Mid-June 2000 .. Permits for the Cache Lake access were obtained at the Canoe Lake office north of the highway at kilometer 14.1 (east of Algonquin's West Gate). Once the paperwork was gotten, it was a short drive to kilometer 23.5 and the turn-off to the south. The sand and gravel parking lot is located at the north end of Cache Lake. It serves interior campers and visitors to Bartlett Lodge, as well as camps and cottages located around the lake.

  . . Barry Bridgeford
Bartlett Lodge is located across Cache Lake's northwest bay. Arriving guests use a phone by the dock to call for the lodge's "water taxi". Looking back from the departing canoe, you can see the access point dock. Amidst the pine trees is the site of the long-gone "Highland Inn" and railway station.
Cache Lake is dotted with numerous islands which help to break the wind and waves as one paddles across. This photo is looking due west from a point approximately halfway across.
This photo is looking down at the landing at the portage to Head Lake. Because of heavy erosion of the embankment, this staircase has been constructed to ease the climb up from the water. This trip took place in mid-June of 2000, just before the schools "let-out". While this was still "bug season", recurring wind helped keep the worst of the bugs away.
The portage to Head Lake is 1640 meters long. My method of portaging is to carry the canoe with its paddles, ropes, bail and lifejacket "velcro-strapped" in place. After a few hundred meters, I find a spot to stand the canoe up. From there I backtrack, pick up my pack and carry it to a point a couple of hundred meters past the canoe. I then return for the canoe and the cycle repeats over the length of the portage. The empty-handed return walks allow me to stretch my muscles and enjoy the scenery.
Here is one of the split-log walkways that allow one to cross over the boggy stretches without getting "bogged-down". Always keep you eye open for loose planks or protruding nail heads.
Portages often provide opportunities to see wildlife of both the animal and vegetable varieties. Here are some Pink Ladyslipper orchids located right beside the portage. These orchids reproduce by insect-enabled cross-pollination and by underground spreading rootstocks.
Once on the waters of Head Lake, I headed directly to the campsite due south of the "put-in". The afternoon sky was still unsettled and the site's treed point was definitely inviting. Despite the point's open views to the north and east, I was able to set up my tent in a sheltered nook amongst the trees.
Having set up camp and got a meal in my stomach, I laid back on the rocky point with a cup of coffee. The weather was out of the west, bringing blustery winds and masses of dark cloud interspersed with relatively peaceful sunny breaks. Later, the evening degenerated into a series of cold rain squalls. I went to sleep wondering what the morning would bring.
The next morning, Head Lake was a bright mirror .. a total transformation from the day before. I relished in the sunshine. Breakfast was a deliberately slow affair spent soaking up the sunny stillness. The view to the east end of the lake was like an open invitation!

