Paddling along, as had happened many times before, the lure snagged on a stone or some weeds and we lost it. But we found someone else's lost lure on a half submerged branch. The new lure caught two fish, before we lost it, and then lost two more.
The day grew long as we continued our slow progress against the current. Ready to stop, we asked some fishermen on a dock beneath a house in the woods if we could make camp on their lawn. They were only renting the house for a few days and wouldn’t give us permission.
Not long after, we found a dirt boat ramp leading off the water and pulled up. Small cottages spread through the woods above. Campers rented them for the week, and one brought us to the reception office, about a mile away, where we learned that we would not be allowed to camp by the boat ramp for the night.
We set our tent up at the edge of the woods and hoped the receptionist wouldn’t come out that way. She didn’t.
We made it a policy never to eat in the tent, lest the smell of food convince them that our brightly colored tent was little more than a candy bar wrapper. By the time we sat to eat our fish dinner, the mosquitoes were on us. We applied lots of repellent. It helped, but not enough. Worst super-tasty dinner ever. Still, better to be eaten by mosquitoes than bears.
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