Marshall Lake Loop

Note: Since completing this Trip report, my friend Rob tells me that, to his knowledge, there have been 5 paddlers or groups of paddlers on this route this summer and only 3 of them have done the whole loop... If one is looking for solitude, this is certainly not a heavily traveled route.

With his warning of bugs in mind, I stopped at the hardware store in Geraldton to see if they had bear bangers (they didn’t) and pick up an aerosol can of bug spray. I was back on my way around 4:30 but I didn’t get too far out of town before I realized I’d made another questionable decision.

Before leaving home, I’d shared the link to my inReach publicly on canoetripping.net and on Instagram so that anyone interested might follow along.

A few miles outside of Geraldton, I felt the need to make a pit stop to rid myself of the coffee and beers. Nothing unusual about that except that, a couple of years ago I had sustained an impact that loosened a couple of front teeth for me. The dentist suggested removing them and made me a temporary prosthetic while I saved cash for the implants (to give an idea of how much I hate debt, I made my last car payment in 1988 and I’ve paid cash for everything except real estate ever since).  

The prosthetic is uncomfortable, however, so I take it out when I'm not talking to someone.

In this case, after leaving the hardware store, I’d taken it out, set it on my lap and forgotten about it when I stepped out of the Ranger to answer nature’s call. I realized my error about 10 minutes down the road, turned around and looked all over the area where I’d stopped but the gravel in the road was various shades of white, beige and pink so I was unable to find it and I resigned myself to having to deal with getting a replacement when I returned home.

What made the decision to share questionable, in my mind, was that anyone with the link would be wondering why I’d backtracked and I would thus have to offer up the above explanation or make up something (note: I’m unsure how embarrassing the truth would need to be that it would cause me to lie but this, obviously, did not make the cut).

Day 1

I slept decently and, upon awakening, I regretted not having taken the water filter on the scouting trip the night before. With no water in the parking lot, breakfast (and worse, coffee) would have to wait until I reached the lake. No big deal, I thought, as the mosquitoes & black flies seemed thicker at the parking lot than they were at the launch anyway and they were getting pretty voracious at the parking lot already.

I enjoyed breakfast, blueberries and coffee as I watched a few small fishing boats run back and forth past the island and the wind seemed to settle down a bit as I drained the last of the coffee.

I was sorely tempted to just remain on the island for the night but, of course, it was only 11am so, with the wind dying down a little, I pushed off for the West end of the lake.

What wind remained was coming from the West and I had intended to explore every campsite that I could find as I had done on the Steel River trip. The campsite shown on my maps, however, was on the North shore and would have required me to paddle broadside to the wind in order to reach the portage.

I slipped along the southern shore looking for the mouth of the Gripp river when I spied an old building on the bank, and then 2 or 3 more… As part of my mission was to explore a bit, I beached the canoe, grabbed the cameras and set about being nebby.

It soon became apparent that this was a mining camp of some sort as there were core samples laying about from drilling and I’d initially thought that, given the state of the buildings, they’d been abandoned for decades until I peeked into the outhouse and found that someone had left their reading material. 

(Oh, wait… The Chamber was released in 1994 so I guess it could have been there for 30 years…)

That corrected, I briefly explored the trapper’s cabin (much more spartan than the mining cabin had been although it was in much better shape today) and then paddled down the Gripp river

Instead, I paddled over to the site that Rob had said was now the preferred campsite on Gripp lake and found it to be as advertised: Nice, rocky point exposed to the light breeze (so minimum bugs), lots of room and, overall, a very nice site.

I set up camp, made supper and turned in thinking that I was starting to figure out the portage trails a bit better and that I might go check out that other cabin in the morning. I burned a few inches of mosquito coil in the tent, sent out the “all clear” message and called it a day.

Day 2

A few hundred yards (meters) after Gripp lake turned back into Gripp river, I found the next portage on river right. Marked by orange flagging tape tied to the Alder that lined the banks, the portage was in nice shape and there was excellent fishing and a newly constructed cabin below the rapids.

After the portage, the Gripp widened briefly and then became fairly narrow with marshy areas on both sides of the river. I was soon thankful that I was paddling into the wind when I rounded a slight bend and found a cow moose gazing on the underwater plants.

