We had a great Up North experience, true to the great features of any Up North vacation, minus the crowds. A few black flies, many more mosquitoes, gorgeous scenery, cold nights, clean air, and all the time in the world to relax, decompress, and get happy.

For me [Pam], the vacation came at a good time. The old project I'd been on had been "getting old" for a long time, and the new project seemed fraught with problems. I definitely needed a break.

One reason we went Up North instead of Out West was that we are trying to save money partly because my job was in peril because of state and University budget cuts. We tried to make this vacation as cheap as possible. We ate out very little, and only stayed indoors once.

Photos can be found here: http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04.html

We left on the morning of Wednesday, May 26th, and returned around 5 on Sunday, June 6th.

Disclaimer: Ian has not yet had a chance to contribute to this narrative, so it has been written entirely from Pam's point of view. Ian would have many things to contribute with regards to his own thoughts, experiences, and observations. Should he ever decide to contribute to this account, this story will present a more balanced description of our joint adventure.

Wednesday May 26th

We were on the road close to 10 am -- packed, fresh buns and hot cappuccino to go in the car, and the dog dropped off at the kennel. We found plenty to talk about on the drive north. We no longer had air conditioning in our car, but it never got unbearably hot. I drove all the way to Bay View Campground in the Upper Peninsula.

We decided it would be nicer to stop earlier and have more time to relax than to go all the way to Lake Superior Provincial Park in Canada. Besides, we had a ton of fruit that Ian didn't think we could take across the border (and some rum, too). So the plan was to eat as much fruit as possible, and for me to help out with the rum problem.

We found a very nice campsite only feet from the beach (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image1.html). The campground was relatively empty. We set up camp, and then took a walk up the beach, and explored a little of the inland area. It was very peaceful, and being on the beach was a rare treat that we enjoyed thoroughly.

We began cooking dinner on our two camp stoves. One stove screws directly into a fuel canister, and is very easy to operate but very LOUD. The other stove, a "Whisperlite", is more complicated to operate, and not always easy to light, but very quiet. Unfortunately, I had tremendous difficulty operating it on this evening.

We had purchased a new pump and re-fillable fuel canister back in Ann Arbor because our original pump and canister had gone missing. Once I gave up on the stove and dismantled it, I got sprayed with fuel, which suggested to me that the pump had been working just fine (and had been over-primed), and that the problem was probably within the stove itself. Fortunately this type of fuel evaporates very quickly!

After dinner I tried to start a fire with twigs and branches from around the campsite. I built it twig by twig, branch by branch, which had worked out in California last year. But I just could not sustain a fire - the wood was probably too damp from lots of spring rain. I was a little peeved that our neighbor seemed to have a pretty nice fire going. I guessed that maybe I didn't know so much about lighting fires after all. I had been pretty proud of last year's successes.

Our neighbor was a 50-something man camping solo. He had no tent - just a tarp lean-to. I found him intriguing and hoped I would have a chance to chat with him sometime. He looked like an interesting person.

We read by lantern light for awhile, but then climbed into the tent when it got too cold. In fact, it was so cold that, for the first time in all of my years camping, I had to climb inside my sleeping bag and draw the string almost to a close around my nose and mouth in order to stay warm. I realized that the North Face tent we'd set up probably didn't contain heat as well as the tent we usually use. It has a lot more screen-like surfaces, and the fly doesn't hug the tent the way the other tent's fly does.

Thursday May 27th

We woke up to the beginnings of rain. I quickly strung some rope around several trees surrounding the picnic table, and stretched a plastic sheet over them to create a shelter. I didn't have a way to secure the plastic onto the rope, so I hung wool socks at the edges of the plastic to hold it on top of the rope. The rope and plastic sheeting had been an after-thought when I was packing. So it was better than nothing, but our neighbor's tarp setup made it look pretty lame!

Fortunately, it didn't rain too hard. We were able to cook breakfast without getting too wet. We decided to stay for that day and another night, partly to eat up more fruit, and partly in the hopes of not having to pack a wet tent.

The rain continued off and on all day. We went to the shipwreck museum on Whitefish Point. First we viewed a short movie about the Edmund Fitzgerald. Near the end, I found myself getting teary when it became clear that family members of many of the dead crew are still alive and mourn their loved ones.

To those reading who have no idea what the Edmund Fitzgerald is - you have clearly never spent much time in upper Michigan, and have certainly never been to the Upper Peninsula, or really spent much time around the great lakes, period. There is a very long song about this vessel, and this song played over and over in some of the museum's buildings. For those who want to know more, here is a website all about the ship: http://www.ssefo.com/ In any case, the Great Lakes in a storm can be about as dangerous as any ocean under storm conditions. Many ships have been lost to storms on the Great Lakes. The Edmund Fitzgerald just happens to be the most famous one.

Then we spent some time in a chronological exhibit of many of the Great Lakes shipwrecks throughout history. Each ship's exhibit had a to-scale model of the ship. As we went around the room, I vaguely noticed that the models were getting larger with each exhibit. By the time we reached the last ship, we were looking at a very large model tanker. Then it hit me that they were probably all to-scale with one another. In comparison with the first model ship, the last was an absolute beast of a vessel!

After this exhibit, we were both exhausted, so we went to the goody shop and bought a lunch of pastys, a soft pretzel, and some fudge. OK, again, for you non-Michigan people, pastys are meat and potato filled crust pockets, served warm; fudge is a staple for tourists. We ate as we walked along the stony beach right at Whitefish Point. There was a gentle rain, which was bringing out the best qualities in the stones beneath our feet. I collected a few that seemed unusual or especially beautiful.

After leaving the shipwreck museum, we drove to the town of Paradise, MI. At the outset, this might seem preposterous. How could a little nowhere town in the middle of practically nowhere, Michigan be any kind of paradise? Well, throughout our vacation, both in the U.P. and in Canada, anytime we were near Lake Superior, we kept hearing people use the word "paradise" to describe how they felt about the area. By the end of the vacation, I had to agree that the shores of the Great Lakes could indeed be paradise.

In Paradise, MI we picked up some supplies. Ian had forgotten a raincoat, and had been pretty cold last night. So we found a thick coat which was fuzzy on the inside and sort of slick on the outside. We also picked up some clothes pins for securing our plastic tarp to its rope.

On the way back to the campground, we noticed that there were several access-points to a trail along the shore. We stopped at one of them, and learned that this trail was part of the 3000+ mile North Coast trail which stretched across many northern states.

The terrain on the trail was quite easy, but very marshy in places. I had made a poor choice of footwear, and ended up with sopping wet feet and shoes, despite the fact that I'd brought some waterproof hiking boots. As it turned out, those shoes took several days to dry.

