September 3-6, 2010 - Wendigo - Clamshell - Cedar - 4 days, 3 nights

I believe that you can gauge how big a learning experience a canoe trip was based on the number of photos taken - less photos means more learning! Needless to say, we learned a lot this trip... read on if you wish to hear our tale (and perhaps learn from our mistakes - summary in the epilogue at the end).

Day 1 – Friday September 3, 2010 – "Once More Unto The Breach"
A mere 4 days had come and gone since Scott, Bill, and I last set foot in the park. We were being joined again by David to form our usual cohort. All four of us were eager and excited to once more dive headlong into unknown parts of Algonquin - unknown to us, at any rate!

For this trip we had selected a one-way route through Algonquin's north - starting at access #25 Wendigo Lake, traveling south along the North River to Clamshell Lake, then west up the Petawawa River to Cedar Lake where we had tentative plans to meet with a group of mutual friends, and finally exiting at Brent. After idyllic weather the previous weekend, this weekend was shaping up to be rather fall-like, with single digit temperatures, cloudy skies, and rain in the forecast. The trip posed some new logistical challenges as well, having to retrieve canoes from the Brent outfitter, transporting them to the access point ourselves, travelling back to Brent to drop off a car for when we left on Monday, then finally back to access #25 to start paddling.

We hit the road early after a breakfast at Cora's and we had made the permit office at the start of the Brent road by 11:30am. We assumed since it was only 30km from access #25 to Brent that we could acquire canoes and marshal cars by 1pm. Unfortunately, we underestimated just how rugged the Brent Road would be (not to mention the road to Wendigo Lake). There were some white-knuckle moments with canoes attempting to slide off the roof due to haste and inexperience attaching them to our vehicles. The weather also was showing early signs of non-cooperation, raining heavily for a short time and downing a tree partially across the Brent Road from the associated winds.

By the time we got things fully sorted, it was 2:30pm and the car drivers (myself and David) had yet to eat lunch. The weather had deteriorated into off-and-on drizzle by this point, but the temperature was at least holding at a comfortable level to wear rain gear in. 2:45pm marked our launch onto Wendigo Lake, and we started our rather hurried paddle southwards towards our destination for the night. Sunset was just shy of 7:30pm and we had around 14km to cover according to the map - 2.2km of which we had to portage, double carrying.

Wendigo, Allen, and North Depot Lake were all pretty in their own right - their portages unremarkable, short, and easy to find. The weather cleared off somewhat by Allen Lake, accompanied by a rather stiff breeze. Once we were halfway down the lake thunderhead looking clouds loomed all around us. We kept close to shore as the threat of another storm kept us wary. We made North Depot Lake by around 4:30pm and we were starting to feel optimistic that we might make camp before dark after all. As if to spite us, Mother Nature began tossing up an even stronger wind than before which at times made progress difficult.

It was 6pm by the time we reached the south end of North Depot Lake. In the evening hours the wind was beginning to subside, and there was a sense that once we reached the river we were nearly home free (ignoring the nearly 1.7km of portages we still had to double-carry). We launched onto the North River by 6:40pm or so, and became immediately aware of the fact that dark rocks looming in the water would be difficult to spot in the fading light. Our pace was appropriately reduced as we soldiered on.

Along this pretty stretch of river, we had a couple of interesting experiences. First, in the fading sunlight along the eastern shore a spruce tree buffeted by the high winds earlier gave way in the relative calm, crashing down through more robust younger growth as we looked on. And then, after the 390m (signed 230m) portage, Bill and I came within 5 feet of a curious beaver in front of our canoe, who waited until I called to get David and Scott's attention before slapping his tail and nearly splashing Bill.

The head of the second 230m portage was too steep and small for two canoes to be unloaded at once. In our haste we balanced one canoe on the hill, only to turn our backs and hear it bang its way back into the water. Comedy ensued as Scott jumped in our remaining canoe by himself to attempt to retrieve it, and discovered how hard it is to navigate a runaway canoe without a means to turn it or tow it.

