds and lifted my spirits. Rob continued on up ahead and around a point to investigate our first campsite. With that site taken by fishermen he decided the best option was to cross to a sheltered cove on the south shore. The following wind and swells made Miranda very uncomfortable as I worked hard to stay with the group.
Once ashore it wasn’t long before tents were up and a fire was lit. Rob had already stocked large woodpiles on many sites on this route. Seeing these sure was a welcome sight! Rob and Christine erected the tarp, and fishing/cooking/coffee making/relaxing was all soon underway. Robin returned from a quick and quiet foray along the shore with 3 nice pickerel. They were cleaned and fried and shared generously amongst the group. Oh gosh they were good!! P8071070.JPG
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DAY 2

We broke camp and loaded up for our first full day of travel on the water. Karin and Christy were already well on their way heading north to Gripp River. Rob and Robin patiently waited for Miranda and I to put in. Although there was never any haste on this trip I felt anxious not to be a slow poke. Before our hull was even in the water I lost footing on the smooth granite slab, and did a slow motion surfer's slide into the lake. A firm grip from Robin helped me ashore. We joked that Robin had missed a golden GoPro action shot. I wasn't keen to repeat my swim for video sake, so eventually hauled my soggy arse into our waiting canoe. The light warm breeze felt good as we rounded the point. I paused to smile and exchange greetings with a couple of guys in their outboard. Why is it that when you ask "How's the fishing? Any luck?" they always avoid a straight answer? The older fella replied " You're heading into that back country? Where you're going, you die there you ain't ever coming out!" I thought "Perfect. That's where I wanna be." P8081072.JPG

The Gripp River was a very pretty section to paddle. Miranda had the camera in a small fanny pack, and often sat mesmerized enjoying the scenery rather than snapping photos. I'd have done the same. P8081073.JPG
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I heard Karin suggest my first cast for pickerel coming up, but in my haste to pack for the trip I hadn't even unwrapped my new reel! How embarrassing! Rob cut the worst of the blow down along the port before we carried through, and soon everyone had wet lines...except for me. I paddled us around the small backside of a tiny island to sit ashore and try to make sense of my fishing tackle. P8081074.jpg


The only time I get uneasy on a trip is when we we find ourselves wallowing in shallow mudflat expanses. Imagining myself crawling through life sucking depthless muck and mire gives me the chills. Wild animals, fast water, rough water, lightening strikes and storms, and all crazy combination of unlikely events don't stir me up quite as much as the thought of being stranded a mile from shore in the middle of a loonshit lake. That seemed to be where we wound up...and not for the last time...and not for the last time I said to my wife "I thought I KNEW this guy! Is he trying to effin KILL us or something!?" Later on as Rob, the "guy I thought I knew" found a channel out of the shallow wild rice, Miranda and I calmed down and resumed the regular programming...tuning into the scenery and out of the rat race. P8081078.JPG


We entered Gripp L and a nasty headwind. Rob suggested M and I continue on ahead and catch Robin while he and the fishin machines take a break. I tried, I swear I tried, but everytime we got within reaching distance Robin would glide on up ahead, impervious to the wind...occasionally dropping a line as he wandered along Gripp's north shore. We at last caught up with him just as he slid into shore. Our Gripp L campsite for the night was on a granite point, exposed enough to keep mosquitoes at bay and provide us with an expansive view of the lake and sky. I would've loved to stay there for days. Some day maybe I will.
Rob was the only tardy one that afternoon into camp, and that was out of character for him. He described his adventure with a shoreline sweeper that sounded both funny and scary. His advice for greater group caution was well taken.
As usual there was an ample wood supply and we all took our time preparing meals as the sun played hide and seek above. I tried my Littlebug Sr twig stove for the first time. I love it! It will be my go to stove in future on all but the wettest days. Next time I'll keep an eye on it while the coffee perks! After a momentary lack of attention (I was busy doing nothing somewhere else) the pot boiled over and quenched the fire. dang!
Christine taught me how to clean pickerel at the water's edge. I loved every minute of it. She made it look easy. Later Karin continued my education (still much to learn) in line knots, lures, fishy behaviour and more. There's book learning (I have some), and there's internet learning (I have some of that too), but nothing can compare with sitting on a northern campsite under a northern sky with a friend passing on their knowledge and skills. P8081085.JPG


