Day 1: Kiosk to Erables
As booked, the route involved nights on Erables (2 nights), Nadine, Robinson (2 nights), Catfish (2 Nights) and Laurel.
It was 11 AM and I was ready to push off into Kiosk and take the first paddle strokes of the trip. This was a portage-heavy route for the first few days, so I was not going to rush when on the water.
It was a gorgeous summer day, and I was ecstatic to be there. After a minute to stow the camera away, I slid my kayak further into the water and hopped in. I was off! I'd been on Kiosk on a few occasions, and most of those had been extremely windy. Today was not one of those days. With only a light breeze and comfortable temperatures, it was the kind of day I felt I could paddle forever. All too soon, however, I pulled up to the first portage of many that day, as I was to begin the trip up Maple Creek.
A section of the park like Maple Creek is far from ideal kayak territory. Every portage involves prep time on both ends, as you're either unloading the kayak to load up the canoe pack, or unloading the canoe pack to load up the kayak. One or two long portages is far preferred over multiple short ones, in other words. I'd shied away from Maple Creek on past trip planning in the area, but today it was time to tackle it. The longest portage of the creek, and the day, was first up at 915m. Uphill and with a pack heavy with 9 days' worth of food, it was a tough start to the day. I knew my portage legs would kick in eventually, but realized that this day was going to be hard work. The longest portage of Maple Creek leads to the longest paddling section, so I was looking forward to a nice, long, meandering paddle before the next climb.
A relaxing paddle winding with the stream led to the next portage: 190m
The 190m portage, and the 130m shortly after it, were soon over. The creek may not be the easiest of travel days, especially uphill, but it continued to provide amazing scenery. Dragonflies swooped in to check out my kayak. I stopped, took pictures, and took in the day.
The portages kept coming, and I kept grinding away. When I start getting tired, you'd think it would give me more time, and excuses, to stop and take pictures. But what generally happens is that I just want to keep my head down and keep moving. While I snapped a couple more pictures during this travel day, there's a 4 hour gap when not a single photo or video was taken. These two shots were taken 8 seconds apart at ~1:30 PM:
... and then the very next shot was from 5:50 PM.
In between I finished the portage to Maple Lake, paddled across it, portaged into Erables, paddled to a site, set up camp, and went for a swim. I started having camera issues at this point. Eventually I realized the auto-focus button was stuck, but that was the rest of the day and most of a camera battery later. During that time I took dozens of out of focus shots while trying to figure out what the issue was.
Between bouts of cursing at my camera I gathered firewood, cooked and ate dinner, and went swimming another time or three. I managed to take a single picture that was reasonably in focus, shortly before I turned in for the evening.
Between bouts of cursing at my camera I gathered firewood, cooked and ate dinner, and went swimming another time or three. I managed to take a single picture that was reasonably in focus, shortly before I turned in for the evening.
Day 2: Erables
This was my first time on Erables, so I was looking forward to exploring it. I was on a campsite not all that far from where I entered it from the Maple portage, so there was much still to see. While I loved the site I was on, I hadn't ruled out the possibility of relocating, if I found something even better. For the record, my ideal site is:
Westward facing
A nice big chunk of Canadian shield to sit on overlooking the water
Good swimming access. If I can dive in off the site, I'm in heaven
The site I was on checked 2 of the 3 boxes, so it would take the perfect campsite to convince me to move. After breakfast I finally sorted out my camera issues once and for all, and filmed my first video of the trip.
Westward facing
A nice big chunk of Canadian shield to sit on overlooking the water
Good swimming access. If I can dive in off the site, I'm in heaven
The site I was on checked 2 of the 3 boxes, so it would take the perfect campsite to convince me to move. After breakfast I finally sorted out my camera issues once and for all, and filmed my first video of the trip.
I finished my coffee, cleaned up camp, and then paddled around Erables, checking out the rest of the lake and the other campsites. I decided to stand pat on the site I already had and returned to camp. But I started taking a closer look at the map, and the day I had before me tomorrow, and well.. plans changed.
After Heart Attack Hill I was pretty much done in. But Little Olser was well... little, and what I saw of the campsites didn't leave me feeling like I had a reason to stick around. I decided to push on to Osler in the hopes there'd be better sites there. If nothing else it was a bigger lake, and one portage closer to where I needed to be tomorrow. I'd checked online before I left, and there was no-one booked on Osler for this night at the time I left, so I knew I wouldn't be stepping on someone else's booking.
