Introduction
I’ve been trying to organize a trip to Nellie Lake for two years now. Last year I goofed on the booking dates and wasn’t able to reserve the trip, so this year I was determined to make it. I was looking for a trip into a part of Killarney that I hadn’t yet explored and that was more remote than those that use the more common access points along highway 637.
Nellie and Grace lakes are nestled high in the northern LaCloche mountains. The scenery is spectacular and the terrain rugged. Even though the Nellie Lake loop is short and there are only three portages, it’s a challenging trip due to the length and steepness of the carries. That said Nellie and Grace are on the boundary of the park rather than the interior so it isn’t as remote as the heart of Killarney. While the trip can be done in just two to three days I added two down days to give us time to recover from the portages and to explore the area.
Originally I wasn’t planning the trip around geocaching or any other ‘destinations’ because in the past these side goals have put undue pressure on trips. But as I researched the trip I kept finding interesting side excursions until it became one of the busiest trips that I’ve planned.
The reservations had been long made when we suffered a setback on another trip in Algonquin. We brought too much gear and weren’t able to handle the portages. I sprained a ligament in my hip and we ended up severely limiting the length of that trip, which left me doubting my ability. Then our son wasn’t able to get the time off work for this trip, and after much discussion we decided that my wife should hold off on this one as well because we were worried about the ruggedness of the terrain and I wasn’t confident in my ability to shoulder her load as well if the going got tough. All of a sudden this was a solo trip, and I was feeling dubious about my abilities. Not the best way to set out, but I was still determined to try.
Day 1 – Grace Lake
After spending the night in Sudbury I got an uncharacteristically early start and set out from the put in point at Widgawa Lodge at a reasonable time. The start and end of the trip through Frood and Charlton lakes is outside of the park so the shoreline is dotted with cottages and you’ll see the occasional motor boat ferrying people back and forth, which serves to diminish the backcountry feel of this part of the trip.
I was surprised to learn that Widgawa Lodge offers a ferry directly to the base of the Grace portage which would bypass the long paddle down Frood Lake. Despite the cottages the scenery is spectacular, and if you can learn to ignore them it is a nice paddle, but I can understand the temptation to get through this busy area and into the park more directly.
I had to fight the wind in the channel between the two lakes, but once on Frood it was at my back. If I’d had the time I could have just let the wind blow me right to the portage with minimal steering. As it is I took it easy, saving my energy for the portage. The other downside to this part of the trip was the deer flies who were feasting on the exposed flesh of my feet. I can’t really complain since the deer flies were the only significant bugs that I encountered on the trip, but they sure were frustrating when they were around.
I was surprised to see a pontoon boat moored at the take-out for the Grace portage. The local lodges rent the boats to day trippers and stash canoes at the far ends of the portages to give visitors the opportunity to visit the small lakes without having to spend the night or even portage. You don’t even enter Killarney Provincial Park until you’ve walked a few hundred meters down the portage.
The portage is almost 1.7 Km long, and climbs steadily most of the way. With 60m of vertical gain it’s not trivial even though it’s the easiest of the three long portages on the trip. I took small steps to avoid straining my hips, and was quite surprised when I arrived at the far end of the trail with my pack without having to stop for a break! Returning for my canoe was also surprisingly easy, which helped to set a positive mood for the rest of the trip.
The trail crosses the creek once, and while there are stepping stones I managed to get a soaker on two of my three trips across which was fine since I was wearing sandals without socks. Other than that the trail is quite easy to navigate. The scenery is nice without being spectacular and the trail rises high above the stream on the banks of one of the hills as you ascend towards Grace.
When you exit the portage you are greeted with a spectacular view of the ring of hills that crowns Grace Lake. Islands dot the surface of the west end and the smooth rocky lumps that form the ridges create a rugged backdrop for this lovely little lake.
The forecast had been calling for rain, and when I first arrived at the end of the portage and dropped my pack I finally put my rain gear away since it hadn’t started yet. As if on cue the rain started. Since I had to return for the canoe and would be in the protection of the trees I decided to forgo the rain gear for the return trip. It did rain more, but never so much that I wanted to put on my coat.
There are three campsites on Grace. The one closest to the portage was reputedly a favourite of Franklin Carmichael, famed painter and member of the group of seven. The site looks east across Grace offering an excellent view of the small islands at this end of the lake. The site is situated such that it frames the rising sun between the peaks that surround the portage from Grace to Nellie, and the setting sun in the evening bathes the entire lake in a golden glow.
Other than the view there isn’t much to recommend about the first campsite. It’s small, and situated on a fairly steep hill. (I later found out that it had another advantage — shelter from the wind that comes blasting across Grace). I let the wind push me down the lake while I inspected the other two sites and settled on the furthest at the east end. It’s the largest and recommended for groups, but it also has a nice view looking in the other direction. I had the whole of Grace Lake to myself.