A late night by the fire helped smooth the ache of tired muscles unused to all this paddle & portage fun. A little tipple of Scotch may have helped too. I lay awake for a long while. The skies cleared and the temperature dropped. Miranda is such a "cold sleeper", so I have to wait till she's dropped off before opening up tent windows. Our tent pad was on a thick mattress of moss in the sheltered tiny cove, not very far from the water's edge. Just as I'd hoped the starry skies softly lit up our boreal glade with ethereal magic. The cool night air drifted in while Miranda buried herself deeper into her down bag and under an extra wool blanket. I had a notion to step outside but felt too comfortable gazing up into the starry heavens from my soft bed. I wish I had, for it seems I missed the Aurora that night. I drifted in and out of slumber and marked the crescent moon's travel through the pine boughs and beyond. Pure magic. The next moment it was morning, and a damp grey stillness waited outside my tent. P8091092.JPG
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DAY 3

A couple hours from breaking camp we left the only portage for the day behind us and took to the water below some rapids. I loved how every rocky constriction in the flow opened up into a small bay, allowing our 4 canoes to drift and wander in search of our very own sweet spot. They all found their's and I finally found mine. On my first cast I was sure I'd snagged a log, rock or somebodies' unsuspecting paddle...but no, I caught a fish!! Oh what a feeling!
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I never expected such a thrill, and while I may never become an angler, I'll never forget the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment when I saw that precious being go from lake to lure to table. I intend to try to make fresh fish a part of every trip. Still much to learn. And enjoy.
More shallow water paddling followed as we made our way into and across Summit Lake. Rob pointed out a clear spot between two wild rice 'islands", and I aimed for it. The "guy I thought I knew" might not have been trying to kill us after-all. Another eaglet in nest and more pelicans awaited us. Miranda never did snap a picture of the eagles we saw, but they were there, nearly on every lake we crossed.
This campsite on Summit was another place I'd like to stay awhile. The wide angle view across the rice and water was something to behold.
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Our chosen tent site was once again in a clearing amongst blueberries and pillows of moss. A satisfied looking erratic kept a close eye on us the entire time.

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Christine took Miranda in hand while I was playing with my tarp, and taught her how to clean the fish. Wonderful stuff!
Another afternoon meal, another evening fire, and another relaxed group of trippers enjoying the good life. Later on Miranda asked "What's that?" A lone wolf loped along the shoreline away from us, well within sight but just beyond my camera reach. We all watched entranced as it investigated it's way along the north shore of Summit, around a point and out of sight.
Rob had cut out some standing deadwood for the fire, so there was no shortage of wood for that evening, nor for the morning. We cooked over wood fire most of the trip. We each found space on an old leftover grill as needed. Robin made perfect pancakes and cowboy coffee every morning. Christine fired up her trusty Coleman for most meals, and likewise always seemed to have a pot of coffee at the ready. Rob did his own thing, as you'd expect. It was intriguing to see what this married dude paddling "single" was going to put together for his meals. Don't laugh. He does alright! He keeps things simple and delicious.
We two relied on eggs, bacon, ham and bannock for breakfasts. My pot of perc coffee never seemed big enough.

