Canoe Trip 2018

June 22^nd Day One

I pick up my permit at the Canoe Lake park office. There are no bear warnings on the white board, a first.  However, there is news about one of the portage routes I might be taking later from Sunbeam Lake to Tom Thomson Lake. Already one the ponds on the route is nothing but mud. I ask if there is any news about my preferred alternate route through Vanishing Pond, so named because it vanishes when the water levels drop. If there is now mud one place maybe there is the same in the other. The staff say they’ve heard nothing. I’ll worry about it later, I think, not knowing I would have much more to be concerned about by then.

It’s a good day, overcast, warm and with little wind. I am using a Swift Pack Canoe for the first time, 13.9 feet long and weighing about 26 pounds. The seat is the same as a kayak, putting me lower in the canoe with a back rest. I have my own 260-centimeter kayak paddle, longer than normal to accommodate the canoe’s width and freeboard. At first it feels strange, sitting lower in the canoe, but the back rest is nice. I am soon accustomed to and liking this design. The paddle to the first portage out of Canoe Lake is easy. I see no one else beyond the shore after leaving and no one at the take-out when I arrive. Aa week from now the route will be jammed and there will be a line up at the portage. This is the advantage of going earlier in the season despite the mosquitoes. So far, they are no bother.

I double carry the portage, one trip with the canoe pack which weighs over 50 lbs. and the paddles, the next with the canoe and my smaller pack. This portage is 260 metres long and flat. It’s easy. I’ve brought too much stuff and see now that if I’m tired or the terrain rugged, it will be three trips per portage. I’ve got to correct this in the future. I have seen young guys carry their canoe packs, heavier than mine, and their canoe. I remind myself that I’m old enough to be their grandfather and leave it at that, not pleased with myself but reconciled.

It’s about 9 kilometers to my camp site and I set off from the put-in toward Joe Lake. It is a beautiful day. The sun is out. It’s warm and there are no mosquitoes in the middle of the lake. I see a few other canoeists paddling in the opposite direction, all without canoe packs, so on excursions from their cottage,  of which there are a few in this area, or their base camp. Some have mosquito netting from their hats around their heads. This I take as a warning of what must be closer to shore, but am puzzled why they would not remove the netting out here in the open water where mosquitoes are few to none.

An hour or so later I am approaching the north end of Little Joe Lake where I am to follow a river to the next portage. The map is clear. The lake will narrow until there is no choice but to enter the channel. Of course, clear on the map is not the same looking ahead and seeing no sign of any entrance to a stream or river channel. Confident in my navigation, well almost, I just keep going. Approaching the end of the lake where I expect to find my way out, I see a moose and then another. I pause to take some pictures. A couple in a canoe are paddling toward me and doing the same. I am reassured since they must have come out of the channel ahead apparently hidden by the grass. The moose look up at us briefly and then keep on nuzzling below the water. Is there any moose in all of Algonquin who is not used to camera happy canoeists? If we mind our own business they mind theirs, not very handsome, big, mostly peaceful, but not to be provoked or riled, Canadian.

I approach the grassy bank ahead and the river reveals itself, just as I expected. Yeah, right. Canoeing a small river is one of my favourite things. The trees, the grasses, the banks are close and hide what is around the next bend. It seems more adventurous, discovering each new turn and waiting for what lies ahead in the next. One could say the trees, grass, water and views are all pretty much the same. No, just look closely. They are not.

I come to the first short 100 metre portage. I can skip it because the water is high enough to get past and over the rocks which will be become barriers when the level drops later in the summer.  A few minutes later a white-tailed deer to my right looks over its shoulder. Quickly assessing me as no threat it returns to eating. We have had as many as five deer lying down for a rest in our backyard in Toronto, our house being on the edge of the Don Valley ravine. Being here in this back country with this deer is different, satisfying: no house, no patio door, only a canoe and some packs, then the deer and me. I don’t bother to take a picture.