I pushed on into Osler and while the lake was bigger, the campsites were still uninspiring. But I was done in - an 1800 meter portage with a 65 meter climb was more than I was willing to tackle. I picked the best of the sites and set up camp. I snapped a few pictures not long before calling it a night.
I pushed on into Osler and while the lake was bigger, the campsites were still uninspiring. But I was done in - an 1800 meter portage with a 65 meter climb was more than I was willing to tackle. I picked the best of the sites and set up camp. I snapped a few pictures not long before calling it a night.
Day 3: Osler to Nadine
Thanks to yesterday's unplanned travels, Day 3 was shaping up to be pretty relaxing. I saw no reason to dawdle, however, so I had breakfast and packed up camp. As I was still getting organized that morning, I stopped to take a picture of a group of five loons travelling together. That may not be terribly unusual, but it's the only time I can recall seeing that many together. Sadly I had no telephoto lens on this trip, so it's not much of a picture.
The portage into Nadine proved to be far easier than I was anticipating. By 10 AM I was already in the midst of setting up camp. The only person on the lake, I'd once again had my pick of campsites. I expected more people to show up at some point: the online system had shown 3/3 (counting mine) for this night. But for now, I had the lake to myself - and I planned to enjoy that fact!
It was another beautiful day, and after setting up camp I paddled around the lake taking pictures. It wasn't an easy trip to get to Nadine, but it was worth the effort.
I spotted an area that at first I thought must have once been a campsite, but as I got closer I realized it was likely a burnt-out area from a lightning strike.
After taking a few pictures from the water, I pulled up and climbed on shore to take a closer look.
I hung out on this 'site' for quite a while, enjoying the day. I found myself wishing this was an actual campsite. Deep water, beautiful views, it was perfect. Except, you know, not being a campsite. Eventually I climbed back into my kayak and headed back to my own site (which was also pretty nice!).
Back on my site, sitting on the water's edge, a butterfly came to visit. He was kind enough to hold still while I snapped away. He'd clearly been through a few battles in his life, which made him even more beautiful.
He finally fluttered on, and I went back to looking out over the lake. While I keep saying "he", the internet tells me this is a White Admiral butterfly, and the only difference between male and female is that the female is slightly larger. With no other white admirals around to compare 'him' to, I'll just have to stick with my gut on this one.
I decided to go for a walk in the woods behind my campsite, and a big group of these fellows caught my eye.
The rest of the day was a super peaceful and relaxing day. I couldn't have been happier about yesterday's decision to get moving, as today had turned out perfectly. Tomorrow I'd be pressing on to Robinson, and was looking forward to paddling some of the Nipissing River.
Day 4: Nadine to Osler
I was up before the sun. Breakfast eaten, coffee in hand, I sat down by the water and took some photos of the morning calm.
Not long after I pushed off from the site and pointed my kayak in the direction of the first portage of the day: 1410 meters into the Nipissing River. Rested and refreshed, the portage was over quickly and easily, and I reached the Nipissing while it was still early. The sky mirrored the river: clear and calm.
I was paddling against the current in the Nip, but like everything else this day it was gentle. I was in no hurry, and happy when every bend of the river led to more river, and more sights to see. Eventually the portage did come into sight, and I pulled up at the start of an 850 meter, which led to a very short section of river paddle before I'd once again start carrying over a 1930 meter to Remona Lake.
I hadn't spoken to another human being since Maple Creek on the first day. I dragged my kayak up the river embankment to a small clearing and started unloading, getting organized for the portage ahead. Head down, lost in my own thoughts, a voice from three feet away scared the bejeezus out of me. The stillness of the day had a temporary break as I met the first of a large group of young men. I was in full length clothing and had a bug jacket on. This fellow was in shorts and a t-shirt, and happily stood there chatting with me, slapping himself constantly with the bug onslaught. He told me that their group was in the middle of doing the meanest link! I was (and continue to be) insanely jealous. Like the Brent Run, it's a trip I intend to do some day. But 'some day' seems to keep getting farther away instead of closer, as life and responsibilities make devoting that much time almost impossible. Maybe it will be the trip I take to celebrate my retirement... in 20 years.
