Monday August 16 1999
We decided to say over at McCargo Cove. We found a shelter and spent the day drying out gear. We dangled our feet off the dock as we watched the loons fish in the cove. Every once and a while we'd here them calling to each other. The water taxi dropped off people today. One kyacker was going solo to rock harbor. A lone backpacker was going to Windigo via the Minong ridge and a pile of boy scouts were headed to Windigo by way of the Greenstone. I looked for the ruins of the Minong mine after lunch. The sign is gone. I went past the turnoff and instead had a break taking view over the ridge of lake Superior and Canada. As I was enjoying the view I noticed I was standing in the middle of the mother of all blueberry patches. I hardly made a dent in it. So tomorrow I'll work on it again on the way to Hatchet Lake. It is really nice to read the thought of the day and trip notes every evening at dinner. We also are reading the journal entry for the day it helps us focus and appreciate this very special trip and it helps us remember and feel close to those at home.
We are all dry, warm and rested . Its 10:00pm everyone except Lalasa and I are Asleep. It's pretty dark out. We can hear thunder the storm really is coming . We hope to get an early start in the morning. Tomorrow will be our hardiest hike at 11 mile and on a rugged trail.
It's hard to sleep listening to loons call..... then thunder ..... waiting for a wolf call not yet......
Day 4 Elaine Jacks
A number of years ago in a large southeastern city, the master composer and pianist, Paderewski, was scheduled to perform. The city was alive with anticipation of this great musician coming to town. Finally the day arrived. The atmosphere was electric as guests filed into the great concert hall, the men in their black tuxedos and the women in their beautiful ball gowns. In the crowd that evening was a mother clutching the hand of her young son. Although he had not wanted to come, she had brought him the concert hoping that if he could just hear the master, perhaps he would be inspired to practice. When the found their seats, he squirmed and complained. His mother prayed, "Oh, please let the concert begin!" She turned her head just once to look and a grand lady floating by, and the boy saw his chance. Quick as a flash, he was out of his seat and down the row. He darted into the aisle where he was swept along with - the milling thong. Just at that moment the spotlights began to play on the great Steinway grand on-stage, and he was fascinated. He had never before seen such a huge piano. On one noticed a little boy climbing the steps to the stage. No one noticed a little boy climbing onto the black tufted piano stool. No one noticed, until he raised his little fingers to the keyboard and began to pound out "Chopsticks" Suddenly the noise in the auditorium ceased and hundreds of angry faces turned toward the stage. And then the audience began to shout, "Who's that child? Get him out of here! Where's his mother? Who would bring a child to a concert like this?" Backstage the master heard the tumult - and "Chopsticks". Realizing what had happened, he grabbed his coat and rushed on stage. Without a word, he bent down behind the little boy and, with his hands on either side of the boy's began to compose a counter melody to compliment and enhance "Chopsticks". As they played together, the master whispered in the little boy's ear, "Keep on. Don't stop. Don't quit. Keep on". And that s the way it is with us. The master stands behind us and whispers in our ear, "Keep on, Don't Stop. Don't quit. Keep on."
