Muskoka is known for rugged beauty, but not particularly for unspoiled wilderness. There are a few lakes whose shores aren’t encrusted with cottages and constantly patrolled by buzzing motorboats however. One of the largest such areas is along the course of the Gibson River.
I invited some co-workers to come for a late September canoe trip in order to find some Geocaches. Planning isn’t my strong suit, and late September turned into mid October before we headed out.
There were four of us, and the usual complexities coordinating a group of people landed us on a date with a less than stellar weather forecast, calling for 10 – 20mm of rain. Hours before our departure Environment Canada posted an extreme weather advisory calling for 45 – 50mm of rain. Oddly enough the forecast continued to predict only 10 – 20mm. The temperature was warm, the winds low, and the plans made, so we decided to press on despite the alert. The rain proved annoying, but not extreme.
I thought that the rain would mean that we were the only paddlers on the water, but we saw a lone kayaker putting in at the marina and we encountered a large group of 10 – 12 canoes paddling out on Nine Mile Lake. They had been camping on Turtle Lake since Friday night. They must have had a very cold and wet trip. Nine Mile Lake was the only part of our trip where we saw cottages, and the portage to Turtle Lake is just around the bend from the last of the houses. Once we got off of Nine Mile Lake we were completely alone, and the only sound of civilization was a train (the tracks cut right through the area we were paddling, but we didn’t make it far enough to see them). There were some boats stashed at the end of the Turtle Lake portage, but other than the blazed trails themselves and the occasional campsite the illusion of being deep in the backcountry was perfect.
The portage was a bit wet. In fact there was a waterfall right down the middle of the trail! The portage only went as far as the marsh on the maps, and I’d hoped we’d be able to paddle the bulk of it, but the marsh was far too dry so we had to do a 500m carry. There were several large (and cold) puddles on the trail that could be avoided with some extra effort, but I was already so wet I finally just decided to walk through them. Other than the water the portage was quite easy, but the trail isn’t as wide and worn as one you’d find in a large well maintained park like Killarney.
All of the lakes were well sheltered from the wind, if not the rain, and the paddle down Turtle Lake was easy. Turtle Lake is a good example of Canadian shield terrain, but not particularly remarkable in any way until you reach the south end. There it hooks West as it funnels between rock faces on both sides. There are a lot of standing dead trees in the water here, but the water is quite deep so it’s fairly easy to paddle between them. It’s a scenic little channel. There were a couple of places where I wasn’t sure where to turn, but we found the right path without much difficulty.
The beaver dam at the end of the channel isn’t particularly long, but it’s height is quite impressive. It’s constructed as a pair of arches braced against a small rock island in the middle to hold back the large volume of water.. The water on the upstream side of the dam is quite deep and was noticeably colder than in other parts of the lake. There must be several generations of beaver families who’ve worked on this dam. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to get a picture that shows off the height of the structure.
The remaining distance to Brotherson’s Lake is a short 200m portage, but just like the water it drops quite abruptly at the end. The shore of Brotherson’s Lake is ringed by small cliffs because it’s so much lower than the surrounding terrain. It makes the lake a little more scenic than Turtle Lake on the other side of the hill.
After a short paddle on Brotherson’s Lake we came to the channel that connects it to Narrow Lake. The channel was navigable without having to line the canoe, but just. Most of the channel is a mud flat covered by a few inches of water, but the current has carved a deeper passage that winds through the middle. The deeper channel is actually visible on the Bing Maps satellite photos (a cloud obscures the channel with the current Google Maps imagery). On our way into Narrow Lake it was pretty easy to see the deeper channel from the stern, but on the way out the rain had started again and covered the surface of the water with ripples which made navigation more difficult.
Our final destination was Narrow Lake, and we were only out for a day trip, so once there we turned around and headed back. We switched up the portaging duties on the way out, and also let some of the other members in our group try paddling from the stern. We made it back to the marina just after dark, but we had cleared all of the portages by the time the sun set.