I finally set out across Head Lake, heading due east toward the portage to Harness Lake. Over time, I've found that half the sights of Algonquin are to be seen by stopping and turning around .. to see where you've been. This photo is a look back to the campsite I had just left.
Once at the east end of Head Lake, one paddles between a small rock point and a marshy bay, up a narrow creek. Eventually on its south bank, where rocks make the water too shallow to proceed further, is the beginning of the portage to Harness Lake. Near its end, the portage crosses this little creek.
Unfortunately, I didn't take any photos during my paddle down Harness Lake. Fortunately, I took plenty on the return part of the trip. This tiny bit of white water is just a few feet south of the end of the portage between Harness and Pardee Lakes.
By the time I arrived at the Pardee Lake "put-in", the sky was starting to haze over. If you look down to the ground in this photo, you may be able to pick out one of the butterflies that were sunning themselves on the beach.
I couldn't resist the bright colour of the Canadian Tiger Swallowtail. I spent a good while waiting for this one to settle down to a photographable standstill.
Here is the very short portage between Pardee and Lawrence Lakes. This view is looking back toward Pardee Lake, across most of the portage's 10 meters.
I set my canoe and gear down on the grassy shore of Lawrence Lake and lazed in the sun for a while. From this point on, the day got progressively greyer.
I set up camp at the most southeast of Lawrence Lake's sites. A storm blew in quickly and I had to finish dinner under the tarp. Evening was spent huddled in the tent, reading an old SF paperback. Next morning, the trees were still dripping with rain as I got ready to head back.
The paddling across Lawrence and Pardee Lakes was a grey and damp affair. I got the canoe all set to head out up Harness Lake and prepared to take this picture. Darned if drizzle didn't start!
The grey sky brought a sullen stillness upon Harness Lake. This marshy bay is a short distance north of the previous location, on the west side of the lake. As I paddled north, the weather hung like a brooding threat.
A moderate wind came up behind me. The drizzle came and went. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the same greyness, so I let the wind help me up the middle of the lake. I aimed for the narrows where I had previously noticed a small dock on the east shore.
Too good to be true! A brand new private dock and a super campsite. I tied up the canoe and unloaded it from the very end of the dock. Then, so as to avoid damage to the canoe from wave action, I hauled it out and inverted it on shore.
With the tent and tarp set up, and a warm lunch in my stomach, I walked east to find the Highland Backtracking Trail that I had walked way back in 1971. A quick look at the map shows how it runs southeast close to the shores of both Head and Harness Lakes.
When you're hiking the trail, reflective signs like this are posted to point out the side trails to campsites expressly set aside for hikers. This sign marked the first such side trail north of my campsite.
Small level areas were cut into the forest floor for tents. A small fire pit was located close to the water. This was the view looking south across a small bay towards my site and the narrows.
From there, I walked south past my campsite's turnoff and found another hikers' campsite. This flowered open area was immediately infront of the tent site. My attention was caught by a swallow flying into a hole in the trunk of the large pine tree.
I had walked to a point about two thirds of the way to the pine tree, when I noticed a movement at my feet. Having a distinct desire to keep my toes intact, I immediately stepped back. This snapping turtle appeared to be digging a hole in which to deposit her eggs.
Keeping clear of the turtle's sharp beak, I turned my attention up to the pine tree. It appeared, from the edges of the chewed-off bark, that another creature had exposed the wood probably while eating the sappy wood or while looking for insects. The swallow peered out from its hole, waiting for me to leave.
After I was back at camp for a while, I heard a noise coming from a little bay to the northeast. As soon as I approached the water's edge, this aggressive beaver came swimming straight for me. Naturally, I backed up the embankment. The beaver chattered away, eventually slapping its tail and diving. This response was repeated a few times over ten minutes. It appeared that the beaver was just starting to construct a lodge on the bay's far shore. Given the beaver's overt behavior, I didn't approach too close. Thus, the blurry "long-shot".
By mid-afternoon, a stiff breeze and drizzle had started up from the south. I retreated under the tarp to read and doodle. All of a sudden, the rain became a wind-driven downpour. Being under the north-facing tarp, I felt quite secure. Without warning, the trees were being swirled about and the storm was coming from the north. Fortunately, the driven rain only soaked some of my gear. As soon as it slacked-off, I changed into dry clothes.
Within minutes, the sky had cleared and things warmed nicely under a bright sun and blue sky. After spending the rest of the afternoon on the dock soaking up the sun, I had a late dinner and then sat back and enjoyed this marvelous sunset. Realizing how quickly the weather had changed, I wondered what the next day would be like.
The morning started grey and still. It was an uneventful paddle and portage to the creek that would take me back to Head Lake. The put-in is at the far left along the south bank.
As I paddled down the creek, I could feel a strong wind growing from the west. The paddle down the creek is longer than it appears on the official map. I hoped that I wouldn't be turned back by unmanageable waves on Head Lake.
Breaking waves and windblown spray greeted me at the mouth of the creek. I had no option but to get down on my knee pads and head straight into it, along the rocky south shore. Carefully looking for submerged rocks, I inched along. I finally got across the mouth of this bay and into a relatively sheltered area. I then turned the canoe around and let the wind and waves take me into the bay. This photo was taken later, looking northwest from the height overlooking the bay.
This waterfall empties into the bay close to the campsite. Its many steps of falling water produce quite the sound. I wondered whether it would keep me awake at night or lull me to sleep. No sooner had I set up my tarp, than a series of intense rain squalls blew through. I somehow managed to keep my gear dry while putting up the tent.
By the time I had warmed myself up with a hot double soup, the worst of the rain had eased up. With my lightweight poncho in hand, I headed around the bay to check out the waterfall. By carefully choosing my steps on the wet rocks, I was able to climb right down to the waterfall.
After returning to the top of the waterfall, I traced the creek upstream through the forest. The jumbled creek bed had a chaotic, wild beauty to it.

Finally, I reached the shallow north end of Kenneth Lake. This narrow bay was clogged with old logs, remnants of logging days. The earlier impression of clear, wild water cascading over the waterfall was at direct odds with this mucky bay from where that water came.
Evening brought a repeat of the rain squalls that continued past nightfall. The cold dampness caused me to double-up on clothes and to hunker down in my sleeping bag. The sounds of the gusting wind and the waterfall soon had me asleep. Morning came quickly. I awoke to the rising sun poking through the trees behind my tent.
The sun was shining down the little bay behind the campsite. Mist was rising from the still water under a clearing sky, in welcome contrast to the previous evening.
The view westward was even more attractive. Through the mist and beyond the bay, I could see the lake's west shore lit by the rising sun. After some terrible stints of weather, I was having a glorious day with which to end the trip.

I intentionally paddled slowly to the portage. Its at moments like this that one is hit hard by the realization that in mere hours one will be thrust back in the modern world. On the other hand, as I looked back at the point where I'd camped the first night, it seemed as if far more than four days had gone by.