Tics and Bacon

I killed a tick this morning.  I saw him on the outside mesh of the tent, his spider-like legs and wretch flat little body trying in vain to get inside to my warm blood coursing through me. It was not just a tick, it was a tick and his awful little cousins mosquitoes trying to find a way to enter.  I found the same tick as we were breaking down the tent. I picked up two tent pegs and crushed him to oblivion. Well, crushed implies destruction, I just pushed until his little ugly legs stopped moving then flicked him away, I just like to pretend I’m more brutal than I really am.   

We took a very lazy day since the day previous we paddled 50 miles, the longest so far. A few days ago we bought about 3 pounds of bacon and figured we should cook the raw meat fairly soon or else we might have no meat at all. Cooking that much bacon is no small feat, even in a normal and civilized kitchen, all we have is heavy cast iron skillet and a fire.  Also, we have to deal with personal tastes. I prefer my bacon chewy, while Toby prefers his crispy (brittle as a rock if you ask me).  So, three pounds of bacon later, we have a bubbling skillet full of bacon grease.  Normally, I usually throw the grease out, but we are far from normal at the moment. I found can of those ready to bake croissants, tossed them into the bacon grease and fried away. After those, about 6 eggs and, Voila! Breakfast!

We pushed off into the river around 10:30, taking it easy. The weather was quite favorable, warm enough not to bundle up and cool enough to wear our shirts which protected us from the occasional long bout of sun.  We are slowly getting back into civilization. We are seeing more houses along the river, well houses is a compliment. Dwellings would be a more appropriate term. A signifigant portion of these dwells have "no trespassing" signs. Not like the normal black sign with orange font you see around, but signs made from any range of items, the strangest sign I've seen being a used tire with “NO trespassing” painted around it in white.  The yards are filled even more strange objects. We are not sure if they are decorative or rather a convenient place for storage.  I wonder if people even need to heed such signs, or as Toby put it, the homes look, “Like a great place to get murdered.”  We glided by, feeling safer in our canoe and headed down stream.

I think we are starting to get tired of being in Minnesota.  We hope to have another short day tomorrow, stopping in Atkins for a decent meal and to recharge our devices.  Minneapolis seems light years away, New Orleans even further, the best we can do is to look to the end of each day and keep paddling.