His friends and canoe after canoe started filling up what room we had in the clearing, so I turned back to my packing in order to get out of the way. They carried on, and I carried on. I hope they finished the link, and I hope that guy had a bug jacket packed away somewhere. It's making me itchy just thinking about it.
I took only two more photos on the rest of the day's travels: a flower I came upon on this 850m portage, and the Nipissing at the end of it. After that, as is often the case when I'm on the move, get-there-itis set in, and the camera stayed packed away. Since they're the only two photos I took until Robinson, here they are.
His friends and canoe after canoe started filling up what room we had in the clearing, so I turned back to my packing in order to get out of the way. They carried on, and I carried on. I hope they finished the link, and I hope that guy had a bug jacket packed away somewhere. It's making me itchy just thinking about it.
I took only two more photos on the rest of the day's travels: a flower I came upon on this 850m portage, and the Nipissing at the end of it. After that, as is often the case when I'm on the move, get-there-itis set in, and the camera stayed packed away. Since they're the only two photos I took until Robinson, here they are.
By the time I completed the day's route I was definitely ready for some R&R. After the 850 was a 1930, then a short paddle across Remona, followed by a 435 into Whiskey Jack. What little I saw of Whiskey Jack made me want to take a closer look, but Robinson was only a 75 meter portage away, and I was looking forward to a swim. I pressed on, but made a note that I'd come back and visit Whiskey Jack on another trip.
Robinson itself was beautiful, and I was excited to be staying there. The island site came into view, and it was clear it was a big, beautiful chunk of Canadian shield. My only worry was that it might be taken, and I found myself paddling faster and faster, as if there might be a group approaching it from the other side and seconds mattered. In the end the site was free, and I pulled up to the cliff that was this campsite. I mean that literally: to get up to the camping area of this site there's a switchback path that takes you along the edge of towering rock until you can finally get on top of it. But the top of that cliff was a flat grassy area complete with blueberry bushes and ripe blueberries (score). The view from that vantage was incredible.
Robinson itself was beautiful, and I was excited to be staying there. The island site came into view, and it was clear it was a big, beautiful chunk of Canadian shield. My only worry was that it might be taken, and I found myself paddling faster and faster, as if there might be a group approaching it from the other side and seconds mattered. In the end the site was free, and I pulled up to the cliff that was this campsite. I mean that literally: to get up to the camping area of this site there's a switchback path that takes you along the edge of towering rock until you can finally get on top of it. But the top of that cliff was a flat grassy area complete with blueberry bushes and ripe blueberries (score). The view from that vantage was incredible.
Swimming proved to be a bit more challenging than I expected with such a towering chunk of rock; I had to wade out over rocks to get to deep enough water. But the site was stunning and I had no intentions of moving, or even investigating the other campsite, which from what I'd read online was not great. The rest of the day passed by in the ways I always spend my time in Algonquin. I swam, listened to music and lazed in the sun doing nothing but watching the world pass by. I scavenged blueberries: fresh fruit after days of dehydrated food tasted like manna from heaven. Island sites are never good for firewood, but then I rarely bother with a campfire anyway. I collected enough deadfall to power my twig stove and went back to looking out over the water. As I was sitting on the edge of the cliff overlooking the water, a familiar sound reached my ears: a canoe, or canoes, were on the water nearby. As they neared my campsite I can only assume they spotted my tent high on the rock, because I distinctly heard the word "F#@k" uttered loudly. The canoes changed course, to the mainland site I'd never gone to look at.
As night approached and the skies remained clear, I decided to sleep that night without the tent fly (the tent itself is almost entirely mesh), hoping I wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night to a surprise shower. I did wake up, around midnight, to one of my most cherished experiences in Algonquin: a brilliant night sky, with thousands of stars looking down at me. I laid in the tent for the next hour or more doing nothing but staring up at the stars, thinking how lucky I was to be able to spend time in this place. Eventually I faded back into sleep, but the memory of that night will remain with me for the rest of my life.
I did try to take pictures through the tent mesh, lying on my back in the dark. But that night I'd forgotten how to take ultra-long exposures with my camera, and so the best I could do was 30 seconds (which is nowhere near long enough). I don't need pictures to remember that night, but for those of you who weren't there, this is the best I managed.
