Personal Narrative-Humorous Day

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so damn proud.” The preceding quote was taken directly from my journal (not a diary) on July 31st, 2015. My crew of 8 and I had been through a lot this infamous day as we continued our 26-day trek through the magnificent yet unforgiving Canadian wilderness. At the present moment, however, I was currently enveloped in my welcoming and cozy sleeping bag reflecting on an arduous but immensely rewarding day. With the sputters and pops of spitting grease, we fried walleye and potatoes in the midst of a rising sun. After a rare entire day of rest, we begrudgingly packed up camp and loaded the canoes. Subsequent to hours of standard Les Voyageurs procedure of paddling and small portages, we reached the end of Lake Sasaginigac. The mood
However, the portage soon went downhill, literally and figuratively. Our pace was significantly reduced as we went from walking trails to wading through “loon excrement.” This thick mud, which is never truly called excrement, tends to accumulate on portage trails and is affectionately named after its goopy consistency and lovely smell. Trudging onward, I attempted to maneuver around my sloppy and wet surroundings. My shoulders felt as if I were being stabbed as sharp pains overwhelmed my body. Periodically, I fell over as my legs were seized by the muck. It took every ounce of strength and resilience I had to aggressively pull my limbs out and re-flip the canoe. I was frequently cut by nearby rocks and stray tree branches. Additionally, a purple and sensitive splotch developed on my forearm from repeatedly getting the canoe up. As we continued, my mental strength diminished as I forced my physically beaten and exhausted body to proceed along. I pondered what people back home would think if only they could see me now: dragging my beaten, bruised, and all-but-defeated body along the trail. Tyler encouraged me every excruciating step of the way. He even dropped his pack and rushed to