Day 3, Beavers and bears

They were off at 8:30. "Definitely an improvement," Dick said looking at his watch. "It only took 2 hours and 20 minutes to break camp."

"Hurrah! We have a current again. The last of Mills Lake!" April swung her paddle into action.

Even past Mills Lake, the swampy muskeg continued along both shores of the river leaving no place to camp. The reeds, though, came in handy around 12:50 when winds kicked up high waves — even white caps — on the river. Dick and April retreated into a reed thicket that the waves could not penetrate. Dick fished. Big ones flashed among the reeds, but none bit.

Finally, about 4:30 in the afternoon, when it looked like the reeds would continue forever.

"We may have to sleep in a fully loaded canoe, tonight," groaned Dick, "if something doesn't turn up soon."

"Looks like a river ahead," April shouted back to Dick over the Mackenzie's roar.

Dick checked the map. "It's the Bouvier. Head in!"

American beaver near Calgary, Alberta. Photo by Chuck Szmurlo.

They ducked up the Bouvier, then one of its tributaries to find a small grassy field with pink wild roses. A beaver's dam blocked the stream.

"The perfect slip," Dick said. April turned the green canoe into a natural slip cut into the bank that firmly held two-thirds the length of the canoe.

"Bear sign all over," Dick reported to April, after a short hike around.

Dick and April caught up on laundry. April even took a bath in the river. A delight cut short by an influx of black flies swarming on her legs.

Around 2200, mosquitoes moved into the campsite en masse. Dick tossed a bug jacket to April and quickly donned his, including head nets. That worked, barely. About 2300 the tent helped even more, when they called it a ''day.' They battled literally hundreds of mosquitoes, flies and gnats for another 30 minutes. Smoke from two mosquito coils smoldered slowly, taking a deadly toll.

"Everything I've ever heard about mosquitoes in the north country is true," moaned April. She eventually fell asleep.

A loud snort right outside the tent jerked her awake. She sat up, looked out the tent's window and could see only the tent's rain fly, which totally obscured the view. April's gun, a Winchester 30-30 was loaded, none in the chamber, and handy — by the tent's door. Dick's gun, a 12-gage shotgun, unloaded, was also by the tent's door. Dick had four special dum-dum bear ammo in his vest pocket ready to slap in. But no bear entered the tent. Dick, weary to the core, did not awaken.

The resident beaver didn't exactly visit. He stayed, and slapped his tail, like gunshot, all day and all night.

Miles traveled: 16 (26 km)

Position at day's end: N 61-14-03, W118-54-16