We shared the trail the second time over. Emil grabbed the food pack and cooler, I toted the much smaller gear pack and stove. Might have been smaller but hurt even more than the first, 'specially the stove. Its eleven pounds started out light and gathered weight quickly. But like a lot of things I learned later in life, it was tolerable pain under which I could shut my mind off and gut out. Like getting used to not getting used to something.
"You know Archie me lad, this isn't a real portage, though in a convoluted way, I suppose it is. But there's no history to it. Way back when, the Voyageurs used the Grass River as one of their side routes to and from Hudson Bay. Probably didn't even know Wedge Lake was here. No doubt didn't care either. They were moving fur and in no mood to take a wasted side trip. The trail we're on was cut for the sports at the lodge and the locals who hike into Wedge to catch pike. Big, big pike!"
We set our packs next to the rest of our gear. Time for a break.
" Guess it's time I let the cat out of the bag. The plan for today and tomorrow is to set up camp and fish. Maybe talk about life or whatever comes to mind. After we're rested, we're off to fish and camp on a nameless lake lying to the south of Wedge. As lakes go up here she's nowhere near a big one but big enough to hold some good sized fish. Mile long and half a mile wide, handful of islands. I doubt anyone has ever wet a line in those waters. Except for me."
"Two years ago I bushwhacked in with a rod and some lunch. I'd have been a fool to sweat my way though a mile and a half of thicket and swamp without taking a cast or two. So that's what I did. Didn't catch squat but a small pickerel. But that was enough to tell me there's fish in those waters. Took the better part of three hours to bushwhack to and from. Dead-ended and backtracked a few times because of swamp and slough. But this time I'm ready. Or should I say, we're ready? Where we're heading is not for the weak of heart. And will be the toughest thing you've ever done. Maybe ever will do. But if you're up for it, I can absolutely guarantee it's something you'll never forget. Call it Emil's gift."
What could I say? There was only one answer and the lake did sound exciting as all get out. Had I known what we were in for I might have said, "No sir, Uncle Emil sir, I'm a citified weenie and would rather go home and watch 'Leave it to Beaver.'" Nah, there was no way I could have said that. And didn't actually want to anyhow.
"Sounds like fun to me."
"Let's you and me shake on it Archie me lad, man to man." I was committed and happy about it. "Now, let's load the canoe and go find us a home for a couple of nights."
Wedge felt different than the other lakes we'd paddled through. Trees were the same, water choppy, clouds floating above and islands. Lots of islands. Looked like the islands even had islands. And the lake was smaller than the Cranberries. That could have been it. Nah, had to be more than that. Maybe it was the quiet? Or the mile we'd hiked off the main lakes. Or maybe the sweat we'd payed out to be where we were. Could have been the thinner veil between us and Mother Nature. That was more like it. Nothing man-made about where we were once we paddled onto Wedge and left the lodge boats behind.
While Uncle Emil paddled he kept up his palaver, "Archie, this be the second step on the way to what's waiting for us. Back on the main lakes we could hear the sound of motors off in the distance. Now they're in our past. The water we're gliding is ours and ours alone (Emil deftly flicked a paddle splash to the back of my head). I very much doubt anyone will come use the lodge boats this week. The pickerel are on the bite back on the Cranberries and no self respecting Canuck is gonna leave that sweet, white meat for the teeth of pike. Yup, we're finally on the doorstep and ringing the bell of God's country."
Then nothing but the fresh of breeze, dig of paddle and slap of waves on aluminum remained. My head continually pivoted, taking in every foot of shore and water. Now and then the white of a gull flashed by. A pair of loons, yeah there's always loons, with little concern for us slid beneath the small rollers for minutes at a time. We moved on.
A channel opened to our left. Beckoned us to enter. One moment it wasn't there and then it was. Almost like Emil pulled it out of his fedora.
"Wedge is like two lakes in one. We're leaving the small side and opening onto the main body. That'll be our home for a couple of days."
The Grumman hugged the left shore of the channel. It was there I first came to see the shoreline as a thing with no end. Almost infinite. No matter how small, each bay had little bays within. Eventually shrinking to pebble size. So tiny a person could get lost thinking about it.
When I brought it up, Uncle Emil agreed, "Had the same thought myself. Don't know when the first time was. Maybe back when I was your age."
"Sailing the ocean has the same effect on a body. No matter the color of the water you can look down into it 'til you get lost in thought. Sometimes I'd think if I could see down far enough I'd be looking at the back of my own head."
"As far as the shore of Wedge is concerned and the pike we'll be searching out, those little pockets we're passing with the overhanging brush are about as far down in size as we'll go in our search. Any smaller and we'd be in another realm. There's a time to dream and a time to fish. And a time to dream of fish. Maybe we'll catch some dream fish. Probably not here though. That'll come in two days."
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