Morning of day two. Here we are merrily taping rodentified baggies and amputating the nibbled bits off the bagels, pita, tortillas, feta cheese, though surprisingly not the tofu.

Despite the distraction, we made it onto the lake in good time. 9:30 ish.

George Lake, morning of day two. There's a turkey vulture up there, sunning his wings.

George Lake, morning of day two.

Pink and white mountains, glowing blue and teal water. Killarney is the tiny perfect park. George Lake.

George Lake. We'll be climbing something much bigger than this in a couple of days.

Heading into the land of the lost portage, on Freeland Lake.

Stuck. Forwards ever! Backwards never! Except now. This is a special period.

Freeland Lake. Having just wasted 45 minutes looking for the direct portage to Kakakise, we decide to do the roundabout route via Killarney. The park staff did mention that no staff had been through that portage. They didn't say that was because the portage didn't exist.

Karin unloading at the Freeland - Killarney portage. We would all grow to dislike this process so much that on day five we opted for longer portages just so we could avoid loading and unloading

Lynne, just back from her first swamp adventure. She's scheming. You can tell.

Pleased as punch that it's raining? Probably the super-spiff Marmot rain wear. Taken in the marshy narrows between Carlyle and Johnnie, I think.

Lunch in the rain on Kakakise Lake

Taking this picture of Cathy with her "what am I doing here and why are you pointing that thing at me" look was probably as close as I came to a near-death experience on this trip.

Lynne pointing out the fresh vegetable for lunch.

Heading into Johnnie, our last lake for the day. Oh the relief.

Chris emerging at the end of our longest (1440m) portage. We were still working out the kinks in the system at this point. Karin and Chris went back for this canoe. She carried it most of the way, but Chris was there to catch the glory.

Nice mountain. Now where the fuck are we supposed to camp?

Killarney Lake. The photo doesn't do the colour justice. Is there such thing as aquatic necrophilia?

Still paddling upright after a long, beastly day.

What's that look on your face Chris?

Johnnie Lake. Looking for a campsite. Sore shoulders. Tired.

Pretty vista. See any orange signs?

We did have a sort of tendency to explode once we got to the camp sites. I think everyone was so tired they didn't really care.

Lynne and Karin making french toast. Actually the morning of day three. Sorry for the earlier mix up.

Uh, yes. I confess. We weren't supposed to stay here. But it was such a long way back, and it was already pushing dusk, and we were tired and sore and and and...

...and we didn't have a fire, and we dug deep holes for our you know what, and we tread softly.