I’d never seen a moose in real life and, like most people I suppose, I was instantly struck by how large they are. She didn’t seem terribly worried about me but did clear out as I approached and I felt a bit bad as I’d not only ruined her lunch but I chased her up on the bank where the bugs were, no doubt, awaiting her as eagerly as they did me.

I found the campsite on the western shore with no problem and was pleasantly surprised that it was in nicer shape than I’d expected. The maps had warned that fishermen & duck hunters often used the sites on Summit and they can be garbaged up.

Overall, it really wasn’t a bad site and, although I didn’t manage a Walleye off of the landing, I did manage to stretch out my back laying flat on the rocks in the sun and didn’t get eaten to the bone by the bugs.

I spent about ½ an hour lounging around in the sun before pushing on toward the north end and the mouth of the Powitik River. I saw my second moose of the day as I neared the lake’s terminus and it didn’t seem any more concerned by my presence than the first had, although, like the first, it also moved into the bush to let me pass.

I made supper, tried a few more casts for fun, took pictures as the sun faded and retired to the tent with the now normal routine of burning a few inches of mosquito coil, sending the all clear and checking the maps for tomorrow.

Day 3

I started the day with more decisions to make. I’d planned on a much slower pace but, while the bugs owned the land, they usually weren’t bad at all out on the water. 

The result of these conditions was that I was spending all day on the water paddling and, while I was trying to maintain a slow, yet steady pace, the fact is that you can cover some ground (and water) if you keep moving all day.

Honestly, the “upstream” part really didn’t seem to be a factor as the flow, in most places, was barely discernible. Even in the narrower sections where it was, the sandy bottom was close enough to push off of and the canoe could easily overcome the current.

It was a long, flatwater paddle in the hot sun and a headwind, however, and I found myself occasionally feeding bugs while taking a break on the shore.

In hindsight, I kind of wish I’d paddled into Faubert proper, just to check it out, but Rob had said there was road access to it now and I just wasn’t into it at the time. 

The river, the fishing below the rapids and the thought of a tailwind had more appeal and, besides, the bugs seemed to be really enjoying the shallow water and I was getting swarmed again.

I paddled leisurely back toward the junction of the Kap & Powitik rivers, enjoying the sun and the lack of portages, removing shoes & socks and simply enjoying the day.

The “easy class 1” was barely a riffle and I did take a few minutes to look for a portage around the second rapid. Not finding one, however, I looked over my options, thought I saw a good line w/ minimal rocks, knelt down and prepared for impact.

I thought I was doing pretty well descending the rapid and was almost through the top (the really bony part) when I caught on a rock mid-hull and the stern caught in the current. I was now high-centered, sideways in the rapid and in danger of pinning. I jumped out downstream so as to keep the upstream gunnel from dipping while I exited but, as I pushed off, I heard the distinctive “crack” of one of the strips breaking.

The reduced weight, however, did allow the water to push the boat off of the underwater rock and I jumped back in as it floated free.

I paddled on looking for the next campsite and soon found it on river left. It was up a steep rock face, looked like it hadn’t been used in years and did have a couple of nice tent pads but it was early, there was very little breeze to deter the bugs and I made another questionable decision when I decided to paddle on.

In hindsight, I should have unloaded and returned upstream to catch some fish for supper at the bottom of the last rapid but hindsight, as always, didn’t come until later.

The maps indicated that there was "a real bughole” of a campsite in the patch of grass at the start of the portage so I switched up my portage routine and carried the canoe through first figuring that, if I found nothing better, I could set up camp in the bughole and finish the portage in the morning but, either way, the canoe had to go through.

That decision actually worked really well as I found enough room near the end of the portage to tuck the tent into a small grove of Cedars and I returned for the pack, skipped the fire that night, made supper on the backpacking stove and burned 3 sections of mosquito coil in the tent that night when I turned in.

Yep, as you might have guessed by that last part, it was still a real bughole but, at least it was a bughole at the right end of the portage.

Throughout the trip, I didn’t find mosquito coil to be overly effective but it helped and, after about an hour and a half of swatting anything that landed on me, I had the bugs tamed enough that I could sleep.

From there it was another long, flat water paddle past some nice, mature Birch forest, more Trumpeter Swans and lots of wild rice & ducks.

Around 10:30 I saw another sign of civilization in the form of a bridge. I thought about stopping and taking a break to walk around a bit (there was a nice landing and what appeared to be a boat ramp) but the map looked like there was another at the edge of Sedgman Lake Provincial Nature Reserve so I paddled on.