Tips
There’s pay parking and free parking at the marina. Your choice pending availability.
Other than the remoteness this is a fairly easy trip. There are many other trips that can be had in the area, and being a little more wild than a developed park it’s fun to explore. Just make sure that you’re prepared with a good map and leave yourself some extra time since the trails aren’t rigorously maintained.
If you intend to camp we did see several posted sites with fire pits but I have no idea if they also have thunder boxes, or if they are maintained at all. Of greater importance I have no idea how busy they get, so I don’t know how hard it would be to find a site in high season.
The storm intensified through the night and I had my first opportunity to enjoy a thunderstorm while sleeping in a hammock. The lightning was about ten seconds away, but that’s enough to make quite a bit of noise and light up the sky dramatically. I had set my hammock up with the fly a bit high and I was worried that water was dripping onto my feet. A bit was splashing on the ground and then up under the tarp, but most of what I was feeling was the drops of water vibrating the tie out lines for the hammock. It was a cold night and I didn’t want to risk getting my sleeping bag wet so I experimented with putting my feet up on the high side of the hammock, but that was too uncomfortable. I was starting to be jealous of Alex in his tent, but when he got up the next morning I found out that he was even more wet thanks to a leaky fly.
Normally I read quite a bit while camping, but we’d been staying up pretty late and I’d been sleeping uncharacteristically well, so this was the first night of the trip that I did much reading. I eventually drifted off to sleep, but was woken by thunderbolts several times.
We didn’t see much sun while on Grace Lake, but it did poke through one morning as it rose.
The rain seemed to have stopped by dawn, but the clouds weren’t letting the sun through at all. It sprinkled rain a couple of times while I made pancakes for breakfast, but it did seem to be clearing up by the time we headed out to do some ridge running. There are inviting hills all around Grace Lake, but we decided to visit Carmichael’s Rock first and then see how time and the weather left us.
The climb up to the rock was a bit more difficult than I remembered, particularly with the rocks so wet. I managed to find the rock without having to rely much on my GRSr even though I didn’t have a printout of the photo to guide me this year. (Just like last year I’ve deleted the actual location of the rock from my GPS track logs).
Alex contemplates the same view that Franklin Carmichael did 80 years ago.
The portage from Grace to Nellie runs through the saddle at the east end of the lake.
Looking north we can see the northern boundary lakes that we traversed just a few days ago. It also gives a sense of just how high Grace Lake is up in the mountains.
The view is a bit restricted looking south from this peak, but we could see a dark gray storm cloud coming our way. Within minutes we were drenched.
As we descended the hill we could see the rain sweeping across the lake below.
We climbed to the top of a nearby peak to see the view and decide what to do next. From the peak Grace Lake stands out against the hills even further below, highlighting the fact that it’s perched high up in the hills. When we turned to look south we could see the hills and islands of McGregor Bay receding into the mist below and a dark storm cloud heading our way from above! There was no time to find any shelter better than some trees, and within minutes the storm was upon us, beating down with torrential rain. We tried to wait the rain out but it showed no signs of letting up after a few minutes, and we decided to head downhill when we heard a warning rumble from the sky.
We had to proceed very carefully down the hill on the wet rocks. Normally I’m very diligent about turning the canoe over, but this time I forgot, and when we found it the back end was already full of water. There had been no more thunder so we dumped out the boat and paddled back to our campsite in the torrential rain. By the time we got back to our tarp we were thoroughly soaked and there was no sun to dry out our clothes.
We changed into the driest stuff we had, and then began a long wait for the rain to stop. I had hoped that we could do some more exploring later in the day, but the threat of rain never passed for long enough for us to venture out again, so we just watched the clouds and talked.
Back at our campsite it’s hard to tell the difference between clouds and rain as they sweep through the hills.