The weather had been alternating back and forth between threats of rain and the promise of sun since I had arrived on Grace. I hastily hung my tarp, bear bag, and hammock before rehydrating some chilli for dinner. Since I was expecting rain I set up my tarp over the fire pit in order to have a place to sit under my shelter. This proved to be a good idea since it did rain several times through the evening but I was well sheltered.
I had hoped it would clear before nightfall, but the clouds thickened instead and blocked all view of the sky. I made a half hearted attempt to light a fire, but I didn’t have time to gather any wood, and the supply left by the previous campers was wet and wouldn’t catch so I gave up. As soon as the sun set I heard a familiar buzz coming from the woods and soon I was swatting mosquitoes so I decided to retreat to my hammock for the night. Little did I know these were to be the last mosquitoes of the trip thanks to the frigid temperatures to come.
One of the biggest challenges of hammock camping is keeping warm. The cool open air beneath the hammock has easy access to your back thanks to your weight compressing the sleeping bag beneath you. I have several devices to counteract this, but had only brought a minimal set on this trip to keep weight down. When I woke up at midnight to pee I was actually relieved that I was sweating, since it meant I’d be warm enough. I pulled off a few layers before getting out of the hammock.
There were a few bugs still about, and to my surprise the sky was clear. I sat down and watched the stars for a while and was rewarded by several flashes from the last night of the peak of the Perseid meteor shower as well as an occasional satellite sighting. The rounded hills of grace were dark silhouettes around the horizon. Watching the stars is always a great way to contemplate the vastness of the universe, but doing so while being the only person camped on a scenic lake high in the Killarney hills is particularly rewarding.
Day 2 – Carmichael’s Rock
My elation at being warm enough was short lived. I woke up again in the night, and this time I was cold. I quickly pulled my warm clothes back on and zipped my mummy bag all the way up so that only a tiny breathing hole was exposed. My bum was cool for a while, but eventually I managed to warm up again and get a good nights sleep.
I woke at dawn, but it was hard to crawl out of my hammock because it was so cold. The clouds had returned and the sky was completely grey. I retrieved the food bag and made myself some pancakes.
Even though this was to be a ‘down’ day where I wasn’t going to change campsites, I still had a busy itinerary. I was going in search of the site of a photo of Franklin Carmichael. ‘The Group Of Seven’ were a group of artists who not only defined a Canadian style of painting, but were also instrumental in the creation of Killarney Provincial Park. OSA Lake at the heart of the park is named after the Ontario Society of Artists and many lakes in the area are named for Group Of Seven members.
Franklin Carmichael was a member of the group who often came to Grace and Nellie Lakes to paint. In 1934 Joachim Gauthier took a picture of Carmichael perched on a small chunk of quartzite high in the ridges surrounding Grace Lake. It has become somewhat of a pilgrimage for canoeists to visit the site of this photo and revisit this bit of art history. To add an element of fun to the challenge the exact location of the rock isn’t published, so each group of explorers has to figure out where it was taken and then find it. Since geocaches aren’t allowed in Killarney Park this is about as close to geocaching as you can get in this area, and is reminiscent of the grandfathered “First Killarney PP Geocache” located to the south on OSA Lake. How could I resist?
I was still wearing the warm layers I had brought to sleep in, but it was also still cold. I was planning a good hike and didn’t want to get sweaty. I figured that surely it would warm up, since it was August after all. I did remove some clothing, but I couldn’t make myself part with my warm top. I did get warm enough to remove it as soon as I was moving, but every time I stopped I would cool down and put it back on. It was a cold day!
To ensure that I found the site of the photo I had done a considerable amount of prep at home using topographic maps, placing a waypoint where I thought the photo had been taken, and plotting a route that would get me there with minimal effort. I also had printouts of the original photo, as well as various other canoeists who visited the site. Finally I had done some scouting the night before to triangulate the sight lines to the rock.
With all of that information it was almost easy to discover the ‘lost’ rock. Almost. When I reached Grace Lake it was clear that I had to alter my planned hike up the hill. My original path took the terrain contours into account, but not the vegetation. And the climb is in fact a climb! I came in here with a kevlar canoe and lightweight camping gear. On the hike I had only my map and my GPSr to weigh me down. Carmichael climbed up here with a canvas pack and a sketching kit, and I gather his canoe was made of cedar, his tent canvas, and none of his camping gear was lightweight. This guy was serious about his painting!
I headed up the hill in the general direction of my waypoint, and I soon recognized the clearing I had seen in some of the other ‘modern’ photos of the site. The trees in the hills of Killarney have grown considerably since the photo was taken and the site has changed considerably. But the rock itself is unmistakeable and there it was! Most impressive is that I found the rock only 30m from the spot I had estimated while at home.
There’s a tradition of keeping the exact location of the rock secret, stemming from an act of ‘vandalism’. A few years ago, Jim & Sue Waddington discovered that the 200lb rock had been rolled down the hill. They returned with a crew of friends and hauled the rock back up to it’s original location. No mean feat! The Waddington’s felt that only those willing to do the necessary work to find the rock should have the pleasure of visiting it, in the hopes that only those who had a real interest in this odd bit of art history would visit and preserve the site.
