Day 1: Rock Lake to Louisa
I'd spent all winter prepping for this trip. A new kayak, which I'd never paddled except for 10 minutes in a river behind the store. A kayak yoke which I hoped was going to work but hadn't tested. New gear, new packing strategies, new plans. I was going in with a lot of question marks hanging over my head, but I was so excited. As has become a habit every year when the temperatures start to climb, I was checking the satellite imagery daily, watching the ice cover retreat. 2010 was a mild winter and a very warm Spring, and it ended up setting a new "ice out" record for Algonquin - April 7th (since beaten in 2012 - March 29th). With the ice off the lakes and bookings open, I booked a trip from April 24th to the 27th.
Eager to get as early a start as possible on my first day, I booked a car camping site at Rock Lake for the night before. So early in the season, I was able to get a site right on the lake, giving me a preview of the coming paddle. The person working the permit office was kind enough to let me get my interior permit that evening as well, as I wanted to get started before the office opened the next morning.
That evening passed by in a blur. I made a fire, cooked some dinner, drank a couple of beers, and crawled into my tent early, wondering if I'd sleep. By 6 AM I was up and packing, eager to get on the water as soon as possible. A short drive to the put-in parking lot, a longer stretch checking, double checking, and double-double checking I wasn't forgetting anything, and I pushed off. I was away! The access point at Rock Lake is on the river just North of the lake, so my first few minutes were river travel, which was a great way to get started. As the river opened up onto the lake I felt the wind, and the cold behind it, for the first time. It may have been at this moment that I realized just how cold the water still was, and determined to stay close to shore at all times.
The paddle along the edge of the lake to the Louisa portage was uneventful. There were few other people on the water, but I did exchange pleasantries with people in a couple of canoes who passed within hailing distance. I pulled up to the Louisa portage, stepped out, and started pulling gear out my kayak to get packed up. I thought I'd done a good job of bringing only the essentials, but when I shouldered my pack for the first time I realized it was far heavier than expected. To put a kayak on my shoulders as well was going to be beyond what I could manage for any reasonable distance, so single portaging, as I'd planned, was suddenly out the window. The 3K portage had just become a 9K portage. I used the 'leapfrog' method, carrying my kayak forward, coming back for my pack and carrying it well beyond where I'd left the kayak, then carrying the kayak well beyond the pack. The yoke worked... okay. The clamps were a bit finicky. The pads weren't attached to the yoke in any way and liked to slip off at inopportune times. But it was still a hundred times better than no yoke.
Eventually, after what seemed a lifetime, I reached the shore of Lake Louisa. And this is where I finally took my first picture.
Eager to get as early a start as possible on my first day, I booked a car camping site at Rock Lake for the night before. So early in the season, I was able to get a site right on the lake, giving me a preview of the coming paddle. The person working the permit office was kind enough to let me get my interior permit that evening as well, as I wanted to get started before the office opened the next morning.
That evening passed by in a blur. I made a fire, cooked some dinner, drank a couple of beers, and crawled into my tent early, wondering if I'd sleep. By 6 AM I was up and packing, eager to get on the water as soon as possible. A short drive to the put-in parking lot, a longer stretch checking, double checking, and double-double checking I wasn't forgetting anything, and I pushed off. I was away! The access point at Rock Lake is on the river just North of the lake, so my first few minutes were river travel, which was a great way to get started. As the river opened up onto the lake I felt the wind, and the cold behind it, for the first time. It may have been at this moment that I realized just how cold the water still was, and determined to stay close to shore at all times.
The paddle along the edge of the lake to the Louisa portage was uneventful. There were few other people on the water, but I did exchange pleasantries with people in a couple of canoes who passed within hailing distance. I pulled up to the Louisa portage, stepped out, and started pulling gear out my kayak to get packed up. I thought I'd done a good job of bringing only the essentials, but when I shouldered my pack for the first time I realized it was far heavier than expected. To put a kayak on my shoulders as well was going to be beyond what I could manage for any reasonable distance, so single portaging, as I'd planned, was suddenly out the window. The 3K portage had just become a 9K portage. I used the 'leapfrog' method, carrying my kayak forward, coming back for my pack and carrying it well beyond where I'd left the kayak, then carrying the kayak well beyond the pack. The yoke worked... okay. The clamps were a bit finicky. The pads weren't attached to the yoke in any way and liked to slip off at inopportune times. But it was still a hundred times better than no yoke.
Eventually, after what seemed a lifetime, I reached the shore of Lake Louisa. And this is where I finally took my first picture.