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DAY 4

It seemed like the winds would shift every day, just to keep things challenging, interesting...and in our faces. So too were the paddling conditions on day 4. The water wasn't too rough though, so M and I headed across the open bay to play catch up with Robin and Rob. K & C were closer to shore, likely catching and releasing more fish than I've had hot meals. We all gathered at the point and rounded it, and into another stiff headwind. Not far up the shore another eaglet screeched from high up in a massive nest. This time though an adult swooped and glided around the tree tops, providing a perfect photo op. I'm glad the others had camera at the ready. Miranda fumbled with zoom and whatever while I wrestled with the wind and waves. We left defeated and without a single good pic of these beautiful birds. But, it was an incredible sight to see all this play out right above our heads! Our dialogue went something like "Hold it! Just...darn! Maybe if you? No...wait WOOOOOWWW! hold it a sec, try to WWOOOOOOWWW! I can't seem to WWOOOOOOWWW!"
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Leaving Summit, we entered the Powitic R. We had seen the result of low water in the rice lakes. Now we'd see how it looked in the rocky channels. Months before Rob had suggested I might want to borrow a more durable canoe for the rapids. That would've been sensible, especially with low waters. Ultralight Kevlar after-all isn't best suited for this kind of thing. My original plan was to portage absolutely everything with so much as a Precambrian pebble in it. Not so now. After the first bit of wading and lining I was hooked. Gosh it was FUN! At one point Miranda asked me "Are you alright? You look so serious and concerned!" I explained that the footing was treacherous, and required total concentration, BUT IT WAS FUN!!
I love getting wet on trips. The bony rapid sections fully complied.
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We almost got the "moose money shot". It seems everyone else has steadier hands and nerves. I did the paddle brace-WOOOOWW thing while M did the camera fumble-WOOOOWW thing.

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Another "had to be there" moment, and we're sure glad we were.
I must admit that the wading-lining-rapids was all a blur. I lost count how many times I was in and out of the water, but loved every minute. Finally we pulled up to the waterfall campsite. I'd joked earlier with Rob that I was used to seeing largish falls not far from my home, and asked how this might compare. He laughed and said "Well, this is just a small one. Maybe not so special." I wasn't prepared for how beautiful this place is. From the muddy take out we could hear the gentle roar and hiss beyond the next bend. Scattered boulders in the shallows scraping my already obscene looking hull put me in a bit of a bad mood. Muddy water and a steep bank made for awkward unloading, but only a minute down the trail we stood on a granite shoulder above perhaps the most charming landscape I've seen.

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Robin can find kindling in his sleep I'm sure, and Rob can reduce a standing dead pine to split firewood in minutes. In no time at all a fire was blazing and food prep was underway. Karin climbed down the granite slope to cast a line at the foot of the falls, where she caught a monster! After releasing it I decided to go for a much needed swim. I normally swim every evening on a trip to wash away the day's grime and refresh my senses. The pool just downstream was soapy and unappealing. The large section of water right up to within 10 feet of the falls is only inches deep! Fair sized rocks lurk just beneath the surface, and are nearly impossible to see out from shore. I swam/crawled across them closer to the base of the falls until I could feel the bottom suddenly drop away. I have no idea how deep the plunge pool is, but the power of water scouring out an enormous basin over eons is impressive. I'm not sure if it was the cool fresh water, or the power of the place which gave me chills, but it was an incredible experience!
The evening faded as we went about the more mundane tasks of setting up tents, cooking meals, preparing for another day.
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Laugh if you will, and think whatever you might, but on another thick pillow of moss surrounded by blueberries and drifting off to sleep to the timeless sound of rushing water I had a confession to make. Miranda wondered where I'd gotten to for so long earlier. I said I'd had a call of nature to attend to. She asked why such a long time answering it? I explained that the forest was so lush and full of life, with moss, trees and wildflowers of every description completely surrounding us it felt crass to defile such a beautiful place, so I continued wandering deeper into the woods looking for someplace "less beautiful and perfect." I didn't find one.
 
Odyssey,

I haven't signed on in ages, but I have been compelled tonight. I think I may I caught you in the middle of typing out the TR, and loading pictures, but there's more coming, right?

Bravo.
 