As night approached and the skies remained clear, I decided to sleep that night without the tent fly (the tent itself is almost entirely mesh), hoping I wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night to a surprise shower. I did wake up, around midnight, to one of my most cherished experiences in Algonquin: a brilliant night sky, with thousands of stars looking down at me. I laid in the tent for the next hour or more doing nothing but staring up at the stars, thinking how lucky I was to be able to spend time in this place. Eventually I faded back into sleep, but the memory of that night will remain with me for the rest of my life.
I did try to take pictures through the tent mesh, lying on my back in the dark. But that night I'd forgotten how to take ultra-long exposures with my camera, and so the best I could do was 30 seconds (which is nowhere near long enough). I don't need pictures to remember that night, but for those of you who weren't there, this is the best I managed.
Day 5: Robinson
I woke up feeling incredibly refreshed. I was on a gorgeous site, the weather was perfect, and I had nowhere to be and nothing to do this day except be lazy. However, there were a couple of things nagging at me:
1. I'm not all that good at being lazy
2. The guys on the other site were clearly not going anywhere any time soon - they were out fishing. I'd gotten so used to having lakes to myself on this trip, that having other people nearby was actually annoying me somewhat.
On the other hand, it really was a gorgeous morning:
1. I'm not all that good at being lazy
2. The guys on the other site were clearly not going anywhere any time soon - they were out fishing. I'd gotten so used to having lakes to myself on this trip, that having other people nearby was actually annoying me somewhat.
On the other hand, it really was a gorgeous morning:
In the end, I decided to pack up and move. It was so calm that morning that the bugs were giving me grief - they tipped the scales. So I pushed on without being entirely sure where I was pushing on to. Burntroot or Catfish? Short day or longer day?
The answer was...
The answer was...
For those of you who don't know this glorious chunk of rock - you should get to know it. This is Shangri-La Island on Catfish Lake, and is one of my favourite spots in all of Algonquin. Now that I've shown you this picture and told you about the island, I need you to forget all about it. It's hard enough finding this site open as it is without more people gunning for it.
So yes, I pushed on to Catfish, now officially a day ahead of schedule. While working my way through Perley Lake and the Petawawa from Burntroot to Catfish, I ran into no less than three separate groups of campers. This was more people than I'd seen on the rest of the trip combined, but my primary concern was that I was heading for a lake I wasn't booked on, and that maybe it was a lot more occupied than I had expected. I rarely - extremely rarely - camp anywhere other than where I'm supposed to be, and now I was a bit nervous about it.
However, my fears proved to be unfounded. It seemed that everyone on Catfish had fled to Burntroot that day, because I spotted not a single occupied campsite enroute to Shangri La. I pulled up, stretched, and started lugging gear up the slope to the firepit area. Shangri La does make you work for its beauty, as it's a healthy climb from the waterline to the camping area.
As I was setting up camp, darker clouds started rolling in. I got everything safely put away under cover, and had time to set up my tarp. It was too beautiful of a site to be cowering in a tent just because of some rain. I filmed some videos while waiting for the weather to pass, talking about my plans for the next day. In theory I had nowhere to be. In actuality, well...
So yes, I pushed on to Catfish, now officially a day ahead of schedule. While working my way through Perley Lake and the Petawawa from Burntroot to Catfish, I ran into no less than three separate groups of campers. This was more people than I'd seen on the rest of the trip combined, but my primary concern was that I was heading for a lake I wasn't booked on, and that maybe it was a lot more occupied than I had expected. I rarely - extremely rarely - camp anywhere other than where I'm supposed to be, and now I was a bit nervous about it.
However, my fears proved to be unfounded. It seemed that everyone on Catfish had fled to Burntroot that day, because I spotted not a single occupied campsite enroute to Shangri La. I pulled up, stretched, and started lugging gear up the slope to the firepit area. Shangri La does make you work for its beauty, as it's a healthy climb from the waterline to the camping area.
As I was setting up camp, darker clouds started rolling in. I got everything safely put away under cover, and had time to set up my tarp. It was too beautiful of a site to be cowering in a tent just because of some rain. I filmed some videos while waiting for the weather to pass, talking about my plans for the next day. In theory I had nowhere to be. In actuality, well...
