The following day we spent on La Muir and Hogan, and it was by far the most most adventurous of the trip. Though overcast, the day was completely dry due to the strong westerly winds. The going was easy along the width of La Muir with the wind at our back. Just before the portage to Hogan, we observed a graceful great blue heron stalking the shallows.

After the portage, the little Madawaska winds through a spruce bog nestled in a valley protected by the rocky, hilly terrain surrounding Hogan Lake. Five years earlier, we encountered moose here, so we were quietly careful and hopeful. As we pondered the maze of meter high rushes, we saw little more than a Kingfisher and a few Black Ducks scattering at our apparently stealthless approach.

When we reached Hogan, the stiff breeze was raising swells as rough as those we encountered three days earlier on Cedar Lake. While Hogan is not as large a lake as Cedar, it is virtually impossible to avoid the open water in order to reach the best sites. The paddling was tense and vigorous.

Our plan was to spend the day exploring Hogan, as there are several areas of interest, including a 40-meter high bluff that provides spectacular panoramic views.  We wanted to set up camp quickly and take advantage of the dry weather, so we paddled hard through the waves.

The site we selected is one of the best I've stayed on in Algonquin. It features a pristine, pebbly beach for easy landing and comfortable bathing; a shaded clearing to pitch the tent and raise the food packs, protected from the West and South by a large hill; and a small creek and swamp just behind the clearing that provided hours of observation and photography of small birds, insects, amphibians and ground mammals.

Upon landing, we were exhausted from our hard paddling. Disappointed that we hadn't seen any wildlife in the bog, we weren't thinking about seeing anything here. We were noisily unloading the gear from the canoe, making no effort to be quiet at all. As Joe set off to relieve himself, I heard the underbrush crackling a short distance away. I climbed over a small rise, looking back into the sparse woods and brush that covered a small ravine and the steep hill beyond. About 30 meters away, a black bear was ambling up the hill through the underbrush. Unfortunately, the dense canopy and the bear's haste made it impossible to set up a shot before it was gone. Apparently, humans aren't the only creatures that enjoy a nice beach!

We nervously hung the food pack, and thought long and hard about the prudence of camping there that night. We decided to stay since the other sites we passed that afternoon had been occupied. Not more than an hour later, we heard more rustling from the direction of the creek. We thought at first that the bear had returned, but the sounds stopped. A short while later, Joe was digging clams from the beach, when a 2-point bull moose sauntered out from the creek area into a small bay not more than 50 meters from our campsite.

He was casually browsing the brush along the shore line, and slurping the vegetation from the water's surface. He was in no hurry, nor was I, as I snapped off nearly two rolls of film. We'd seen a bull moose in '95, but it had been too dark to get on film. Even though this was a young buck, it was exciting, nonetheless.

The moose wandered eastward away from us along the shoreline, so we embarked in the opposite direction to explore the bluff. The trip was about a 30 minute paddle into the wind. At the base of the cliff, we could see the sheer descent continue for some distance down into the water. Great boulders the size of houses are strewn along the lake bed.

The hike to the top took another 30 minutes. The gusty wind continued into the late afternoon, and the clouds had not cleared all day, so the view on this day, while still magnificent, was not as beautiful as the panoramas we enjoyed in '94. The air was quickly cooling, so we stayed only briefly. On our return to camp, the waves had become quite menacing, at least four feet in the open water. It was increasingly difficult to maintain course and balance, and a little unnerving with dusk approaching.

Fortunately, we were waved ashore by a Dutch couple we had met the day before on the La Muir portage. They were forestry experts on a four week trek, and had occupied the site just around the point from ours. We were at the mercy of the wind and waves, and nearly capsized trying to disembark along the steep, rocky embankment.

We made it out with only a wet boot or two, and spent at least two hours chatting with Hans and Marian. They had collected a mess of clams earlier in the day, which they boiled and fried. I was not so adventurous as to sample them, and anyway,  Joe said they were rather bland. But I was glad of the warm conversation and coffee. Finally, just as the stars were winking on, the wind calmed enough for us to safely make it back to camp. Needless to say, we slept well that evening.