Cloud watching on Grace Lake is an interesting experience because at times the hills, and even the lake, are in the clouds. Sometimes the east end of the lake would disappear entirely, and then the large mounds of rock surrounding the lake would slowly begin to reappear, at first as dim shadows which slowly resolved themselves into white hills, until finally we could watch tendrils of fog and mist wrap themselves around the peaks and through the valleys. When the water came down hard the sheets of rain would curl and twist across the landscape.
We did finally get enough of a dry spell to get a fire going, and we were able to emerge from the tarp for long enough to cook dinner in the open, but then the rain came again and put out our fire. We decided to call it a day and go to bed early when Alex was bitten by one of the carpenter ants that were infesting our refuge. I had hoped to read a bit before going to sleep, but as soon as I got settled in my hammock the batteries in my flashlight died, so after a bit of tossing and turning I finally went to sleep.
I awoke to another spectacular sunrise, but unlike the morning before I had to share it with a family doing some early morning fishing in a large motorboat. Such is life out on the bay. We had our last big day ahead of us so we packed up and got moving pretty early.
The sunrise from our campsite on McGreggor Bay.
The Pig is still visible in the distance from McGreggor Bay.
On the map the journey from McGregor Bay to Grace Lake doesn’t look that tough until you reach the 2.5 Km portage to Nellie, followed by the 1.7 Km portage to Grace, but in practice the short portages and paddles on Low and Helen Lakes take some time.
We didn’t start the day in good form. I wasn’t checking the map and we started to look for our first portage out of McGregor Bay in the wrong spot. The portage leads to a beaver pond chocked with lily pads. The take out for this portage is pretty mucky, and there isn’t a good place to store the packs while unloading the canoe so we just carried them directly to the other end. Navigating the beaver pond is a bit of a challenge as well since the route isn’t travelled frequently enough that there’s an obvious path through the lily pads, and the portage isn’t visible until you’re quite close. The trail guide suggests following a compass bearing, I just referred to my GPSr.
After paddling a small but pretty channel there’s a short but steep portage that rises to a bay on Low Lake. Low Lake is very pretty, but it is obstructed by many log jams so the course through the first part of the lake snakes back and forth quite a bit. The guide book warns that you may need to lift over or portage around some of these logs but water levels were high enough that we were able to glide over by nudging them underwater.
At the end of the short, rocky portage between Low Lake and Helen Lake.
We were able to navigate around the multiple log jams that block the twisty channel into Low Lake.
There’s a campsite on Low Lake at the start of this scenic portage.
Navigating this beaver pond was a bit trickier than it looked like it would be on the map.
The portage from Low Lake to Helen Lake is also a campsite. While this is quite common in Algonquin it’s rare in Killarney. The portage and campsite are both housed on a smooth slab of white quartzite. It’s quite a pretty spot, and the views and access to both lakes are nice.
Even though there are cottages on Helen Lake we didn’t see any evidence of them. We contemplated a side trip to Ishmael Lake since the guidebook mentions that it has a great view of the LaCloche Hills, but it would have taken us quite a while so we decided to pass and head straight for the portage to Nellie.
Both of the remaining portages were quite long so we decided to try a single carry to save time. Alex took two packs (as he had been for a while) and I took the remaining pack and the canoe. After having such a light load on so many portages it was a bit tough to get used to carrying pack and canoe again.
Bear Tracks
The first stretch is fairly flat, but also muddy. At one point we saw gashes cut in the ground where a bear had followed the portage for a few hundred meters. When we got to Faux Lake we decided to try to shorten the portage by paddling the beaver pond. It isn’t always possible if water levels aren’t high, but portaging the canoe on top of (or below) the beaver dam is supposed to be quite difficult. We were in luck and were able to paddle across the pond without problem. After that it’s an 80m vertical climb to the peak followed by a 30m drop back down to Nellie Lake.