For those who don't want to watch the video, I more or less decided I was going to try to make it from Shangri La on Catfish to the car - on Kiosk. By Jeff's map, and if I didn't mess up the math, that's just over 48 kilometers. I went to bed before sunset in anticipation of an early start the following morning.
Day 6: Catfish to Kiosk
When get-there-itis sets in, my camera becomes just another object in my pack. I took no photos or videos on this travel day. I may update this day's travel log in more detail later, but for now, with no pictures to break up the text, I'll summarize the highlights.
I decided to drag my fully-loaded kayak over the 80m portage from Catfish into Narrowbag. I had such a long day ahead of me, I was hoping to save a few minutes on the packing and unpacking necessary.
When I pulled up to the next portage, I learned the error of my ways. Somehow I punctured the hull doing that, right along the spine. My aft dry hatch had about 3-4 inches of water in it, and all my gear was floating. Long story short: all my gear is in dry bags. Nothing was ruined, and only the dry bags themselves were wet. I patched the hull with a couple pieces of Tenacious tape (highly recommend it - amazing stuff) which held up for the rest of the day.
On Cedar, I ran into some wind. At one point I pulled up into the lee of the wind to apply sunscreen, and forgot to close the zipper on my PFD where the suncreen resided. 20 minutes or so later I realized this, and also that my sunscreen was long gone. It was a beautiful sunny day, I burn like tinder, and I now had no sunscreen.
The island campsite on Laurel looked really nice. I was kind of bummed I wasn't staying there after all (another trip) but I was on a mission. I kept on moving.
The Cauchon lakes, which I've paddled before, felt really, really long. Possibly because they are. The wind was still a factor. I had to have the kayak's rudder down quite a bit of the time.
At the portage into Mink I ran into a couple of paddlers. By then I was wondering just how fried I must be and asked if I could borrow some sunscreen. They hooked me up. Thanks.
Instead of doing the 410m into Little Mink and then the 635m into Kiosk, I walked the rail line/road instead. I've done that before, but I'm not entirely sure it makes sense. It felt really long, but then I was pretty tired by then.
The paddle across Kiosk felt sort of like a victory lap. The end was in site and I was really pleased I'd pulled it off.
The drive home was not bad at all, surprisingly. I showered and slept like the dead.
This trip was the last one of the 2015 camping season for me. We were expecting a baby in September, and I wasn't going to chance not being home for it. As of this writing, my daughter is almost 6 months old. She says Hi.
I decided to drag my fully-loaded kayak over the 80m portage from Catfish into Narrowbag. I had such a long day ahead of me, I was hoping to save a few minutes on the packing and unpacking necessary.
When I pulled up to the next portage, I learned the error of my ways. Somehow I punctured the hull doing that, right along the spine. My aft dry hatch had about 3-4 inches of water in it, and all my gear was floating. Long story short: all my gear is in dry bags. Nothing was ruined, and only the dry bags themselves were wet. I patched the hull with a couple pieces of Tenacious tape (highly recommend it - amazing stuff) which held up for the rest of the day.
On Cedar, I ran into some wind. At one point I pulled up into the lee of the wind to apply sunscreen, and forgot to close the zipper on my PFD where the suncreen resided. 20 minutes or so later I realized this, and also that my sunscreen was long gone. It was a beautiful sunny day, I burn like tinder, and I now had no sunscreen.
The island campsite on Laurel looked really nice. I was kind of bummed I wasn't staying there after all (another trip) but I was on a mission. I kept on moving.
The Cauchon lakes, which I've paddled before, felt really, really long. Possibly because they are. The wind was still a factor. I had to have the kayak's rudder down quite a bit of the time.
At the portage into Mink I ran into a couple of paddlers. By then I was wondering just how fried I must be and asked if I could borrow some sunscreen. They hooked me up. Thanks.
Instead of doing the 410m into Little Mink and then the 635m into Kiosk, I walked the rail line/road instead. I've done that before, but I'm not entirely sure it makes sense. It felt really long, but then I was pretty tired by then.
The paddle across Kiosk felt sort of like a victory lap. The end was in site and I was really pleased I'd pulled it off.
The drive home was not bad at all, surprisingly. I showered and slept like the dead.
This trip was the last one of the 2015 camping season for me. We were expecting a baby in September, and I wasn't going to chance not being home for it. As of this writing, my daughter is almost 6 months old. She says Hi.