Light was getting scarce and we resorted to using headlamps to light our way on the second carry of the portage. I estimate the time being around 7:45pm by the time we were ready to launch at the far end. We considered utilizing the unoccupied campsite at the head of the portage, but the tiny size and uninviting look to it spurred us to press on in darkness. We reached the final 330m (signed 235m) portage as the last of the twilight left the sky. Headlamps were used for both carries on the trail, and we launched onto Clamshell Lake under the stars. Fortunately it was a very short paddle to the easily locatable campsite across the river mouth from the portage. We assessed the layout as best we could in the dark and got ourselves set up and a fire going for dinner ASAP. The steak we packed in with us was particularly delicious, considering it was after 11pm by the time we finally had food in our bellies.

The (thankfully) short paddle we had to make in complete darkness the day before

The campsite boasted a fantastic sloped rock near the water, perfect for viewing the night sky. There were few enough clouds for us to enjoy staring up and finally getting a few moments of relaxation as the fire burned low and Loons called between nearby lakes. There were several shooting stars that night, including one bright enough to leave a bright trail that seemed to linger for more than a second.  It wasn't long before we were all in our sleeping bags, recuperating for another travel day ahead of us, lulled by the sound of rushing water descending to the lake from the river above.


Day 2 – Saturday September 4, 2010 – "Wet and Winded"

A grey morning on Clamshell Lake

The four of us were sufficiently tired from the previous day's exertions that we weren't up and moving until after 9am. The morning was grey and damp, occasional light drizzles descending from the heavens. We had a hurried breakfast of oatmeal and took a few quick photos of our site before we broke camp during a break in the weather.

A pretty view of Clamshell Lake from the lone campsite

The first hiccup of the day occurred when loading the canoes. An urgent expletive from Bill prompted us all to turn and gawk at the vacant space the noise had come from. There was an awkward moment of silence before a splash gave away his position. Having lunged forward to save a fishing rod that was rolling into the water, Bill had instead launched himself down the slippery rock face. Remarkably, his hat remained dry in spite of claiming that he doesn't know how to swim. His camera residing in his chest pocket wasn't so lucky.

Scott claimed the room with a view -  a great tent pad/hammock site right on the water

We were paddling by 11:30am and made good time across a reasonably calm and pleasant Clamshell Lake, followed by the much swampier and weed-clogged Shoal Lake. I recall the portage exiting Shoal having a treacherous landing on the Radiant Lake side - large shards of broken rock at odd angles set into ooze like mud that would cover well past your ankles - very difficult to carry a canoe over to get to the water.  Once we launched onto the river to Radiant Lake, we could tell the wind was blowing - you could hear it in the trees, and see the swell of large waves rolling up the channel.

By the time we rounded the corner to where the wind was actually blowing up the channel, the waves had gotten much, much bigger. I have never seen anything like it on a lake Radiant's size, and only a handful of times on much larger lakes - 2 foot high rolling swells, spaced far enough apart that you could navigate them in your canoe so long as you were taking them head-on. The wind was gusting fiercely as we passed through the channel and into the lake proper, to the point where it was questionable if we were really making progress or merely holding our own on many occasions.

Scott and David, owing to their more aerodynamic bodies and long arms quickly put a lot of distance between their canoe and ours - not a great idea in already dangerously windy conditions. They also misread the lake, and struck off into the teeth of the wind towards the river inlet at the south-east end of the lake. Bill consulted the map while I tenuously kept us pointed into the wind and determined our correct bearing. However, with the high winds, there was no way of attracting Scott and David's attention. We pulled in to a nearby campsite to take a rest and wait for the other two to realise their mistake and back-track. The campsite was set on a high point, but was reasonably sheltered from the wind. We decided to have lunch there, since it was already 2:30pm. The strong wind and the detour had cost us a lot of time - 3 hours of travel and we hadn't even passed Radiant Lake.

Another thing to add to our woes (well, my woes, anyways) was lunch didn't sit well with me almost right away, requiring a lengthy visit to the loo before we struck off again. It was now 3:15pm and we were just starting on the meat of the day's travels up the Petawawa River to Cedar Lake - this was quickly approaching a repeat of the previous day's long and late travels, 10km into a stiff headwind with 2.5km of double-carrying.

