Maps provided courtesy of Toporama which contains information licensed under the Open Government Licence – Canada. I have marked my route in blue and portages in red. 

It rained a bit earlier in the night but it was only marginally cloudy and mostly sunny when I awoke. Joy. I emerged from my hammock for the day much later than normal at around 8:00 AM. This was because I was awake for a couple of hours in the wee hours of the morning. This is very much a man-in-his-fifties problem that occurs from time to time.  A healthy prostate should be the Number 1 issue in a man's life. It's important to have regular exams...urine good hands with a competent doctor. I mean, I'm not quite at the age where every sneeze is a risky proposition, but a good night's sleep is 6 continuous hours without waking up. Unfortunately, I usually wake up feeling drained.

I decided that I would not care too much about the weather and wind that morning. My body was feeling it and I needed a morning of rest. Besides, by Day 6 of a long solo canoe trip, one lives in the moment and is just ready to deal with whatever happens without stressing too much. I love that. It's very ZEN. It's why I do what I do with these trips. It puts a lot of life's little quibbles in perspective. Best therapy that exists, folks!  

In all honesty, I think I very much needed a rest day by that point in the trip, but I was beholden to my schedule to get back home in time. I would settle for an extra coffee next to the fire with my rehydrated bacon n' eggs with cheese in a wrap, instead. 

Notice the lightly toasted wrap? Just the right amount of crisp without burning it. Not this guy's first rodeo! Mmmmmm. 

While I was sitting there and shoving that wrap voraciously into my gullet, I heard an elegant splashing sound behind some trees to the south above my own gnawing and gnashing. It was subtle and barely audible in the otherwise quiet of the morning. I tiptoed down to the water's edge to have an anticipatory look-see and saw the head of a cow moose bobbing across the lake only about 100 meters from me. So very, very cool!

I made a feeble attempt to film it with my phone. Try not to get seasick while watching it. 

What a great way to get the day started! I was grateful for her visit. At the water's edge, I glanced in all directions at the beauty of my surroundings, which I had entirely to myself. I was doubly grateful. I was the luckiest man in the world at that moment. 

I finally got my carcass on the water just before 10:30 AM after breaking camp. I turned to snap a shot of my sloping rockface of a campsite that had treated me just right. I smiled. I had spent a wonderful night and morning there.  

It was a short paddle to the bottom of Fauquier Lake where I passed ceremoniously through a rock gate to exit the lake and enter a swamp. 

Not quite the Argonath on the River Anduin, but close! (If you get that reference, welcome to Geekdom. Come on in! It's warm and cozy in here!) 

The swampland past the Gate to Gondor was pretty. Revelling in my surroundings, I had completely blasted past the portage that would take me to Star Lake. 

When I eventually clued into my error, I backtracked and found the portage before the gate. It was marked as 270  meters on my map but it felt shorter. Besides the short-lived steep bit at the start, it was a straightforward and easy carry to Star Lake. 

Now, I assume that Star Lake was named as such due to its shape because it was unremarkable otherwise. Maybe Taylor Swift spent a night there? Does Tay Tay camp? I know a lot of people camp out to buy tickets to see her, but I wonder if she has spent a night in the wilderness? I wouldn't know. I'm far too old to be a Tay Tay fan. Don't hate me for it, but I just don't get the hype. I mean, her music is fine, but not anything more special than any other modern pop star. Oh well, haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. For me on Star Lake, paddlers gonna paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle. (That just doesn't work with a two-syllable word, does it? I guess that's why my songwriting career fizzled out early in my life.) 

The portage to Arp Lake was short but more difficult than its predecessor. It went straight up and then straight down. I think this lake got its name because when I finally put down my canoe and food barrel at the end of the portage, the grunt that escaped from my body vaguely sounded like, "Arp!" Or maybe, that was just gas from the bacon n' egg cheese wrap. Who knows?

