Every trip to the wilderness has its low point. Despite its beauty and grandeur, the wilderness has a way of reminding us of our dependence on (and preference for) civilization.

With morning skies threatening again, and the wind beginning to pick up, we were anxious to make it across Hogan's breadth before the swells had time to mount. Safely to the north side of the lake, we entered a small bay that led to our route back to Catfish rapids. We rounded an outcropping and startled a troupe of otters on their morning hunt. Like their marten cousin, they were curious and kept us within viewing distance for several minutes, bobbing and snorting as we passed.

The next portage was a long one, but we were confident we could march it off given our lightening food pack. About 700 meters into the portage, the yoke on our rented canoe let go. The eyelets for the yoke been rotting for some time, and all the dampness did nothing to persuade them to hold. Since the yoke also served as thwart on our 15' craft, there was nothing else to keep the gunwales from flexing apart, weakening what little resolve was left in the old wood. We tried unsuccessfully several times to rig the yoke with rope and straps, but nothing would hold it in place. When the rain started again, I miserably accepted defeat and trudged on with the canoe on my head. At least it served as some protection from the drizzle.

Our return to Catfish Rapids was separated by two short paddles and portages, each in a steady downpour. By this time, our spirits were in worse condition than our portage yoke! By late morning, we reached Sunfish Lake as the sun and drizzle took their turns taunting us.

By the time we reached the southern end of Catfish Lake, our enthusiasm was as dampened as our clothes, and we decided to put as much distance on as we could that day. The afternoon finally cleared, soothing us with a warm, sunny breeze. As we rounded a bend at the narrows, a bald eagle swooped from its perch on a dead tree, flying directly in front of us and off into the forest. It was unmistakable with its dark body and striking white head, and I was chagrined that my camera was stowed due to the rain.

By the time we reached Stacks Raps at the north end of Catfish, we need a break. Our Dutch friend, Hans, had been interested particularly in amphibians, and following his suggestions, we observed a few Algonquin natives, including a wood frog and a red salamander. And while there were few flowers in bloom this late in the season, we couldn't miss the striking red blooms of the lichen on the rocks and timber in the rapids.

We decided to tackle the big portage that evening, and struggled mightily with the canoe. It is amazing how much easier a canoe is to carry with one person than two! But the broken yoke would not cooperate, so we were forced to double-trip the largest portage on our route.

By dusk, we reached the slow, wide body of the Petawawa gathered up before its 20 meter plunge into Cedar Lake. The surface was a literal mirror, and the stillness and serenity in the glowing periwinkle sunset was superb. As we neared our campsite for that night, we were startled out of our reverie by a beaver splashing a plume of water with its tail a meter into the air.

After setting up camp under a silver crescent moon, we reflected on our day's journey. Based on rough calculations, we had covered better than half the distance of the entire first four days in a single day!