The Petawawa valley epitomizes the stark, rugged beauty of the Canadian Shield. Steep hills loomed on either side of the water, which was itself broken by occasional islands and reefs. The shape of the land ensured an effective funnel for the wind to pour down from Cedar Lake, stymieing our efforts to make up for lost time.

More navigational difficulties hounded us at the 860m portage. Our outdated map indicated the portage led across the rail bed and forged its own path as opposed to travelling along the easy and flat path the railbed provided. Not even brush piled in the way of the path, visibly downed trees along it, nor my protests regarding the former points would dissuade the rest of the group. We covered perhaps 75m before everyone was convinced the path was impassable. It wasn't until we were huddled in a confused jumble at the railbed again that we bothered to look down and notice an arrow made of rocks pointing us upriver along the easy route. Doh!

To add to my ongoing woes for the day, the combination of lunch disagreeing with me, prolonged effort, and our hurried pace across the portage pushed me into a low blood-sugar situation. I ended up half-dropping the canoe as I very nearly passed out at the far end of the portage. While the rest of the crew loaded up the canoes, I took a breather and devoured an apple. I recovered quickly enough with the sugar hitting my blood stream, though there was some lingering fatigue and shakiness. I bargained off carrying the canoe for the rest of the day, for both my own and the canoe's safety - the others agreed.

The wind continued to buffet us as we attempted to paddle upstream, showing no signs of abating even as the day grew late. We witnessed another tree collapsing along the shoreline under the wind's relentless onslaught. We briefly considered stopping short at the portage campsite on the 685m portage, but again the proximity to our destination and the unappealing layout of the site spurred us onwards.

We tackled the final leg with renewed vigor in an attempt to beat the fading light. We reached the 960m portage just as light began to fade and were able to make it to Cedar Lake on our first carry in time to witness the sun set through a break in the clouds. We were hoping the wind would have abated, but if anything it was even more fierce as we approached the lake. In the first of the two campsites on the portage, a gentleman setting up his own camp intimated apologetically to us that "The other site is a little bit windy!"

This turned out to be a vast understatement. While David rather diplomatically describes the site as "not that bad" (denial, perhaps), I would personally choose a more colourful descriptor owing mainly to the accompanying weather: "brutal". It was located at the tip of the point of land the portage ran along. Massive white pines dominated the campsite, lending woefully inadequate protection from the wind anywhere but immediately in the lee of its trunk. The lake itself was impassible with the wind whipping spray from the water through our campsite like an ocean mist.

Cedar Lake - view from our campsite/end of the portage

We returned to the canoes and decided to deal with them the next day, lashing them to a pair of trees off the side of the very steep trail head. Headlamps were used along the portage on our way back to camp with the last odds and ends that weren't canoes. Setting up camp proved to be challenging, with  the wind threatening to shred or make a sail of any unsecured tent fly or tarp. The soil was no good for securing pegs in, either, being only a thin layer of pine needles and duff on top of coarse gravel that was prone to breaking loose rather than holding tent pegs in place under tension. With the temperature dropping quickly, pretty much every layer we had brought was needed to stay comfortable.

A portage runs through it. Our tents were located to either side behind what minimal wind protection we could find.

We were forced to use the fire-pit as a wind break just to get our stoves started for dinner. Morale was greatly improved by the distribution of chocolate rations to all. Given the inhospitable weather and exhaustion of another overly long day of travel, we all retired to our hammocks as soon as our dishes were done. Even then, sleep was fitful as the powerful wind continued deep into the night, the mental image of all the recently downed trees we had seen playing through our minds as the massive pines were lashed above us.

Day 3 - Sunday September 5, 2010 - "Reprieve"
Our third day saw us sleep in yet again. We decided the night before that we would only move camp today if it really made sense to do so. Mother nature decided for us - the wind was still blowing and though it wasn't as bad as before, we were sick of paddling into a headwind. Today was a day to relax!

As we started to prepare breakfast, we noticed a strange phenomenon - every tree on the point had a 'shadow' of dry earth behind it where the spray off the lake had never reached. It also appeared to be mushroom season, with many large and varied 'shrooms bursting through the soil all over the place.