On Arp Lake, I found myself at one of the highest lakes in Quetico in terms of elevation at 470 meters asl. This was up about 100 meters (328 feet) from the lowest point of my trip on Sturgeon Lake. I wasn't sure if the lake had trout or not because I hadn't previously checked online, but I put a trout spoon on my line anyway and dropped it deep into the lake; I slowly trolled as I paddled across it. Nada. Oh well, wishful thinking. 

I turned to snap a shot of "ARP!" Lake from the take-out at the 520-meter trail to Louisa Lake. Gorgeous.

Though it would be my longest portage of the day, it was fairly easy because it was all downhill, and only had a couple of minor squishy bits. The put-in on Louisa was at a beach campsite. It was a good site with a fantastic view.

Louisa Lake is not small; it would be a 6-kilometer paddle to the southwest. I was grateful for the lack of headwind. 

After about a kilometre and a half, I paddled next to a large cliff on a point. Looking at it, I was thinking how special Quetico is. After I took the picture below, I went to the base of the cliffs to get a feel for them. I don't know what it is but I love paddling under a large cliff face. Somehow, the rock exudes power. I understand how the First Nations people consider certain rocks to have a spiritual significance. 

Louisa Lake was truly one of the prettiest en route. There are 6 islands in the middle section that emerge dramatically from the water. It was wonderful to paddle amongst them. 

I was getting peckish which told me it was time for lunch. With a fish fry on my mind, I tried trolling between the islands to no avail. My map showed a site at the south end of one of the smaller islands and I decided to stop there and make some food. The site had seen better days; a weather event had caused several trees to fall across it. 

I prepared a couple of pepperette and cheese wraps, then filtered more water. 

By the time I reached the end of Louisa Lake, it was about a quarter to three. There wasn't another soul on one of the prettiest lakes I have ever paddled. Amazing. 

I found myself at the double portage that would take me from Louisa to Agnes Lake. I was actually excited about this carry! It would take me past Louisa Falls, one of the highlights of the trip. Louisa Falls is famous for its little jacuzzi pool that visitors can sit in beneath a vertical waterfall about halfway down the drop. I was hot, sweaty,  and ready to take part in the tradition. 

The view back at Louisa from the take-out was also nothing to sneer at. 

The way from Louisa to Agnes involves two 100-meter portages separated by a short 200-meter paddle. The first portage was to the left of a narrow rocky drop amongst a thick cover of cedars.  

It had a couple of steep steps but was relatively gradual in its descent. 

I put in and paddled through the swampy area separating the two drops and approached the top of the falls. From the top, the change in elevation was formidable and I could see Agnes Lake far below in the background. 

Again, I took out on the left and started the portage. This trail was very steep and went down at an incredible angle for most of the 100-meter length. The trail was near to the dropping water. Here is a shot of the top of the falls from the portage trail. 

This is where I aggravated a knee injury while carrying my first load, unfortunately. With my heavy canoe pack on, I felt a sharp twinge of pain after stepping down a large rock step. It was the exact same spot in my right knee where I felt something tweak in May while dragging my fully loaded canoe over a beaver dam in Algonquin. Grrrrr! I took my pack off and tried walking around a bit. I was able to walk with weight on it, albeit painfully. I donned my pack again. I limped my way through the rest of the portage, but I was worried about how serious the injury was and if it would stop me from finishing the trip. At that particular instance, however, I tried not to let it ruin a moment that I had been looking forward to on this trip.

With my canoe and gear at the put-in below the falls, I walked back up to the waterfall area and began stripping down to my gitch to sit in the natural jacuzzi. Amazingly, I had it to myself! 

Now, I am not a big 'selfie' guy. I truly find them incredibly embarrassing. However, this was one moment where I kind of wanted a shot of me playing around in this incredible waterfall, so I decided that I would just have to take a 'selfie'. No one else was around to help me capture the moment. The problem was that in the high water, I couldn't get my phone too close to the falls without completely soaking it, and my arms were only so long! So, this was the best I could come up with. Sigh. 

