"I dont want to camp here. There's no firewood," Davy says, after we assess the sandy peninsula of an island. I call his bluff as we disembark, a beautiful pink sunset falling over the island. There were deer prints all over the sand. Plus, random large dug holes and a myriad of strange tracks (three clawed), one of which I believe to be tail mark. Gator tracks I say; Davy claims they were bear tracks. We decide to push on near dark and we cut across the mile wide channel to a safer shore spot. Firewood. Stars. Pork chop dinner. And, did I mention the opposite shore is the notorious Angola prison. It was a tough day. A full 6 hours of paddling and an estimated near 50 miles of progress. A total of four buildings during that whole stretch. Tomorrow afternoon we should reach New Roads.
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