Day 3 (August 17, 2008): Campsite - Kahshahpiwi Lake - Portage - Keefer Lake - Portage - Sark Lake - Portage - Cutty Lake - Portage - Beaver Pond - Beaver Dam Liftover - Metacryst Lake - Portage - Unnamed Lake - Portage - Baird Lake - Campsite - about 12.75 miles altogether:

It was a beautiful, warm morning at our north Kahshahpiwi campsite -

We lingered, made pancakes, went for a swim, and got on the water about 10:00. It was a quick paddle to the short portage to Keefer. The portage parallels a little section of Kahshahpiwi Creek as it begins its descent through Keefer, Sark, and Cairn to the Maligne River. This picture is looking back up the creek from the Keefer end of the portage toward Kahsh Lake -

We sped up Keefer Lake with a perfect tailwind helping us along. We trimmed the canoe with a little extra weight in the back, so the bow was a bit higher and the tailwind kept us pointed in the direction we wanted to go. There's some great cliffs toward the north end of Keefer. Soon we came to the portage to Sark. This portage also follows Kahshahpiwi Creek as it cascades downward, but it's a longer stretch through thicker forest than on the last portage. A glimpse of the creek -

In places the deadfall is so thick you can't see the creek below, though you can hear it -

After portaging, we loaded up and made fast time up Sark Lake. The tailwind was really moving us along. Sark is one of my favorite lakes, and I would have liked to spend some time on it. But this felt like a morning to put some distance behind us, so we didn't linger. We sped up the long north arm of the lake to where it divides near the north end. To the right, the route continues to follow Kahshahpiwi Creek into Cairn and beyond to the Maligne, a route we had taken before in reverse. To the left, the route goes into a little bay where the portage to Cutty Lake can be found. That was new territory for us, and we steered our craft in that direction. There's lots of cliffs on Sark, including these across from the portage landing to Cutty Lake -

Before leaving on this trip, I got some advance intelligence about the Cutty-Sark Portage. I was told that it's up, down, through the bog, repeat. That is pretty accurate. It was very nice. The strong south wind kept the air moving up on the ridges. And the boggy parts were not too boggy because of the dry weather. The wind rustled through the mature Popple forest -

The Cutty end of this portage might explain why many people steer clear of it. It is (how can I put this delicately?) a mega-pile of loon$#!+ -

On the first trip across, I followed the pick-up-stick corduroy over the muck, until I got to a mucky dead end, where I dropped the canoe at the spot seen in the picture above. David left the pack he was carrying up on dry land. After going back for the other packs, we dropped them on dry land too. Then we lined the canoe over the muck to something more like water, where (we hoped) it might float after being loaded; got the packs and hopped with them over the corduroy to load them up; then somehow managed to get ourselves in the canoe without sinking in the muck up to our necks. It was touch- and-go getting the canoe out of there fully loaded. We used the one-foot-out-of-the-canoe- kicking-the-muck method, and it worked well enough. Some boot rinsing was needed when we got to deeper water. At least we lived to tell the tale.

Finally we were on Cutty Lake, and starting our way down the Cutty Creek route that I had been looking at for a couple of years. I was conscious, though, that we had gotten here around mid-day on the third day of our trip. Whereas somewhere I read a post from Stumpy mentioning he likes to get to Cutty Lake for his first night. So I paid my regards to Stumpy as we headed out on Cutty and came upon this dolmen -

It was time for lunch, so we headed for a campsite on the north end of Cutty. The south wind that had helped us northward on Keefer and Sark battered us as we followed the north shore of Cutty to our lunch spot, which I thought of as "Stumpy's Campsite." On the PCD Stumpy says: "Scraggly site. Adequate. I've fixed the fire pit often, only to have it knocked apart again & again." That's a good description, except the fire pit was intact when we got there. Because of the rough water, we had to haul the canoe out of the lake instead of just tying it off. Someone had left some fish carcasses at the pull-out, and they attracted a Snapper while we were there. So we had to step around those dead and living critters. As we ate our lunch near the intact fire pit, we nervously eyed the widow makers swaying above us in the powerful wind. All in all, a good wilderness break.

After lunch, we again stepped around the dead fish and living Snapper to get the canoe and ourselves back on the water. Then we set off the short distance to the portage to Metacryst Lake. ("Metacryst" - great name.) I told David this should be an easy little portage. Not quite. First, it was hard to unload because of deadfall around the landing. Then there was the deadfall blocking the short portage itself. On the upside, there were cool cliffy outcroppings looming alongside the portage path. So that was all okay. Unfortunately, this portage didn't take us all the way to Metacryst. Although we couldn't quite tell from the landing where we loaded up, there was a big beaver dam at the narrows just a rock's throw ahead -

After we paddled over to it, it took some work getting past that obstacle. Once we were beyond it, though, we made good time up Metacryst Lake. Metacryst is almost like a wide river, about a hundred yards across, arcing north for several miles. The south wind was once again our friend.

We were headed to the portage to Unnamed Lake and from there to Baird. As we were aiming for the bay that leads to the portage to Unnamed, we saw the only other people we encountered this day, a two-man canoe that looked to be a father-son duo out fishing. It didn't look like they had gear with them, so we wondered where they were camping. There didn't seem to be any good sites near where we were. At any rate, it didn't look like they were heading to Baird Lake, where we hoped to find our home for the night. We arrived at the portage to Unnamed, and looked back at Metacryst Lake -

This portage basically follows the creek between Unnamed and Metacryst. The unusual thing is that the creek seems to be entirely underground. You can't really see it or hear it - but you know it's there beneath the river rocks that make up the portage path -

Club moss and associates line the portage -

Rotting birch -

Unnamed Lake is a striking little body of water. I liked these cliffs with vestiges of a fire -

We were forewarned about the portage from Unnamed to Baird. There is an obvious path that goes straight ahead, but reportedly takes you through a boggy mire. There is also a less obvious path that heads off to the left, taking you up above the bog. So you have a choice of low wetland or hilly dryland. Although the bogs had not been bad so far, we opted for the bogless up-and-over route, which drops down very steeply at the Baird Lake end. This picture looks down at the canoe at the Baird landing after our first trip across -

After retrieving our second load, we paused before heading for our campsite (which is on the largish island behind my head in this picture) -

The island campsite on Baird came recommended by a good source and did not disappoint. We got there about 6:00 and took our time setting up, going for a swim, and eating dinner. After all the chores were done, we reclined with some Maker's Mark on our high granite slab and enjoyed a beautiful nightfall while we watched the local Beaver ply across the water and the Loons skitter about -

As we finished our nightcaps, the steady south wind that had been blowing all day died down, and we realized in the still air how warm it was. We were in shorts and t-shirts, but the mosquitoes weren't going to let us hang out like that too long. We soon took refuge in the tent. Suddenly it was sweltering. Had it gotten hotter after the sun set? All we could do was lie on top of the sleeping bags and keep as still as possible - as still as the wilderness night around us.

I eventually drifted off into sleep. At some point deep in the night, the Loons on the lake started a crazy ruckus. There were at least three of them going on for a good long time. It had gotten a little cooler by then, and I pulled a corner of the sleeping bag up over my legs. Then I drifted off into sleep again. My dreams throughout the rest of the night were pierced by the call of the Loons and the slap of the Beaver's tail.