The Hatfields and the McCoys set aside feud to battle winds and rain together!
Another wonderful weekend in Algonquin Park! Great food, great friends and a whole lot of fun...
There is no better time to paddle Algonquin then when the hills are splashed in the yellows, reds and gold's of Autumn and crisp temperatures make one appreciate the warmth of a fire. This year, the EGL would return to it's inaugural lake, where it's first/second EGL canoe hang was held back in the Spring of 2011. In actuality there was one earlier trip from Cache L. to Louisa in 2010, but it was before the EGL monogram was adopted. For the record, let's agree to say the second EGL canoe hang was held on Tom Thomson.
As I stepped out of my car Thursday morning just outside the Canoe Lake Park office after a long drive from Toronto I was greeted by the smiling faces of Niagara and his wife Emma. Once registered and back outside we were joined by Ggreaves and before long, our three canoes were loaded and ready to depart. As I was parking my car I heard someone call my name and turned to see a smiling Selkirk walking towards me. We waited a little longer for him to complete his canoe rental from the Portage Store and when we saw him paddling over the rest of us pushed off. The Thursday crew was together.
The plan was paddle the length of Canoe Lake, do the short 300 m portage into Joe Lake and then work our way north through the connected lakes of Tepee, Fawn and Little Doe until we turned west, hurdled an ancient beaver dam and finally entered into Tom Thomson Lake. Once there we would rendezvous with KeeWayKeno, LuvMyBonnett and Jiblets who had paddled through to McIntosh the previous weekend with Iguana and Lofty, although the later two had been required to leave during the week. The next day we'd hopefully be joined by a returning Iguana, this time with his wife Jenn, his sister-in-law Kim and his sister Tracey alongside. We were also expecting to see Bubba paddle in sometime Friday afternoon. We'd round off the group with the arrival of ConnieB on Saturday. A number of other regular EGL'ers, you know who you are, were unable to make it and they were missed. We had looked forward to seeing 76 Highboy and his daughter, but his trip had been scuttled by a sore back. Alas, life sometimes gets in the way of living. There's always next time.
With the steady wind at our backs, the paddle to Tom Thomson lake was a pleasure, oftimes requiring only a steering stroke to maintain our course. Most of the trees were well on their way towards their peak colour although every now and then an overeager sapling would splash a bright red or gold against a dark green background. Simply Stunning.
As we traveled down the length of Canoe Lake and approached the Potter Creek/Joe Lake fork we saw four canoes paddled by what looked to be extremely seasoned trippers. Their canoes caught my attention, four traditional wood canvas', three of which had the same off white/green exteriors. I called out how beautiful their canoes were and was told that they were all hand made by one of the older fellows sterning the closest canoe. Very nice.
Screen capture from video by Ggreaves
At the Canoe/Joe portage we passed a couple of groups, notably a group of rowdy guys heading over to Burnt Island Lake on what looked like their first trip. While loading up for my second carry a solo paddler with a GoPro camera mounted on his gunwale coasted to shore. We started chatting and he introduced himself as Brian and said that he was staying on either Tom Thomson or McIntosh. Noting the camera, I asked if he was a YouTuber and although he said no, his brother Mike was and had actually gone on a few trips with Joe Robinet. I extended an invitation to stop by if he wanted and then shouldered my absurdly heavy kitchen pack and took my leave. I'm sure he found the mention of upwards of a dozen people a little excessive for a chap seeking the solitude of a solo paddle.
As we neared our destination we had one final hurdle, an ancient beaver dam that kept the water levels on Tom Thomson approximately a foot above the long waterway we had been paddling since the portage. Normally I go to the far left where exposed rock comes down steeply to the water's edge and there's just enough room for solid enough footing to haul a heavy canoe up and over the dam. Unfortunately this year a couple of very large logs were blocking that route. Our other options were to either wetfoot our way around the muddy shore on the far right, or to simply pull up somewhere along the middle of the dam and try to balance atop the precarious collection of twigs and sticks. I went right while the rest of the group went straight down the middle. Selkirk, in his lightly loaded canoe, paddled hard and took a run at the small channel of water spilling over the top of the dam. He got halfway across, hopped out atop the dam, pulled over his canoe and then jumped back in like a boss! Ggreaves pulled up alongside the dam and manhandled his canoe up and over. For their part, Emma and Niagara took a different approach. Emma stepped out of the bow of her canoe onto the dam near the middle and declared the footing solid. Seeing this as his cue, Niagara got out and stepped out at his end with the grace of a panther, stood up and proudly scanned the waters ahead. Well, not exactly. Instead, his foot broke through the thin cover of sticks at the dam's edge and Niagara immediately plunged up to his waist in the cold water like a half-drowned sheepdog. Fortunately he clawed his way onto the dam with no harm done except to his pride. Emma couldn't stop laughing for the next half hour. To be fair to her, we all chuckled for a while.
