Cold Night

Friday, August 8, 2025 Day 5

I woke shortly after falling asleep. It was cold. I believed it to be in the high 30s but l had no metrics to prove it. I couldn’t sleep. I got up to Velcro the end vent flaps closed on my tent. I know wisdom says not to zip the side doors shut because it promotes humidity, but I couldn’t tolerate the swirling of frigid fog. So I zipped up.

I broke open some hand and toe warmers, put pants and a sweater over my Smart-wool long underwear, started to wiggle my way into my emergency space blanket, pulled on my bright orange, don’t-shoot-me (worn during hunting season) tuque (Canadian word for stocking cap, and I zipped the sleeping bag over my head. Before I dozed off, I heard what sounded like someone canon-balling into the water. Then I heard it once again, hmmm. And a again. Still, I dozed, but woke briefly to register the ah ha! Those were beavers.

Up at 4:00 still warm and ready to journal under my headlamp. This was my time. The same time and hour as at home. Today I worried about wildlife. We had seen nothing. No mammals. I think we were hyper-focused on possible rocks, rapids, fog or smoke.

If we had something to investigate, it needed to grab our close-up view, like our close bonding with spiders. At night, when we turned the canoes on their sides, spiders crawled under. I’m sure they believed the canoes were something like fallen trees from a derecho. They served their function as Home sweet home for them. Evidently spiders are not forward thinkers. They were still lounging when we overturned the canoes. We paid them no attention. We had a river to run. After settling into our paddling rhythm, some of us started to notice these encampments of arachnids.

I’m sure we were their first close encounter with humans. They looked shy and embarrassed to land in this place they couldn’t comprehend. They gathered in front of my feet. As I paddled, they worked, actually crawled to get off the floor and make progress toward something that looked more like their preferred environment. Grass. Trees. Sand. Anything other than this moving trap. After hours of work, they found themselves still at the bottom, in a deep hole. Oh well, they will be turned over in the canoe tonight.

Hallelujah no smoke. And no instant worries of rapids. We started Swampy Lake aptly named. Without current we were anxious for swifter water. But we could breathe, just breathe.