Many people going in both directions began to filter through our site, since it was located right at the head of the portage. The ones going downstream were chipper, just departing on their trips. The others, traveling upstream and tired of fighting the wind gave Cedar Lake distasteful looks. One passer-by that stands out in my mind was a soloist who was half way through a 2-week sojourn, having traveled north from the Hwy 60 corridor to Brent via Big Trout and the upper Petawawa, with plans on turning south at either Radiant Lake or the Crow River and exiting at Opeongo. He had the look of a man who hadn't spoken to anyone in about a week and seemed happy to linger and chat a bit (even moreso when we offered to top up his water supplies using our gravity filter).

Our relocated site was a bit cozy for 4 hammocks

After breakfast, we decided to go fetch the canoes - but we immediately changed this plan when we discovered the other campsite was now vacant, offered quite a bit of shelter from the wind, and was located to the side of the portage instead of immediately on it. We hastily relocated camp the 50m or so before going to fetch the canoes. Its remarkable what a difference a night's rest and proper blood-sugar level makes for carrying a canoe... we did the 960m portage without incident, taking a break, or even passing off the canoe. Easy!

Finally some R&R! Our relocated site was much more comfortable.

We spent the remainder of the day being lazy, napping, and primarily just recuperating. When the sun broke through the clouds late afternoon, most of us put on our swim trunks and took a quick swim, enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays on our bodies. We had dinner in our bellies before dark for once and spent the evening around the campfire watching bats circle above us, catching insects attracted by the column of heat.

Fading light late in the day

We called it an early night and set our alarms for dawn, determined to be on the water early in an attempt to dodge the wind.

Sunset on Cedar Lake (saturation enhanced)

Day 4 - Sunday September 6, 2010 - "Reflection"
We were up with the sun. A heavy mist wafted up the Petawawa valley and out onto Cedar Lake. It was one of those eerie, perfect, tranquil mornings that Algonquin Park so frequently offers. It was also the morning we had to leave. We dallied long enough to snap a few pictures of the pretty mist while we cooked oatmeal and disassembled camp and we were on the water before 8am, a record for our group.

Misty daybreak

The first true 'calm' we experienced this weekend

Silhouetted trees and blue skies

Reflections

It was hard to tell that this was the same lake as the previous two days. Wind-lashed into a fury, Cedar Lake is a foreboding sight. This morning only the wake of a passing motor boat and that of our canoes disturbed its glassy surface. What a difference a day makes!

Our site from the night before. Everything looks nicer in the morning!

Still, the threat of weather loomed as dark clouds seemed to billow and rise above the surrounding hills. We made it to the north shore of Cedar and made a bee-line for the outfitters, paddling hard and not into a head wind, for once. We only had the canoes unpacked for maybe 10 minutes before the deluge hit. Just enough time to secure anything we didn't want to get wet.

The venerable Brent Store

David and I retrieved the cars and we signed the Brent 'guestbook' so that we could have something extra to look forward to on subsequent trips through there. We lingered long enough to have lunch at the Brent Crater overlook, before departing for the remainder of the camping season.

Plaque at the Brent Crater

The Brent Crater, as seen from the overlook

Epilogue

In the end, we successfully tested and stretched the limits of what we could accomplish, in the conditions we accomplished them in. At several points in our trip there were tipping points where things could have gone very seriously wrong, and left us in a dangerous or even outright deadly situation. Luck was on our side that we didn't injure ourselves on dark portages, never capsized in dangerously windy and wavy conditions, or while paddling in the dark, and that my blood sugar crash didn't result in a more serious situation. We were at or near the limits of our capability on several occasions and while we are proud of our accomplishments, we are at the same time mollified by how little tolerance for error we had.


On that note, here are some of the things we learned that we have appreciated on future trips.


Leave Early
Twice we were bitten by travel days that were not overly long but were compacted by our departure time and compounded by the weather. We learned our lesson by the final day and reaped our reward by beating the weather on our out day.


Don't Portage In The Dark 
 Its dangerous, and stupid, and just generally not a good idea. Depth perception is reduced in low light conditions, so the likelihood of spraining an ankle or worse is amplified. Not to mention that so late in the day you are more likely to be fatigued... Do yourself a favour, and just don't do it.