There were many very interesting sights along the way. We were intrigued by a long stretch of sandbar and marsh up ahead. When we finally reached it, we walked out quite far into the water, but still "on land". We also got to cross a completely awesome suspension bridge that was, effectively, in the middle of nowhere (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image3.html). We theorized on how its builders might have conveyed the materials into the location, considering that some parts of the bridge were enormous wooden beams.

Back at the campsite, we were able to sit on the beach and read because the rain had stopped. After cooking and eating dinner, we read by lantern light. However, Ian was extremely cold. He could not get warm enough, even though I was able to stay warm. At first I figured I was just built differently and could better withstand cold. Then I began to wonder whether the rum I'd been working on may have been keeping me warm!

Friday May 28th - John Hayes' (dad's) birthday

We had our last breakfast at the Bay View campground and packed up so we could head further north. Thankfully, there had been no rain overnight, so the water on the tent was primarily dew, which dried quickly in the sun.

On the way out of the U.P., we stopped in Sault Ste. Marie to look for a store that might carry the fuel canisters required by our noisy stove, since I'd given up on the Whisperlite, after another night of frustration. Ian thought that the Wal Mart might have fuel. I was a little appalled that, after all these years of intentionally never setting foot in a Wal Mart in protest of its monopolistic practices, I might actually have to enter one to get something I really needed. There were no guarantees that there was a good camping store in town or that we'd find it if there were.

Well, it was Wal Mart to the rescue - we picked up more than enough fuel canisters there, and I breathed a sigh of relief that this mission had been completed so quickly. I disliked Wal Mart just a little bit less, but hopefully will not have to go to another one anytime soon!

On the way to the bridge to Canada, we stopped at a rest stop, and Ian found a flier that explained what one could and could not bring into Canada. Fruit was acceptable after all, as were small quantities of alcohol. Now we know to check ahead of time on the internet before we head to Canada.

The line a customs was slow, but we had no trouble crossing the border. We looked a lot like the campers we claimed to be - car full of camping stuff, greasy hair, unshaven, etc. I picked up some wine and rum at the duty free shop, and we both exchanged our money. The American dollar was not doing very well, so we only got an exchange rate of 30%.

Since we'd eaten so much fruit, I was hoping to stop along the way to the park to pick up some more, and possibly even some fresh meat for tonight's meal. However, somehow we managed to get all the way to the park without remembering to stop anywhere. The park has very little in the way of shops - there is one town - Wawa - at the Northern end of the park, which is a real town. But it's hardly a place we could go very frequently, considering that we were planning to stay in the Southern part of the park.

Once we reached the park, we discovered that our intended campground - Crescent Lake - was closed. We went to the Agawa Bay campground instead, and found it to be quite desirable. The last time we had seen it was one summer at the height of the season. Then, it had been a people and RV-infested mini-metropolis, which had been a total turn-off. Now, it was almost empty, and some of the most desirable campsites - those right by the beach - were available (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image4.html).

In anticipation of rain, I rigged the plastic sheeting over the picnic table and even stretched our tarp over a potential sitting area. I used plastic sheeting under the tent since the real tarp was in use elsewhere. This turned out to be a mistake, as I learned later. The tarp was permeable, whereas the plastic was not. This would prove to be a problem when it rained.

We spent some leisurely time sitting on the beach reading and snacking. I felt giddy with joy to be sitting on a beach watching waves roll in, basking in the still-warm sunshine. I was beginning to get that feeling, too, that this might be paradise.

We cooked a very nice dinner of a hot entree, fried polenta with parmesan cheese, and sauteed green beans with olive oil and lime juice. Right after dinner, I called Dad to wish him a Happy Birthday. It was good to talk to him - I'd been thinking of him off and on all day, since it was his birthday. He came to mind especially strongly while we were on the beach because beaches make me think of Dad, who loves walking for miles and miles on the beach.

When I returned, we walked on the beach towards the sunset (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image9.html). We got to navigate several inland streams which flowed across the beach out into the lake. Back at the campsite, Ian noticed that our "neighbors" in the next campsite were speaking what may have been Swedish. Both of them, even the woman, were quite tall.

The night became very cold after the sun set. The tent was awfully cold. Ian was extremely concerned about being too cold again - he threatened to sleep in the car if he got as cold as he was last night. I offered up all of the extra clothing I had - long underwear, long-sleeved jerseys, etc. He was able to keep warm enough to be comfortable with the extra clothing. Once again, I had to draw the string of my sleeping bag almost closed at the top, with just enough of an opening for breathing.

Saturday May 29th

After cooking & eating breakfast, Ian took a shower. He told me it was tepid, which was a little disappointing. On the way out of the campground, we stopped at the visitor center to get maps and information.

This visitor center is brand new - it only opened a few weeks ago. It is quite impressive architecturally - there were lots of wide open spaces, lots of wood, and a floor-to-ceiling wall of large stones (which we later learned was fabricated - molds had been taken, and a very skillful artisan had reproduced the stones in plastic - http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image5.html).

We got a lot of good information from the park ranger, although people like him are not called "park rangers" in Canada. In fact, he said that he just sits behind a desk all day, so maybe he isn't a park ranger by any measure. He and a woman at the front desk recommended various nearby trails. As it turns out, most of the trails in this park can only be reached by boat.

We decided to go on the Orphan Lake trail (we'd been on this trail the last time we were here), and to extend that hike by doing part of the Coastal Trail. We kept seeing signs of our "neighbors" from the campground wherever we went - they always seemed to be one step ahead of us. Finally we saw them in person on the rocky beach which is at the midway point of the Orphan Lake trail.

We stopped there to snack and rest. The day was sunny and warm - warm enough for shorts and t-shirts. We bid our "neighbors" goodbye until evening and hit the Coastal Trail. The view from this trail was terrific - and the trail was nicely varied. Sometimes we were in the woods, and other times we were picking our way through fields of giant rocks (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image8.html).

We followed the trail as far as we could before it seemed to disappear. In one direction, it would have taken us across some very treacherous rocky terrain, if it were indeed the trail. In the other direction, there was a trail of sorts, but it also seemed to end in a very treacherous way, so we turned back, figuring we must have missed a turn somewhere.

We were right - we had completely missed a hairpin turn at which the trail went steeply up hill. It turned out to be a good thing for me that we turned back - I was getting tired. By the end of the hike, I was in pretty good shape, despite the challenge. I was extremely hungry once we got back to the campsite, however.

We had our reward of sitting on the beach snacking and reading before dinner. We had spaghetti for dinner - I'd bought a bottle of gourmet spaghetti sauce, and it definitely "stacked up"!