I don’t know how well this obfuscation will protect the rock, but I do enjoy a good secret and it definitely is more fun to discover the rock using the photo instead of a waypoint. To this end I have not provided a waypoint for the rock and have manipulated my track to hide it’s exact location and the path I took up the hill. So be forewarned, part of my track for the 13th is only representative, and following it could lead you astray!
A further bit of obfuscation: I was all over that ridge. Finding the rock wasn’t the end of my travels for the day. While geocaches aren’t allowed in the park, they can be placed just outside. Grace Lake is right near the edge of the park, and there’s a geocache on the trail from there going to the peak of Mount Baldy (sometimes referred to as Mount Carmichael since it was another favourite sketching spot for the artist). The mountain is located on the south shore of Grace Lake and the cache is less than two kilometres from an easy access point to the hills.
Not wanting to climb the mountain twice I had plotted a bushwhack downhill that I felt would intersect with the trail and then lead me to the cache. Bushwhacking is particularly easy in the Killarney landscape because the vegetation isn’t overly thick and the hills are all quite climbable. I was surprised to discover moose poop high up in the hills where I would expect it to be difficult for a moose to climb. I also discovered plenty of bear poop which is more understandable since the bears follow the blueberries up into the hills as they build up fat for winter.
My path down the hill took me past a small marshy lake, full of dead trees. I had to make several steep descents, and at one point I crossed the stream and started to climb the slope on the other side. Despite all of the bear sign the only animal I encountered was a porcupine. I saw him from quite a ways off but couldn’t identify him until he was quite close. Even though I was (purposefully) making quite a bit of noise he still came right towards me until I spoke. This seemed to spook him a bit and he finally bristled and waddled off in the other direction. Unfortunately that was the way I wanted to go as well, so I climbed the hill a bit to give the critter some space.
Soon after encountering the porcupine I found the trail up the hill. After that it was an easy walk down the trail to where I found the geocache. There’s no point finding a geocache named after a mountain without actually climbing the mountain so after a quick break and some GORP I turned around and headed back up to the top.
The trail is moderately easy and I was soon treated to the view from the top. I could see most of McGregor Bay, and a portion of the southern LaCloche Ridge to the south. Silver Peak was visible to the east, and the extensive lowlands to the north were interrupted by the smoke coming from the Espanola paper mill. I may have even seen the superstack in Copper Cliff but I’m not sure.
The sky had remained grey all day, but other than some spitting the rain had held off. But from my vantage point I could see showers creeping across the land below in several places, shrouding the lakes and hills with white mist.
I spent a while on top of the mountain trying to identify some other famous paintings that I had brought with me but I couldn’t find any of them. I had neglected to bring a copy of Carmichael’s “Northern Tundra” which he reputedly painted from Mount Baldy, and I can’t figure out where he was located when he painted “Grace Lake”.
To get back to my canoe I followed the north side of the ridge hoping to catch some views of Grace. At one point I came across a very pretty bog perched high above Grace Lake which itself is high above the surrounding landscape. The bog ends abruptly at a cliff face and appears suspended in the air. My map shows that the bog drains down the hill into the stream that follows the portage down to Frood Lake.
After that it was an uneventful hike back to my canoe and then a short paddle to my campsite. The entire time that I’d been in the hills the wind had been buffeting me constantly. I hadn’t paid it much attention since I was up high, but when I got back to my campsite I realized how relentless it was. I made myself a Drink (some rum, water, and juice crystals) and sat down. I would have been content to just enjoy the rest of the day but it was hard to relax with the winds so strong and I couldn’t get comfortable.
It was also cold, and I soon found myself putting all of my clothing on. Even that wasn’t enough to keep warm so I started gathering and cutting firewood just to warm up. I wasn’t intending to light a fire since the rains had finally arrived and I needed my tarp to stay dry, but the wind was buffeting it so violently that it was getting too close to the fire ring below for safety.
Gathering the wood warmed me up briefly, but I was soon cold again so I started to think more seriously about burning it. I was out of rope to tie the tarp more securely but I found a stick that I could erect as a pole to keep it clear of the fire. After that it was a bit difficult to light the fire in such high winds but once going it burned strong late into the night. Once advantage of the cold and wind was that all of the mosquitoes in the park were cryogenically frozen for the season and I didn’t see any more for the duration of my trip.
I had to stay very close to the fire to benefit from it’s warmth. It was late in the afternoon and the sun clearly wasn’t going to come out again to warm things up. If it was this cold in the day, how cold would it be at night? I needn’t have worried. The winds died overnight and it warmed up considerably before morning, so yet again I was quite comfortable in my hammock.