Feul Your Body 
 Canoe tripping is surprisingly physical work - especially portaging heavy gear up and down the significant hills that portages typically involve. Make sure you're getting enough calories or you could end up in a very bad situation as I very nearly did.


Be Aware of Conditions 
 In hindsight we realise how stupid we were to paddle out onto Radiant Lake. Doubly so for separating our canoes and isolating ourselves from help. There's a tendency towards machismo, and to think that you can accomplish anything if you just try a little harder. But if we had capsized and lost our gear, we would have been in serious trouble being wet and having no readily available shelter to rely on.

Read Your Map 
 We made the mistake of charging headlong onto Radiant Lake without checking our map first because 'it should be obvious' where we needed to go. Obviously not!


Read Your Surroundings 
 Maps have mistakes on them. Sometimes it really is obvious where you have to go. (Hint: Easy paths with arrows pointing down them directing you away from the disused path with downed trees and brush piled in the way are clues that your map may be wrong.)

Know Your Limits And Plan Accordingly
This trip was a test of our abilities. It wasn't intended to be (at least not as much as it was!). Planning for this trip was anything but meticulous. We eyeballed distances, didn't account for potential weather, portage length, elevation. We hadn't estimated our travel speed while on water or while portaging, and therefore couldn't know when we could expect to arrive at a given point - or when we ought to leave to avoid a late day.

August 27-29 2010 – Grand – High Falls – Barron Canyon – Grand – 3 Days, 2 Nights

Day 1 – Friday August 27, 2010 – "Sailing With the Wind"

Friday dawned, warm and bright. The weather forecast for the weekend was impeccable – hot, sunny, and cooling off just enough in the evening to ensure a comfortable slumber. We departed Ottawa after a 6am breakfast at Cora's and made the drive up to Petawawa to refuel on coffee, then down the Barron Canyon road to find our outfitters. We arrived at the Algonquin Bound outfitters, but only after driving several kilometers extra down the road and turning around at their local competitors, Algonquin Portage. After some paperwork and a short break to watch construction crews perform a detonation to clear bedrock along the side of the road we were off to the park proper. A bit more paperwork at the park gate and a short drive to Achray later, we were standing on the beach under mostly sunny skies, taking in the fresh air and having a quick shore lunch before we set off.

Since there were only three of us on this trip, we had requested from the outfitter a regular tandem canoe for Scott and Bill, and a solo for myself. Unfortunately, the outfitter had not been able to provide us with the solo canoe and had compensated with a ultralight kevlar one instead. This canoe had two drawbacks – it was a larger canoe than the solo would have been, and it also possessed no keel. Both these drawbacks would make it challenging to handle in the wind, and with it being nearly 11:15am by the time we launched on to the appropriately named Grand Lake, wind would certainly be a factor..

Scott and I survey the lake while having a quick shore lunch prior to departure. Scott and I had invested in some 'Sit-Backer' canoe seats. A very comfortable and worthwhile investment!

A view towards Carcajou Bay, shortly after launching. The stiff breeze had worked up a fair amount of chop on the water.

Underway at last, we set off towards the narrow river exiting Grand Lake to Stratton. The tricky part about our intended route is it would take us sideways to the wind and chop blowing in from the north-west. I soon discovered another drawback to the canoe I was in – compared to the Scott canoes we had rented on our previous trip, this one felt quite unstable. Passing by the point rumoured to be the site of Tom Thomson's famous "Jack Pine" painting, the wind and waves picked up a bit more. The shape of the shoreline was catching the waves just right to reflect them back at me. The particularly bad chop caught me off guard and I came within a couple inches of capsizing. All my gear was packed in drybags inside my backpack, and the water was sufficiently shallow I could have likely retrieved the backpack itself, but this wasn't the way I wanted to start my trip!

I managed to stay upright and struggled to get myself pointed more favourably into the wind and chop. A few more times, the wind got the best of me and turned my canoe sideways. On these occasions all I could do was paddle hard and try to keep myself from losing too much progress to the winds whimsy. On the plus side, by the time we made it to the sheltered mouth of the Barron River exiting Grand Lake, I felt I had a much better handle on the J-stroke necessary to keep myself pointed in the direction I wanted to go.

