The Old Man paddled with quick efficiency, though the lake was choppy. At times it looked as if his vessel floated just above the waves.
Several of the Indians waded out when it was near enough, helped pull it to shore. I was surprised to note, then, that the canoe was in fact heavily loaded with fish nearly to overflowing. They were freshly caught, gleaming wet & clear-eyed. A few even flapped about in the pile. Mostly whitefish, as well as large lake trout, grayling. Cheers went up from the Indians as it became clear that the Old Man intended the fish as a gift to the village.
I wondered aloud how he could have gathered so many fish without being attacked by the same creature that nearly killed us.
The Old Man turned to us then, removed his black hat, bowed his head in my direction, then laughed. He spoke, but I could not make out any of the words.
I asked for Nat’aaggi to translate, but she refused. When I asked why, she answered that she knows I don’t like ‘kay-yuni’ stories?—?spirit stories.
I admitted that was true.
The Old Man then pointed from me to the mountains on the north side of the lake.
I said yes, we would travel that way once Sgt. Tillman has healed.
?—?He goes there, too, Nat’aaggi said. —?You will see him, but you will not know him.
I asked what he meant by that.
She shook her head & said no more, then returned to Tillman’s hut.
June 20
Tillman is healed enough to resume travel. The sutures are holding. He said he is able to walk with little pain. I have insisted that we go by canoe, both to speed our progress as well as give Tillman more rest. We will, however, remain near to shore.
June 21
We have made good progress. Even paddling near shore, all of us were on high alert. Boyo’s ears were always perked forward. When a splash went up behind Tillman’s canoe, the dog woofed & we all startled, then laughed, for it had only been a small trout. We never did see sign of the creature. We camped last night on the northern side, rose early this morning. I believe we were all glad to leave behind Kulgadzi Lake.
During these first hours of the day, we have already climbed several thousand feet in elevation. What appeared from the distance as grassy hillsides, upon closer inspection have proven to be thick with alder & devil’s club. We made our way on game trails through the brush, but often they disappeared out from beneath us or ended abruptly so that we were left in a tangle. At one point, we startled a small black bear but were unable to shoot it before it was lost to the dense brush. It is unfortunate for we could have used the additional meat.
Now at last we are above tree line. The heat fatigues us, so we have stopped to rest beside a mountain spring where we can drink, soak our feet. The dog laps water, pants endlessly.
The view below, as we look down upon Kulgadzi Lake & across into the Wolverine River Valley from where we have come, is most stunning. The mountains to the east are lofty & shine white with snow in the sun, their glacial fingers reach down to the river. To the west, the Wolverine River basin spreads flat & wide, a vast green dotted with small lakes & ponds that reflect the blue sky.
Dear Walt,
I wanted to give you an update on my progress?—?I just finished transcribing the portion of the diaries from Kulgadzi Lake. It’s interesting because I remember my mom telling me that when she was a little girl, all the kids believed a monster lived in the deepest water.