I tried to start a fire with kindling and some wood I'd found at the vacated campsite next door, but I had very little luck, and gave up, and read by lantern-light instead. We spent one last night in the North Face tent, but the cold was getting to be less of a problem, since the nights were relatively "warm" (though still pretty cold) compared to nights in the U.P.

Sunday May 30th

Ian slept the longest I'd seem him sleep in a very long time - he did not rise until 10 a.m. I thought about waking him up, but figured that he deserved to sleep as long as he wanted to on vacation, especially considering that he's been an early riser for the past year or so.

After breakfast, we broke down the yellow & blue North Face tent because it is a fairly cold tent on cold nights, and set up the green & yellow tent we have always used.

Today was the day for the Big Hike - Agawa Falls Trail. The day was quite nice - sunny and hot enough for shorts & a tank top. The trail sounded doable - 24 K. We reached Black Rock Pool, which was a wider part of the river the trail followed. A sign there claimed that the distance to the falls was 7 K, so we thought that we didn't have much farther to go.

However, this was not true. The trail went on and on. We kept thinking after awhile that the Falls had to be just around the corner. The scenery along the way was very beautiful, but the trail became extremely rugged after a few kilometers. There were many very steep, rocky ups and downs. My knees were not handling the beating, despite the fact that I was babying them as much as I could.

Aside from our stop at Black Rock Pool, we did not stop to rest or eat. We ate a little as we hiked, and I eventually had consumed almost all of my liquids, which included three water bottles, and half a bottle of sports drink.

I finally reached a point at which my body told my mind that it could not continue without a substantial rest period. We stopped beside the river, where we ate more food, and I used our filter pump to refill all of our water bottles from the river (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image11.html). Black flies were plaguing Ian, so we had to move on more quickly than I would have liked, since I really needed a long break.

Having not had time to digest my food or rest long enough, I was still extremely fatigued, yet we had to immediately climb a series of sheer rock walls in order to turn back and return the way we'd come. I was pathetically weak, and yet Ian was still going strong, and he was steadily gaining ground on me.

At some point, however, some Girl Scout cookies (Thin Mints) and whatever else I ate and drank must have kicked in, because I began to feel revived. When we reached Black Rock Pond, we examined the "7 K" sign a little more closely, and noticed that someone had scratched a "1" in front of the "7", and "no fucking way" after the "7 K". I got a pretty big kick out of that, because that was my impression as well. It made sense if the original "24 K" we'd seen referred only to the distance in, because 7 + 17 = 24.

After this hike, the Coastal Trail seemed pretty easy, although up until this point, it had been our most challenging hike of the vacation. Near the end of the hike, I was feeling stronger, although at the end, I was pretty tired.

Back at the campsite, I took a tepid (and not to be repeated) shower, and then we claimed our reward of sitting out on the beach reading and chowing down on snacks. I could not stop eating cheese. Between us (and most of this was Pam), we ate half of a brick of smoked Gouda.

After dinner, Ian could see that I was extremely tired, and very kindly told me to get lost while he cleaned up. I laid on the beach for awhile watching the sky, until I felt strong enough to sit up.

Despite lots of snacking, and a full dinner, I was still hungry. I crawled into the tent quite early - before dark - and wolfed down two pop tarts and a bunch of Girl Scout cookies. I fell asleep quite early.

The yellow tent was indeed warmer, but it appeared that we'd switched tents too late, because it simply wasn't as cold up here as it'd been in the U.P. The yellow tent holds heat so well that I was too warm.

Monday May 31st - Memorial Day

We awoke to clouds and the threat of rain. We'd known a day or two ahead that today might be rainy based on a weather forecast at visitor center. We fixed our hot breakfast and ate quickly to avoid getting rained on, and because the bugs were worse than usual.

We stopped off at the visitor center to check on more recent weather forecasts. A new one hadn't been posted for several days, but the woman at the counter went into the back room to pull a new one up. She let us come into the back room to view the forecast on the screen, since she didn't know how to print it out. It didn't look too bad, but didn't look spectacular either.

We used this day to make a trip to Wawa, at the northern end of the park (outside the park, in fact). The drive up there didn't take too long, which seemed strange, because the last time we were here, there was construction, so the drive to Wawa seemed interminable. The neat General Store I had thought was somewhere along the road before the park, but which we never came to, was in fact up by Wawa. So we stopped there, and I picked up a summer sausage just like the one I bought last year.

In Wawa, it was actually sunny, and on the warm side. We picked up some groceries, then poked around for the Library, which we figured would have internet connections. We got some bad directions from a young local resident, but managed to find the very tiny library next to the very tiny post office, where the internet connection was actually located. Ian went in to check on possible on-line maps of the Bruce Trail.

I had gone way past hungry and was chowing down on whatever was at hand when Ian got back from the post office. I'd actually gotten too hot and had to change into shorts. So much for rain! Once we'd exhausted the possibilities of Wawa (which are few if you have better things to do, but are probably many if it is raining hard), we headed back to the park.

We came to Old Woman Bay (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ianjones/pictures/North04/North04-Pages/Image12.html), and decided to stop and relax and maybe hike. The bugs were terrible, and then it started raining. The rain was short-lived, and the bugs were confined to a small area, so we were finally able to sit on the beach and read for a short while.

Then we crossed the road to take the Nokomis loop trail, which was only 5 K. The views were pretty - we could see a long way across a valley, and could see a river and the bay itself. Although the climate started out warm and humid, it seemed like we turned a corner and things got very cold all of a sudden. I went from wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts to wearing every piece of clothing I'd brought with me.

On our way back to the campground, it started raining pretty hard. Once we reached our campsite, we just sat in the car reading and snacking for awhile. Ian had tossed some pretty wicked spiced tortilla flats into our shopping cart in Wawa. We became instant addicts. After awhile, I prepped the tarp and picnic table for cooking. It was still raining, and Ian was pretty doubtful about trying to cook in the rain. I really didn't want to go all the way back to Wawa, and believed that we could cook in the rain since we had a tarp over our heads.

While we were cooking, the rain let up and then stopped. While dinner was cooking, I embarked on a chore which was to cause various amounts of grief and ire for me. I have always kept a wide-mouthed container in the tent at night to use as a slop jar to save me from having to get dressed and exit the tent just to pee. For most trips I've had a plastic container which I've had to throw away before we've flown home. But for car trips, I'd been taking a heavy glass jar.

When I set it down on the cement outhouse floor, it cracked, and when examining it, I cut my finger. Both of these events made me extremely angry. We were nowhere near a store, now that we were back from Wawa, and it pissed the hell out of me to have to get out of the tent every night to pee, after years of having the luxury of not having to do that. Plus I was very angry at myself for being stupid enough to use a glass jar.