I arrived there around noon and it’s a really nice site. A gently sloping rock landing, a nice fire pit and several really nice tent pads had me, once more, wishing that I’d done this loop in August or early September.

As it was, there was some relief to be had from bugs on the sunny, breezy rock landing but anything back in the shade was teeming with tiny, thirsty and relentless flying vampires.

I made a quick lunch on the landing, filtered some water and checked the weather on the inReach. It said that rain was expected between 2 & 6 and I thought briefly about staying put but, with an open tarp unlikely to keep the bugs at bay, the idea of being cooped up in the tent all afternoon was enough to convince me to paddle on.

The clouds started rolling in and the wind was picking up but it didn’t really seem to be overtly threatening rain as I paddled on looking for moose and other wildlife (...shouldn’t they be concentrated in the preserve?... Maybe that's only during hunting season...)

The site itself wasn’t bad except that there was a bit more garbage here than most of the other sites. The landing was a huge, sandy beach, there was lots of room for tents and the breeze across the site provided a wonderful break from the bugs.

It’s obviously used more heavily than some of the others I’d visited but even this site didn’t look like it had seen any recent use.

By 3:30 the clouds were starting to thicken as I continued on down the Kap river and past the home of what I can only assume to be a very patriotic beaver. It still seemed like the storm might pass me to the North.

I beached the boat to investigate, found a really nice campsite and had just enough time to get the tent set up when the storm broke in a pretty impressive downpour.

It rained hard for almost 2 hours while I secured boat and paddles, gathered firewood, filtered water, explored my island home and took some pictures (quite a few with raindrops on the lens).

It finally stopped around 7:30 and I made supper, enjoyed a cup of brandy by the fire and watched the sun set behind the camp. 

I tried to wait until the very end to get the rosy hues but, in the end, the bugs won and I watched the sun fade from within the tent.

About an hour of paddling brought me to the campsite and, as I looked around, I was glad that I’d stopped where I did.

This one was nice. It had some good tent pads, a nice firepit area and some good views from the landing but it was tucked back completely in the trees so the views weren’t as open from in camp.

As with most of the campsites, this one did not show signs of recent or heavy usage. 

Unlike the others, this one had a bow hanging from a nail in one of the trees and I had to wonder how much time someone had spent carving it and how long it had hung there.

The next 2 ½ hours was more flat water paddling as the river weaved its way past marshy areas and some sparsely forested ones. There weren’t very many great places to get out and I found it a little surprising that the campsites I’d found weren’t used more heavily.

To be fair, it did seem to be the height of bug season so maybe they saw more use in the late Summer and Fall but it seemed that there were literally miles of river that could be accessed from the Ogoki road bridge and all of it was deep enough to use an outboard if one didn’t want to paddle.

Around One O’clock, I left the Kap river and paddled South through a slight narrows and into Stewart Lake. As I entered, I saw a red steel roof and a well-used, pretty battered canoe on my right.

I paddled closer to investigate and found a large wooden dock, several row boats up on the bank and a new looking cabin.

As the dock was mostly out of the water & all boats were well up on shore, it appeared that no one was around (or had been in awhile) and, needing to stretch my legs a little any way, I decided to, once more, be nebby and look around.

As I approached the cabin, I noticed a “Private Property” sign but, instead of the usual “KEEP OUT” message, I was pleasantly surprised by the more congenial tone.

I’m not even sure the front door was capable of being locked (at least from the outside) but I tried it, it was unlocked and, although I did not go in, it certainly looked like it had all the comforts of home and was built for four season use.

There was a pretty good hike uphill from the landing to the campsite and the site itself was very nice. Someone had built firewood storage, there were several nice tent pads and the biggest White Birch I’d ever seen.

If I were to stay overnight, I’m not sure I’d choose to camp here instead of avail myself of the apparent hospitality of the cabin but I’ve certainly camped in worse conditions (just two days prior, in fact).

I noticed that, away from the Kap river, the shorelines had begun to get more rocky and the large marshy areas were more rare. I enjoyed the change of scenery as well as the increased opportunities to go ashore and walk around to stretch my legs.

