Start the Isle Royale trip report at the beginning, click here.
The VHF promised benign conditions, including tailwind, for most of Day 4. After that, though, it warned of a shift in wind direction. And Day 1 had given us all the insights we needed into kleppers and wind direction. So Hart proposed we skip the Rainbow Cove campsite and shoot for something closer to our Windigo takeout. If all went well, this meant 
not using any of our wind days and even finishing one day early. Ray explained that this was not a problem, since our shuttle boat, the Wenonah, could take us back if they had room at no extra charge. I was of mixed minds - I loved the south shore of Isle Royale, and would have liked to stay. But I also like having a job, and my employer was not thrilled about my lack of guaranteed presence the following Monday. So, I figured, just as well...
I solo-paddled the south shore, with instructions to stick my flag where I ended up. This part of Isle Royale is more remote than the rest - there are no facilities for powerboats, and given the guidebook doom/gloom warnings, it is not overrun with kayakers. This is a shame for them - because there are all these beautiful red beaches, and it feels like true wilderness. And I enjoyed it. For a change, I landed and took breaks. Even with the change in itinerary, we didn't have far to go. Our goal was Grace Island, though our permit also permitted wilderness camping in designated areas (which I understood as *inside* Washington Harbor, but it turns out I didn't listen well enough).
I was swarmed by gnats on parts of my paddle, which was not fun - they went wherever there was no breeze. There was no breeze inside my pfd, inside my nostrils, behind my glasses, and in my ears. Grrrrrr. They stopped abruptly when I entered Grace Harbor, but instead it felt like I went from cruising easily to stirring molasses. I don't know if this was due to some headwind I didn't notice, or a current, but I felt much like a kite must feel (yes, I know, personification) when the wind stops lifting it. So I happily landed at the Grace Island dock (at 11 a.m.).
I didn't like Grace Island. It felt overgrown. It had two shelters and no tent-pads. It was nice, in the camping in a meadow nice, but keep in mind that I'd just spent a night on exposed coastline at Atwood Beach. I am a fan of exposed coastlines. I looked around, I thought about it... and I relaunched my boat. And paddled into Washington Harbor, and looked... and found nothing. So, not overly happy, I returned to Grace Island, and claimed a shelter - and lost no time scrambling to the other side of the island with my book. It was from this vantage point that I saw Hart, and he came close to my rock to say hello.
Hart had a good point: if we didn't like the site, it's not like we had to spend time there. More specifically, he expressed a desire to paddle to Windigo, because he was out of cigarettes. Windigo was only 6 or 7 km away from Grace Island. When Ray showed up, he proposed this. Ray in turn proposed that we all sleep in one shelter. I did not like this idea. Men snore. I had not brought earplugs. I like sleeping. So I pouted, and Ray and Hart agreed to take the *other* shelter and leave me in my splendid girly isolation. 
And then Hart and I paddled to Windigo. This was the first time since the beginning of the trip that I got to paddle with Hart, and he *flew*. I felt like we were in a race. I did not want to lose. Neither did Hart, apparently - because we got to the dock in Windigo in 45 minutes! Where Hart swam, and I explored a bit, and then we drank cold pop on the dock waiting for our energy levels to come back from that sprint. And then there was a pleasant hour-long paddle back. It was lovely. I got lost in my own puttering again, and forgot Hart was even there (within 500m "there"), so clearly I have nothing to complain about with this paddling alone thing...
At Grace Island, Ray told us of the ranger who explained the one shelter per party rule, but I guess he also told of the princessy girl who won't sleep anywhere near snoring men, because the ranger sort of agreed. He apparently said that we'd have to clear one of the shelters if another party came. And apparently, during the course of this conversation... another party came. And the ranger magically convinced them to go away! Hurrah. But I missed this excitement. I was paddling.
Our last evening was mellow. Since there was no good place to sit by the water at the campsite proper, we followed a trail to a sandspit for the sunset. And then I slept in my palatial shelter by myself, and then... it was morning. And the trip was over. I paddled by myself once more, into Windigo, where I had a shower and put my gear away long before Hart and Ray showed up. And then there was a fair bit of hanging out and killing time until the Wenonah took us away at 3:30.
Of note: Hart kept saying we could cross back to the mainland. A crossing bigger than anything I have *ever* done. He must have had too much sun. Or really hated waiting for the ferry. In any case, we did nothing foolish like this. Instead, we ate chocolate bars. And felt out of place with all the daytrippers in blue jeans (but they were so clean!). And then, we went home. And now, I have finished writing my trip report. The end.