I tried to push all the way to the peak of the portage before taking a break, but after a while the pressure in my chest, the bite of the straps of my pack, the heat, and the relentless hill took their toll and I had to drop my load. It took so long to catch my breath that I was beginning to wonder if there was any time saved by doing a single carry. In the end the whole portage took us around 1h 45m which is the reference time on Jeff’s Map, so I guess we did ok. Unfortunately we goofed when we stopped to take a break and we dropped a life jacket, so Alex had to run back half way to retrieve it.
Faux Lake
We spent a bit of time looking for the stone icehouse that’s marked on Jeff’s Map, but we couldn’t find it. Then while Alex ran back for the life jacket I spotted the icehouse right next to where I’d put the canoe down. It’s not a very impressive (or obvious) structure, just a ring of stones in the ground. I’d still be interested to learn a bit more about this building. We did find various bits of metal as we looked for the icehouse, some of which looked like vehicle parts, but they were partially buried so it was hard to tell.
We were making good time so when we got to Nellie Lake we did a bit of exploring. There’s a peak on the peninsula that separates the main body of Nellie Lake from the bay that’s referred to as Carmichael Lake. The peak is easy to climb and offers a great view of the area.
Nellie Lake has a trick. The azure water of the lake is crystal clear and under the right conditions you can see all the way to the bottom. Unfortunately for us, while the day had started out bright and sunny, by the time we got to Nellie it was grey and threatening rain. Nellie Lake needs the sun to show off it’s clear water. Even without its trick Nellie is one of the most scenic lakes in the park. It’s very long and narrow, with steep white shores like a Norwegian Fjord. Our vantage point on the small peak gave us a great view to observe the entire lake. The water was a bit choppy, and we could watch patches of wind cut the surface up into different patterns as they swept across the lake.
Without the sun the astonishing colour of the clear waters of Nellie Lake isn’t evident, but it’s still a beautiful lake.
This lone tree is perched on top of a scenic little mountain on Nellie Lake.
There are only three campsites on Nellie Lake, but we saw several groups of people. As we neared the portage to Grace Lake we met a mother and son on their first canoe trip, finishing the tough portage. The young boy looked to be about nine or ten but he was very engaged in the trip and had the guidebook in hand. He was asking about several landmarks he wanted to see in the area. It’s always nice to meet different kinds of groups enjoying the backcountry.
The portage from Nellie to Grace starts out like a ladder, going almost straight uphill, but after a relatively short climb it’s all downhill to Grace Lake. It’s a very scenic portage, but I didn’t get much of a chance to look around this time because we were doing another single carry. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when we stopped at the highest point of the portage to take a break we were only a few metres from one of the hidden “Paddle In The Park” paddles. The paddles are hidden to encourage people to get out in the parks, and for a disgruntled geocacher like me finding one would be a real thrill. Not only have I been too busy with renovations this summer to follow the contest, the hint that clinched the location of that paddle was released that very morning, so even if I had been following I wouldn’t have read it.
Grace Lake is a dramatic, intimate place that embodies the rugged beauty that is Killarney. Perched atop the northern LaCloche hills high above the land below it’s ringed by steep rounded peaks. Small rocky islands covered in trees are scattered across the water. We chose site 180 at the western end of the lake which offers an excellent view of the sun rising between the peaks we had just portaged the canoe over. While the site does offer great views we weren’t able to find a thunder box which may be a consideration when choosing this site (there are many paths at the site so it may be that we just couldn’t find the box).
Earlier in the day I had made the mistake of telling Alex that while Nellie Lake loves the sun, the moody gothic landscape of Grace is often prettiest in the rain and mist. As if on cue it started to rain that night and we saw very little sun for our two nights on Grace. The rain did hold off until we’d finished dinner and put the dishes away, so we felt pretty well prepared as we ducked under our tarp and watched the storm in relative comfort. The rain was soon strong enough that it quickly extinguished our fire, but we barely got wet.
We had a day off on Gail Lake. Originally I’d intended to do some ridge running and climb one of the nearby peaks, but we were both pretty exhausted after the last three days so we just lazed about at the campsite and other than a short walk and some camp chores we took it easy.