DAY 5

We had all left the canoes at the top of the portage above the falls the day before, as there wasn't much room between forest and the rocky shoreline. Each of us found a spot to load up and launch from, but the bouldery shore was as awkward as it was beautiful. P8111186.JPG


Turning to say farewell to another perfect campsite and into a sunny morning we set off.
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Paddling no more than an hour downsream brought us to the confluence with the Kap River. Our original plan of going upstream to explore Faubert L looked doubtful. Remembering lost channels and shallow muddy waters easily convinced me to put off Faubert for another time, another trip. We all agreed to head down the Kap and to change the plans.
The day was clear and hot with not a cloud in sight. With extra time on our hands and our next campsite a short paddle away we could treat this section as a lazy float. Karin and Christine hit the fishing jackpot at a rocky narrows, and were soon lost from view behind us. Eventually Rob grew uncomfortable with the group separation and I offered to hang back and regroup with our fishing team. Miranda and I paddled back upstream to find the girls both excited with their fishing action and sorry for the tardiness. No problems. I really enjoyed the good company as we 2 tandems drifted-stroked downstream.
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M and I were especially grateful of the company when we ran aground on one of many huge granite boulders lurking just below the surface. We'd had a foolproof system of M calling out the location of shallow rocks up ahead "1 o'clock!" 'Another 2 o'clock, oh, and another 11 o'clock!" It seemed she'd no sooner call out a location than I'd see an uncalled submerged leviathan rock cruise an inch by my arse! This was another one of those, only it struck firmly right under her seat. I tried sculling and swearing in every direction, but couldn't budge us. Miranda didn't like the options I gave her (crawl back across the packs to lighten the bow, or get out onto said rock for the same effect. I must admit I gave her another option. She replied with another uncomfortable option to me.)
Christine and Karin calmly slid up beside us, and as C kept their canoe rock steady in the current K stepped gingerly onto the slippery submerged rock and gave us a shove. As we back paddled away she stepped back into her bow seat to complete the manoeuvre. Just like that. Ta daa! Thank you ladies!
We four caught up with Rob and Robin and found the Bald Rock campsite set back amongst the trees. We all retired to the shade for awhile before C and K went for a cooling dip. I also couldn't resist. The loonshit and shallows at the river's edge was warm, but once in the deep channel the water was quite cool, almost c-c-c-cold. A welcome relief to the heat. It was here and then that Rob "reasoned" with us.
Trip plan change option #1 : Tomorrow, paddle down to the bridge take-out and pick up a case of warm beer from under his truck seat; swill one and continue down to an appropriate riverside retreat to finish off the remaining tepid beers. hmm. yum. I guess.
Trip plan change option #2 : Tomorrow, paddle down to the bridge take-out and call it a day. Sink a can or two of the warm stuff with promise of ice cold beers awaiting us and then ...oh what the heck! Who needs to know the rest of the plan?! Skip the vote and let's get right to option #2!! And so we did.
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This was to be our final night's sleep on a bed of moss surrounded by blueberries amongst the spruce and pine.
Tomorrow would be the final push through rocky channels and 3 portages. Rob decided to leave at first light to cut the portages before we started them. But first he used his Sat phone to deliver the news to Irene. There were 6 weary but very happy trippers about to descend on her home a few days early. Any chance of cold beers, hot showers and down home hospitality? Was there ever any doubt?
 

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Nice reports guys! I'm glad Brad got a shot of the Kap upstream from the Powitik. It looks worse in the pics than it did in reality. Glad we didn't do the old Loon crap Shuffle up there!
 
FINAL DAY

As much as I was looking forward to journey's end, I wanted it to last forever. The loonshit wades, hard headwind paddles, rock knocked knees and ankles, soggy boots and socks and feet...it was all a joyous celebration of being alive, and being able. Being alive in such a vibrant wild place, and being able to touch it, feel it, sense it up close! Not through a computer or TV screen but with flesh and bone and sinew. Even if some of those things hurt by day, what was it? Day 4? Day 5? Day 6? I'd lost count of hours and days. I only knew one thing, right after a morning cuppa joe, and that was that it was all good. I was actually dismissing any idea of a cold beer at the end of the day. Ha! After a big breakfast of the last of the ham and eggs, and baking some bannock for a post trip nibble, I was pondering maybe there being a Trip Plan Change Option # 3? A few hours later I'd be "all in" for the cold beer thing. P8121219.JPG