About 15 minutes later the day’s last portage, 435 metres long, should be coming up. But where is it? The channel divides and I take the wrong way which is apparent in a few minutes. Back the other way I come up to the take-out. Steps are built down to the water. Sitting low in the canoe and looking up, It looks like the entrance to a temple  “OMG I’m in the Heart of Darkness” I say to myself imaging the natives from the movie standing on the steps. OK that is an overreaction. But remember it’s late afternoon and I’ve been paddling alone for a while, just me and my thoughts.

A lot of portage take outs and put ins are easy for two people and a canoe but need some thinking for one person alone. In this case I plan to carry everything up the steps one thing at a time, the canoe being light at 26 lbs, I can carry under my arm. Tomorrow stopping to think before acting will become important.

The put-in at Baby Joe Lake is easy. I know I am a five-minute paddle from my campsite. There is no need to look for a good choice because there is only one site on this lake and I have reserved it. I am looking forward to setting up and settling in for the evening and night.

The camp site is fine except for a tree that has fallen straight on top of the thunder box, leaving it in tact but unusable. I try to lift it off, but it is too heavy. A small dug hole in the ground it will have to be. I put up the tent and skip the tarp because the weather is good, and I don’t want to waste time having to take it down in the morning. Dinner is steak, frozen when I set out in the morning and now ready to fry with vegetables and fried onions on the side. I pour myself some red wine. Let’s not take this wilderness thing too far – two Platypus containers of fine red wine are essential! I am feeling grungy from the days journey so decide to grab the soap and take a swim. Wearing only my water shoes as a precaution against the unknown bottom, I’m in and feeling great in the warm water. Out, dried off and its time for one last sip of wine.

Until now the mosquitoes at the site have been just annoying. At dusk that changes quickly. The invasion begins, and I retreat to the inside of my tent. They are so dense I can hear their ceaseless drone outside the tent. It’s a mosquito blitz. A bull frog takes up its periodic croak nearby at the shore. I’m comforted by the sound, not worried that it will keep me awake. After reading into the dark, I fall asleep accompanied now and then by the voice of my froggy friend.

June 23^rd Day Two

I get up about 6 am. I’ve had a good sleep and want to be underway for today’s journey. It’s got a lot of portaging, starting with what will be an easy 200 meters to get from Baby Joe Lake to Burnt Island Lake. After canoeing Burnt Island east and then north things will get a little harder, a sequence of portages with very short paddles in between: 540 meters, paddle, 495 meters, paddle, 110 meters, paddle, and finally 390 meters to Sunbeam Lake where I will camp for the night.

First, I have breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon and then pack up. It’s a short 10-minute paddle to the first portage. There are steps at the take out, just a few, nothing like yesterday’s. It’s an easy level carry, two trips, first the canoe pack, then the small pack and canoe. I have about 5 kilometres to go to the portage out of Burnt Island Lake.

I expect the first in this series of portages to be the most challenging. The map shows a 30-metre rise in the land to the mid point. I set off with the canoe pack on my back watching the path closely for spots where I can trip or are otherwise hazardous. There are a lot of exposed roots and rocks and a few necessary awkward steps up and down. It is a series of steep climbs alternating with a flat or descending trail. The mosquitoes are dense. I pull up the mesh hood of my bug jacket and zip up. It makes it difficult to see the path clearly. Even the bug spray I put on doesn’t seem to prevent the mosquitoes trying for my bare hands. At the put-in I can see how one person can easily drop the canoe or trip with it. I’ll lay it down back a bit from the water when I get it here and think out the best way to walk it in. Two people could easily carry it at their side over the obstacles without concern. Solo requires a little planning. Back I go to get the rest occasionally hollering to let any bears know I’m here. Eventually with everything in the canoe I paddle about 10 minutes across Jay Lake to the next portage.

It is frustrating to load the canoe paddle a short distance and unload it again. Loading and unloading takes the same time regardless of the length of the portage. I also have to change from my water shoes into hiking boots and back again when the portage is finished. I pause at the next take-out to drink purified water. I notice I am gulping a lot of it, not surprising as I have been sweating on the carries. I am a little surprised that I am not hungry now that it is afternoon and I have been burning a lot of calories. I decide to eat a little anyway, a power bar and some delicious sausage. I save some trail mix for later. I don’t yet realize that I am becoming ill and the lack of appetite is the first sign.