Not only did the fire warm me up, it also helped to improve my mood. There’s something quite soothing about a fire, particularly on a cold windy day. It’s a good thing because the clouds didn’t even part after sunset and I didn’t get to see the stars at all that night. I made some burritos for dinner which I accidentally over hydrated so they were a bit sloppy. I was so hungry I didn’t care. In fact I was still hungry so I also made my ’emergency’ meal, a pack of pasta. It had been a big day and I was hungry!
Day 3 – Good Grace
Normally I hope for bright sunny weather while I’m on a trip. It just brightens the mood. But I wasn’t too disappointed when I saw that the forecast was calling for periods of rain Monday and Tuesday while I’d be on Grace Lake. Mist and drizzle seemed like an appropriate atmosphere to highlight the many layered hills that surround Grace Lake. I did see a bit of rain and mist while on top of Mount Baldy, but for the most part I got neither; no sun, and rather than rain and mist it was just cold and windy. So when I woke up Wednesday morning at dawn and the sky was clear it was a bit of a relief.
The sudden change in the temperature had left Grace Lake steaming. The wind had died completely leaving a glassy calm. I decided to take out the canoe for a paddle before breakfast to watch the sunrise from the water. The sun was peeking out from behind the hills sending fingers of light across the water. As each new ray struck the surface it warmed the water further sending up more early morning steam. Grace Lake had finally revealed herself in her full glory.
I paddled to the other end of the lake and then zigzagged through the islands. As I passed one little rock I spotted a small otter scurry out of the water and into the cover of it’s lair in the bushes out of the corner of my eye.
I had company now, the second campsite on Grace was occupied. I had heard voices and laughter the night before, but I wasn’t sure there was someone else until I saw the smoke from their fire. They weren’t up yet so I just paddled on.
Since I was going to be moving it was just a quick breakfast of oatmeal and then I broke camp. Originally I’d wanted to get an early start, but now I was reluctant to leave since it was so nice and I wanted to enjoy Grace. Nevertheless I loaded my canoe and pushed off. After a very brief paddle I was at the portage from Grace to Nellie which is the hardest of the trip. Whichever direction you go there’s a significant climb, but I was approaching it from the tall side so I had a slightly higher climb than I would have going in the opposite direction.
The takeout for the portage is a bit muddy, and not far in there’s another short muddy patch followed by a beaver dam that must be crossed. After that it’s a surprisingly easy uphill climb to the peek before heading back down. I was quite surprised by this portage. It was even prettier than the last one, and it was much easier than expected. I just took small steps, one at a time, and made it across with my pack without needing a break.
It was also a surprisingly crowded portage that day. Soon after I arrived another canoe showed up. Initially I was confused because they had no gear and only took their paddles and life jackets on the portage with them. I realized they were day trippers and were crossing over to pick up a canoe stashed on the Nellie end of the portage by one of the Lodges. I let them pass me because they were moving faster than I was, but I caught up to them again at the other end, and it was their turn to be confused. When I told them I was going to camp on Nellie they couldn’t figure out how I was going to get to my campsite until I told them I was going to go back and carry my canoe over as well. This appeared to horrify them.
When I returned for my canoe there was a group of four women preparing for the portage. These were the other campers I had shared Grace with the night before. We chatted a bit before heading off. One of them had left the others behind, and they soon let me pass them with my canoe. Eventually I started to catch up to the leader, and was pushing myself harder to try to close the gap, but at the top of the hill I realized that I needed a break so I put the boat down for a while. When I met her again at the far end of the trail she was running back to help her friends, then returned with another pack, and actually ran back up the hill to fetch another. On her last trip I asked her if she got paid extra for all the running around, and she just said “Oh, I like doing this!” over her shoulder before running back up the hill again to fetch another pack. She was sure keeping warm. I almost kept my warm clothes on again that morning and she and her friends were portaging in bikinis!
I also met a family going the opposite way from Nellie to Grace, who were doing the loop the other way round. We chatted about the campsites on Nellie for a bit and since I had a head start on the women I realized that I’d have my pick of the sites again.
Nellie Lake is one of the clearest lakes in the park with 28m visibility. It has bright blue water reminiscent of the tropics. There’s supposed to be a sunken scow in the bay that reportedly used to belong to the group of seven members. Unfortunately the wind had picked up again and was chopping up the surface of the water so I couldn’t see to find the old wreck. Even though it was windy it was still warm and sunny which was a relief after the cold the day before.
After examining all of the sites I again chose the furthest of the three which juts out into the middle of the lake on a point. This time I set my tarp up in the trees out of the wind since I didn’t anticipate needing it, and made sure my hammock was also well sheltered.
I was pretty hungry again, but tonight I had a treat. When I repacked the food for one person there were a couple of meals that I couldn’t easily reconfigure so I just brought the double portions. Wednesday night I was having the shepherd’s pie which was one of the double meals. I didn’t have any problem at all eating both portions, even with the generous serving of potatoes.