The way "the six-sixty" tripped off people's tongues made it sound formidable or something. heck. I've walked that distance on a port before. And another couple short ones to follow. Should be 'a doddle", right? Wrong. Not far into The 660 I was once again convinced that bugger was trying to kill us. Okay, he'd raced up ahead to cut out the ports, but did they actually GO anywhere? It wasn't the distance so much as the terrain. Alders and shrubs disguising boggy pits and strewn logs, slick polished corduroy logs half sunken next to mossy rotten ones sinking into the boreal ooze, barely perceptible paths disappearing into...undergrowth. The portage path was there though, I just had to trust in it, but not my footing. At one point Miranda was behind me under the 115L pack (used to be her favourite till this trip). One moment she was there, the next she was gone. I heard a groan and a giggle, and turned around. Sunken up to her thighs she was held in place under the pack, stuck like a turtle on her back, unable to move. I urged her to stay still. I was worried about muscle strains and such. I thought of asking to use the camera still in her fanny pack but thought better of it. Some moments you just have to file away in your memory, and then let them go, know what I mean?. I let her go from under her boggy place and helped her back into her pack, and we continued. A funny thing happened next. As M disappeared down the trail ahead of me I paused. I don't know why. Something just "grabbed me". I paused. Looked around, and looked down. I saw wolf scat by my feet amongst moose prints in the mud. When I looked up the sun glinted through the trees and I found a blueberry shrub right next to me. I hadn't even noticed it all a moment before. I picked a few berries, gave thanks, and trudged on. There was so much more to these portages than meets the eye!! P8121222.JPG




We continued through rocky channels where I finally got the chance to run some rapids! Or at least bump and grind them. What a blast! It was one more chance to get wet. I must admit to feeling shaken and a little deflated when I finally managed to negotiate our scraped and battered canoe to and through a narrow channel only to hear Rob query as we bumped by "You're gonna run this?" Oh oh. Well, we "ran" it, but I did need to get out into waist deep water to point our canoe into the correct direction. A whitewater tripper I'm not, but it sure was fun for me.
The 2 shorter portages followed, and were tests in their own right. I believe even pack mules might've given up. i don't remember the second, but do the last. It was short and sweet. Straight up and straight down...down to a landing of more loonshit. Karin tossed down a log and called it a wharf. As much as I tried to balance while loading the canoe I couldn't help but test the loony depths. It was deep. Pant inseam deep. P8121231.JPG




M and I were all out of drinking water, and so Robin pumped a bottle for us while we dipped our mucky feet as we paddled. The final length of Kap was again pretty, despite having seen fire a few years before. Regrowth was turning the left bank green while the right seemed untouched by fire. P8121235.JPG




By about this time I was convinced of the healing properties of cold Bud Lite. I was actually thinking as we approached every river bend "Please let there be a bridge there." I didn't make any deals, but I was probably a mile and one empty water bottle away from swapping every stitch on my person for a cold can that went "Pffft!" when you pulled the tab. That bridge swung into view just in time. P8121233.JPG




Miranda and I were last to swing into the launch. I'd been asked to pick up floating feathers shed by ducks we'd seen a mile up river. The dang ducks couldn't leave them all in a row, they had to be on either side of the Kap. I zigzagged the last mile or so to pick up pretty feathers for my wife. There you go. The things you do for love. I loved this trip, and I'd love to do it again. P8121237.JPG
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There were so many "firsts" for Miranda and me on this trip. First taste of wilderness. First boreal experience. First fish caught and cleaned and eaten. First rapids run, walked, lined. First time ever sleeping on a bed of moss. First wolf seen in the wild. First group trip, and more firsts. Where do I end with so may "firsts"? I won't. We'll continue. And when we run out of "firsts" we'll repeat more of the same, because the important things in life needn't be first or second. They just need to be experienced and appreciated for what they are.
Finally a warm thank you to our tripping friends on this trip. We really hope to paddle together again somewhere, anywhere. And if it doesn't come to pass, then another epic pre-trip or post-trip party might do just fine.
Our gracious guide and his adorable wife are forever in our thoughts. There is no better couple anywhere for throwing a party and guiding you home again.

Brad and Miranda
 

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Did I mention that we like to fish? Lol. Maaaaan you guys are lucky. Normally that trip would have taken us 10 days cuz I saw at least three places that we would have camped out for a couple of days to do some hard core fishing. And THAT trip is already being planned.

