The place is Quetico Park. The time is the worst of all: Time to go home.
My paddling partner, and Uncle, were packing the gear and getting ready to hit the road back to Thunder Bay when, with heavy hearts, we stomped down the path to our kayaks. They were stowed on a rock platform just in front of the water about 15 feet below our campsite, upside down. I took the stern and he took the bow and we rolled his beast of a kayak over. Now, I could see inside the front of the cockpit, right next to the divider, that something wasn't right. There was a furry black body with a very noticeable white stripe running down it, comfortably sleeping inside his kayak. I said "We have a skunk on board." He didn't believe me, shrugging it off with a forced laugh and a "good one". It wasn't until he bent over and stuck his face mere inches away from the intruder that he believed me. What could we do? If it sprayed, it would be a harsh ride home and an even harsher cleaning job later. So, we tried some forceful persuasion. We flipped the kayak back over and threw it in the lake. I've never seen a skunk swim, but, by god, did it swim. No spray, no harm done, just a little unwanted moisture.

The end.