So I fumed and fussed at myself for awhile. I'm sure glad *I* wasn't me, because wouldn't want to go through that sort of tongue-lashing.

After dinner, Ian was kind enough to clean up while I set up the fallen tarp over the sitting area. While it was still light, we sat on the beach, reading. When I took a look inside the tent, I noticed that there was water pooled on the floor. This had never happened in the Northface tent, so I thought this tent might be inferior, but then I realized that there was a non-porous plastic sheet under the tent instead of the legitimate tarp, which was hanging over the sitting area.

Ian left for awhile to make a phone call, and I sat under the tarp, in the sitting area, pumping well water, since all of our bottles were empty. This campground still had not verified that its water was safe to drink, so we'd been pumping water every day. As I pumped the very last bottle full, a couple walked by and offered me a spare gallon of fresh water. I told them I really didn't need it, but they really wanted me to have it.

So I walked back to their campsite with them. They were from Kansas, and the woman had the most peculiar accent. I was surprised that someone from a state not all that far away could have such a pronounced accent. I took it to be an extreme Mid-western accent. Her husband sounded more "normal". He was an English as a Second Language professor who taught teachers at a college. He was a pretty classic semi-cosmopolitan liberal intellectual. It was pretty amusing, though I'm sure he didn't see the humor.

Then I learned that the woman was from Germany. I had to laugh at myself for not catching this. The "We're from Kansas" had sort of thrown me off.

Tuesday June 1st

We awoke to the prospects of good weather, with only the slightest chance of rain. However, the pools of water inside the tent had grown alarmingly overnight, so we were forced to switch tents once again. This wasn't such a bad thing, though, since the nights seemed to be warm enough to make using the colder North Face tent reasonable. Being a Northerner, I prefer the air around me to be very cool so that I can bundle up in blankets to keep warm.

Ian is not quite as tolerant as I am of the same food day after day (although he can eat cold cereal for years at a time). I'd packed several different kinds of hot cereal with the hope that he might not get too bored, but finally this morning he opted for some cold cereal we'd picked up in Wawa. But then again, this was not just any old cereal. This was Life cereal - a life-long favorite of both Ian and his dad.

I preferred the ritual of making the hot cereal, not to mention the cereal itself. Hot cereal is really just a vehicle for brown sugar and bananas. When else would I eat spoonfuls of brown sugar?

Since we didn't eat at the same time, I decided to eat on the beach to make up for the lack of company. I can't imagine why I had never thought of this before. It was quite a luxury. Ian joined me shortly, and we enjoyed the sunny morning and tiny lapping waves together.

On the way back from the beach, I noticed that our newest neighbors were up and about, and thought that they might enjoy the firewood we were not using. I approached them to ask about the wood, but they were leaving that day. They traveled in a truck with a small trailer on top, and lugged a canoe behind the trailer. They were 50-something and very fit-looking.

As it turned out, these were no ordinary mortals. They were quite serious about their long-distance bicycling, backpacking, and canoeing. They'd done rides that were many hundreds of miles. They had done a great deal of back-country backpacking, too. They were full of hilarious stories, and I spent a pretty long time listening to and laughing at these great stories. They were pretty good at using these stories to laugh chummily at each other.

In one of their stories, they were in their canoe facing some seriously dangerous rapids. However, they had just come from an island completely infested with mosquitoes. They were concerned that they could lose their lives while navigating these rapids. But they were quite certain that this danger was preferable to returning to the mosquito-ridden island! I've always thought that insects' primary weapon against humans was that they can cause absolute madness. Now I know for sure that this is true.

In another story, they had to cross a rickety rope-and-slat bridge over a deep canyon with rushing white-water below. The situation was complicated by the fact that they were backpacking with a dog. Now, dogs are not stupid. This dog did not want to cross the bridge. For that matter, the woman herself was not too sure about crossing such a flimsy structure while wearing a backpack weighing at least one quarter of her own weight.

Somehow the man was able to convince the dog to cross, with much cajoling and a little rump-pushing. The woman made it, as well. As I visualized this bridge, I figured I would have gotten down on my hands and knees and crawled across. I figure the dog had the best end of this deal - low center of gravity, and four limbs on which to balance! Mind you, the dog was carrying a backpack, too.

As they talked about their dog being on various trips, I wondered whether our dog Lily could have completed some of the trails we'd taken. I had doubts that she could have handled the Agawa trail because of some of its nearly vertical ascents and descents. I had seen her have trouble countless times simply climbing from the ground into the back seat of my Jeep. She's a graceful dog at the run, and can jump high in the air from a stand-still, but doesn't seem to realize her own potential when it comes to climbing up onto higher surfaces.

However, the couple had a good story about their own dog and a nearly vertical ascent. With a lot of help from the man and a lot of scrambling of his own, the dog had been able to complete the short but steep climb. This made me think of a harness-like contraption we might rig to help Lil with these types of geographic formations. There are plenty of rib-hugging dog harnesses, and we could even use the human climbing-harness that Ian bought years ago (but has never used) for her back-end.

We also spoke of the types of thoughts that run through one's mind on an ultra-long bike ride. The man and I shared the experience of thinking largely about the ride itself due to the various dangers and athletic considerations associated with road-riding. The woman, on the other hand, tended to meditate or free-associate while riding, and they both spoke of the time she blithely rode right through a stop sign while he watched from behind, filled with helpless dread. They both found the incident pretty funny now, though.

After I'd been visiting with our neighbors for quite some time, Ian ventured over, and was treated to a few of these amazing stories. Eventually, we parted ways so we could get on with our days - it was getting pretty late in the morning.

We had decided to do a somewhat easier hike today before re-attempting the Agawa Falls trail again tomorrow. This trail, called the Awausee, was a 10 kilometer loop. By the time we had packed our daypacks and reached the trailhead by car, it was already 2:15 pm. We've never been ones to get up early and hit the trail much before noon.

Only the first half-hour or so of the trail was at all challenging. After that, we were treated to easy hiking in a scenic inland environment. We stopped after an hour to eat and rest for a little while. I was determined not to repeat the mistake of waiting too long to eat and rest in order to avoid the extreme fatigue I'd experienced on the Agawa Falls trail. Such a scenario didn't seem likely on this trail, but I wanted to be careful just in case the terrain got more challenging.

Unfortunately, this was the last pleasant rest break we were to have on this hike. Half an hour later, we wandered into a veritable metropolis of bugs. We were bombarded from all directions by annoying but harmless bugs. Even insecticide was not enough to keep these sumbitches away - there were just too many of them.

