East Pike Lake
Stillness reigns, both inside and out. The rhythm of the paddling becomes established. The monkey within chatters less now, and the amount of words spoken aloud diminishes as well. The cold, clear water is a smooth highway, all we have to do is keep in motion. We pass a few campers- fishermen- and meet a couple of guys during a portage- fishermen as well. In the evening the leaden skies start to leak, by the time dinner is over it is pouring. Our tent is dry, I've got my book and I read a bit, but the steady thrum of the rain on the canopy over our tent is hypnotic, I fall asleep, this night no dreams will trouble my slumber...