I’d had a hard time sleeping that night before. Initially I’d attributed my sore shoulders to a poor hammock hang, but a few days later I realized it was just the wear and tear of the portages. Once they toughened up I didn’t have any more discomfort at night. While I tossed and turned I could see lightning flashes illuminating the horizon in all directions, but there was no thunder. When I crawled out of my hammock in the morning the sky was an ominous grey and I could hear distant rumbling.
I retrieved the food bag and started some morning chores, but something told me that it might be a good idea to set up the tarp. I was just tightening some of the guy lines when I felt the first few spits of rain. The thunder got really loud and woke Xander. He joined me under the tarp as a huge storm drifted across the tiny lake and swept overhead. We could see the wall of rain slamming into the water before it reached us and then there was a roar as the tarp took the force of the water. We stayed dry under the tarp as we watched the storm roll past. Soon the rain stopped, and the thunder was no longer overhead, but we could hear it in the distance. Within an hour the sky was blue and it was another beautiful Killarney day.
Because it had been an easy day it was tough to eat our food ration, but the bag was getting noticeably lighter, which was a relief since we were nearing the toughest portages of the trip.
I’ve heard it said that Algonquin Park has a subtle beauty. I’m more accustomed to the dramatic shores of Georgian Bay, so for my first visit to Algonquin I opted to visit the Barron Canyon. The Barron Canyon was formed at the end of the last ice age as glacial Lake Aggasiz drained through the Barron River. During a period of just a few hundred years a volume of water reportedly greater than 1,000 Niagra Falls roared down the river and enlarged an ancient fault into the 100m deep canyon we see today.
I decided to follow the loop described by Kevin Callan in “A Paddler’s Guide To Ontario”. Kevin’s enthusiastic description described a spectacular place to visit, and his trip advice made it seem like an easy trip to take with the family, especially since we’d have some novice paddler’s with us.
After some feedback based on last years trip I was planning to make camp once and visit the canyon as a day trip rather than breaking camp each night. I was a bit late in booking the trip (only three months in advance) which meant I didn’t get the site that I wanted on Opalescent Lake, and we were only able to get two nights on High Falls Lake. While the trip is possible in three days I had hoped to stretch it out to give us some time to relax.
Saturday
It was a long hot drive to the park on Saturday. We were drenched in sweat by the time we picked up our second canoe from the outfitters, and we didn’t enter the park until after the Sand Lake Gate had closed. Fortunately we were able to purchase a permit at the Achray campground the next morning without having to drive all the way back out of the park.
We spent Saturday night in a jump off site at Achray. I’d heard that the jump off sites were pretty dismal, so I was pleasantly surprised by what we found. While not nearly as nice as a backcountry site it was more than adequate for our purposes. When I stepped out of the car I was startled to notice that a deer was watching me from just a few meters away. She bolted back into the trees the moment I spoke.
Sunday
As predicted the weather on Sunday was less than ideal for starting a canoe trip. The sky was grey, and there was a very strong wind on Grand Lake. Despite having camped nearby we were off to a late start, and fighting the wind turned the 1.7 Km paddle across Grand Lake into an hour long ordeal. On the way back in much calmer conditions it only took us 25 minutes.
We meandered back and forth in the lead canoe as we debated how to best handle the strong winds. After a brief management crisis (one canoe, two captains) we turned broadside to attack the winds closer to shore. Once done there was no turning back — the wind was so strong we couldn’t push the bow back into the wind until we had reached the beach on the far side of the bay.
The wind died immediately once we turned the corner and entered the channel to Stratton Lake, but a light rain started as we unloaded for the short portage around the dam. Algonquin had just suffered three weeks of drought, and water levels were low, so we had to navigate the channel from the dam to Stratton Lake carefully to avoid rocks.
Putting The Canoe In
The Channel From Grand To Stratton
Hopping from rock to rock while lifting the canoe over the obstructions at the Stratton to St Andrews portage.
