Now, where were we? Oh yes, Hope Island, which is south of St. Ignace Island. On the Darrell-marked-up maps it has a smiley face campsite and a notation about a sea arch. The smiley face campsite we'd rejected due to its exposed landing, only to pick an equally exposed beach. 
The sea arch we got a good look at in the morning, right after we launched. And by "we launched" I mean that I climbed into my boat in 1m deep water while David, Kevin and Jim held it so that it would not be banged up, and then I did up my sprayskirt and they gave me a good push. I can take credit for not hitting the rocks on my way out of the little surf zone, but that's about it! Anyway - sea arch, pretty. Even prettier? Sunshine. No fog. No fog *anywhere*. It was like a whole other lake (and I got wistful, looking back at the stuff we *hadn't* seen.)
Let's also remember that I was still in a bit of stinky mood. As per my resolve, I made no attempt to figure out a destination or discuss it - not my problem! - and I paddled (drifted) at the very end of the pack. It was pretty oh so pretty. I made a proper effort to study the rocks and coves in the minute detail that I was clearly missing out on by paddling continuously, though I saw nothing that I would not have by paddling at my multitasking pace. (Still not over it.) When Kevin pulled out his fishing rod, I wondered if the next day I should put my novel in my map case. And I sat, and I drifted, and then I paddled another couple of strokes. As long as I was at least 100m behind the last paddler, I was meeting all my goals.
And then Kevin got a fish. Now, at this point, both David and Jim were pretty far ahead. Kevin called me over. The first time, I just assumed that he was calling someone else, and continued my in-depth study of the landscape and waiting for the deeper experience that I had been missing all these years with my paddling style to manifest itself. The second time, I realized it was my attention he wanted, and I had to get over my surliness and go raft up with him and hand him his gaff and do other things as instructed. Despite my best efforts, I got a little bit excited when he landed the fish. I caught myself in time, though, and returned to my quest for enlightenment as soon as he had the fish on his stringer. But then he caught another one! This time, I needed less coaxing to paddle over. It was pretty hard to maintain my stinky mood by this point, but I was still trying. I achieved one goal: I paddled into the bay that Jim wanted to have lunch in last, at least.
That's where I discovered that Jim also wanted to camp there (it was noon). I wasn't keen on the idea - the bay was too far away from the open lake for my liking, and there was evidence of recent bear activity. Also, the beach was really steep, and the cobbles were not the rounded pebbles I like, and there was not much chance of finding interesting rocks. Jim wanted to go on some hike that involved rope and sweat, and made it clear that he would be very ticked off if he came back and this was not the campsite. Kevin seconded the ticked off if we wanted to move motion, so the best I could do was plunk myself in the shade and procrastinate on setting up camp. David joined me, and the two of us did not move except to get a beer for the entire time that Kevin was in the bush chasing after Jim. He didn't catch him. When he returned, David and I were in the exact same position as when he left. I only moved to stake out a camp spot on the lowest part of the beach in a place with nice round pebbles (also, in a place that was down the treacherous slope from where the bears live.)
By the time dinner rolled around, I was bored with being in a bad mood. That, and there was more of the delicious food that goes with David. Tell me, when was the last time you were on a paddling trip and you had those little French lentils and freshly caught fried fish (this night, it was in tempura batter)? I thought so... Also, there were no bear visits, and no clouds, and the next morning, it was *still* clear. I'm sure the starts were beautiful that night as well, but I wouldn't know because I was sleeping.
On our second-last day, the lake was calm, the sky was blue, and the pace was languid. I continued to putter along behind everyone else, and continued my attempt to see more than mere mortals do by staring at things like columnar basalt so long that I had a good chance at hypnotizing the rocks. Kevin continued to fish, though this time the fish were not interested. We saw more people this day than at any other point in the trip - it was getting obvious that we were within weekend distance to Rossport and it was, actually, a weekend.
David pulled into an exposed beach on Simpson Island for a break. I got out of my boat and saw an agate! For a good half hour, David and I sat by the water and sifted through the pebbles while Jim and Kevin were bored (good! I thought.) The rock fun continued at a different beach at lunch - this time, there was all this sparkling white and purple quarzite. Also, there were these smoked salmon/wasabi/cucumber rollup things courtesy of David that were my favourite lunch of the trip. And Kevin caught his first fish of the day. He didn't catch his second one while we were moving as a group. 
However, while David and I continued our digging through the pebbles obsession on a narrow beach in Morn Harbour, Kevin landed another one. I wasn't there to see it, I was busy finding agates, but I was definitely there when it came to eating it that night.
Our last night was bittersweet. The weather was great, as was the company. The food was stellar - and warranted a special effort for the last night. Kevin asked me if the stove needed re-fueling. I checked it, and said, "I think it's got about an hour and a half of burn time there." "Better top it up, then," Kevin said, and 
(somewhat redundantly at this point,) "dinner's going to be later today." In response, David pulled out a massive buffet of all sorts of treats still squirreled away in the drybags, and we snacked on smoked oysters and anchovies and dark chocolate...
And just like that, our last full day was over! Oh, there was a full moon and stars and a campfire and all that, but really - over. All that was left was a few hours of paddling out, and loading boats and crap like that. Really, if I wasn't returning to visit the cutest baby in the world and his stellar parents, and if I didn't have plans to go out for beers with Kevin in Thunder Bay that night, I might have had to be in a bad mood again. As it was, we got thisclose to having David and Jim stay another night because of a forgotten car key in a shuttle, but some hero came to the rescue and drove to Pass Lake and ... sigh... after a celebratory ice cream bar (courtesy of David, of course!) it was all over. Sniff.
The Postscript: I bitch a lot about how slow we were, how much fog there was, what a bad mood I was in. That's all true, except for the part I left out, which is the part where this was one of the best trips I ever went on (and not *just* because of the food, though the food was *definitely* the best tripping food I've ever eaten.) The route was wonderful, the paddlers good company, the rocks worth picking up. I exaggerate the pokiness of Kevin, because his response to my saying I might take some potshots at him on-line was along the lines of "bring it on." (Also, I've discovered that he's left a stack of cryptic anonymous comments here in the past, and these pissed me off.) And one of the best highlights for me was getting to know another person I want to do the longer trips with, as this was the first backcountry trip I'd ever done with David.