Oh my wilderness - part 6

As expected I awoke to the pitter patter of rain. I broke camp and tried to keep things as dry as possible. Wetness tends to stick and stink and neither did I perfer too much. With my full rain gear donned, I paddled out of Rock Lake without much delay. Steadily, yet softly, the rain continued its cadence.
A 65 rod portage transfered me into Oyster Lake, a large lake with 6 campsites. I considered using 1 site as a portage a a shortcut through a long peninsula, but thought the site would be occupied. However, it was not and I maintained a route around the peninsula. After rounding the peninsula my navigation skills plummeted. I miscalculated my position and thus took over an hour to find the portage into the Oyster River.
The rain ceased as I traversed the portage. During the past few days, when not praying, I had unconsciously begun to make up portaging songs based on the tunes of "Frosty the Snowman" and a few other Christmas tunes.
Thumpy, thump, thump
Thumpy, thump, thump
Over the portage trail.
All but this one I have since forgotten probably because of the harrowing experience in the "delta" of the Oyster River.
The Oyster River is a waterway of little renowned in the BWCA. It is hardly a trickle at its source out of Oyster Lake. In fact you could miss it on the map if it were not for 3 portages in and out of it. However, after a portage of 60 rods, the river swells until it is about as wide as a tennis court. The Oyster is another lazy river much like the Moose. I took advantage of the calm near straightness of it and swiftly descended.
I hoped I 'd be out of the BWCA before 2PM but one choice ensured it would not be so. A choice so deadly I need to continue this tale later.