Imperial Valley press., 1937-04-04
THE CRUISE OFTHE LONE STAR

THE Lone Star rode snugly in her sheltered
harbor. outside, the west wind across Kasa-
kokwog kicked up vexing sea.
We had come down the Dawson route in west
ern Ontario, Pink and his wife and 1, from
Windigoostigwan to Sturgeon. Then, swinging
north through BatcheWaung Lake and Nc
Alpine to Kasakokwog, within reach again of
our jumping off place, the others had gone out,
leaving me to venture alone the long trail to
Rainy Lake.
One trims canoe for the work in hand. The
blow was hard, but not dangerous, so the Lone
Star rounded into the open lake, swung into
the west with a twist of the paddle and bore
steadily into the teeth of the wind for the outlet
and portage to Quetico.
All aspects of the wilderness heightened
when one travels alone. In country that is
unfamiliar, little Travelled and still partly
mapped there is even some of the tang of ex-
ploration Rise free from care beyond the
dawn" said Thoreau, "and seek adventures. Let
the noon find thee by other lakes and the night
overtake thee everywhere at home. There are no
larger fields than these, no worther games than
may here be played" In this buoyant spirit the
Lone Star coquetted with each beckoning point
and kept her forefoot on the unfolding trail.
For whole day on Quetico she was wind
bound l had camped where rangers had been
building log cabin, on the large island which
commands the two main arms of the lake. It
feecy, scudding Clouds and waves dashng
the shore below the camp. The day passed with
many pipes, the reading of Thoreau, a delightful
companion on a wilderness voyage, and solictous
tending of the bean kettle the rangers
stone fireplace.
Followed a day of erratic zigzagging down
the long south arm of the lake from point to
point, each vantage disclosing different charm
Gradually the light failed and looms serenaded
the westering sun, with Jean Lake still two
portages away,
The first portage was easy in the long Ontario
cleaning. 1t beside tumblng brook scarce
a hundred and fifty yards, to little muddy
lake on the side of divide 1t was nearly dark
under the trees and wise time to camp. But
the mud-hoe was dismal and mosquito o-infested
while over the divide was Jean. whose charms
had been foretold by rangers
The canoe went first, while yet some faint
suggestion of a trail persisted in the deepening
gloom. At the end was a narrow inlet it's black
surface relieved by the skeleton arms of a fallen
tree On either side the tall, black ranks of the
forest shut in like canyon In the dusk between
twilight and dark, the detail of the trees was
lost, though their feelings remained, like the
impressonism of a pictorialist. The last trip
went stumblingly, with uncertain feet sensing
the different impact of the trail through the soft
soes of the moccasins. Impressonism was gone
Floors and walls of the canyon were blended
alike in black, impenetrable void over the
center of which ran the narrow gray half-tone
of the sky shot across with tremulous flashes
of far distant lightning.
Under the narrow gray band, the Lone Std1
stole cautiously, following the turns at quarter
speed. The band Widened gradually. At intervals
it was luminous with pulsatng light. The i'm
pending, invisible walls drew back and feeling
of space ensued, as when one passes into a larger
room. The air blew fresher and with it came
sharper flashes, disclosing little bay. at whose
far side a jutting point gave promise of camp
Outside the point the waves slapped saucily
in the stiffening breeze. On it's hither side the
Lone Star tied up and made reconnaissance
Lightning flashes and the flare of a match
showed small hospitality. There was scarce room
to sit among the Jagged rocks, let alone pitch
a tent and sleep. The vivid flashes disclosed
farther shore, alluring at distance and surely
no worse The lightning and the low dull rum
bling of thunder promised an even race with
the approaching storm so the Lone Star turned
quickly into the coming waves and made run
for it,
With each succeeding fash the shore line