I do not know at what age children learn that objects continue exist even if they are out of sight, but this seems to be a lesson I have had to relearn in regards to the canoe. I spend nearly all day attached to it, and then set up my tent right beside it at night. Sometimes I wake up during the night, worrying about whether my canoe has been washed away, blown away, or somehow blinked out of existence in quantum fluctuation that I try to set up my tent so the canoe is easily visible out one door. Somehow pulling it completely out of the water and tying it to a tree isn't as good as really seeing it.
So I was glad when I got back from Moose Jaw to see that the canoe still existed, completely unmolested. I didn't know how long I was going to be out at Moose Jaw, so I had written on the side of the canoe the places I had been so far, and how long I had been out on this adventure so far. I was disappointed I couldn't spend another night in Moose Jaw, but by the time I started looking there were no rooms available anywhere. So I had to stash my things in the library until six, see everything, pick up groceries, bike back to the park, and canoe across the lake to find my camping spot. By the time I got there it was quite dark and so the spot was merely serviceable.
The next day was a lazy one, a recovery day. I slept in, to start. The wind was going the wrong day to get off the lake in a hurry, and I wasn't sure how hard the portage at the end would be. A thunderstorm picked up, so I got off the water to get out of the lightning. Then it began raining, so I set up my tent. Too slowly! It was soaked through by the time I got it up, and I found better shelter under the trees.
The rain ended quickly. I stayed there the rest of the day, a nice sandy beach with plenty of space for reading and writing while I waited for my tent to dry out.
Day 36 ended: 50*34.971N, 105*21.485W