The time to stop and rest came and went, and we passed by scenic outlooks just to keep moving through this plagued land. Finally, I decided that I needed to eat and rest somehow. We both put on more clothes, but Ian kept going, while I created a tent out of my clothes and scarfed down some food. I could hear the bugs all around me, but inside my tent I was safe, even if I couldn't see a thing and had to breathe hot, stale air.

When Ian looped back, I joined him and we kept going. Not long after, we seemed to pass out of the bug mecca and into a more sane environment. We were descending, and perhaps we were leaving the wetter environment that these insects preferred. The rest of the hike was as pleasant as the first part - the landscape was lush with plant-life, and the terrain was not too demanding.

During the hike, we changed our minds about attempting the Agawa Falls trail again. Neither of us felt like we had anything to prove by trying to make it to the Falls this time, and maybe we were both ready for a change of scenery. I had a vague hankering for a movie, and when I expressed this, Ian suggested that we take off tomorrow morning for Sault Ste. Marie for a matinee, and then head out to Manitoulin Island, where we could stay in a motel or cabin for one night. This sounded good to me!

Back at the campsite, after dinner, we were hanging out on the beach. The sun would be setting soon, and Ian suggested that we walk out to a rock point to catch the sunset. A number of others had had the same idea; there were already some people on the point, and another couple had already started up the beach towards the point.

The beach was rocky with smooth round stones. We made a loud crunching noise as we walked. I had to watch the couple ahead of us for a long time to figure out their respective genders; they both looked boyish. Finally, at one precise moment, something about the way the woman moved identified her as such, but whatever it was that changed was very subtle. I thought about how frequently this must occur these days. Ian and I look fairly similar both physically and in dress. We even have some clothing that is identical aside from size.

I could see that we were not going to make it to the rock point in time for the sunset, so I suggested we watch it from where we were instead of missing it. We watched the sun slowly slide beneath the horizon until it was gone. The water was very still.

As the people who'd watched the sunset from the rock point returned, we approached it. Once again, I experienced some gender-bending confusion. A group of older adults were approaching, and in the fading light, I pegged one of its members as the incorrect gender. As we got much closer, I realized my error, and also realized that gender ambiguity is probably not restricted to people of any particular generation!

We had the rock point to ourselves. Ian said that it reminded him very much of the McGregor Bay island owned by his father and uncles. That must have been quite the feeling of nostalgia because he hadn't been there in years, and did not seem likely that we'd be going there anytime soon, given the family politics surrounding such a trip. Yet, he had been there many times in the past, and memories of it are part of who he is, and still shape how he wants to structure his life.

We spent the rest of the evening in the usual way, reading under lantern light, and retreating into the tent once sleepy exhaustion took hold.

Wednesday June 2nd

We awoke to our last day at Lake Superior Provincial park. For the first time on the trip, Ian got up before me. At home he always precedes me in wakefulness on the weekends. The intensity of the insects this morning made the decision to cook and eat our hot cereal on the beach an easy one. This was another way of doing things that I had not thought of, and was an especially pleasurable treat.

As is typical for us, we got packed up and out of the campsite pretty late in the day. We had several hours of driving to reach Sault St. Marie. There wasn't much but small towns and countryside between the park and the city. The city was a minor bit of culture shock after having been out in nature for so long.

We had hoped to find a movie theater, but after driving around for twenty minutes or so, we'd seen nothing but stores and vaguely depressing neighborhoods. We did need a few minor supplies, so we went into a small shopping center and picked up what we needed.

The continuing saga of my camera woes had me buying new batteries for the camera, since I had wondered whether dead batteries had made my camera fail to work, back at the park. I tested the current batteries again, and the camera still seemed not to work. So I bought and installed the new batteries, and they didn't work either. Mystified, I pulled them out, and installed them facing the other way. They worked this time, and when I tried the old batteries (which I'd actually bought in February, so they weren't that old) in that orientation, the camera worked again! I still don't understand what had been wrong, but I now had new batteries that I did not need.

We did get directions to a movie theater, however. It was inside a mall, which was, unfortunately, one of the more attractive sights we'd seen in the city. It was situated next to a casino, which had an elegance which made the rest of the town seem positively drab. When we found the theater, we discovered that no matinees played during the week. But we took advantage of the food court to have a hot meal. Ian chose Arby's, but I was quickly hooked by the sight of the "home-cooked" food booth, which had broiled chicken legs, cabbage rolls, cole slaw, and pierogies. The thought of having some real meat after days of having no meat but sausage was irresistible.

We left town with few regrets - this was not a town that made us want to linger. The drive to Manitoulin Island took a few more hours. We split the driving, since I needed to sleep for part of the drive. I picked up coffee in a small town at a cafe which served "cappuccino", the ultra-sweet kind made from a mix that comes out of a cappuccino "machine". I asked for some tap water, but was told that the water in this town was not safe to drink. What a strange concept - I don't know whether the person meant that it was never safe, or was just currently not safe.

We approached the island in early evening, so the light was beginning to color the landscape and sky beautifully, but we still had a few hours in which to find lodging. We passed the turn-offs where we would have gone if we'd been going to the McGregor Bay island. I asked Ian whether he had lots of memories associated with that area, but he didn't seemed to be overwhelmed by nostalgia.

We were driving on roads that were very near water and rolling agricultural hills. These made a very beautiful combination, and began to awaken the shutterbug in me, especially now that I had a working camera (or so I thought; more on that later). Ian had printed out a many-page list of accommodations on the island. I went through them one by one, trying to pick through the flowery descriptions of each one for the nuggets of truth. I marked most of them "Could be expensive" or "Sounds touristy". A few sounded like real possibilities, but we really could not know whether any place was suitable unless we'd been there.

The first place we tried was advertised as a charming village of water-side cottages with a beach front. It was fairly close to the northern part of the island, where we would be entering. We needed something fairly close due to the advancing evening. We located these cottages, which looked very much like a sharecroppers' tenement village. This was a sort of depressing beginning, but we still had time and plenty of other options.

Ian had seen a sign for The Red Lodge out on the highway, so we followed signs for it. Things seemed to be fairly spread out on this island. It is not a small island - I believe Ian told me that it was about the size of Rhode Island. It took quite a while to reach The Red Lodge, and we had no idea whether it would be another dump, or somewhere we'd like to stay.

However, along the way, we saw some very beautiful countryside. This area was almost completely agricultural, and the fences surrounding the fields were aged zig-zag fences made out of rustically-hewn wooden rails. In some places, there were abandoned homes that had dwindled down to nothing more than field-stone foundations.