The next portage, 495 metres is also challenging. I am getting tired, more tired than I should. I am in good physical condition and this fatigue is unexpected and a little worrisome. I am very thirsty and drink plenty of purified water but have no appetite whatsoever. I notice that my right hand is swelling slightly from mosquito bites. I don’t itch from black fly or mosquito bites which is great except I don’t realize how much I’ve been bitten. When I return to the take-out to make the second trip I worry that I will trip with the 30-pound light pack and the canoe on my shoulders at the same time. The fatigue has eroded my self confidence. I know I can afford the time and decide to make an extra trip. This turns the portage into 5 trips including back and forth. Then I put everything into the canoe and paddle 5 minutes to the next take-out. This is a short 110 meter portage.  I unload, carry, load again. The put in is treacherous but after stopping a moment to think through how I would bring the canoe down a steep and rocky slope to the water it worked out OK. I notice that I am slowing down and still have no appetite. The thought of food is becoming repulsive. I am drinking lots of water, so I don’t think I am dehydrated. That with lost appetite would be a sign of exhaustion. I feel myself getting weaker but able to keep going. There is no other choice except will power. I am alone out here and won’t see anyone else until I am on Sunbeam Lake.

Under normal conditions the last 390 metre portage would not be too bad, easy grades up and down, lots of exposed roots and rocks and few tricky spots, but nothing horrendous. The put-in at the other end is very rocky and will require some careful stepping with the canoe on my shoulders. I have the same plan: put it down, think it out, pick it up and focus on what I am doing. Focus is the key to everything I am doing on these and other portages. I cannot afford to become careless and sprain or break an ankle. I am going slower now for that reason and because the fatigue is coming on gangbusters. I know my body well enough to know now that this isn’t just the effort. Something is wrong.  My lower right quad cramps briefly while I am carrying the canoe and I swear, ready to put it down. The cramp goes away quickly, and I go on without having to stop. Finally, all my stuff and I are at Sunbeam Lake, where I’ll camp tonight. I carry the canoe wading into the water and dump it down – thump, splash. It feels so good to be here! I would dance a jig if I had the energy. Its about 4:30 pm well past my intended arrival time but with plenty of time left to find a campsite.

I set out paddling into the lake with a campsite on my map in mind. I’d like something exposed to the breeze to blow away mosquitoes. Sitting and paddling feels wonderful compared to carrying on the portages. I see campers by their campfires and can’t wait to put up my tent. The breezing sites are taken. I find one that seems good, land off-load, pull up the canoe and put up the tent. I crawl inside lie down without anything but my air inflated pillow and fall asleep. I wake up at 8:00 pm. I cannot stand the thought of eating, so dinner is a no. I get out my sleeping bag and inflate my air mattress. Now I should do a bear hang of my food dry sack. Should, should, should. I cannot find the energy to look for a suitable tree. “Fuck you bear, if you want it you’ve got it, I can’t eat anyway.” and I tie the food sack to the trunk of a tree well away from the tent. With that I straightened up the camp site said hello to another frog friend who croaks from the shore and retreat from the beginning mosquito blitz into the tent.

July 24^th Day Three

Wow did I sleep! – right through until 10:00 am. This is going to make for a late start and arrival to my next destination, Tom Thomson Lake. The “Fuck you bear” never showed up. I make a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. Two tastes of scrambled eggs and I almost throw up. I force myself to try a bagel and can only eat a bit. I can’t figure this out. If I have a stomach problem, why don’t I have the runs or throw up whatever is in there, bile even if its nothing? Why do I gag trying to swallow food? I’m not collapsing. I know I can make the day’s trip, but I’m worried. It’s time to stuff those thoughts along with my gear and get going.

My target is a take-out to for a short 100 metre portage to Vanishing Pond, vanished or not, I will find out. I get to the spot where the take-out should be. I see something that looks possible but there is no sign (usually it is easy to see a yellow sign on a tree near the water that indicates a portage). There is another route to Tom Thomson which includes portages like yesterday’s. I do something stupid. Rather than go ashore at my suspected portage site and check it out I paddle to the other end of the lake to the other way that is clearly marked by a sign on a tree by the water. Later I realize that my back-country instincts are good, and I should trust them, that when I am not well it is even more important to listen to my instincts, stop, think it through to be sure, choose and then act efficiently. Instead I waste time and energy.