The South end of Stewart narrowed a little and there were, again, large areas of wild rice. I saw some metal on the shoreline to my left but it didn’t appear to be much (maybe a hunting blind) and the shoreline was steep and overgrown so I didn’t bother to investigate.

A couple of kilometers later the waterway narrowed even more and I started upstream toward Stone Lake.  Once again, the flow was indiscernible, the river was shallow and I suspect the moose hunting might be good.

I passed an old hunting stand, scared a bunch of ducks and then came across a huge cow moose belly-deep in her lunch.

Unlike the morning moose, she posed long enough for a nice picture, then high-tailed it for the bush and, in doing so, provided a couple of nice action shots.

I also saw another Dragonfly and I wondered why I wasn’t seeing more of them. With all the mosquitoes, it seemed that Dragonflies could feast to absolute gluttony… I had to wonder if most had done exactly that and were now to fat to fly… (alone in the woods for awhile, you start thinking about all kinds of weird stuff, I guess)

I was torn away from musing about the health and welfare of insects when, a little further upstream, I came across a newer hunting blind that was easily accessed from the water so I stopped to check it out and see what the field of fire looked like.

It felt great to be out of the hot sun even if it meant more blood loss and I was glad that I checked it out.

Honestly, even if the owner doesn’t get a moose from that stand, I’d think the view from the blind would make for a very pleasant day in the woods.

Although the portage trail was easy to follow and moose, obviously, use it, I was not a fan of this portage. Besides the omnipresent bugs, the trail was very swampy in places and the Alder growing low across the trail made it difficult to see where I was putting my feet.

Besides that, the day was very hot and I was sweating enough by the end that, if bugs detect prey via thermal signatures, I was shining like a beacon and probably drawing bugs all the way from Montreal.

I found a cached boat at the end of the portage so I dumped my gear upon it, sprayed myself liberally with Deet and sat in the shade for awhile before returning for the canoe.

The rest of the way to Stone Lake was uneventful but pretty and it took me about 45 minutes to reach the headwaters of the river where I got my first look at just how big the lakes were becoming on this route.

As I entered, I noticed a fishing outpost camp to my left with lots of overturned boats in the yard. I suspected that it was a bit further away than it looked and I was staring out at miles of open water so I didn’t bother to paddle over but, instead, took advantage of the fact that the lake was almost perfectly still.

It took about an hour to paddle the 4 km (2 ½ miles) to the campsite I was aiming for.

This one was situated on a huge piece of Canadian Shield rock, had lots of room in the woods for tents, a great view of the lake, a ton of eater-sized Northern Pike in the cove adjacent to the landing and, most surprisingly, the bugs weren’t bad at all.  (Note: I've since learned that the Walleye can be found off the other point; shown in the center of the following picture)

I was still really worried about the long, open-water crossing awaiting me on Ara Lake so, after supper, I messaged Rob to see if he could give me a wind forecast and to ask what the South shore was like.

He’d previously told me (in no uncertain terms) that Ara was not to be taken lightly and that, if I reached it when the wind was down, I’d best get across it ASAP.

Looking at the maps, it seemed that the shortest crossing was straight across from the cove I would portage into.

I was thinking that, if the wind was up, I’d sneak along the Northern shore to the campsite across from the Ara-Meta channel and try again the next day but, if winds were favorable, I’d get across right away and stay on the Southern shore to the channel and worry about camping options later.

Rob promptly messaged back that I should have very favorable winds (5-10 km/hr) from the NW and that he’s crossed as I’d proposed before and the South shore was fine.

With what seemed to be a solid game plan in mind, I send out the “all OK” message and turned in for the night.

Day 6

I didn’t stop to investigate either but, instead, turned South and made my first open water crossing of the day.

The Southern shore was lined with a thick wild rice patch and I cruised along the edge looking for some sign of the portage. This one was well marked with both styles of portage signs.

Once more, with hindsight being 20/20, I could have saved myself the effort and just waded in from the deep water edge of the wild rice.

I wasn’t 100 yards into the 1.6 km (1 mile) portage when I was, once again, knee deep in the swampy trail.

The rest of the portage didn’t get any better and it was simply a brutal, hot, bug-infested mess that made me, for the first time ever, happy to see a massive lake. There were two places where I had to clear (thankfully, small) blow downs and my trip notes indicate that, if I didn’t need the canoe to cross Ara, I was tempted to just leave it and hike back to the truck.