Behind us another group of paddlers came up and to their credit, made short work of the dam and came up to paddle amongst us. Although I would have loved to stay back and chat, I was more interested in securing the two sites we had been eyeing to stay on, so I pushed on ahead. Rounding the last bend I saw three people standing by the shore. The tallest had a thick white beard, KeeWayKeno must have grown it out since I last saw him. To one side was a shorter person that must have been LuvMyBonnet but the third, a slightly built person wearing a hat, could not possibly have been Jiblets. Everything was made clear as I paddled up. Four people were moving around up on the shore. I asked if they were planning on camping on the site and the they explained that they were out on a daytrip from the Arowhon Lodge back on Little Joe Lake and had just finished lunch. They were preparing to leave and graciously invited us to land. A quick hike around the area confirmed that both sites were available. It was a little after midday and the EGL had landed!
Tom Thomson Lake, named in honour of the famed artist and guide Tom Thomson (1877-1917), who masterfully captured the spirit of the land in over 450 paintings large and small and who met his end on Canoe Lake just prior to the founding of the Group of Seven. Ringed by rolling hills and dotted by a few small islands, the lake is quite lovely and has become a extremely popular destination with paddlers.
For the moment we had the site to ourselves, clearly our companions on McIntosh were still enroute. The two sites were side-by-side and of their two fire pits, the northern one gave us the most protection against the wind, but only marginally. Certainly there were more options for setting up tarps. With Niagara, Emma and Ggreaves sleeping in tents, they chose spots just up the hill from the common area. I found a quiet place to hang on the far side of the camp high up off of the water amongst a mix of pines in front of a large rock outcropping. The pines offered good shelter and I felt that it was set back far enough to avoid any falling trees and secluded enough to not disturb anyone with my alleged snoring. Selkirk came over, found a nice spot nearby closer to the shore, but when he asked my opinion of a large dead tree that loomed over his site and we both agreed that, given the wind, it looked a little hazardous. He wisely settled for a spot on the far side of the shelf. Although it was cool and windy, every now and again the sun would show itself and warm the area. Both Selkirk and I went for a swim and he declared that the water was even colder than the waters off of Newfoundland, where he had swam only a week before. That's saying something!
It wasn't long before two canoes were spotted approaching from the west; KeeWayKeno and LuvMyBonnet had arrived. They recounted their story of how they, joined by Iguana, had paddled into McIntosh only to find that their hoped for destination was occupied. Assured that the campers would be moving on in the morning they set up camp on the mainland point just to the south. The next morning they claimed Chicamoula. The high point of the story was how, on his first cast, LuvMyBonnet pulled in a feisty lake trout! Lucky bugger! They filleted it and grilled it over hot coals. A perfect Algonquin dinner. Although Iguana had to leave Monday, Lofty and Jiblets managed to make their way to McIntosh during the week. When asked where Jiblets was, we were told that he had stayed behind on McIntosh to do a little more fishing but would be along shortly.
As we lounged around camp large numbers of other paddlers passed our campsite, eying it enviously, on their way to points unknown. Certainly our site, with its open spaces and views was one of the best on the lake and much desired.Aware that the Weeklongers were likely surviving on tripping food, I brought in a couple of hamburgers and beers for each of them. They were certainly well received! All Thursday evening a cold wind blew through the common area. The fire pit was oriented with it's back facing into the prevailing wind, consigning anyone wishing to warm themselves by the fire to a severe case of smoke inhalation. It was before ten when the last of us turned in for the night.
The next day was marked mainly by a cold rain and wind blowing out of the south west, across Tom Thomson Lake. Selkirk, only in the Park for the night, had already left by the time I got up. We improved the campsite by raising a large tarp graciously left behind by Lofty high over the fire pit. A second tarp, Jiblets nylon Whelan tarp, was staked out as a windbreak. All in all it was a vast improvement.
Three outstanding pieces of gear I enjoyed over the weekend were a chair, a stove and a coffee maker. First was my new Helinox Sunset chair in green, a present from my eldest daughter and one of the few capable of safely supporting larger fellows like myself. In addition to the chair, my Kelly Kettle trekker (a tad small) and my AeroPress coffee maker made camp life a pleasure. The Kettle makes short work of boiling water, but the small size of the Trekker makes it a single serving operation. The Scout might be a better size. Finally, I use the AeroPress on a daily basis back at home and it's ideally suited to enjoying a perfect brew in the bush. On a side note, I decided to bring in a large food barrel for this trip and I have to say, it made food management quite easy. Not having a barrel harness, I simply dropped it into my 115L Ostrum Wabakimi with room to spare for saws, axes, and extra tarps. It handled all of the group food, pots and pans perfectly and while I'd prefer not to portage it too far, it was ideal for basecamping the way we were.
Later in the day, the clouds darkened, the winds picked up and the rain came down a little heavier, a sure indication that Iguana, Jenn, Kim and Tracy were nearby. Sure enough one canoe and then another came into sight and the four of them clambered up onto shore. After greetings all around they disappeared and a little later Iguana returned to report that their camp was set up. They had found a lovely spot amongst a mix of pines in front of a large rock outcropping. With a laugh he mentioned "right next to me." Now the only one missing was Bubba.
