I woke-up this past Sunday on the bank of the Baptism River.  It was one of those perfect autumn mornings in northern Minnesota.  The tent was a little frosty and my nose was cold, yet I was snug and warm in my sleeping bag.  On either side of me both my boys were fast asleep in their little mummy bags - I could have lay there forever listening to the sound of the river, the chickadees and two little snorers.



Alas, nature called.  So I got out of my bag, threw on another layer and went ...
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