When we finally pulled up to the Red Lodge, we realized we'd struck gold. This place was an elegant and tasteful retreat on the edge of one of the many inland lakes. The main lodge, where meals were served and room reservations were made, was indeed a red lodge. The surrounding rooms-to-let were a combination of free-standing and motel-style cabins.

The grounds were beautifully and artistically landscaped, with plenty of fern lining a down-hill flowing man-made stream, with occasional tiny ponds and unobtrusive fountains. There was also at least one footbridge across this lovely valley of water and flora. The inside of the lodge was made up of mostly of blonde-wood logs and paneling, which was an effect I had very much hoped for when I'd heard the word "lodge".

The cost per night was $100 Canadian, but we were so happy to have found this place that we didn't give it a second thought. It would be the only night we spent indoors during the entire trip and seemed like a well-deserved treat.

Ian had a hot shower, and then collapsed in a state of temporary exhaustion on one of the beds. I brought our cooking supplies and our clothing bags into the room, and set up outside our door for dinner preparations, since the dining room had closed. Dinner did not take long to prepare, and when it was ready, we carted just the food and our beverages down to the tiny marina, which sported a small gazebo and a picnic table.

Across Lake Manitou, we saw nothing but trees and hills. Ian thought he recognized the "Cup and Saucer" ridge, on which there is a major hiking trail. After dinner, we explored the grounds a bit. Ian recognized the row boats in the marina as being the exact same models as the one belonging to his now-deceased grandmother, Ann Jones. The boats even had the same-size motors as did Ann's boat.

The small boathouse was a log cabin made with hewn-board slats and a field-stone foundation. Nearby was one of the man-made but wild-creature-inhabited ponds. I was thrilled to see several frogs jumping into the water and swimming around. I have so rarely had the pleasure of seeing frogs in the wild; they have always seemed to me to be elusive creatures.

I had my shower, and performed the lengthy task of removing a weeks' growth of leg-hair. Although I joined Ian on the deck afterwards to read, I was surprised that I did not really want to stay out there once it got cold. The scenery was terrific - we could still see the lake and were surrounded by trees and clean air. But after a week of camping, I think I was actually ready to enjoy the comforts of an indoor environment! This sort of surprised me, since I pride myself on being an outdoors-type of individual.

We both seemed to be enjoying our new environment very much, and stayed up quite late reading, courtesy of a warm and well-lit room.

Thursday June 3rd

We needed to be up and packed a bit more efficiently that usual, since there was actually a checkout time. We had breakfast in the lodge's dining room. When we arrived, the place was empty, and I wondered whether other people would start trickling in. Ha, ha, how amusing. Everyone else had come and gone! We were the late-comers at 9:30.

Ian and I spent some time photographing the grounds before we left. He has a digital camera, and I was using my old Minolta all-manual camera. I spent a lot of time getting just the shots I wanted, and there were many of them.

Back on the road, we spent the day exploring the island. After a little while of seeing small towns, I began to lose my grip on consciousness and had to yield the wheel to Ian. Even after a cup of coffee, I could not resist the inevitable pull into sleep. Maybe after weeks of my strong brew, dining room coffee was just not going to keep me conscious!

I think that Ian did a good bit of exploring while I slept. Shortly after I awoke, we arrived at the Cup and Saucer trailhead. This trail is part of the Niagara Escarpment. The day was sunny and clear, and very warm. The trail had a few sharp inclines near the beginning. At one point where the trail led seemed a bit ambiguous. It could have led off to the side, and in front of us, I saw rock wall. I thought to myself "Oh, my God, I hope that's not the trail". But it was. We made it just fine, but it looks quite imposing from below!

After that, it was pretty easy hiking. We stopped many times to view the lake below us, and nearby parts of the escarpment along which we were walking. Each time we stopped, we could see slight changes in the landscape of the far shore. Ian had brought field glasses, and at one point he exclaimed that he could see the Red Lodge right across the water from where we were standing. I took a look, and indeed, it was the Red Lodge!

In general, there was very little development anywhere around. Not far from the Red Lodge was a farm. But this was obviously not a heavily commercialized area. I wondered who could possibly own all of that land, and how much of it would be useful to a potential purchaser. Ian had been talking about someday buying some land up north, and had specifically mentioned Manitoulin Island. I was a bit worried that all the land along the shore would already be taken up. What I hadn't bargained for was how many inland lakes there were. And in fact, the island just wasn't that highly developed.

We had covered 6.5 kilometers when the trail turned inland. This trail seemed to wander willy nilly, and I lost any sense of direction I may have had. I was still in a fog - I just couldn't seem to shake the sleepy feeling. I would think of topics to talk about with Ian, but would feel so weary that I couldn't even bring myself to give voice to them. I certainly could not have summoned the energy to listen to the other side of the conversation, either!

The inland trail had been 5.5 kilometers, so the whole hike had only been 12 kilometers, but we were still kind of tired. We left the trailhead and headed down to Baymouth, near the ferry launch. We'd read about a campground down there, and hoped it would suit our needs for one night. We needed to be at the ferry pretty early, and knowing about our late starts, we needed to stack the deck in our favor.

We found the campsite; it seemed to be part of a larger trailer camp. We couldn't find anywhere to pay for the site, so we unintentionally squatted. The site was pretty, but as we set up camp, we discovered that it was the metropolitan Los Angeles of mosquitoes. We could not do anything there other than sleep inside the tent, so we went for a walk to visit the docks, and to find some dinner.

I'd noticed a diner right across from the campground, and given my level of hunger, I would have been pretty happy to just stop there. But we went down to the docks, and discovered that there was nothing going on. There were no people, all the restaurants were closed, and the in places, there were huge swarms of bugs.

We saw a few locals walking on the road on our way back, but they did not seem very friendly. Then I heard the woman snap at her son, and decided that she probably wasn't feel friendly towards anyone at the moment.

One of the houses we passed was painted some fairly shocking shades of green. But what was even more interesting was the oddly-sized split-rail pen in the yard. It was far too small for any livestock, even sheep or goats. Yet, it could not confine a dog, either. It remained a mystery.

Luckily, the diner - "Carol and Earl's" - was still open. There was only one other patron. The waitress was an aged rather shaky looking woman. We didn't know what to expect of the food, but weren't in a position to complain. We placed our orders, a turkey sandwich with gravy for Ian, and fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy for me.

Then the waitress brought the other patron his dinner. It looked downright delicious! The sandwich looked quite appetizing, and the french fries looked much better than average. I immediately changed my mashed potato order to a french fry order. This would probably be the most fried food I'd eaten in a very very long time.

