“Say hi to Wilson, Jr.!”
Stephen spent four days on Pie Island trapped by high winds and waves. He couldn’t go far on the beach due to cliffs and the interior of the island was impenetrable bush. He had plenty of time to watch the four lanes of the shipping channel that freighters take into Thunder Bay and plan his strategy for the five mile crossing.
He was able to get some texts through to me.
“Too many mosquitoes to leave tent again. Flies arrived today, too.”
“I have never seen so many mosquitoes!”
“Looks like another day in mosquitoville.”
“Windier today than yesterday…not very promising, though it’s shifted to the northwest. Finally went ‘swimming’ yesterday. Shallow here, so not so cold. Sleeping Giant looks like Buddha.”
“Moved my campsite a quarter mile west, away from beaver dam(n)ed creek. Much better mosquito wise, but we’ll see how long that lasts. Wind and waves still rolling along.”
And yesterday, “Crossing shipping lane now, nothing in sight ”