I have seen other online photos and videos of people getting right under those falls at lower water levels, but I was dealing with more water volume and pressure than what would exist on a late August trip. I tried getting under the falls for a second or two, but the piercing water felt like it might have opened me up if I stayed any longer. 

Below this little jacuzzi ledge halfway down the drop, the falls continued its dramatic descent to Agnes Lake. 

At the put-in below the falls, there was a huge group of dudes in a fleet of rental canoes on the opposite side of the falls. I guessed that there was a trail on that side of the falls, as well. They unnerved me a little; it was the first sight of any human in three days. I waved sheepishly and waited patiently while they loaded themselves into their boats and paddled away noisily. Language-wise, the only thing I had heard for nearly a week was my own mutterings and musings to myself, which, by Day 6, was getting rather profuse. Hearing the banter of a large group of dudes sounded like the roar of a crowd to me at that moment. I slinked away making gollum noises. Smeagol wants to be alone in the woods by himselfsies, he does. Precious.... (What?! Two LOTR references on the same day?! If I make an additional Star Trek or Star Wars reference, I think I win a free pass to Comicon!) 

In the outlet below the falls was a young man reeling in bass from a campsite on the opposite shore. He was having a good time. I saw him land two fish and each time, he exuberantly let out a whoop of delight. It made me wonder what he was catching! So, I tried a couple of casts and indeed brought in a couple of fish, but they were just tiny smallmouth bass, which could hardly elicit even a "meh...", let alone a whoop of delight. The water was very clear and I could see a large school of tiny bass in the water. I thought I should just move on and I paddled away into Agnes Lake to not get in the way of that young man living his best fishing life. 

As I paddled north on Agnes Lake, I began to see why the lake was a destination for so many canoe trippers. The dramatic rocky shoreline rising out of the water on both sides of the lake was gorgeous.  

A few kilometers up the lake I got to a point where I had to sneak past a large island. My map showed that there were some pictographs on this island but I had trouble finding them. So far, I was 0 for 2 on locating pictographs marked on my map. I probably should have spent more time searching them out, but it was 4 PM at that point and I was feeling a little tired. There was an island group less than an hour north of where I was and I was looking to get there and make camp. 

Upon reaching that island group, I was gaping in amazement at how beautiful the lake was there. Louisa was a gorgeous lake, and now I could safely assert that Agnes was even more so. 

As I proceeded through the narrows between the shoreline and an island that had a campsite at its northern tip, there was an incredible rocky cliff on the western shore. Wow! 

It was awe-inspiring to paddle next to it. Better yet, I reached the northern end of the island and found the wonderful campsite just across the narrows from that rock face. It would be my home for the evening. 

After making camp, I had to perform some surgery on my barrel harness with my needle and thread. In addition to tweaking my knee on that last steep portage past Louisa Falls, I also broke one of the shoulder straps of my harness. My needle and thread job would last the trip, but probably not much longer after that. (Time to contact Andy at Recreational Barrel Works for a new harness, me thinks!)

I enjoyed the evening with another rehydrated pasta meal and a tipple of whiskey in an attempt to dull the pain I was feeling in my knee.  It didn't take long to get dark that evening as the sun set earlier than usual behind that steep cliff across the narrows immediately to the west. 

It was a gorgeous site on a gorgeous lake on a gorgeous night. Surrounded by all of that natural beauty, you could have called me Gorgeous George (Snatch reference, anyone?) The site was in a little bowl with a ridge of rocks around it offering excellent protection. "Protection from what? Zee Germans?" (Another Snatch reference, anyone?....come on, really?!? Anyone? No Guy Ritchie movie fans here?) 

In waning sunlight, I sat up on the rocks for a bit enjoying the evening calm of the lake. It was a peaceful moment. When the bugs came out, I limped off to my hammock and immediately fell asleep. I slept well.