I put in at the other take out. I decide to walk into the portage a bit to check it out. I am sure it is not that bad. But in my state it looked too much for me as I stared at a steep incline of rocks and exposed roots that also sloped to a drop off on the left (actually not so terrible). At this point I figure I have used about 3,000 calories with no replacement. It means I am using all my fat and now muscle. Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing. I fear I won’t be able to repeat yesterday.  “Fuck this, I’m going back to find the other way.” And so, I return to the suspected first portage. “Stupid is as stupid does”.

This time I paddle in close. I see the yellow sign on a tree back from the water, partly hidden by branches. Good, now things are getting back on track. It’s an easy 100 meter portage and there it is – Vanishing Pond that hasn’t vanished. I put the canoe on the water and step into the pond to load the canoe pack. I sink to my calves in mud. OK no problem. I put the canoe pack where it belongs in the canoe. I try to lift my left foot – nothing. That’s sucky mud! “This is how it ends? Tired, stuck in the mud?” Somehow appropriate.  The second try – nothing. The third try works. With my left foot on a rock the right comes free.

I am happy paddling on vanishing pond because I know there is only one more 405 metre flat portage left between me and a camp site on Tom Thomson. That’s aside from the beaver dam to cross going into Tom Thomason – not a problem, I’ve done it before. A short paddle of 10 minutes brings me to the tall grasses and the channel leading south. As always as I enter channels like this my sense of isolation increases, but in a good way. I could scream as loud as I wanted, and no one would hear me. The channel twists and turns, leading me where I want to go, but unpredictable in how many diversions it will take before getting there, a bit like my life I guess. I forget about whatever has drained my strength. I am sitting, and paddling does not take as much of my energy, especially in this confined windless winding path. Soon I come to my first, unexpected beaver dam. I get over it easily standing on the branches under water and pulling the loaded canoe over. There will be three more before I reach the portage.

Finally, at the take out; I change from my water shoes to my hiking boots. Well look at that! – a leech is on my right foot next to a couple of toes. Right, “African Queen”, that’s what I’ve been doing. I pick it off thinking “They’re not that bad. Humphrey Bogart, yes!”. Now it’s paddling to Tom Thomson lake.

I am across the beaver dam, an easy pullover, and looking for a camp site. I head toward the western end of the lake knowing a few sites there that would be good. Passing occupied sites, I find one I like, open to the breeze on a point. I set up the tent, find the thunder box in perfect condition, and following a trail a short distance discover a perfect bear hang tree for my food sack. I get the ropes and set it up for later. I’m going to be here for two nights and look forward to settling in; no traveling tomorrow. I can sleep in as long as I want. I’m still thirsty and drinking lots of water. I decide I will make some dinner and start putting together a dehydrated Hungarian goulash I made at home. It will be served over egg noodles. Re-hydrated an hour later I am heating it on the stove. It smells great. I think I have my appetite back. But no, I force myself to eat a little but can’t stand more than a couple of swallows. I am able to eat the noodles not with any relish, but I can at least make them go down. It’s not going to be good if this continues. I decide to lie down.

Suddenly I crave ginger lemon tea. I imagine this will make everything better and I packed some along with Earl Grey. I look through the food sack. Nothing – the one thing I forgot to pack. It was a last-minute thought and I didn’t write it on my packing list, hence no discovery it was missing when I did the final check off before leaving home. I go back to lie down and read, looking forward to an early sleep. A breeze comes up and there are almost no mosquitoes, no blitz drone outside the tent. Again, a frog starts croaking in the dark an answer from another coming in the distance. I start to think about a vanilla milkshake of all things and fall asleep imagining having one as soon as I get back, the first I will have had in years.