As it was, I think I dragged the canoe through more of the portage than I carried it, I wound up wading the landing at Ara anyway (but that helped wash off the mud) and I think I sprayed myself with more Deet than I ever had in my life.

On the plus side, there were blueberries everywhere and I even found Indian Pipes which I think are one the coolest wildflowers ever.

Ara Lake, with over 12,012 acres (48.6 sq km or almost 19 sq mi) of water is a massive lake and the bay that I portaged into was nearly as large as Stewart Lake had been the day before.

Seemingly in testament to the size of this behemoth, I was greeted near the launch by a Pelican. 

I’m not sure how large the ocean needs to be to support Pelican life but, already intimidated by the fact that I could scarcely see that there were trees on the far side of the lake, its presence was not helping.

It turned out to be a 2 km (1.25 mi) open water crossing and I then chose a point on the South shore that was about 1.5 km (1 mi) away and started toward it. I wasn’t terribly far into that paddle when (using the camera's zoom) I saw the first people I’d seen in a week: 2 boats full of fishermen working their way along the South shore in approximately the place that I was aiming for.

So as to not interfere with their fishing, because I was still enjoying my solitude and because the lake seemed content to remain like glass, I altered course to what would become the longest open water crossing of my life at 6km (3.75 miles).

The lake was actually calm enough that I could clearly see my wake for quite a ways behind me.

A little over an hour later, I, again, reached land and spotted a nice little esker beach where I pulled the canoe ashore to stretch my legs and filter some more water.

I rested there for awhile as I watched the small fishing boats motor past, their smiling occupants seemingly oblivious to my presence.

After about an hour of lounging on the beach, I paddled around the point and into the Ara-Meta channel where I found a much larger fishing camp and saw a couple of boats coming and going from it.

The speaker was John Wiersema and he and his wife Cheryl were returning home from fishing on Ara. For them, it truly was returning home as they own Meta Lake Lodge and, therefore, live on Meta lake all summer.

They seemed genuinely thrilled that I’d started at Marshall and done the loop and we chatted awhile about various topics before Cheryl asked where I was staying that night.

I said the maps showed a site at the South end of the lake, she affirmed that it was a nice, grassy area and then John suggested I turn left at the end of the channel & stay at the outpost camp that they have there as it was currently empty.

He asked Cheryl if the door was open and, when the answer was negative, said that I was welcome to camp in the yard, there was good fishing off the dock, an outhouse and a firepit.

When I said that I wasn’t a fan of huge lakes and wanted to get somewhat close to the portage in case the weather was worse tomorrow, he said that I was welcome to camp out in the yard of their lodge also as it was mowed which helped to keep the bugs at a minimum.

I thanked them for all the info, told them I’d say “hi” to Rob for them and they were on their way again.

About a half hour later, I tied up to the dock and looked around. It looked like an awesome little fishing camp with most of the comforts of home (plus a fish cleaning shed). Needing to stretch my legs any way, I walked all around the area, snooped in the windows and tried a few casts off the dock.

In the end, I decided that I was unlikely to find a better day to paddle big water than what I had so I’d paddle on and stay at the site at the South end of the lake just in case the weather turned sour.

At 8,050 acres, Meta lake is also big water although it lacks the large, open water areas that make Ara so troublesome and it has quite a few islands that make it seem smaller and would allow someone to get behind them if the wind were severe.

None of that, however, makes the paddling distance shorter and, from the dock of the outpost camp to the South inlet where the camp was marked on the map was 6.5 km (4 miles)

John & Cheryl seemed genuinely pleased to see me again and it was obvious that they’d told all their guests that they’d run into me on the water. It seemed that nearly everyone checked out the strip canoe that I was paddling as I hauled it and my gear onto the dock.

As I was trying to figure out where I could camp and be out of the way, John suggested that Cheryl just put me in cabin #4 as it was currently empty.

I was thus outfitted with the most luxurious accommodations I am likely to ever find in a backcountry canoe trip, complete w/ hot & cold running water, electricity 24/7 and a flush toilet.

I’d barely started to settle in when the cook came by, asked if I was hungry and offered some leftover lasagna.

Honestly, I was worried about how the guests would react to me dropping in but everyone I talked to (and they all seemed to drop by at some point) were welcoming and eager to swap stories. I sat at the picnic table sipping brandy and talking to a retired RAF pilot, a father and son from Texas and some folks from Michigan.

