So I have a go. And it fails twice. This is getting infuriating. We put Bruce on the rope and we finally get a sample. We let Bruce do all the work from then on! I'm busy coiling the rope, and Laura-Lee does the bagging and recording. Fred does his best to keep us on the GPS station point.
Its another glorious sunny day, so we amble back slowly for lunch and stop to watch some otters on the way.
After lunch we have Rebecca steering. She's getting used to handling the boat. We see a Mom and Pup pair diving and feeding so we radio the other boat to put them on to it.
We carry on with the bottom sampling. Laura-Lee is clearly enjoying the mud - she now not only has samples in the zip-loc bag, but also over her white t-shirt. She writes 'MUD' in big letters across it, and leaves a couple of hand-prints. I join in by doing warpaint stripes across my face.
At 5pm we make for a rocky shore and get off the boat to hike the short distance back to the cove. I have the coordinates of the camp in my GPS so I know how far it is! There's plenty of bear scat in the forest. Delicate flowers grow on the wet bog. We emerge from the woods to the beach in sight of the camp and stroll along the shaley sand past a few cabins and back to the tents.
Randall has been over at Fred's parent's cabin sipping gin. It's a hard life for a Principal Investigator. He turns up at our camp and we unload the mud samples and equipment. I have a quick wash in the cold mountain water from the hose at the beach. I wash my mud off, but Laura-Lee is treasuring hers.
I'm filled with pasta and sauce for dinner, topped off with delicious bread pudding. Randall cracks open the cheap brandy - in a plastic bottle - to pour on top. He and Fred discuss the merits of generators as the data is entered.
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