Ggreaves, KeeWayKeno and I went off in search of wood and after hiking to the top of the nearby hill, found a tall dead-standing pine. Using saw and axe we processed it down into manageable lengths and carried it back to camp.The rest of the day was spent going about camp routines and before long dinner, French Canadian pea soup was underway. There was a momentary panic when I thought that I had left the smoked pork shoulder back in my refrigerator, but a little searching, correction: a lot of frantic searching the bag containing the meat turned it up under the woodpile beside the bench. I must have put it aside and then it was covered by kindling when the rains came in.
As the vegetables were being chopped by KeeWayKeno and Ggreaves, Jiblets and Niagara went about rebuilding the fire pit. Their plan was to create a second, smaller warming fire pit on the opposite side of the main fire pit. From that point on we jokingly divided the group into the Hatfields (main pit downwind) and the McCoys (new pit upwind). It would be a running joke for the rest of the weekend. We had a couple of low-down, two-timing, double dealers flitting between both fires, but I'd rather pay them no nevermind. I'll just say, those McCoy boys didn't turn up their noses at taking our burning logs and scooping out pans of coals to start their own fire, even if it was offered generously by us Hatfields.
The soup turned out pretty well and the pot was all but finished when long after sunset we heard a call from the water. Bubba had arrived. Helping hands made short work of unpacking his canoe and soon he was being greeting by all around. Quickly pitching his camp, he was back quickly for the last of the soup. We stayed up a while longer until it was just the two of us chatting about our families and life. Finally though even we eventually crawled off to our hammocks and called it a night.
The next morning started as most mornings do, with a groggy exit from a hammock and an immediate quest for coffee. It was a nice morning and the first person I saw was Tracy, tending the fire at the site's other, more exposed fire pit. After saying good morning I wandered down to the main fire pit, collected my food barrel and went about getting my coffee ready. I used my Kelly Kettle for my first cup, but thankfully accepted the hot water Ggreaves had blasted on his MSR reactor. Like a Jetboil, that MSR boils water so fast that I think it actually creates a slight temporal disturbance when lit, slowing down and even slightly reversing the regular flow of time so that it seems like he has a pot of boiled water even before he reaches down to spark the stove. A little weird, but I'm not complaining. Wibbly Woobly. With the rain gone, we took a couple of minutes to fold the main tarp over on itself and that opened up the fire pit area wonderfully. We'd pull it back later when it began to drizzle.
We were expecting ConnieB to paddle in today, Saturday, and so Jiblets graciously paddled out to Canoe Lake before dawn to keep her company on the paddle back. It was also a chance to learn about the latest in the Brett Kavanaugh nomination for the US Supreme Court. A couple of us were following the news although most wanted little to do with it. Sure enough, around midday their two canoes paddled up and ConnieB was welcomed warmly by the group.During the day we took down a large fifteen metre (45 foot) dead birch that stood some two hundred metres from camp. It was a major operation and a little hazardous, but that didn't deter us. Even though it was slightly damp, it was good to know we'd have some hardwood for the fire that night.
The red squirrels around the site were a menace. The managed to get into Emma and Niagara's gorp and plagued the common area with their persistence. Gratefully they were the largest four footed creatures we were forced to contend with. The weather for the rest of the day was windy with rain coming in on and off again, although later in the day the rain dried and was replaced by fast moving clouds.
Dinner that evening would be New England-Style Clam Chowder and with a little help from the McCoys, it was great. I had underestimated the volume of the ingredients so that when everything was agged together, the large pot was filled to the brim. Even so, the was only a couple of servings left once everyone had taken bowl or two, or three. I can't remember if they passed around before or after dinner, but ConnieB's Portuguese tarts were a big hit all around.
Sunday morning was lovely, with a hint of a breeze coming out of the west. Camp was packed and gradually everyone but KayWayKeno, LuvMyBonnet and Jiblets loaded up their canoes and one by one launched into Tom Thomson and turned to paddle for home.
Epilogue: The paddle back to the Canoe/Joe portage was uneventful. With our group widely spaced out, I paddled virtually alone, flanked by a steady stream of other canoes all heading out of the Park. At the portage I caught up with the group and together we finished the last leg to the Canoe Lake Park Office. Once our gear was stowed away and our canoes lashed to our cars we stopped by the Portage Store Restaurant for giant burgers, sodas and deep fried pickles!
I almost forgot! On the drive home I was lucky enough to spot a wolf crossing the road just east of Huntsville. There was light traffic and the critter loped across highway 60 directly in front of me, disappearing into the tall grass as quickly as it appeared. It stared briefly at me as it went and while it could have been a coyote, given it's size, it's thick snout and relatively small ears, I'm 95% sure it was a grey wolf or possibly even an Algonquin Wolf. Either way, very cool! A few years back I saw a black bear and it's cubs crossing the same highway. Honestly, I see more wildlife along Highway 60 than I do in the middle of Algonquin Park!
Grey Wolf
Algonquin Wolf (Eastern Wolf, Grey Wolf and Coyote Hybrid)
Coyote
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Originally Posted by LuvmyBonnet
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