Said J-Stroke in action! I was feeling much more confident and comfortable paddling out of the wind.

Our intrepid trio takes a moment to take in the surroundings.

Our next leg took us down Stratton Lake. The short 50m portage around a small dam on the river was hard packed and flat. We saw several other groups traveling the same direction as us, some in canoes, some in kayaks. The rumours of this part of the park being quite busy were not understated!

Soon we were paddling down Stratton Lake. The same wind that had hindered our progress before was now at our backs, and we made good time, enjoying the luxury of mostly just having to steer. We took advantage of the situation and made the most of taking in the beautiful day and glorious weather. A short 75m portage over a rocky point of land brought us to St. Andrews Lake, another pretty lake with many appealing looking campsites, most already occupied. Most appeared quite appealing from the water, with lots of good swimming area in front of them. We carried on to the north end of the lake where our first and only significant portage awaited us.

The view down Stratton Lake from the west end.

The remains of a boat likely abandoned when this area was last subject to logging. There is also a log chute cut into the rock at the outlet of St. Andrews Lake.

The 550m Portage to High Falls Lake was well traveled, mostly hard packed dirt and not a lot of roots and rocks to worry about. We were double carrying and traveling heavy – especially me; having found myself under-prepared for our last trip, I had over-prepared for this one with far too many clothes weighing me down. I made a mental note at this point not to pack so heavy for our trip the following week. There was a fair bit of huffing and puffing involved in carrying both my backpack and then the canoe to the far end, but our destination was in sight and there would be much time left for relaxing upon arrival.

Why is that arrow pointing down like that?...

Oh, okay. I understand now.

We took a brief detour to admire the falls between St. Andrews Lake and High Falls Lake.

Cardinal Flowers and Jewelweed were growing all over this area.

Late afternoon, approximately 4pm, launching onto High Falls Lake.

High Falls lake itself was a curious body of water. Rocky and steep shoreline on either side, but very murky water with lots of dead-heads and snags owing to all the organic material deposited here from the logging days. It made for slightly tricky navigation as large boulders and submerged logs would suddenly loom from the depths beneath the canoe with little warning, especially in the areas of shadow that the sun was no longer hitting.

The first campsite on High Falls lake didn't hold much appeal to us as we pulled past it in our canoes, so we opted for the second site. It was a comfortable, if somewhat slanted affair with a very nice fire pit, a small table made out of logs and a large flat piece of rock. There was a raised area up above the main site with an excellent area to set up our Hennessy Hammocks three abreast. I was looking forward to a tenting solution that hopefully would not result in a stiff back, as happened on my first trip.

Our hammock tents set up on the ridge, overlooking the rest of the campsite

A rather nice kitchen setup.

We got settled in, had a quick 'bath' in the lake (there was too many snags and the water too murky to feel safe swimming), gathered some firewood and making ourselves a dinner of steak and potatoes over the fire. We learned some valuable lessons about camp cooking, namely that ribsteaks don't cut well with camping utensils, and potatoes are a lot more difficult to cook over the fire than you'd think! We also discovered a very nearly tame chipmunk living in the root system of our kitchen, who would scamper underfoot at dinnertime both days, looking for handouts.

All in all we ate well, and settled into a quiet, relaxing evening around the fire, satisfied and tired from the day's exertions. The temperature dropped to a comfortable level for the night, and we retired sometime around midnight in anticipation for our day trip to the Barron Canyon the next day.

Day 2 – Saturday August 28, 2010 – "Fun In the Sun, Whistling in the Dark"

As was becoming standard for our group, I was awake with the dawn, bright and early to enjoy the fresh start to the day, while Scott and Bill remained cocooned within their hammocks. My wakefulness was spurred onwards by a zealous red squirrel bombarding the area around our hammocks with pinecones it was chewing free of the trees above us. My hammock served its purpose well, providing a very comfortable night's rest once I figured out the proper way to situate myself within it.

