DAY SEVEN

I woke up to the sound of rain hitting the tent fly, again. It was 4:35a.m., close enough to make me dread a repeat of the previous day’s weather. The rain only lasted for about 15 minutes, but it returned after a pause of only a few minutes. I did my best to sleep some more, but by 6:20 I just wanted to get up and get moving. Besides, the rain had stopped. I emerged from the tent to overcast skies. Still no sun.

The rain came back around 6:40. This pattern would remain for the rest of the day. We were able to eat a hot breakfast and pack up our gear during pauses in the rain. At 8:40 we left our island and headed to the narrows leading to White Trout Lake.

Paddling away from the island site on Big Trout. Another cool, rainy day awaits Rory and Bryan.

We paddled the length of a calm and still White Trout Lake. No wind out of the west to battle, just patches of rain. As we neared the shallow, vegetation-choked waters of Grassy Bay, the skies came alive with avian forms. We were amazed by the variety of birds in the skies that day. Ducks, mergansers, geese, and loons swam and flew by. Gulls, herons, and many others we couldn’t identify could be seen. We even witnessed a hawk swoop down upon its prey in the water (we think it was a small duck). Two larger birds of prey, possibly bald eagles, soared overhead, one finding a perch on a branch near the tall cliffs of White Trout Lake. It was a magical moment, and helped to balance out the challenges we would face later on.

We continued deeper into the marsh, passing a few nice-looking sites. The only problem with these sites was they looked to be very buggy earlier in the season. That thought made me wonder how many mosquito bites Bryan had suffered so far. He could count the number of mosquito bites on one hand, and so could I. It seems we were able to time our trip to finally avoid the bugs. Perhaps the skeeters had hatched early this year, since I couldn’t remember a mid-August with so few of them on the portage trails.

Have I mentioned yet that it was a low-water year? The further into the marsh we ventured, the shallower the water became. It was difficult to pick out the correct path upstream, and inch-deep patches surrounded us on all sides. Every time we picked one path over another, we wondered if it would twist and turn for a few hundred meters before becoming a dead end. Miraculously, we kept picking the correct path. After countless meanders, we reached the portage to Hawkins Lake. We paused there for a while to eat and discuss our progress. Not long after continuing upstream on McIntosh Creek, we discovered why the water level was so low. Beaver dams!

McIntosh Creek.

Between the portage to Hawkins and the portage into McIntosh Lake, we went over or around at least ten beaver dams. Ten! Some we were able to paddle partially through, step out, push the canoe into the beaver pond, and step back in. A few were too high out of the water, and forced us to make mini-portages around them. Is there anything more annoying than a 10m portage? I’m sure the trippers we passed later who were traveling downstream had an easier time on most of them, but Brent and Tom later voiced their displeasure concerning their day up McIntosh Creek. Just part of the experience, I guess, but not a favorite part for any of us.

Just one of about a dozen beaver dams on McIntosh Creek.

We saw several groups of people along the creek, all going downstream. I even noticed that one gentleman was portaging a nice canoe while walking the trail barefoot! I wondered what he would do if he ever stepped on a sharp stick or thorn. Also, the greater number of people we passed so far made me wonder how crowded McIntosh Lake might be. We had originally thought we might have to stop at McIntosh this night if we couldn’t make Misty Lake, but it was only 2p.m., so we had time to travel farther. As we launched onto McIntosh, we didn’t even bother checking out any of the sites. Most of the nicer-looking ones already had canoes overturned on their banks, so we headed for the bay that ended at the portage to Timberwolf.

A focused Rory trudges down the portage trail.

It only took about an hour for us to cross both lakes. By 3:00 we reached Misty Lake. From the put-in, we had possible campsites in every direction. I talked Bryan into heading toward a favorite site of mine, taking a straight line to the west of the large island. The landing had a bottom covered in small stones, next to a sloping slab of shield rock. A large boulder made a great observation post to look out across the lake or observe the marsh west of the site. A few years earlier, Brent and I watched a bull moose browse for over an hour, oblivious to our presence. We climbed the hill to the main area and looked around.

Rory atop the shield rock overlooking the northwest corner of Misty Lake.

A nice, flat tent pad still remained. The rest of the site showed signs of heavy use. The sitting logs around the fire pit had been moved to make a huge square, too far away to enjoy the heat of a fire. The fire pit was the worst part. I dug out at least 6 tin cans and a 10” baking pan. Nearby, we found most of a bag of carrots, a half-eaten apple, and an orange. It looked like somebody was trying to lure a bear into the site on purpose! I picked up all of the garbage and moved it far away from the site. On a drier day, in a better state of mind, I would have probably packed out as much as I could. But I was worn out, and we had more immediate needs to attend to first.

In the foreground is an island too small for a site. Behind to the left is the island where Tom and Brent spent their last night of the trip.

I will admit that we were not fully prepared for the extended period of overcast skies and rain that we endured. We could handle the type of rain we faced on Catfish Lake, as long as the next day was warm and sunny as it was on Hogan. We had gone so deep into the Park the first few days that we had to move each day to get back in time. We could have taken a rest day, but our supplies were starting to run low. That evening I used the last of our white gas to make beef stew. Our morale was getting low, even though we both loved exploring Algonquin Park. It seemed we just weren’t the hardened explorers we previously thought.

