Windy, Wavy, Winnie

We have estimated that we are doing 10-12,000 paddle strokes a day. I myself am quite shocked, but arms, by the way they are feeling are not too surprised.  We have gotten so used to being on the canoe that when we set foot onto land we have to take a second to get our bearings straight.  As each day passes we learn new and strange things about living life on the river.

                Last night was “very bitterly” cold. As opposed to the previous nights that were only “bitterly” cold. The readout on my phone said it had got below 27 degrees, which in my case was a close call. My sleeping bag goes down to 20. Toby on the other hand, must have suffered worse. His only goes down to 40. Shivering we woke up and began to break down camp and cook breakfast. Lake Winnie lay ahead, which mean 13 miles of open water paddling.  The weather gave us some hope; the sun had seemingly won its fight against the clouds and broke through shining through trees and warming us. The wind had died down and the lake looked calm and welcoming. We pushed off optimistic. So optimistic in fact, we removed our jackets and hats and enjoyed the sun we had not seen for days. However, as mentioned before, the Mississippi does not lend itself to predictability. Within half an hour, and long after we could chose to turn back, a cold north wind began to blow in. The defeated clouds had made a comeback and the sun retreated behind the dark cold wall. We found ourselves fighting waves far out of our comfort zone, having to keep sharp communication between us about oncoming swells.

                Dark churning water was quite literally miles around us. If we would flip and could not get in the canoe, that would spell the end of our journey, both down the river and through life.  We must have got mentally drained from spotting swells that we eventually just became stoically silent in our slow crawl forward. We learned to read our movements in the canoe and soon became comfortable in the choppy waters, although we retained a healthy anxiety.  After 4 hours we finally crossed Lake Winnie, stopping on the shore to eat a quick lunch of bananas and peanut butter before having to portage around the dam which created the lake.  It seemed like crossing Lake Winnie lifted the curse we have had regarding weather. The sun broke through the clouds warming our bodies and spirits. We were glad to be out of the lake and onto something more familiar.  We meandered through more grass marshes, not pushing ourselves too hard, enjoying that our journey from here will be much easier. Gone are the large fomenting lakes, the scratching branches, and beaver dams. From here on out is true flowing river.

 We decided that we if didn’t find a camp by five we would just stop as soon as the marshes ended.  As soon as we exited the marshes a familiar brown and yellow sign greeted us.   We have made camp on top of a small ridge overlooking the river; we hope to make it to the small city of Grand Rapid within two days. There we will stock up on supplies.  The weather is getting better, but slowly, although we have lost all trust in any idea of what Spring should be.