Rock Lake, April 24th, 2010
Not the most impressive bit of photography, but it's my first ever picture in the Algonquin interior, so I'll keep it here.
One thing I remember quite clearly: while I was still sitting on this rock, gathering my strength and getting organized for the paddle to come, a motorboat sped past in the distance. This was before I understood just how prevalent logging trails and access rights are in the park. I remember being really annoyed that I'd just worked my butt off to get here, and there was some dude out there who'd clearly gotten here the easy way.
Shortly thereafter I pushed out into the water. Lake Louisa, for the record, is beautiful, and aside from the motorboat I was determined to forget I ever saw, it looked like I had the place to myself. I worked my way down to the west end of the lake where it opened up farther. Not wanting to venture too far from shore, I picked an island site with gorgeous views and tons of space. This was to be home for the next two nights!
I didn't know what to do first. Firewood? Set up the tent? Explore the site? Go for a swi... ahaha no, a toe-dip was enough to tell me I wouldn't be swimming on this trip. I settled on "get organized". I started by lugging my gear up near the firepit. I fished out my SPOT tracker, set it down on a rock and proceeded to 'call home', to let my girlfriend (now wife) know I was okay.
One thing I remember quite clearly: while I was still sitting on this rock, gathering my strength and getting organized for the paddle to come, a motorboat sped past in the distance. This was before I understood just how prevalent logging trails and access rights are in the park. I remember being really annoyed that I'd just worked my butt off to get here, and there was some dude out there who'd clearly gotten here the easy way.
Shortly thereafter I pushed out into the water. Lake Louisa, for the record, is beautiful, and aside from the motorboat I was determined to forget I ever saw, it looked like I had the place to myself. I worked my way down to the west end of the lake where it opened up farther. Not wanting to venture too far from shore, I picked an island site with gorgeous views and tons of space. This was to be home for the next two nights!
I didn't know what to do first. Firewood? Set up the tent? Explore the site? Go for a swi... ahaha no, a toe-dip was enough to tell me I wouldn't be swimming on this trip. I settled on "get organized". I started by lugging my gear up near the firepit. I fished out my SPOT tracker, set it down on a rock and proceeded to 'call home', to let my girlfriend (now wife) know I was okay.
The view from my campsite.
I got my 'chores' done: tent set up, campsite organized, firewood collected. Island sites can be tough for firewood, but I was probably the the first person on that site that year, and there was plenty of deadfall to choose from. It was a gorgeous, sunny, warm day (especially for April) so I sat down by the water and just soaked in the atmosphere. I took a few more pictures, but was so lazily content I wasn't willing to move around much.
As was to become a habit on many of my solo trips, I was in the tent before the sun had set, and as much as I tried to stay up to read a while I was sound asleep soon afterwards.
Day 2: Exploring Lake Louisa
Today was 'do nothing' day, which meant paddling around the lake taking pictures. The morning proved to be incredibly calm, giving me a chance to take some 'mirror' photos. The challenge was in not stirring up ripples with the kayak!
But mostly I just paddled around and hung out on the campsite, taking pictures of anything that looked interesting.
One thing of interest happened while I was hanging out down at the waterline. Shorts, t-shirt, barefoot. I heard a commotion going on up at my campsite. I didn't think I'd left anything out for creatures to get into, but I stood up and began running up to my campsite... with no shoes. Smart. I cracked my big toe off a rock, which promptly began to bleed profusely (the toe, not the rock). Fortunately I had brought a good emergency kit, and was able to keep it clean and well bandaged for the rest of the trip. It made the remaining portages that much more interesting, however, as every step hurt. While I did take some 'bloody toe' pictures, I don't think anyone needs to see those too badly. So here's me, sitting on a rock overlooking the beautiful Lake Louisa, with a well bandaged toe instead!
By the way, the source of commotion was a crow, who had found the one and only thing I'd left out of my bear barrel: a tiny tube of toothpaste, which had sprung some beak-sized holes in it. Lesson learned!
The day was drawing to a close and tomorrow it was time to move on. I had a 1725m portage into a small lake known as Florence, then into Frank, a 320m portage into Rence and then a paddle through Harry's Lake to my destination for the evening - Welcome Lake. Camp clean, bear barrel stashed, I crawled into my tent again, looking forward to seeing more of Algonquin the next day.
The day was drawing to a close and tomorrow it was time to move on. I had a 1725m portage into a small lake known as Florence, then into Frank, a 320m portage into Rence and then a paddle through Harry's Lake to my destination for the evening - Welcome Lake. Camp clean, bear barrel stashed, I crawled into my tent again, looking forward to seeing more of Algonquin the next day.
