8/29/2015 Steve Nutt

            Today I woke up to the sound of rain hammering the tent and the boom of lightning shaking the rocks underneath our campsite, a typical start to a day on this expedition. It sometimes feels like the rain will never stop with sunshine only to tease me into optimism and then bring my hope down with the rain. It’s been a long week as a Leader of the Week (LOW). I’ve faced many internal struggles, battling to keep my confidence and positivity as I lose my belongings, fumble with bear bag knots in the pouring rain, and lead all of my peers down a river I have never been in my life. As I sit in my evaluations thinking of all the things I did wrong, I’ve realized I have not given myself credit for the things I have done right. We made it up onto the third map of the river, knocked out a bunch of WEA lessons, and faced high water without a single (complete) canoe flip. I’m speaking up and standing out more and more each day of this expedition and I am doing it with the most hardworking, focused, and positive group of people I could ever ask for. As I sat down for a dinner of freshly caught small mouth bass, I could see rays of sunshine peak through the clouds, which lit up the forests around the Little Stony Rapids. Sitting on the highest rock overlooking this wilderness, I think about all the people who have helped me get here and who are hoping who have helped me get here and who are hoping the best for me back home. I have such an amazing opportunity presented to me and an amazing support system that makes this journey more than worthwhile know matter what happens. I hope they see how much I will have grown and what it was all worth, but I know that most of all, I will see this for myself. So to my homie Alex, my homie Pinky, Nick, Timo, Fowler, Lees, Zach, Mowgli, Will, Callum, my parents, my brother David, and all of the brothers of the Iota Omicron chapter of the Sigma Chi Fraternity, this trip is for you.
-Steve Nutt

8/28/2015 Steve Acuff

            There’s nothing better to me than a cup of coffee to start your day, except when you’re enjoying it on a beach you just spent the last night on sleeping under the stars. It’s the little things we take for granted that I thought about over a steaming hot cup of Joe while sitting on a log, on a narrow sand beach, on the eastern edge of Manitowik Lake. As refreshing as the cool breeze from the lake was and how soothing the warm coffee felt, my bliss wasn’t meant to last. The peace and calm of the morning erupted into frenzied chaos as our fearless leader started barking out the fact that we had less than twenty minutes to have all our gear loaded into our canoes. Today we had our first experience of portaging (two experiences actually). Portaging is taking our gear and boats from the water and hiking it over land at points we aren’t able to paddle through or past. Our first portage site was about a mile away. As we paddled in formation to the portage it welcomed us with a beautiful set of falls. We all coasted into the landing of the portage trail taking time to admire the scenery and delay the inevitable hike across dry land. The trip across was only a ½ mile but three spate trips needed to be taken (one for heaviest bag, one for the rest of the gear, one for the canoe), so three miles total. The trail was overgrown with many logs down over it but it was apparent it had been used for many crossings. As we hiked back and forth I eerily thought of those who traveled before us. The Cree Indians used the same routes for thousands of years and passed them down to European fur traders hundreds of years ago. To be traveling these same waters and portage trails left an interesting feeling of attachment and pride within me like I was a part of a long, proud history of travelers on these waters. Eventually all our gear was back in the canoes and we were off again, this time another mile and a short walk to our campsite. Our minds and bodies welcomed the campsite and all the luxuries it afforded like grass, not sand to camp on, a nice area to swim and fish, and most importantly rapids to wash the funk from our clothes. AS I lay and write at 2230 I am reminded to appreciate the little things in life and just how lucky I am to be paddling this beautiful route; at least until it decides to rain a few days in a row.

Steve Acuff

8/27/2015 Bobby Liston

Bobby Liston

8/27/15

As I sit here on this beautiful beach basking in the sun, I can’t help this overwhelming feeling that this trip has begun. I feel as if god has let it rain on us for the past few days so that we can appreciate days in the sun. It has lifted our spirits and the smiles on all of our faces could be from the warmth of the sun or the fact we could actually dry out all of our clothing! I feel I have earned this view I am looking at, the sun setting on the water, towering pines, waves crashing on the shore because of the long twelve-mile paddle that we endured today. Raquel and I did very well today, and I was very confident in the stern of the boat so I decided to take that over first. Of course, there was the occasional side swiping of other people’s canoes but not too much to ruin the day of others. Half way through the trek, Raquel took over the stern as we switched. She told me multiple times that she was nervous and even went as far as apologizing before hand. I had to remind her that everything was going to be alright. I was helping her out in the beginning. Reminding her of the things we learned at Spring Lake, she quickly gained her confidence. IT WENT VERY WELL! After twenty minutes she had it down. I knew she could do it. Besides the canoeing, there is another overwhelming sense I cannot stop thinking about. I feel as if I am looking into a snapshot into the past out here. I’m sure it doesn’t look too different than the times of Native Tribes and the fur traders that used these routes and I feel a sharing sense of appreciation of this beautiful land of Canada. Perhaps it is the part Native American blood that runs through my veins. My father told me I may have a small percentage of Native American in me and this could be a reason why I have a strange undirect connection to places like this. I cannot wait for the remainder of this expedition, and although this is a class, I cannot help but feel this is an expedition that bridged generations of the past within me.

8/26/2015 Meg Mason

Wednesday 8/26/15

Today we managed to sleep in until 7:00 a.m. at which point we got up and made cocoa wheats and honey for breakfast. After breakfast clean-up we had a couple minutes before class began for the day. Today’s class was held under a tarp on the shore of Blue Bay where we discussed the different styles of leadership and their potential strengths and weaknesses. As we sat in the sand, I couldn’t help but think that this time last year I was sitting in the concrete walls of Currens trying my hardest to pay attention and figure out how a class whose subject is outdoor education and adventure recreation is still relevant when it is being taught in doors. It is so much easier to pay attention and learn concepts and principles when you might be actively applying them the next day. Now as I lie in my sleeping bag for the night and listen to the waves roll in with the occasional sound of a loon in the background I can’t help but think how lucky I am to be a part of this program. It’s 9:40 p.m. now and I’m going to bed in preparation for 13 mi. of canoeing and a ½ mi. long portage tomorrow. Yet I still can’t help but think no matter how hard it gets, it’s better than being stuck in a concrete box.

Meaghan L. Mason

8/25/2015 MO

8/25/2015

My pants and my shoes use to be clean but now sand, water, and rocks fill in every place they can. I look up to the sky and beg the sun to break through the deep, dark, mysterious fog that hangs above our heads. I eat dinner with no table, sit on no chair, and I have no bed to rest my head on. Not having the comfort we, as humans, are so use to having has given me the opportunity to be grateful for a pot full of hot water, a pair of wool socks, and the company of those on the expedition with me. From being smelly to having to deal with one another we have much to overcome and so many skills to learn. This is challenge by choice and I accept the mental, physical, and emotional challenge. I accept to take care of myself, one another, and I accept to wake up each morning remembering that the sun will shine again. You know what they say, “what doesn't kill you, gives you strength.” And I will succeed, will you?

            -Mo

8/24/2015 Trent Grossman

8/24/15

            The last days have proved Mother Nature to be unruly and frustrating. The beginning of this expedition has been filled with cold rainy days. One moment mother natures beautiful sun is shining down on your face and you a five mile an hour tail wind. Then within very little time at all things can turn to a cold windy rain that will chill you to the bone if you don’t have on the right base layers. This turn of the weather has made each day a little tougher to sit through outdoor classes. Waking up with a puddle in the corner of your two-man tent that is housing three young men. Having the little thought in your head about how many dry wool socks you have left. The weather can really affect the overall moral of an expedition.

Trent Grossman