I had a great fire that night and for the first time the sky was clear at sunset so I could watch the brightest stars reveal themselves while the fire burned down to embers. The moon was a bit past half full so it’s light obscured the milky way and the dimmer stars. I almost fell asleep in front of the fire thanks to being exhausted and perhaps also because of an extra shot of rum I had after dinner. I don’t know why but this was the most comfortable hang I ever did with the hammock, and I fell asleep almost immediately. Later that night I had to get up to pee and by then the moon had set, so I could see a full sky of stars again. As I sat there watching I spotted another couple of Perseids.
Day 4 – More Ridge Running
The next morning I woke up before sunrise again and I was able to watch the stars disappear. It wasn’t as nice as the morning before but it was a beautiful sunny morning with perfectly clear skies.
Yet again I was very hungry, and I had another treat to tide me over. Breakfast was chocolate bannock, originally intended as a dessert for two, now a meal for a single person. I was so hungry I ate several large pieces of bannock as I fried them before I realized I was stuffed. I decided to save the last piece for later.
This was another day where I didn’t have to break camp, and my goal was to climb the ridge behind my site to find the location of AY Jackson’s painting titled “Nellie Lake”. Jackson was another member of the group of seven, and one of his most famous paintings was of the saddle that separates Grace and Nellie Lakes, seen from the opposite side with respect to the Carmichael photo. The Waddington’s had gone in search of the original location and even photographed it. I was hoping to find the exact spot where Jackson had created his painting, so I headed off for a scramble in the hills. It was a great day to be on the ridge, and the higher I got the further I could see.
Not only did I have a copy of the painting, and the photo that the Waddington’s took, I had also created a waypoint at what I thought was a likely location for the painting, but as I climbed the hill I began to have my doubts. Another mountain, further away, was starting to look more likely. I decided to change my plans and climb that peak instead. I got a perspective that was very similar to the painting, including one detail that was more similar to the painting than the photo. In the painting there’s a distant ridge on the south shore of Grace visible between the saddle formed by the two nearest peaks. I could see it from where I was, but it wasn’t visible at all in their picture. In fact it wouldn’t be visible anywhere on the hill that I had originally identified.
But as I scrambled up and down the rocks I still couldn’t find the right rocks for the foreground. I finally decided to try switching back to the hill I had originally intended to search. There was some tricky climbing involved because both hills are quite steep, but as soon as I was on the other hill it was obvious that the perspective was better here for matching the painting then it had been on the other peak with the exception of the hill that was now missing in the distance. I still couldn’t match the foreground rocks to what was in the painting, but I also felt that the rocks in the Waddington’s photo didn’t match either.
I scrambled around for quite a while trying to find just the right spot. I couldn’t even find the location where the Waddington’s had taken their photo, but that wasn’t really my goal. In the end I decided it was impossible to find the exact location where the painting was made. I think that Jackson sketched the hill from multiple locations including both that I visited, and that the painting is a composite of all of these sketches. I would have liked to have found the smooth rocks pictured in the foreground of his painting, but I couldn’t. I finally decided to turn back to my campsite to rest for the remainder of the day.
As I neared my site on the way back down the ridge I began to gather firewood since the best wood near the site had been scavenged. By the time I got back I had my arms full of wood for the night’s fire.
I had really wanted to swim in Nellie because of the spectacular water clarity. I had washed up a bit that morning, but it was so cold I hadn’t been able to push myself in any deeper than my ankles. I decided to try again but the water was still cold, and while the sun was warm the wind was howling so strong that even the air felt cool. I wet my hair without getting fully into the water and then laid down on the warm rocks to dry off.
It didn’t take long for the relentless wind to start to wear on my nerves. I wasn’t too cold when dressed, but it was exhausting just listening too it. I finally ducked around the corner of the point I was on to get some shelter and sat down to write some notes in my journal.
Some dark clouds started to roll in while I was making dinner and I was worried that the nice weather was over, but the sky soon cleared again. The weather really changes fast out there! I had some tuna Quesadillas for dinner, but I had misread the recipe so I was short on Tuna and they ended up being grilled cheese wraps instead. They were still delicious and just right after another active day.
I was just finishing dinner when two of the four women I’d met the day before paddled by. They were hoping to explore the far end of the lake but once they rounded the point the strong wind made them reconsider. We had a shouted conversation but the wind kept trying to whip our words away. I had wanted to see the rest of the lake myself, but was afraid of getting windbound.
It was another great night for watching the sky as I had my last fire of the trip. Quite late I heard some voices, including a male voice. I had thought that it was just the women and I on the lake, and when I looked I could see a flashlight guiding a canoe my way. From the snatches of conversation I could hear they were looking for a site, but they turned back when they saw my fire.
My last night was the only night that I didn’t sleep well. The first problem was I woke up with my feet too low. Since I’d had a such a perfect hang the night before I was a bit confused. Having the suspension move in a hammock is a bit worrisome since it’s what’s keeping you off the ground. I’ve been trying a new technique for tying the hammock lately and that might be what slipped. Fortunately my new tie lets me adjust it pretty easily so I got out and pulled the foot end back up where it should be. The moon had set so I sat down to watch the stars for a while before going back to bed. I saw a blazing green meteor which is something I’ve never seen before. It was joined by a couple of other’s with a more common colour.
