Saturday, August 27, 2011

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.