The food was quite tasty. It did occur to me that the food could easily have been pre-packaged and deep-fried, and still taste this good. But that was OK by me. The service was not quite as good as the food. The waitress was obviously trying to do a good job, but she seriously overcharging Ian for the dinner by not using the exchange rate when calculating our tab. They didn't accept plastic, and Ian only had American dollars. She also managed to forget my coleslaw even after we had a lengthy discussion about whether or not coleslaw came with my meal, which she assured me was so. But like all of the Canadians we'd encountered on this trip, she was friendly to a fault.

Back at the campground, we availed ourselves of the surprisingly elegant bathroom facilities. It made no sense to me - these facilities were much nicer than any campground facilities I had ever seen, but they were not exactly close to any of the campsites. The doors and interior were made of high-quality blond-wood, and the facilities were very modern and clean. This bathroom may even have been nicer than the one at the Red Lodge!

We ended the evening in the safe haven from biting insects which our tent provided. We had learned from our waitress that the Spring had been unusually wet. Much later, in July, we heard that the bug season up North was just terrible this year.

Friday June 4th

In the morning, we had to get the car down to the ferry launch by 10, so we packed up without eating and drove down there. Once we were in line, we had almost an hour to kill. We had breakfast at the same restaurant that many of the other ferry passengers patronized. We were some of the youngest people there - most of the other diners were senior citizens. I suppose that must be more common in the off-season, before school lets out.

On the ferry, Ian stayed inside, while I read outside on what was probably the coldest deck on the ship (of course, I didn't know this). I had to completely bundle up from head to toe, as if it were still winter.

Later, we joined each other for a snack. I was very bad and bought some junk food. I generally avoid greasy salty snacks (although I used to be quite the snack fiend on trips). But I just couldn't resist, and I knew that I could do it once, and then not again (and I was right - I was good for the rest of the trip).

We went to the upper deck, only to discover that it was quite pleasant - breezy and warm. The ride was almost two hours, but it seemed much shorter. We didn't have far to drive to reach the Bruce Peninsula campground. We chose the same campground we'd used in the past, Birches Campground, but we had a better selection this time because it was off-season.

We booked two nights at site #8, very near the shore of Lake Cyprus. We were next to a very giggly and romantic couple - they seemed very much in love. We relaxed at the campsite for a little while, and then embarked on a hike which stretched from our campground to just a little way around Loon Lake. I don't know how many miles we covered, but the terrain was moderately challenging because there were so many rocks.

Not long before we turned around, we stopped at a rock beach and ate lunch and read on top of some giant rocks. We had not done this before on our trip, and in general, had not done it much on our hiking vacations. Yet, this was something that I really enjoyed, so this was a really great and relaxing experience. As we sat being warmed by the sun, two women backpackers and a backpacking dog walked across the rock beach and disappeared onto the trail we had just left.

On the trail, before we'd seen the backpackers, I'd gotten the idea of spending what was left of the summer after I completed my cycling goal of 100 miles on becoming proficient at backpacking. I figured I'd need to build up some strength and endurance, and would have to learn to balance with a heavy pack when there were low-hanging branches, rocks, sand, and hills.

I didn't think that what we'd seen of the Bruce Trail and some of the Lake Superior was safe for a beginning backpacker. So when we saw these women backpacking, I was very impressed. They'd come from somewhere in the general direction of Tobermory, which is at the tip of the Bruce Peninsula. The next day, when we took the trail from Tobermory, I realized that they had not had to deal with much challenging terrain. However, I was still impressed because of the distance, and because I knew that the way back from the beach where we'd seen them was more rugged.

Once we had had our fill of reading and relaxing, we packed back up and crossed the rock beach and headed into the forest on the other side. A good bit of the land there was marked as private. The trail seemed to be a narrow swath winding through this private land. When we were part-way around Loon Lake, we both wanted to go farther, but because of the time, felt that we needed to head back.

On some of our previous hikes, I'd brought along a spade in case I needed to bury some solid waste. However, on this hike, I had not brought a spade, but for the first time on the trip, had a pressing need to bury some solid waste. Thankfully, the turf under our feet was very soft, so a thick stick sufficed and I "left no trace".

Unfortunately, on the hike back, feelings of dread at having to return to work soon overtook my thoughts. This was quite an unwelcome intrusion, but it did give me some insight into what was bothering me about new project I was to begin working on soon. The next day I discussed it with Ian and tried to talk myself into trying harder to see the possible benefits of the new project.

However, today, we didn't talk much. We had talked quite a bit on our previous hikes, and we may have simply been talked out, or maybe felt at peace (except for nasty thoughts of work) and had no pressing topics to discuss.

We were pretty tired when we got back to the campsite, but we took no time to sit and relax before cooking because it was too late in the evening. The sun sets sooner here than it did in the U.P. or up in Lake Superior Provincial Park. After dinner, however, we returned to the lake-shore to relax a bit. We'd seen almost no aquatic life in the lakes we'd visited, but in this one, we saw a small eel, all alone.

Back at our campsite, we noticed that there were two women at a nearby site setting up camp. They had a dog which seemed pretty friendly when we first met it. However, after it got dark, Ian apparently startled it when he walked by, and it came out of the campsite barking fiercely. Earlier, the women had been talking to each other pretty loudly, and there had been a large group of noisy kids somewhere off in the distance.

I felt strange being around so much humanity after the peace and quite of just a few very quiet camping neighbors that the previous campgrounds. I did not really like it; but then when the campground emptied out on Sunday, I found myself missing the human activity.

Saturday June 5th

This was to be our last full day in Canada. Tomorrow we would head back to our home in Ann Arbor. We would take Monday off, but this would be the last time we would be hiking and camping in a beautiful place like this for an unknown period of time. With luck, we'd get to take a short trip or two before snow fell, but it'd be another year before we'd get to take another luxurious two weeks in the wilds.

We had great weather - warm and sunny. We had planned to cover a part of the Bruce trail we had not yet been on. There was the part we covered yesterday, and then there was the part we covered a year or two ago, going farther down the peninsula. Today we would start in Tobermory and hike towards where we'd left off yesterday.

We had been thinking about doing a multi-day backpacking trip on the Bruce Trail someday, and figured that there was probably literature on how to do this (e.g., where to get food, good places to camp, etc.). So we stopped at the ranger station on the way out of the campground and inquired. There were a few local maps at the station, but we'd have to go into Tobermory to get the master reference guide.

Since we had gotten an earlier start than usual, we were able to budget 7.5 hours for the hike - 11:20 am until about 7 pm. The part of the trail from the Tobermory trail head to Dunk's Bay was all inland, and relatively easy terrain. We occasionally caught glimpses of water, but not often.

From Dunk's Bay to Little Cove was just a short stretch. Now we were on the coast. We stopped to have lunch and drink in the scenery. There were houses along the shore, a rocky beach, and several people hanging out there. A bit further along, the trail got slightly more challenging, but not difficult.