Day 3: Louisa to Welcome
I woke up early, had a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, and started packing up. The paddle down the south arm of Louisa was a calm and easy one, and as I pulled up to the portage into Florence, I looked back over my shoulder and waved goodbye to the first Algonquin lake I'd ever camped on. I knew I'd be back eventually, but with so much of Algonquin ahead of me to explore, I knew it wasn't likely to be soon.
Goodbye Louisa
The portage into Florence was decent enough. I wasn't in a hurry, and that helped a great deal. Part-way through the portage I stumbled upon still-remaining ice on the side of a rock face, and stopped to take some pictures.
Soon enough the portage was complete. I snapped a picture of my kayak and pack before loading everything back up, and took a pic of Florence Lake while I was at it.
Early kayak camping days. Nothing in this picture is part of my gear today.
|
|
The 320m into Rence was over quickly and the paddle from there to Welcome, alternating lake and river travel, was over too soon. I couldn't stop to smell the flowers - none were out yet! - but I did stop to take some photos along the way.
I arrived at Welcome, and saw no evidence of other campers. I headed for the North East site and its beautiful beach. I tend to be a Canadian shield, big chunk of exposed rock kind of guy, but the beach was a great site, and a great place to rest and relax.
|
|
One strange thing happened to me while I was here. I was coming up on my fourth night in a tent (counting the car camping night) and was feeling a little lonely. On a whim I pulled out my cell phone and powered it on. After sitting on 'searching for carrier' for what seemed like forever, to my utter disbelief the phone started showing a one-bar connection! I stood there for a minute, thinking it must be a mistake of some kind. Then I snapped out of it and tried to call my girlfriend. The call wouldn't go through, but it kept showing one bar of signal. I then proceeded to walk around the campsite, trying calls from different locations. And eventually - it rang! I couldn't believe it. Even better, my girlfriend actually answered, first wondering if everything was okay, then if I was coming home early. I told her as quickly as I could where I was, and that the call could drop at any moment but that everything was terrific. We talked for a few more minutes without being dropped, and then I let her go, saying I'd see her tomorrow. My phone was turned off and stowed away, and I went back to my spot down by the water, happy to have had such an unexpected gift.
The rest of the evening passed in far more conventional fashion. I made dinner, I cleaned up camp, I crawled into the tent. I managed a few more pages of my book, but soon enough I was sound asleep.
The rest of the evening passed in far more conventional fashion. I made dinner, I cleaned up camp, I crawled into the tent. I managed a few more pages of my book, but soon enough I was sound asleep.
Day 4: Welcome to Rock (to home)
Today was the last day of the trip, and would be the longest travel day. While mostly paddling, there were still three portages between me and the car, totalling almost 3 kilometers in length. The first, and by far the longest, began on the east edge of Welcome, just out of sight of where I was packing up. There were Falls marked on the portage, so I expected some steepness in places. Fortunately I was travelling in the right direction which is to say, the end of the portage was lower than the beginning of it. As I was approaching the beginning of this portage, I spotted a moose!
The portage proved to be a slow and steady upwards climb for a while, finally relenting and proceeding back down. I could hear the falls well before I saw them. By this point in the trip I was thinking far more about the distance yet to go than in taking pictures, but the falls were pretty enough to jolt me out of that, and I snapped a few before moving on.
The rest of the trip into Pen was uneventful. Most of the portages now behind me, it was now about the paddle. Luck had been with me much of the trip, but no more. It was a windy day, and that wind was against me. In a kayak the wind is an impediment, not a show-stopper, but I wasn't looking forward to paddling into its teeth. So far I'd done well about keeping close to shore at all times, but the shape of Pen posed some challenges. To be truly careful I'd have to add a decent amount of distance to my route. The car still felt a long way away so I opted for a more direct route, but still staying near shore whenever possible. Nonetheless, Pen still felt like a long paddle, so much so that I was looking forward to the portage into Rock, if only for a chance to get off my backside. It was a short portage and, not in a hurry to resume the battle against the breeze, I snapped the last few photos of the trip.
Back in the kayak, the rest of the trip was full on get-there-itis. I passed close to the foot of the Louisa portage, and realized I had completed the loop. As I entered the river, knowing my car was just a few minutes ahead, I started grinning. I was happy to know I'd be on the way home soon: to my girlfriend, to a shower, to a warm bed and hot food. But somewhere in the back of my mind I was already thinking about the next trip, and what part of this beautiful park I'd visit next.
