Another morning in Algonquin Park, and another beautiful clear sky and sunrise. We were - to put it mildly - getting really lucky with the weather. The prognosis had been only middling, with forecasts of occasional showers and lots of clouds. Overall, though, we'd had nothing more than a drop or two of the wet stuff and plenty of time under clear blue skies - like this morning.
This was the last day of trip. Our plan was to head west to the Nipissing River, and follow it downstream to where it enters Cedar Lake. From there, we would make a beeline across the lake to the dock at Brent.
Before breakfast, I took one last picture tour of our camp. Still air allowed both a subtle mist to remain over the surface of the lake and allowed us to clearly hear the haunting cries of nearby loons.
After breakfast and a stop to take some portrait photos of Kyle and Eveline at what can only be described as the Photo Studio of the Great Outdoors, we set off on our return journey. Because we had a fairly long way to go before arriving home, we strove to get going a bit earlier than usual today. We were gliding out onto the waters of Catfish Lake by about 8:50am.
One could not have asked for better canoeing conditions. The lake was whisper calm, with a deep and glossy surface nearly free of any ripples. It seemed effortless to paddle through it; in fact, the water almost seemed to pull you along like some sort of smooth, buttery conveyor belt.
Setting off across Catfish Lake
Setting off across Catfish Lake
The beautiful canoe down a westward arm of Catfish Lake soon came to end with a relatively easy 500-metre portage into a small round body of water known as Luckless Lake. Although a small headwind had come up, this crossing was also easy and enjoyable.
Approaching Luckless Lake
Putting in at Luckless Lake
Approaching the big portage
Next came the physical challenge of the day - perhaps even of the entire trip: the big portage. A 2,835-metre overland trek between Luckless Lake and the Nipissing River. After not really enjoying the 2.5km portage from two days before, I wasn't expecting much fun on this - a nearly 3-km portage.
Jenn and I were the last to get all of our gear organized and packed up into portage mode - the others had started ahead of us. By the time we started walking, Sophie had long since run off to hike the portage with the others.
We had all agreed in advance that we were going to split the portage into three roughly 1-km segments, with rests in between. My thoughts, therefore, were focused solely on the next 900 metres or so of burdened walking.
The big one
The first three or four hundred metres of the portage was along the type of footpath typically seen in Algonquin Park - clear but narrow and uneven. It required a bit of concentration to put a foot right when you are carrying 90 or so pounds, 40 of which are balanced near your head. However, after that point, the portage trail merged with some sort of old logging road, and the footing became very even and free of irregularities. This allowed me to increase my pace substantially, and we began to motor northwards. I expected that I would run into the others at the one-third-of-the-way rest point at any moment.
Long but fortunately good trail
However, we encountered no resting fellow canoers. The only thing we came across was a sitting Sophie, who had apparently decided that she was hungry and tired and needed to stop. I wasn't sure how that could be; it couldn't possibly be an energy bonk after covering only a grand total of 1.5 kilometres over flat ground in the 90 minutes since we'd left camp.
Seeing as we were behind the others and since I'd not yet reached their first rest stop, I decided to continue on (and I most certainly didn't feel like putting down and picking up the awkward canoe more times that I had to). I attempted to maintain the fast pace in the hopes of catching the others soon. Jenn stayed behind with Sophie.
Two kilometres to go
Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. I watched the metres tick by on my GPS, and figured the others must have switched plans to a one-stopper. Soon that distance went by, again with no sign of the others. I was quite hot and sweaty, and slightly annoyed at being cheated of my rest breaks, but also sure that at some point I'd catch them - if in fact they had stopped.
As the two kilometre mark came and went, it became more obvious that there was a good chance there was going to be no stopping for me on this portage. It wouldn't make sense for them to stop for a break beyond this point, so close to the far end. So, with sore shoulders, I continued on, resigning myself to doing the entire 3-ish km without any rest break at all. Super thankful, I was, for my new yoke pad.
Arriving, Nipissing River
When I finally (and gratefully) arrived under shady trees on the banks of the Nipissing River, I asked the others what had happened. It turned out that they had stopped for two breaks, but they had been short and they had maintained a fast pace. Their initial head start over me was enough to ensure that I never caught them (they had arrived ahead of me by perhaps five minutes). Bummer.
River fishing
I took a nice long relaxing break and prepared the canoe for a return to the water. It was here that I noticed that a few mosquitos and black flies were starting to make their presence felt. Not many, but it was definitely more than anything we'd seen on the previous days. We were choosing our exit day perfectly.
Jenn and Sophie arrived ten or fifteen minutes later.
After the long and tiring portage, we returned to the water, headed downstream on the Nipissing River. It was great to be back in the canoes - especially so this time, since we had the twin combination of current and wind in our favor, and we practically didn't even have to paddle to make good progress.