We encountered two backpackers who wanted to know how much farther they had to go. There was confusion about where they wanted to end up, because the woman jumbled up the names "Little Cove" and "Dunk's Bay" when she named the location, so we had no idea whether we'd given them accurate information! They either had only a few minutes, or over an hour of additional hiking.

We turned around at 2:30 even though we wanted to go farther, and our time limit would have allowed some additional time. But it was pretty clear from the trail map that we had much longer to go before we'd connect with the part of the trail we'd abandoned yesterday, and we'd still have to come back from there. As it was, we had three more hours of hiking ahead of us, so it seemed reasonable to turn around.

We had some good conversations on the way back, starting with one about politics and the importance of the upcoming election. We both had different expectations about its outcome - Ian is more optimistic that we will have a regime change; I am taking a wait-and-see attitude because of what happened in Florida in 2000. We also talked about various people we knew and their follies and foibles.

I discussed my desire to become more goal-oriented in my personal life rather than floating along without doing much planning. I did not mean to suddenly make major life-changing plans. I wanted to start small, perhaps setting some goals for the different seasons (like getting some backpacking experience this summer). I thought it would be good if I worked on planning my weekends so they didn't arrive without me having any sense of what I'd like to accomplish, and how to fit new goals in with all of my normal weekly obligations.

It was nice to be talking again - we'd had a couple of quiet hiking days in a row. That can be nice in a meditative way, but it is nice to talk, too.

We completed the trail by 5:30. We were very tired, and our feet were quite sore. So my regret at not having gone farther (since apparently we would have had an additional 1.5 hours of hiking if we'd been back at 7, as we'd planned) was tempered by relief that we would get to rest.

We went into Tobermory's town square/marina area to relax. Before collapsing onto a bench, we went to the chart shop to buy the Bruce Trail guide. Once sitting on the bench, it was hard to imagine getting up and walking anywhere on our tired dogs. The boots came off and the toes reveled in their freedom.

As we sat on our bench, I watched a family hanging out on their boat and on the dock next to it. There was what appeared to be a little girl. I could only see her from behind, but I had no reason to think she was anything other than a young child, perhaps 8 or 9. Then she turned around and I could see that she had advanced into puberty, and my first thought was "Lolita!" I couldn't believe my eyes, but there she was, body grown up, but probably still a child inside.

I'd seen signs around town for the local fish fry tonight. I had never been to a fish fry and had always wanted to go to one. So we debated whether to eat in town - fish fry, restaurant - or to cook at the campsite. Ian had an even better idea (he wasn't too keen on any idea involving fried fish, including the fish n chips shop across the marina).

We'd been to Dorcas Bay that last time we were here, and that visit was very memorable because of the unique feature that the water is shallow for a long long way out into the bay. You can walk and walk, and still have water coming only up to your ankles. If you walk a long long way more, it will eventually reach your knees. Best of all, it is a magical place to be around sunset.

We decided to cook dinner at Dorcas Bay, and spend the rest of the evening there. We cooked and ate pretty quickly to avoid bugs. As we were eating, however, I was struck by a pang of sadness that this was our last night up North. I really could not believe that our vacation was about to end. I almost felt like crying. The first part of the vacation had passed nice and slowly, and early on it seemed like we had eons before we had to return. In fact, there weren't any thoughts of when we'd be returning.

But as the days advanced and we reached the half-way point, it seemed like time started passing more quickly, and the end seemed to be rushing closer and closer. Yesterday I'd had already had angst about my job, and tonight, I was already grieving the end of the trip. Thankfully, we had allowed Monday to be our last vacation day, even though we'd spend it in Ann Arbor. Tonight, I asked Ian if we could do something outdoorsy together as one last gasp, and we agreed to take Lily with us to Peach Mountain for a lower-Michigan-style hike.

As we cleaned up after cooking, we watched two kids run gleefully from their parents all the way across a very wide stretch of sand into the shallow water. They went out far enough to become submerged, which is pretty far. They were having a terrific time shouting and splashing one another. I enjoyed watching them, and thought about how gratifying it must be to their parents to see their own children getting along so well.

Much later, the younger boy headed back towards the shore with his back coated with wet sand. I thought to myself that this was going to be problematic when he reached his parents. Indeed, his mother insisted that he get back into the water to wash off. Ian heard her say, "You're not going to like me very much when I come out there!". He wailed and complained that the water (which he'd just been playing in) was too cold. He put up a good fight, but we all know how these battles end...

As we walked out into the water, I saw many wondrous and fascinating images. The shallow water caused many ripples in the sand below. The ripples were not uniform across the area we traversed. They shifted and changed shape every few feet. Above them, on the water's surface, the setting sunlight was catching the water and emphasizing the ripples in the water. The the water ripples crossing at an angle over the sand ripples were mesmerizing.

Not only was the sand and water visually engaging, but the setting sun was casting the most golden of light upon the houses at the far end of the bay. This place was a photographer's playground, but I had not brought my camera out into the bay! I could certainly retrieve it from the car, but at this point the car was pretty far away, and the sun was setting quickly.

Even though I knew that the light would have changed completely by the time I returned with the camera, I fetched it anyhow. I was right about the light, but I did what I could to capture the images that were still available in the changed light.

There were many other people visiting Dorcas Bay while we were there. Many were off in a side marsh exploring, others were walking out into the bay, as we were, and several others had set up cameras on tripods. I was the only photographer taking close-up photos; everyone else seemed to want to capture the sunset and the horizon.

As I'd taken my photographs, I noticed that as I advanced the film, I was getting very close to what would be the end of the roll, if this were a 36-exposure roll. I had no idea whether it was a 36-exposure roll or not. But when it began advancing beyond 36, I began to worry. Sometimes, rolls of film have one or two extra frames. But I had advanced beyond one or two extra frames.

I began to suspect that when I'd loaded the film, it had never fully caught in the wheel that pulls it along when you advance the film. That would explain why I could advance the film so far. It also meant that every last photograph I'd taken on this trip was only a dream. I did not want to believe that this could be true, it was just too sad. So instead of popping the camera open and re-engaging the film so I could use the roll for something else, I tried to rewind it. As I could and should have predicted, it rewound for a fraction of a second, and when I popped the camera open, the film had retreated, entirely unexposed, back into the canister.

So, between this mistake and my earlier mistake, I had ended the trip without a single photograph. We have only Ian's digital photographs to remember this trip by; and thank goodness - they are pretty decent photos! The one saving grace was that I knew we'd be back to all of these places again and again. I don't think we will ever tire of coming up North to spend a few weeks in "heaven".