No sooner had I got back in the hammock than I started to hear sticks breaking in the woods. I’ve never actually heard a bear, but I was pretty sure what I was hearing was much smaller than one. But it was coming from the direction of my food bag so every time I’d decide to ignore it I’d be startled awake again. I finally decided I had to confront my fear so I grabbed my light and walked over there to find — nothing. Later on some nuts started to rain down on my hammock so I figure what I heard was an irate squirrel.
I was a bit spooked by the noise so I sat down by the fire pit to watch the stars now that the moon was gone. After counting a few more meteors I finally got back into bed and after reading a few more pages of my book managed to get back to sleep.
Day 5 – The Notch
Just like Grace, Nellie decided to give me a show on my last day. I woke up early after a poor night’s sleep. The wind had died down and Nellie Lake was finally calm. A pale golden light illuminated a soft mist rising off the water. When I checked the time it was ten minutes before sunrise. I really needed to get more sleep because I had a big day ahead of me, but here was my last opportunity to see Nellie Lake in all of her glory. I was torn for a while, and even tried briefly to get back to sleep, but I was so excited that I crawled out of my hammock, slid my canoe into the water, and was in the middle of the lake by the time the sun crested the hills to the east.
The only ripples were those left by my canoe behind me. Nellie was indeed as spectacular as expected. I couldn’t see the bottom in the middle of the lake, but closer to shore I could easily see the barren landscape that made up the basin of this dead lake far below me. The underwater terrain was dramatic, plunging up and down steep cliffs interrupted by large expanses of smooth rock and gravel. The bottom was littered with sunken trees and rubble and the pale blue colour gave it all a surreal look. The strangest thing was seeing the shadow of my canoe far below me.
As I glided over this strange land I noticed several clusters of white quartzite rocks organized in a decidedly unnatural way. At first I couldn’t decipher them, but then I realized that they were messages spelled out on the bottom of the lake by previous campers. One group who routinely stayed at this site would leave a marker each year with the date of their trip. While these formations weren’t natural they were nicer than graffiti.
Above the water I could see the golden light of sunrise creep across the convoluted hills and valleys. This was a spectacular morning to be out on the water and since the wind was down I decided to paddle down the length of the lake. Nellie is a long lake, much larger than Grace, so I only ended up paddling half way before I turned back.
Just before turning around I saw something swimming in the water ahead of me, crossing from one side of the lake to the other. I paddled towards it and to my surprise it turned out to be a beaver. I hadn’t expected a permanent resident in this lifeless lake. I also spotted several families of loons fishing that morning and wondered if they were confused. They certainly must have been hungry, because there definitely were no fish! I watched the beaver for a while, and then as I turned the canoe I heard the distant howls of a wolf pack. The wolves called to each other for a few minutes before their howls died down.
I ate a quick breakfast of porridge, supplemented by the left over bannock from the day before then started to break camp. The small critters of my campsite were seemingly energized by the beautiful morning after the windy spell we’d just had. A small chipmunk kept circling my fire pit and nattering at me, and a hummingbird buzzed right up to me as I was putting drink crystals into my water for the day.
By the time I left my site the sun was higher in the sky and the visibility through the water was even better than before despite some waves on the surface. I looked for the old scow again on my way out, but I still couldn’t spot it.
The lake was really crowded that morning. I chatted briefly with the new campers who’d arrived in the night as I paddled past their site, and the four women who’d been my neighbours for the last three nights let out a ululating call as I waved goodbye.
I also saw three large groups of campers on the portage from Murray up to Grace. They were all coming the hard way up the portage, while I was going downhill. This is where all of the climbing I had done earlier in the trip paid off, because this is one of the steepest portages in the park. In places the trail feels more like a ladder than stairs, and just when it seems like it can’t get worse the very last section before Murray Lake is nearly vertical. Going downhill the whole way didn’t make it easy, but it would have been a whole other world of pain in the other direction. When I finally finished carrying the canoe over (without stopping for a break) I opened my pack and had a shot of rum to celebrate. I had finished the last tough portage of the trip and I was still standing!
The one consolation for the pain is that this is also the prettiest portage of the trip. It runs through a valley called ‘The Notch’ that winds between three mountains and follows a small creek that drains the acidic clear water of Nellie Lake into Murray Lake below. There are several pretty waterfalls and a couple of large wide open meadows and bogs. I had climbed two of the three mountains the day before, and now they made a startling backdrop as I carried my gear. There’s a side trail at the Nellie end of the portage that gives access to the third mountain that frames The Notch, and I climbed up here while returning for my canoe. Some scrambling on the exposed rock face offers some great views of the surrounding hills.
