I was in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area the first week September on a solo trip. It was my third trip of the year. I was hoping to get 300 miles of paddling in for the summer. I have paddled thousands of miles over the years, all across the BWCA. It was Tuesday, my last day before I had to get back to the real world, and I was pretty sore. I decided on a day trip: I got up before the moon set, and I was hoping to be…
I want you to explain exactly what you did to piss off exactly which deity, so that I don't fall prey to the anything like that... :) Glad it worked out.
The grouse thing was the most ominous, though. My mom was an avid grouse hunter, and my favorite memories of childhood are when we'd walk trails together grouse hunting. Every time I've gone up there ("up north" we say locally), I have had a peculiar interaction with a grouse: one time two were on the side of the road — the first ones I had seen since her passing, and the first time I had been back up there since her passing too; one time, one wouldn't let me through the road and just stood there and looked at me for 10 minutes; one time one crossed 20 yards in front of my canoe, followed by 11 of its offspring (and 11 is my favorite number...). All good times.
Then there's the one that was shredded to pieces on the portage I was navigating on with one shoe.
When I tell this story I always hear "this is why you don't solo" — no, this is why you do solo. Except bring a sat phone and go on routes that you're at least vaguely familiar with... :)