For a first back country trip you sure picked a winner. That was some awesome paddling. I am glad you both enjoyed it. What I enjoyed was your raisin bannock...I could have eaten the whole thing in the truck on the way out. I managed to get about half I think as it was.

Christine
 
I'll bake you bannock every day if you take me fishing. I passed up the chance on the last evening on the Kap, and have been regretting it ever since. And yeah, I noticed you ladies hit the fish hard! Ha!! I agree that this route has good options for layover days. I loved Gripp and Summit, and of course the falls. There's 6 days of camping, fishing, eating, sleeping....repeating.
 
I'll bake you bannock every day if you take me fishing. I passed up the chance on the last evening on the Kap, and have been regretting it ever since. And yeah, I noticed you ladies hit the fish hard! Ha!! I agree that this route has good options for layover days. I loved Gripp and Summit, and of course the falls. There's 6 days of camping, fishing, eating, sleeping....repeating.

Sure Brad, where ya wanna go? Hows about an extended trip in the same area for the purpose of fishing? I had wished to have some time on Gripp and more time to fish the pools on the Kap. Due to not getting up to Faubert I never even got the depth-finder unpacked. Oh well, better to have it and not use it than not have it. Everything we caught came on the same yellow jig and yellow tail.

Kind of plotting starting at the bridge and going upstream to Faubert and back for a trip.
 
Depth finder. That's funny when you think about it. We coulda tested the depth on some of that water with a finger.
I like the sounds of the lower Kap Rob was talking about. Short trip mind you, from the bridge down to Stewart and return.
I like this site http://www.greenstone.ca/content/canoeing-kayaking-0
I'd need memaquay to fill in the gaps of information. The Steel has me curious but nervous.
 
That was a first class trip report. I didn't just read about what you did, I felt what you felt. Great writing. Great pictures. When you combine it with the other Marshall trip reports, I feel like i was there!
 
Shanks - Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed this. I loved every part of the trip, even the difficult situations.
Sturgeon - Thank you. They say a picture's worth a thousand words. Our picture taking is desperately poor, I'd hoped to make up for it.
Rippy - Your knife would've been greatly admired and appreciated on this trip. In it's element. On your hip.
 
Rippy - Your knife would've been greatly admired and appreciated on this trip. In it's element. On your hip.
Thanks Brad, I wish I would have been there. It's been a strange summer for me. Maybe there will be another opportunity next year to join the gang for a paddle. Did you ever figure out if Mem was trying to kill you all?
 
Was Mem trying to kill us all? Hmm, it's still hard to tell. If he was, he had a funny way of doing it.
On the infamous 660 I expressed my gratitude that it wasn't any longer than 660 meters. I secretly wondered if he'd gone rambling with chainsaw in hand leading us around and around through bog and forest just for fun "Haven't I seen that tangle of roots before? How come I can't see the river from here?! Didn't I already sink up to my arse ONCE already in this hole?" Maybe not. When we were all done Memequay said " On a scale of 1 to 5, I and the Outers consider this a two point five. A 2.5! But you know, it felt good to have done it. It was great to see the backcountry up close. M sure saw it from a unique angle. Mem worked hard clearing ports ahead of us. If he was trying to kill us, he was leading the charge.
Give a group trip a thought. It might give us another pair of eyes to keep on the guide. Between clearing ports and finding lost channels, ripping up standing deadwood into firewood and adding it to an already sizeable supply, he may in fact have been spoiling us.
 
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I had a nice folding knife on the trip, but I would have had Stabby envy if Rippy had brought his little friend with him!
 
I had a nice folding knife on the trip, but I would have had Stabby envy if Rippy had brought his little friend with him!

Had I brought Stabby along he probably would have stayed in the truck in favor of a smaller knife to carry.

You know, that's another thing I meant to ask about. All those flipping knives you all seemed to be buying last winter I half expected to see a mini knife review included in a TR. What about it Mem, did you take your rusty Mora along? Brad, as I recall you were suffering from the paralysis of analysis last winter during knife buying season. Did you make a purchase and use it on the trip?
 
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