Day 13. Mon., July 25 (57°06’50” N, 75°22’46” W)

On which our protagonist gets a night indoors.

4PM  57°10’46” N, 75°07’28” W

Early this morning, on the island’s flat rock beach, rain started pouring as I was breaking camp and most everything got drenched. I had chosen a good campsite, as it turned out: It was on the lee side of the island and out of the breeze, which was kicking as soon as I came around to where my route lay. Through windy drizzle, I island-hopped and hugged shielding headlands for a decent distance.

By 2PM I spotted the cabins Jack had mentioned. They are situated in a section of lake that has unexpectedly grassy shores with decent sand beaches, quite unlike most of the territory I’ve seen. I’m sure that’s why the site looked inviting for building a camp. There are half a dozen cabins in a row, downhill from an airstrip. No one was home.

Initially I thought I’d just pause for lunch and a few chores before moving on. But by the time I got here, the wind had done its work on me, so I decided to stay the night. I am indoors.

Taking stock of my situation, I realize I am down to a single dry outfit and the tent is soaked, plus I need to try repairing my sleeping mat again. I have not been sleeping well to begin with and last night I was on bare rock using spare clothing as a cushion. If I am to stay in this game I need rest.

As I sit here sipping tea under a roof, surrounded by hanging clothes and my tent set up to dry, I am realizing how beat I am. Since portaging began, I have been putting in 18-hour days with 10-12 hours of serious physical exertion, and even my two weather days have not been very restful. I cannot afford to make judgment errors, and continuing in these wet, windy conditions with damp clothes and poor bedding would be a serious mistake for sure. Staying is a good decision. The forecast calls for an even stronger headwind tomorrow, so I need to rest, get up and get gone.

I look up from my journal and see that it’s raining again, hard. I’m glad I’m not in it. After a couple of hours of eating and gear repair, I spread my bag out on a foam mattress, breathe a word of thanks to Jack and the Inuit, and sleep like a rock.