Dakota is a bit obsessive about getting in the canoe when he sees us start to pack up after a portage, even if it's not even the right canoe or if it's still on shore
Stratton is a long narrow lake known for high winds, but fortunately for us it was relatively calm, and by the time we reached the other side the rain had stopped. We had some difficulty locating the portage from Stratton to St Andrews Lake because it is accessed from a short marsh and the sign isn’t visible from the main body of water. By trusting the map and the GPS we zeroed in on the right spot.
The stream through the marsh was easy to navigate, but a line of rocks and submerged logs near the portage blocked our passage and we had to get out of our canoes to lift them over the obstacles. Some careful footwork was required to avoid falling into the muck that lines the shore.
St Andrews is a small, but very pretty lake, flanked by tall cliffs. The portage to St Andrews Lake is very short, but by the time we’d crossed and stopped for a snack the sun was out and we saw some people enjoying the change in the weather, fishing and paddling about.
Kevin Callan recommends making a base camp on St Andrews Lake and then doing the trip to the canyon as a day trip. While the portage from St Andrews to High Falls isn’t long by Algonquin standards, avoiding having to carry all of our gear one more lake was certainly appealing. Still I wanted to reduce the distance to travel the second day so we had booked a site on High Falls Lake.
It was getting late in the day, and we did most of the portage as a single carry. The 550m trail is mostly flat, but near the end it gets steep and rocky, and then the last few meters drop almost vertically down to the water. I put down the canoe where the trail got nasty and carried the pack separately for the last 100m.
There are only two active sites on High Falls Lake, and one was already taken, so it didn’t take us long at all to decided where to settle in. The site that was left is quite large and open, and afforded us an excellent view of the small chain of islands in the middle of the lake. The only downside to the site was the lack of good swimming opportunities.
Monday
None of us are morning people, and so despite planning a quick breakfast of oatmeal we were slow to get moving for our day trip to the canyon on Monday — we didn’t hit the water until almost noon. It was a beautiful sunny day, which I had hoped would highlight the scenery at our destination.
We decided to do the full loop as recommended by the guidebook since it seemed like it might be easier to follow the west trail out of High Falls Lake and the east trail back in. Perhaps it was, but combined with our late start it proved the undoing of our trip for the day.
None of the several short portages on the west trail was particularly difficult, but the low water levels slowed us down at each put-in/take-out point, and we made rather slow progress. It didn’t help that the printed topo map, the GPS topo map and The Official Canoe Routes Map of Algonquin Park couldn’t seem to agree on the location or even number of the portages we would encounter.
We did make it to the north end of the section of the Barron River referred to as “The Cascades” on the maps, but we had a silly error in communication on the Brigham Lake portage. I arrived at the end of the portage first, and after catching my breath realized that the other canoe hadn’t shown up yet. There was a fork in the trail at the halfway point, with two signs. One path led along the canyon floor, while the other headed up the hill to the parking lot. I had stopped with the canoe on my head to read them both carefully before proceeding, and they were a bit confusing so I was worried that perhaps Alex had taken the other canoe up the hill.
I ran back and there was nobody near the fork, but when I called out there was an answering yell from up above. Alex was about half way up the steep hill to the parking lot. At his mother’s urging he had taken the wrong trail and gone up the hill.
After the confusion at the portage we were able to enjoy a nice paddle downriver flanked by the foothills of the Barron Canyon. There was a small lift over at the end of Brigham Lake, and then a short 100m portage before the last carry that would take us to the canyon proper. But as we stood at the head of the last 440m portage I realized that it had taken us far longer to get there than anticipated. It was already 4:30 and it had taken us almost five hours to get that far. If we didn’t head back very soon we wouldn’t be able to make our campsite before dusk, and none of the portages were the kind of trip that were advisable in the dark.
Algae Blooms At The Cascades
Portaging From Brigham To Opalescent
The Barron Canyon Begins
Paddling The Foothills Of The Canyon
At least this time Dakota's in the right canoe, even if it still is on shore.
