Oh my wilderness - part 4

I did not leave Lake Agnes until just after noontime. I soon discover that my canoe performs better in choppy water and paddling into the wind. After 2 easier portages I am in Lac La Croix and I discover I have a large hole developing in my trousers in an embarrassing place. I cannot show much displeasure with them since they only cost $6.
Speedily I made my way to the vicinity of Warrior Hill and the pictographs. This area is particularly congested by wilderness standards. I see about a dozen canoes in a little under an hour.
Although it was tempting to cross over Canadian waters to see the picto-graphs up close, I did not. My decision was based on my discussion with a Forest Service agent. She said that the Canadian officials said that crossing into Canadian waters would require a visit to Canadian customs even if you did not touch Canadian land. This "official" decree soured my plans. On the American side about a half mile away I could hardly make out any pictographs, even with binoculars. As I sat in my canoe I watched as other parties went towards the ancient art. I even saw people climbing the cliffs around the pictographs. Were they Americans? Who knows? I entertained myself as I watched some adventurous persons jump off the cliffs into the lake. A few moments later I proceeded to continue northward to Fish Stake Narrows.
Because there are so few portages through this area it is rather popular. Originally I planned to camp near the pictographs. However I desired a bit more seclusion and decided to change my return route. Instead of going back the way I came, I decided I would loop west through a few lakes and rivers and some long portages.
As six o'clock drew near I began to scout for campsites to no avail. I went throw the narrows as 7 o'clock came near and sundown would arrive in about an hour. Using binoculars looked and looked for an empty site but I kept find the telltale signs of an occupied site- strung up clothing. I began to get upset as campsites were further and further apart. I began to get anxious. Finally, I prayed "Lord, give me a campsite tonight." I rearranged the baggage in the canoe and almost miraculously the craft began to cruise straighter than it had ever done before.
Only 1 campsite in the vicinity had I not checked. If this one was full I would have to paddle another mile until another campsite. The site was situated on a peninsula to the west. The sun obscured my sight so I paddled closer keeping my ears open for voices. The site add a long sandy beach which is rather rare in this rocky area. I approached cautiously. I pull up on the beach and tip toe up a hill dreading the sight of a clothesline.
None existed. The camp was empty. I peered around a bit- a grassy area for a tent, a tall but accessible branch on a large tree, another sandy beach on the opposite side, and a well built cooking area. I was blessed. I thanked God. Not only did He give me a campsite but gave me perhaps one of the very best campsites. Needless to say, I slept well that night.