Murray Lake is prettier than I expected. The LaCloche hills are just a backdrop here, so it feels more like Haliburton or Algonquin than Killarney, but it is a pretty lake even if it isn’t as dramatic as its neighbours. I paddled pretty slowly down Murray Lake and then Howry Creek, saving my energy for the paddle against the wind on Charlton Lake. The creek is choked with vegetation on both sides and winds its way back and forth through the the lowlands.
I saw a cormorant swimming ahead of me on the creek. Normally I try to avoid pursuing wildlife, but we were both heading in the same direction so I had no choice. The bird was looking nervously back and forth as it sensed my approach, but it didn’t take flight until I was almost upon it. Despite being endowed with the gift of flight it just flew a few bends down the river ahead of me and I soon caught up to it again. We repeated this dance all afternoon for several kilometres until we reached Charlton Lake and I was finally able to pass the poor bird. I also spotted a great blue heron in the small lake that interrupts the creek, but he wisely flew off in a more sensible direction so we only had one encounter.
There’s a very short (210m) portage on the creek which I did as a single carry since my pack was now so light I could easily handle it and the canoe on such flat terrain. There was also one lift over which was quite easy even though I did get a soaker. I’d left my socks off again because I knew I might get my feet wet that day, but this proved to be a mistake because yet again the deer flies enjoyed nibbling on my feet all afternoon as I paddled. I couldn’t understand how they could keep up with me when the wind picked up on Charlton until I realized that they were resting in the bow of my canoe before flying back into the stiff breeze and renewing their assault.
The cottages started appearing before I was even on Charlton, and there are some particularly ugly ones on this section of creek. Once I was out on the open water I had enough wind to deal with that I could ignore the cottages. I had been paddling pretty idly all day, but when I got into the wind I decided to give it everything I had so I wouldn’t be slipping back constantly. I threw all style out the window and just paddle five hard strokes on one side before switching to the other. The extra speed helped the canoe track properly and prevented the tough paddle from taking too long.
I’d pick an island ahead of me, usually about a kilometre away, and then paddle furiously until I was sheltered in the lee of the island where I’d take a break, have a shot of rum and then repeat the whole ordeal. Paddling upwind like this was pretty gruelling, but Charlton is still a very scenic lake despite the cottages. And the motor boats I encountered were very courteous, slowing down to a crawl whenever they saw me to avoid disturbing me with their wake.
After my strenuous paddle I enjoyed a lazy trip up the creek that leads to Widgawa Lodge and the take out point. I had made it in good time, but I still had a long drive ahead of me to North Bay so I managed to load the car and tie down the canoe in fifteen minutes.
On Going Solo
I’ve gone on several solo trips before, but none this long. I’ve always wanted to try a longer solo trip, but my intension was to work up to it gradually. I’m a fairly introverted person and I need a good dose of time by myself to recharge, but not having any human contact for an extended period can be a bit trying and I wanted to work up to it just in case I had any difficulty with the experience. I was also having some confidence issues about my abilities because of our recent misadventure in Algonquin.
I tend to choose ‘smaller’ destinations for my solo trips. One obvious reason for that is that doing portages and camp chores alone is more difficult. But primarily, it’s nice to be able to share the best destinations with friends and family who would like to come, and when you have a limited number of vacation days they have to be allocated carefully.
This was a particular source of anxiety on this trip because I wasn’t satisfied with the way we decided who was and wasn’t coming. Both my wife and son wanted to come, and I felt they were being deprived of the opportunity which left a bitter taste in my mouth. I would have enjoyed having them along and also wish that they’d had the opportunity to experience this wonderful trip.
So with all of these reservations up front how did it go as a solo trip? Frankly, it was wonderful. I enjoyed the trip thoroughly, and would love to do another like it. I was more than comfortable with the amount of time I spent by myself. I had brought two books in case I was bored or got messed up in the head, but instead I barely read fifty pages from one of them. I do wish that the rest of the family had been able to come even though it would have changed the trip significantly, but I’m also glad that I did it alone.
Doing the trip alone also helped me overcome my confidence issues. On our recent trip to Algonquin I sprained a ligament in my hip while crossing a relatively steep portage. This trip had three portages of a comparable length, and if anything they were all steeper than the one in Algonquin. I was able to handle all three without too much difficulty which was a relief. It helped that my pack was twelve pounds lighter at the start of this trip than it had been in Algonquin – only 43 pounds at the start, and barely 32 once I’d eaten all of the food. I was also very careful about taking it easy on the portages, yet if anything, I made better time than in Algonquin.
I’ve heard it said that a trip of at least five days is required in order to reconnect properly with nature. I must admit that I encountered so many people on this trip (many more than I expected) that I was never alone for long, but I did feel something I haven’t on previous solo trips. A big part of connecting with nature is learning to adapt your pace to the world around you as opposed to trying to mould it to your own. The fewer ‘things’ that you bring with you the easier this is. Cellphones, computers, microwaves and even flush toilets all help us control the world and warp it to our own pace. Out here in the backcountry the sun, the weather and the bugs all set a schedule that visitors are wise to follow. But another thing we can choose to bring or leave behind is other people, and the group we bring with us also serves to isolate us from the environment that we’re in at the same time that they provide us with companionship and support. Going alone is a wonderful way to allow yourself to be even more connected with the place you’re visiting.