July 25^th Day Four

I sleep in to about 10:00 am. I make some scrambled eggs and can eat them. My appetite is then gone. Other than a few snacks I force into myself it is all I will eat today. I sleep a lot and when not sleeping sit quietly by the water. I think about a swim but don’t muster the energy to go in the water. Tomorrow I will be up early, pack, load and get on my way back to the access point on Canoe Lake. I want avoid as much afternoon paddling as I can because I’ve notice the wind comes up about 1:00 pm and I don’t want to paddle into it.

July 26^th Day Five

I am loaded and in the water about 8:30 am the next day. No breakfast. I couldn’t eat it anyway. Just get up and get going, although not as fast as I would like. The good news is that I can carry loads and get everything together without exhaustion. I wonder how much reserve I have left. This day’s paddle home I’ve done before. There is only the one easy portage I took on the way out that gets me back to Canoe Lake. I go back over the beaver dam, down the Oxtongue River, through Tepee Lake where Camp Arrowhon is getting ready for its young campers’ arrival next week.

I arrive at the portage after an easy paddle, thankful for my early start, and complete my carries over its easy terrain. One last loading and am on my way to the access point. During the last hour’s paddle to the Canoe Lake take out I imagine and crave that vanilla milk shake. I think it will go down well and give me a shot of much needed calories including sugars. It’s becoming an obsession. The Portage store, outfitters and restaurant are there. The restaurant must have milk shakes, I think. Should I just leave my stuff at the beach and go straight there, or should I pack everything in the car and put the canoe on top first? It’s a place where people are usually honest and protective of one another’s gear, but maybe I should get the work done and then gulp the shake.

Arriving at the beach where I am taking out, I first get the car which I can drive up right next to the canoe. I unload, get everything sorted into what is rented and what is mine. A group has arrived to head out. I ask a man who appears to be the leader if he would help me lift the canoe onto the top of the car. He readily agrees. The canoe s light enough for me to lift it alone but two people makes it easy to get it in the right place on the car roof the first time.  I am tying off the canoe to the roof (it sits on foam blocks and must be secured fore and aft and with two straps around and through the car doors). Suddenly the weakness hits and I sit in the driver’s seat for a few moments. I finish pulling the straps tight and drive to the restaurant parking lot. Normally I could easily walk over to it.

I go to the take-out counter.
“Do you have milkshakes?” “
“Yes, we do”.
“Great I’ll have a large vanilla milkshake”

Milkshake work begins…. and goes on and on. It is the first day for the new summer staff and everyone is being trained on everything by one person. I want to climb over the counter and make it myself. The nice person at the counter apologizes and explains what is obvious.

“For most of us it’s our first work day of the summer.”
“It’s OK. I am just craving a milkshake. Been out in the back country and got sick. I think the milk shake is going to help me feel better.”
“Sorry to hear that. Where did you go?”
“Baby Joe, Burnt Island, Sunbeam, Tom Thomson”
“I’ve been to Burnt Island Lake. It’s really nice.”
I think please, please I want my shake now.
“Yeah it is. How much do I owe you for the shake?”
“Six ninety-five”
It seems a lot to pay but I haven’t bought a milkshake in a long time. Any way I would pay $20 to get my hands on a shake.

It arrives. “Large” has shrunk dramatically since my last time. I begin sipping. I am in Heaven! Instantly as the ice cold creamy shake passes over my lips through my mouth and down to my stomach I am transformed. I can’t believe how better I feel instantly. I get in the car to go back to the outfitters, enjoying the drive, sipping all the way until I am sucking the last bit with bottom gurgles.

Unloading and checking out the rented gear goes quickly. I mention to one of the staff how much I enjoyed my milkshake and would like another. I explain why. He says all I have to do is stop at Kawartha Dairies which I will pass on my way home as I go by Huntsville. I leave promising to be back in September. Later I park at Kawartha Dairies and order their largest vanilla milkshake. It’s the same price but is truly large, the size of large I remember. Off I go driving home in sipping ecstasy! I am definitely feeling better. Maybe I will stop at Weber’s near Orillia on the way and get another. When I am near it I decide to keep on going, looking forward to getting home.

It turns out I have lost 10 lbs. It’s been a challenge and I am proud that I persisted. And yes, I am going again in September.