I was torn, since the canyon had been the destination for the whole trip, and here I was contemplating turning back while less than a half kilometre away. We held a vote, and while nobody was very enthusiastic we decided to turn back to Brigham Lake and take the eastern chain of shorter portages back to our campsite. It took us almost three hours to complete the trip, and we arrived at camp at 7:30 with just an hour of daylight left to make dinner and complete our chores.
The portage from Brigham to Opalescent Lake was the longest of the trip at 750m, but wasn’t as hard as I feared. It starts with a slow but steady rise, but after a quick drop it was pretty easy going. Opalescent Lake is quite pretty and we saw a beaver as we pumped water to sustain us for the last leg. The 640m portage from Opalescent to Ooze was a bit tougher. While there isn’t a lot of elevation change it’s littered with large rocks that make walking difficult, particularly with a canoe on your shoulders.
Ooze Lake lived up to it’s name, and two of us got slimy soakers when our feet sank deep into the black muck as we tried to manoeuvre our canoes away from shore.
The last portage of the day was anticlimactic, even though the trail kept skirting the edge of the lake tantalizingly without seeming to get to the water. We finally found ourselves at the same trailhead we had started from that morning, and after a short paddle were back at our campsite. We eased the pain (and the sorrow) of the day with copious amounts of rum.
Tuesday
The last day of our trip saw us up late, as usual. The sky was grey and it kept raining on and off. We huddled under our tarp while we prepared a pancake breakfast before breaking camp and heading out. The rain stopped before we broke camp, and the sun even peeked out briefly. We saw several groups of paddlers pass through our little lake on their way to their destinations while we ate.
Before leaving we took the opportunity to explore. High Falls Lake is named for High Falls, a popular swimming spot with a natural water slide. I had assumed that High Falls was the small chute next to the portage into the lake that we could hear running all night. Like all of the other water courses we encountered it was significantly diminished, but there was no sign of a water slide. It turns out that there are two channels that feed High Falls Lake, and the eponymous falls are located on the one that we didn’t explore.
It was surprisingly late when we finished taking pictures of the falls, and when we returned to our canoe there were very dark thunderheads to the north. Despite the fact that we had to hurry to avoid the weather we did the portage as a double carry this time, partly because we were exhausted, and partly because one of our packs had a broken strap.
Dark Clouds Rolling In
Xander Portaging From High Falls To St Andrews
St Andrews After The Rain
Sherri saw this shot and asked me to take it. She composed it, I just held the camera.
Buzzed By A Bushplane
We had just arrived at St Andrews Lake when the skies opened up and it began to rain quite heavily. After a few minutes of standing under a tree we decided to set up the tarp which seemed quite effective at promptly putting an end to the rain.
The cool air had left the warm lake steaming, and we had a lovely paddle across St Andrews Lake in the mist. We were quite surprised when a bush plane, complete with canoe strapped to a float, took off from nearby Stratton Lake and flew almost directly overhead as we neared the portage.
When we reached the end of the portage the sky had turned grey again and we could hear some ominous rumblings from the clouds. The rain started again and so once more we set up the tarp. We started counting the time between rumbles hoping that it would soon be safe enough to go on the water. We held another vote on whether or not we should proceed, and this time I insisted that we have a consensus before we left.
After over an hour of waiting we decided to chance it. We downed the last of the rum straight up for courage and loaded the canoes again. No sooner had we put the canoes in the water, and cleared the rocks and logs that obstructed the channel, than we saw a huge fork of lightning light up the whole sky in front of us.
We decided to press on to the end of the marsh and take shelter at the campsite at the southeast end of the lake near the mouth of the channel, hoping that it was unoccupied. We saw several more lightning bolts before we covered the short distance to the lake, and the bush plane buzzed us once more.