Bryan spent much of the afternoon trying to get a sustainable fire going. Everything was wet, so wet that splitting logs to get at the inner wood yielded little dry tinder. We hung our hammocks but barely used them, because the pauses in the rain were so brief. Most of our afternoon conversation centered on whether we should stay one more night, or head for the access point in the morning. We decided to let the next morning’s weather make the choice for us. If it looked like a nice day, we would stay the duration of our permit. If it was still overcast or raining, we would cut our trip short by a day. We were not enjoying ourselves, so Bryan decided to make an apple cobbler over the fire. It turned out to be delicious, but cleaning the pans was a difficult task. The food pack that had been massive on day one was quite light when we hoisted it into place for the last time. There were no stars to be seen, only gray clouds, so we went to bed around 9:00.

After spending several hours struggling to keep a fire going, Bryan attempts to cook apple cobbler. It was delicious!

Chef Bryan cooked up a great apple cobbler, but our spirits were still low after two consecutive rainy days.

After digging out tin cans, readjusting the rock walls, and a few hours of toil, we ended up with this quality fire.

DAY EIGHT

Once again, I awoke at 4:15a.m. to the sound of rain hitting the tent fly. Bryan and I were tired of living outdoors in wet weather. It was still dark, so I went back to sleep and hoped the rain and clouds would be gone by dawn. We were both awake again by 6:00, and the rain had stopped. We got out of the tent and looked up to see the same gray, overcast skies that had greeted us the previous two mornings. According to the decision we had made the night before, it was time to leave the Park.

We had no more stove fuel and no dry firewood (My apologies to the next occupants of that site; we cleaned up the garbage, but did not leave much in the way of firewood). We ate two granola bars each and started packing up our gear. Much of our gear was wet from the overnight rain, but we did not want to wait around for it to dry before we left. We figured it would probably just start raining again, so why even try to air it out?

We set off across Misty Lake at 7:40 and headed south, then west. We went into full-speed distance-covering mode, paddling a brisk but dreary pace. The paddle back to the access point on Magnetawan became a time challenge. We set a goal of noon, which would be about 16km in less than 4-1/2 hours. Portages barely slowed our pace as we switched from paddling to hiking and back again with practiced ease. There had been no moose sightings yet, and I feared I might complete my first trip without seeing a moose. But Algonquin Park did not disappoint us in that department. It was brief, but we did catch sight of a cow making her way to thicker cover. Bryan took a couple pictures before she was out of sight, then returned to the task of paddling upstream.

This moose decided to head for thicker cover as we floated closer.

We came to Daisy Lake and followed the course of the lake past two nice campsites facing each other. A bend in the lake revealed the large island with two campsites. As we paddled the western side of that island, a stranger suddenly greeted us. It was the sun, an object we had not seen since Hogan Lake. Our friend did not stay for very long, so any fleeting thoughts of maybe finding an open site on Daisy quickly disappeared. We followed the curved shoreline until we came to a creek. This creek took us to a portage, then a short paddle, then a short portage to Hambone Lake. Paddling Hambone was just one big left turn, then we completed our last portage, the 135m to Magnetawan Lake. Without any care for aerodynamics or balance, we tossed the packs into the canoe and started paddling. We rounded a point and there, to our right, was the dock of the access point. We landed at one side of the dock while another pair of trippers began their journey from the other side.

These ducks bid us farewell as we headed for the access point on the last day.

No time was wasted in lugging the packs, then canoe down the path to Bryan’s van. I looked at my watch and it was 11:59a.m. We had accomplished our goal. Even though we were disappointed to leave a day early, still it had been the longest Algonquin trip for either of us. After asking for and receiving a little help from fellow trippers for a battery jump (thanks guys, whoever you are) we drove off towards Kearney.

A stop at the park office/civic center was made to get our last day refunded, then a sorely-needed hot shower. Much cleaner and with a little extra cash in our pockets, we hit the road again, heading for the Portage Store on Highway 60. That camping refund was put to good use. We enjoyed Backpacker Bacon Burgers and beers, then went next door for a little souvenir shopping. After picking out some items for the wives and kids, we were back in the van heading south, then west. We drove over the bridge into Michigan around 9p.m., and were home with our families by 11. I enjoyed the satisfaction of a challenging Algonquin adventure for the next few days, but soon found myself picking up the map to plan my next trip.

In our pursuit to cut costs for this trip, we ended up borrowing a canoe that was not suited for the type of traveling we wanted to do. We also failed to bring adequate rain cover, specifically tarps to shield gear and the fire pit. We improved on the quality of food, by bringing bratwurst, pancake mix, and bacon. Also, we tried a few different brands of backpacking meals, and were pleased with our choices. Out of necessity, I made the switch from boots to sandals, and found that my Teva Terradactyls provided adequate traction and ankle support on the wet portage trails.