I slept pretty well at Lake of the Pines State Park, considering I had to sleep in my van. I was hoping to sleep in a hammock, but I was not willing to brave attacks from the squadrons of mosquitoes that would have zeroed in on me while I was hanging it, so I simply stayed in my van while I spread out my air mattress in the evening, and while I put the mattress away the next day. Seemed like the smartest thing to do.

In the morning, I drove back to the Connors Lake Picnic Area to eat breakfast and watch the sun rise over the lake. Had to put up with a few mosquitoes landing on my neck to take a bite, but was gratified to watch dozens of swallows circling overhead, swooping and diving while they enjoyed their breakfast, too. I hope they ate bushels of mosquitoes.

After breakfast, I drove back up to Lake of the Pines State Campground and put my kayak in at the boat landing, where there were no German shepherds waiting to give me a cardio boost this time.

The boat ramp is on the shore of the northern half of Lake of the Pines, where I had a long, leisurely paddle that probably lasted half an hour to forty-five minutes (I wasn’t timing it, that’s just what it felt like). The upper half of the lake is in the Lake of the Pines Conifer-Hardwoods State Natural Area so its shoreline is completely undeveloped. No docks, no vacation houses, just tall trees and undergrowth all around, with reeds growing just offshore. I wish with all my heart there were more lakes in Wisconsin that were still like this. Maybe there are, but I just haven’t found them yet. I’ll keep looking.

There were patches of developed shoreline around the southern half of the lake so I didn’t linger there as long as I did in the northern half of the lake. It kills me that the first thing people want to do when they build a cabin along a lake shore is cut down all the trees between the cabin and their view of the lake. I believe there ought to be a law against it, but what do I know?

As I paddled back up the shoreline toward the boat ramp I noticed a bald eagle perched in the upper branches of a dead pine tree. By allowing my kayak to drift with the wind, I was able to get very close to him to snap a few photos.

After my paddle, I stopped at the park headquarters building to use the shower. Kudos to the Flambeau River State Forest for installing a top-notch shower facility and making it available for public use! I can go days without taking a shower when I’m camping, but when there’s a shower available I make use of it every day because why not? I always enjoy myself more when I’m not stinky and greasy.

Feeling squeaky clean, I got a sandwich and some chips from the van and ate lunch at a picnic table outside the headquarters building. While I was eating, one of the people who worked in the building came by, saw my kayak and asked whether I had been out on the river. I told her I had paddled the lakes, and she responded by telling me about her favorite lakes in the area to visit, starting with Bass Lake.

I had been thinking about moving on to visit some other places where I could camp without being eaten alive by mosquitoes, but her enthusiasm made me want to at least take another look around. I drove up a long gravel road to get to Bass Lake. The road ends about a quarter-mile short of the lake, and the trailhead is deep in the forest, so I thought it was better to be prepared for mosquitoes before getting out of the van. I climbed into the back to pull on all my clothes: a long-sleeved sun shirt, trousers, socks and hiking shoes, all treated with permetherin, a powerful bug repellent. Before getting out of the van, I put on a wide-brimmed hat and pulled a bug net over it to keep them out of my eyes, ears, nose, and off the back of my neck.

I was immediately swarmed when I stepped out of the van, but I figured it would be a shame not to check out the lake after driving all that way, so I trekked up the trail to the lake. Mosquitoes, flies and other flying nasties swarmed me for the entire journey. Some of them bit me through my shirt. At the end of the trail I came to the southern shore of the lake, which was beautiful, but the bugs were still attacking me like I was roadkill. Hauling the kayak up there for a paddle would not have been a relaxing, pleasant experience. So I didn’t do that. Maybe later, in the fall after the first cold snap kills off bushels of bugs.

Although I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want to stay, either. I had already paddled the lakes, and hiking the trails through the nearby forests while being pursued by bloodsucking insects was not a very inviting prospect. In the end, I headed south to stay the night at Hartman Creek State Park in Waupaca County, where I could enjoy sitting outside with a book in the evening.