Mishaps
For some reason this trip was plagued with mishaps. I had more mishaps on this trip than on all of my other trips combined. None of them were serious, but all were annoying at the time, and I tried to make sure that I didn’t let them spoil the mood of an otherwise excellent trip.
The first mishap happened only minutes into my trip. I had just sat down in the canoe and was drifting away from the dock when I heard a splash. Initially I thought it was my camera or one of the the items secured to my belt, but then I noticed that the pocket on my knee was unzipped. I’d stashed important things that I don’t need as often there, and sitting on the seat it was hanging almost upside down. I could see bubbles coming out of the water where whatever it was had fallen, but I couldn’t see anything in the muck on the bottom. I did an inventory and I couldn’t find my flashlight. Losing my flashlight right at the start of the trip was a bit of a blow. Not only did I need it to read at night, but I really liked that light. I had a spare, but I only had one set of batteries for it and didn’t know how long they’d last. I had to struggle to not be upset about the loss of the light, but I succeeded, which made it all the more of a relief when I found it in another pocket a few hours later. The mystery remained as to what I had lost, and I finally realized that it was my lighter that had fallen. I had a spare, and plenty of matches so it wasn’t that big a deal.
The flashlight wasn’t the only item that I thought I’d lost but hadn’t. I spent three days thinking that I’d lost my pen along with the lighter, but I finally found it in my back pocket. I’d been sitting on it all along! I also lost my other lighter for a few hours, and misplaced a rope for a couple of days before it turned up in my food bag.
When I got to the end of the first portage I pulled out my lunch. I’d packed individual bags of trail mix, pepperettes, and cheese sticks for each day. This is exactly what I bring on other trips, but this was the first time I’d packaged them all together. I was shocked to discover that all of the pepperettes had gone mouldy! I hastily removed the meat from all of the bags of GORP to prevent the mould from spreading. I ended up with a few handfuls of GORP with a funky taste but managed to salvage most of it.
The morning of the second day I opened the food bag to find it was wet inside. I don’t carry many liquids, and the liquid in the bag had a familiar cool feel. It was the fuel for my stove. I’d snuffed out the stove the night before, but I forgot to put the cap on once it cooled, then I packed it in the bag with my food and hung it. I didn’t loose much fuel and since all of my food is double bagged I didn’t ruin any, but it was a stupid mistake.
The third day was the worst for mishaps. I forgot my GPSr for a portion of my morning paddle. This wasn’t that big a deal, but I do like to have it with me at all times. Perhaps a little more serious, I left my satellite beacon at the far end of the portage that morning. It had been attached to my pack and when I returned for the canoe I forgot to move it to my belt. Anyone watching would have assumed that I’d done a brutal single carry and then needed an hour and a half to recover. There’s not much point in bringing a beacon if you don’t have it with you.
I managed to have one more mishap on the same portage. I still had some filtered water that morning so I brought the bag with me to refill my bottle just before starting the portage. It was a long carry and I wanted to make sure I was properly hydrated. The bottle was sitting on uneven ground and I had just finished topping it up when it tipped over. I caught it before it was all gone, but I only had half a bottle left for the whole portage. Fortunately the day was cool enough and I finished the portage quickly enough that the lack of water wasn’t a problem.
To finish out my third day of mishaps I broke my saw. I was looking for firewood and the first likely looking branch was much larger than the recommended diameter for my saw. I decided to try cutting it off anyway and then move on to more reasonable sized stuff. I was almost halfway through when the log pinched down on the blade and jammed the saw. No matter how much I twisted, levered and eventually hammered on the blade, it wouldn’t budge. I tried grabbing it with pliers but all I managed to do was bend it. In the end I had to detach the blade from the frame and leave it there, gathering the rest of my firewood the old fashioned way. To add insult to injury I dropped a heavy log on my foot a while later which hurt for a few hours.
I didn’t notice any mishaps on the fourth day of trip, but the next morning I discovered two holes burned into my waterproof canoe pack. Obviously some embers from the fire the night before had floated over and melted through the tough fabric.
The last mishap of the trip happened before it started, but I didn’t discover it until I returned. When I got back in the car the battery could barely roll the windows down. It turns out that the map light was turned on for the duration of my trip and ran the battery down. I was able to turn it over enough to start it, but I had to leave it running while I tied the canoe down. It was definitely running strangely making odd rattles and shakes and somewhere between Espanola and Sudbury it made a strange noise and the engine sounds got worse. I managed to limp home, but it got really bad when the engine lost the ability to idle and required constant gas every time I slowed down. My car appears to have developed two or three problems while it was parked, and they seem to have been enough to finish it off!