When we reached the wide open expanse of Stratton Lake we could see the dark clouds coming our way. The campsite was occupied, and we asked the couple who were camped there if they knew of a place we could weather out the storm, hoping that they’d get the hint. At first they played dumb and tried to convince us that we’d be fine, but when another huge fork of lightning lit up the sky behind where we were floating just off their beach they invited us ashore and offered to let us stay the night and have some of their food if necessary.
We just pulled the canoes on shore at first, but we could soon see sheets of rain obscuring the far end of the lake. We quickly pulled our gear under their tarp and flipped the canoes over just minutes before a deluge of biblical proportions swept over the beach.
The Storm Rolls Back In
With better timing I could have added a bolt of lightning to the background of this shot — they were lighting up the sky to the north.
The Storm Behind Xander And Steph
Heavy Rain Sweeps Across Stratton Lake
Looking Northwest On Stratton
The storm passes over us
Once the storm rolled over we had a lovely sunset.
It took about twenty minutes for the rain to run out, but when it did the clouds parted and we saw a beautiful sunset through the gap. We decided to continue back to the campground rather than camp out for another night on Stratton Lake even though it was 9PM. The last portage would be easy to cross in the dark and as long as the weather held we would be fine.
The dusk continued to fade as we paddled across the long lake until it was completely dark save for the light of the stars above. There were clouds on the horizon, but the sky overhead was completely clear. The lake was utterly calm, and paddling the canoe across the still water was like gliding across a black mirror. Occasionally we spotted flashlights from the campsites on shore, and at one point we were surrounded by a family of loons calling to each other. A beaver swam with us for a while. We could barely see him, but every few minutes we’d hear him slap his tail loudly on the water as he dove. We saw several shooting stars, including one that was large enough that we could see the ragged shape of the fireball and the edges of the yellow flame were tinged with red.
It was so black that we had to rely on the GPSr to navigate. At one point we realized that we were following the wrong shore of the lake and had to switch sides. We could spot rocks and logs jutting above the surface, but Stratton is littered with rocks and deadheads just below the waterline, and we grounded out on a few of those. When we got to the rocky channel to Grand Lake we pulled out the flashlights to scan the bottom and used the GPSr to retrace our path from the previous day.
The portage around the dam was accomplished quite easily with flashlights, and then we turned them all off for a few minutes to look at the stars and the milky way. We navigated the last channel in the dark with only a few errors, and then we could see the distant lights of Achray to guide us back. There were some ominous flashes on the horizon from distant lightning, but the sky overhead was clear and the flashes we saw were so far away that we couldn’t even hear the thunder so we pressed on.
Conclusion
Once we reached the beach we had to pack the car, change our wet clothes, and tie both canoes on the roof. It was after 1AM when we made it to the outfitters where we returned the canoe by lowering it over the fence with a rope. It was so late that we couldn’t find a gas station, and eventually had to park at a closed station on highway 7 waiting for them to open. It only took half an hour before we could fill the tank and continue on, but by the end of the 8 hour trip we were exhausted.
I had a hard time dealing with our failure to actually see the Barron Canyon. It was after all the destination of the trip, and I was a frankly devastated that we had to turn back. I didn’t want to sour the trip with my disappointment, and I didn’t want to think “It was nice but…” every time I remembered the trip. There was much to appreciate about our experience and I didn’t want to lose sight of that.
We enjoyed each other’s company, we challenged ourselves dealing not only with the portages but with the weather, and we saw some great scenery. The entire area we travelled was shaped by the same colossal forces that formed the Barron Canyon itself, and they show the scars in the form of some very tortured and beautiful terrain.
In the end I realized that being disappointed in not attaining our goal wasn’t incompatible with enjoying everything else the trip had to offer.
Tips
Don’t underestimate the time it takes to complete the Barron Canyon loop. It’s not very far on the map, but lots of small portages can slow you down, particularly when water levels are low. Best to leave early in the day.
Consider a through trip where you take out at the Squirrel Rapids or put in at Brigham Lake if you absolutely want to see the Canyon.