I snapped a couple of photos from the landing area before deciding to take advantage of the quiet serenity of the morning by taking a short paddle around the lake with my camera .

The view from the landing area across the narrow lake.

I got the canoe in the water and my lifejacket on, and pushed off, ready for a solo adventure. A couple of strokes from shore, I realised I'd left my camera behind. I turned around and in haste decided to pull up beside a rock near shore, jump out there (to avoid getting my shoes wet), and grab my daypack. Well, lesson learned... an unloaded, keelless canoe behaves very differently than a loaded canoe with a keel. With only one foot on shore, the canoe migrated rapidly away. I tried to jump back in, but overcompensated and ended up tipping over and getting very, very wet. So much for keeping my feet dry.

I considered getting annoyed at the situation, but with my camera was safe on shore and the others not troubling themselves to emerge from their hammocks to laugh at me, I counted my blessings, had a hearty laugh at my own expense, and extracted the canoe from the water. I tried shore fishing instead, but I found myself getting repeatedly caught on hidden snags beneath the water's surface so gave up after only a handful of casts (and two lures). Not a great start to the day.

Thankfully Bill and Scott soon arose, putting me out of my self-inflicted misery. Breakfast was soon on the go, with oatmeal and coffee warming our bellies and fueling us up for the day trip.

A large garter snake was sunning himself in the midmorning light near the landing prior to our departure.

Our campsite from just offshore as we head out on our day trip to the Barron Canyon.

We didn't hit the water until nearly 10:45, a bit later than we'd planned on departing, but we weren't worried as we had plenty of daylight left. A rather rocky 300m portage took us to the appropriately named Ooze Lake. We had a bit of a challenge launching at Ooze because due to the low water levels, there wasn't very much water to launch into. Testing the bottom with a paddle revealed one would likely disappear a good 2 or more feet into the organic sludge at the bottom of this lake! We managed to drag our canoe through the muck with our paddles and made it across the maze of floating islands of organic mass to the far side, where we portaged 640m into Opalescent lake.

Ooze Lake. A lot of the plants growing in the center of the lake were on large pieces of earth that had lifted from the bottom and were floating on gasses.

At the far end of the Ooze-Opalescent portage we stopped for a quick snack, and rewarded a persistent Whiskey Jack with one of our apple cores.

We were encountering more and more people as we approached the canyon, every lake and portage having quite a lot of human activity and traffic on it.

After another rocky 750m portage to Brigham Lake, and a pair of short but steep portages down the Barron River, we were finally ready to experience the canyon itself. The bottom of the Brigham Chute was an interesting location. The water-levels were low enough you could easily wade across the river. However, there were little islands and holes that the force of the water in spring had shaped. It would be quite an impressive sight to see the water boiling down that last little stretch before finally growing calm.

Our canoe beached on an island formed by the water in spring. Behind the canoe was a waist deep hole in the coarse gravel bottom.

As for the canyon itself, words do not do it justice. The air was warm and the sun was bright as we paddled along the Barron River. Steep walls of rock rose on either side of us, over 300ft vertical straight up from the water; a real testament to mother nature's beauty and prowess.

The 440m Barron Canyon portage sign beside where we stopped for a late lunch.

A couple of nice shots of the canyon from water level

The iconic cliff face looking downriver from the middle of the canyon. After this point the canyon becomes much less deep as the surrounding land descends.

A close up of the cliff in the previous picture, showing a hiker from the Barron Canyon trail atop the canyon walls. The same hiker is (barely) visible in the previous shot as well, giving a sense of scale.

One of the sets of falls along the Brigham Chute on our way back to camp.

We paddled to the end of the canyon cliffs before turning around and heading back as our time was growing short and we had planned on taking the long way back to our campsite, following the river around through The Cascades.

The journey back was a little more hurried than our pace down to the canyon as we were running out of time and the day was growing long. A bit of map confusion as to which side of the river a couple of portages were located cost us some time as well. The sun was starting to get rather low by the time we made it back to High Falls Lake, the lake itself in shadow owing to the high hills on either side of it. The final 430m portage was especially brutal for the first 50m or so, requiring one to find footing among all manner of large shards of bedrock all at odd, ankle-busting angles. Not a good portage for a travel-weary group at the end of the day.

