Base camp was purty, our tents staked atop a cold slab of granite overlooking Basswood Lake. The humps across the drink are Canadian.
Slobs, all of us. Water bottles and a rogue pair of wet underpants drying in the sun. This is what happens with a sausage fest and no girls around to scold.
Firewood's held in high esteem for night warmth and frying walleye. And scaring away scary things at night. We cracked a Swedish Gränsfors Bruks axe at softwood an hour per day.
A folding aluminum handsaw trimmed it down so we could split it.
I do not know why Reno wore a pink shirt with a unicorn on it. Legend has it he still has the tank on to this day.
We destroyed massive heaps of pine/bourbon at dusk, 6 hour fires. Hammered those aluminum pots with flame, fish sizzling in rendered bacon fat. The bacon was unrefrigerated and started to stink on day four. We continued to eat it. Perhaps that explains my migraines/hemorrhoids.
The sun fired a pink raygun as it did a 1,000 mph skedaddle.
Dutch oven steaming multi-pounds of Cajun rice.
Next morning, we oared three miles west to Basswood Falls to relax, pluck wild raspberries and reel walleye. I also pooped in the woods.
We needed to catch 6 swimmers a day or we'd die/Weight Watchers. Chris and I sucked at fishing. Kenny has floated the B.W. many times and got it done.
Rapids at Basswood Falls thundered.
Ken toiled on the reel and butchered bass.
I dreamed and stared at cumulus.
We are puny amongst God's creation.
Rowed back and napped. Nothin' but ripstop and blue ozone. So quiet.
Dinner = batter fried bass, pike and walleye, plus a packet of dried apples from Target. Please don't tell the crew I ate a tiny pouch of dried Target apples.
We had some issues with a greasy bacon fire. Tim played with it until the flame stopped.
Nightly we stashed all our food up in a tree so the black bears wouldn't eat us.
I know you're bored with this B.W. set. Let's finish it next time.