Cheryl stopped by just before dark and we talked a bit more when she told me that she’d met her husband while paddling the loop with Rob and 20 teen-aged school kids. She said that dragging the canoe most of the portage from Stone lake was probably standard operating procedure and that she hadn’t been paddling at all this year because she’d messed up her back.

In all, I found them all to be wonderful people and the experience reinforced the idea that, although I go to the woods to get away from everything and everyone, sometimes the people that you meet are the best part of the story.

Day 7

(I still find it odd to see a US flag in Canada but Cheryl says John, as well as many of their guests, are from the states and she likes the welcoming, international vibe of both flags… any way, on with the story...)

Not surprisingly, I slept better than I had all trip (although the island site 2 nights prior was close). I piled the sheets on the coffee table, moved gear to the porch and had just swept the cabin when Cheryl and her pup stopped by to invite me up to the lodge for coffee.

I found the portage to be as Cheryl had described it: long (2 km, 1 ¼ miles or 398 rods), swampy, buggy and miserable and I found 4 different places where I had to clear small trees that had fallen across the trail.  I was almost grateful for these as they afforded an opportunity to drop the pack but, of course, the bugs seemed to be thicker as soon as I stopped moving.

By the time I reached the road, I was, once again, tempted to just leave the canoe and let MNR tote it away from the shore but, after walking to the truck (the two portage trails are not across from each other but, instead, are about 2/10ths of a mile [300 meters or so] apart), I found that I didn’t have the keys.  

They were, of course, in the pack that I carry with the canoe so I had no choice but to return to the Meta landing.

In all, double portaging took about 4 very wet, bug-infested hours.  I think it’s Bill Mason who is often credited with saying that “portaging is like hitting your head; it feels SO good when you stop”.

I couldn’t agree more at that point.

The second time across the portage, however, I actually had the truck keys and, when I opened the door, there in the middle of the seat was the launcher for the bear (and moose?) bangers. I hopped in, fired it up and started down the road to pick up my stuff.

I hadn’t gotten far, however, when something felt horribly wrong & I had to get out to see if I had a flat tire.

I did not, so I started looking further and discovered that the upper shock mount on the driver’s side rear spring had broken which allowed the spring to bounce undampened on the wash-boarded road.

It had landed on the spare tire carrier when it fell so it wasn’t going anywhere and I wasn’t going to be able to fix it in the woods anyway so I hopped back in, loaded my stuff and drove a little more slowly on the way back to civilization.

I stopped in Aroland for fuel, turned onto 584 and, as I approached the area where I’d backtracked on the way up, I decided to stop & take one more look...

This was definitely not a questionable decision as, five minutes later I had found the missing dental prosthesis and was back on the road.

The closer I got to home, the heavier the traffic became and, as the houses got closer together, I started wondering if the bugs had really been all that bad…

Maybe I shouldn’t have been such a sissy or perhaps I could have worn more Deet…

I think I might prefer bugs to people but I realize, also, that those feelings may very well be situational… I’ll try to update you again after the next trip North but that will, almost certainly, not be until 2025.

Wrap-up:

Hindsight being 20/20, I’ll have to try to remember to be more careful when getting maps off of a self-proclaimed masochist.  Although I think this trip would have been far more enjoyable without the bugs (I think I mentioned that the bugs were pretty bad), this really was an awesome trip but, in many ways, I think it was tougher than the Steel River had been (especially the last two portages).

I really wish I’d have done it in early September when the days were cooler and the blackflies were done.

Comparing this to the Steel River, I found the scenery more diverse on the Steel but the fishing superior on this trip. I had a lot more luck seeing wildlife on this trip and, given the state of the portage trails, the route seems to see only a fraction of the traffic that the Steel does.

There was a lot more flat water paddling on this route and camping possibilities in many areas are limited due to the huge, marshy areas on either side of the rivers.

I would not hesitate to do either of them again but, honestly, the most likely to get a “do over” is this one, simply because the fishing was so good and I really didn’t feel like I took the time to enjoy all that this one had to offer.

Whatever it is, I’ll post it here. Probably with entirely too many pictures but, hey, what can ya do? I’ll probably get lost at least once and lose something too… I might even find it again. 

Until then, get out when you can and Godspeed to all.