A view down the Barron River back towards Brigham lake from the 200m portage to The Cascades.

One of the waterfalls of The Cascades

Scott and I enjoy a much needed break as the day progresses a little long for our preferences.

We were just settling in to camp and getting ready to have dinner in the rapidly waning light, when we became aware of a rather odd noise. It sounded almost as if somebody were blowing a safety whistle, only it was neither urgent, nor frequent in nature. Scott and Bill dismissed it as somebody fooling around. I walked over to the campsite to our south and inquired if they'd heard the noise. They had, and had also dismissed it as somebody fooling around.

As it started to get really dark, I heard the whistle again. Dissatisfied by everyone's ambivalence towards the situation, I responded on my own whistle and received a couple of rather enthusiastic and relieved sounding of tweets in return. After a brief session of calling across the lake and illumination of headlamps to verify position, the campers to the south of us jumped in their canoe to lend a hand before we could get our own rescue operation in order.

Thankfully it was just a hiker or canoeist who'd lost his way, taken a wrong turn, and ended up at our lake instead of his desired destination. Still, there were important lessons to be learned here: If you're lost, make sure you use your whistle, and make sure it sounds like a distress call when you do! Also, if you hear a whistle in the woods, don't just brush it off – there's probably a good reason for it. We wasted valuable time and increased the risk to everyone involved by waiting until it was almost completely dark to take the situation seriously.

After a late dinner of freeze-dried food, Scott and Bill played some cribbage while I opted instead to sit on the shore of the lake and take in the night atmosphere. All of us were fairly exhausted by the longer-than-anticipated day trip and prolonged exposure to the sun, so we hit the hay early.

Day 3 – Sunday August 29, 2010 – "Until We Meet Again"

Sunday, our last day in the park, dawned warm and bright. We really couldn't have asked for nicer weather. Tired from the day before and unwilling to cut short my time in the park, I was of a mood to stay in the comfort of my hammock for as long as the day allowed. The red squirrel from the day before had other designs, scoring a direct hit with a pinecone on the tent fly directly above my face. I decided my hammock was no longer a safe refuge and emerged to face the day. Bill and Scott were not long behind.

Breakfast of oatmeal and coffee got us going yet again. Camp was broken and packed away at a relatively leisurely pace. By 11am we'd completed the 550m double carry and were paddling St. Andrews Lake on our way home.

Calm waters early morning on High Falls Lake.

More wildflowers along the High Falls – St Andrews portage

Clear skies grace our arrival onto St Andrews Lake.

The wind was up by the time we arrived at Stratton Lake. Bill and Scott, paddling tandem, set off headlong into the whitecapped swell, leaving me to fend for myself in my tippy, keeless boat. I had a devil of a time keeping the nose pointed into the wind, and the shape of the lake seemed to always cause the wind to gust at slightly different angles. Several times I was turned sideways and forced to paddle madly for the lee along shore while the wind pushed me back down the lake. After an extended struggle of nearly 2.5 hours of constant, hard paddling, I managed to catch up with Bill and Scott, who had graciously waited for me nearly 40 minutes at the portage to Grand Lake.

An industrious gang of would-be paddlers rig themselves a sail to take advantage of the strong winds

The view down Stratton from atop the old railbed that crosses at the west end.

The view up the Barron River from the same vantage of the previous picture.

A colourful dragonfly. Many of his kind were out in full force riding the wind and sunning themselves in the late summer sun.

Scott being eaten by fish. A large school of probably 20 minnows was swarming around his feet and legs, and nibbling on him at this time.

A testament to how much sun we had this weekend - ouch!

A Loon in center frame leads to me unintentionally capturing a pretty shorescape instead

A better shot by Bill of the aforementioned Loon.

The wind was more of a help once we got back to Grand Lake, pushing us mostly in the direction of the landing. We made the short paddle back to the launch, packed up our gear and reluctantly said goodbye to Algonquin and the fantastic weekend we had just experienced. We'd be doing it all over again in only 4 days, with a Labour Day weekend trip through Algonquin's north.

Thanks for reading!