The pitter-patter of rain started sometime after midnight. It was extremely gentle, sounding light even from inside the tent (where any rain or water sounds are very magnified). I awoke a few times during the night and noticed that it was quite continuous. It would seem that our long bout of extended light rain had started.
A somewhat wet morning
Happily, however, the light rain began to peter out as we got up to begin our day. By the time we were finished breakfast, everything was still damp - but it wasn't raining any longer. We carefully kept the inside of the tent as dry as possible as we packed up, keeping the wet fly separate. Maybe we could avoid everything getting soaked over the course of the weekend.
The Breakfast Bench
After a breakfast (for Jenn and I) of Ikea crepes, potato pancakes, and bacon strips (seasoned with genuine
UMEX 2015 maple syrup), we made ready to head off on day 2 of our paddle. Today would be substantially harder than last evening's easy one-hour paddle: six portages, of which one was over a fairly challenging 2.4km stretch.
The rain continued to hold off as we set off north on Crotch Lake, The winds held off, too, and the water was for the most part glassy and calm.
courtesy JInnes
courtesy JInnes
Departing Island campsite
A short fifteen minutes of paddling brought us to the first portage of the day: a 1000m+ portage uphill to Shirley Lake. I had for some reason put it in my mind that it was 800m or so, and my internal expectations of when the portage would be complete were thrown off by this. It thus seemed and felt long to me (plus there was a fair bit of uphill). At least my canoe's yoke was better balanced than last year's instance.
The water on Shirley Lake was exceptionally calm (and the rain was still holding off). The water conditions combined with some interesting rock outcrops to create some amazing kaleidoscopic scenes. Witness the picture I've labelled "Shirley's Rock Tick" - wouldn't you agree that it looks like some sort of big rock tick?
A half-hour of easy, wind-less paddling brought us across Shirley's Lake to our next portage - a relatively short hop to a small pond called Ryan Lake. Here, with the right expectations for distance a little balance assistance from Jenn (I was finding it hard to get the right fore/aft balance on the canoe while portaging), the portage went by quickly and painlessly. Soon we were on Ryan Lake. Interestingly, all of the (apparently good) campsites on this lake were closed, due to some sort of blue-green algae that was elevating the level of a particular neurotoxin in the water.
courtesy JInnes
Start of Shirley-Ryan Portage
Our good luck with calm winds and no precipitation continued all the way across Ryan Lake as well,. and it was only during the portage after Ryan Lake (our 4th portage of the day) that the predicted rain finally started. It was very light, but soon grew enough to make us decide to put on our raingear. Things were still quite calm, though, and there was a certain liquidy peacefulness to our paddle across the next lake, a small round thing called (somewhat paradoxically) Big Red Lake.
courtesy JInnes
Another short but rather hilly portage brought us to Shrew Lake. Here the drops intensified, going from what could arguably be called drizzle to a solid, continuous rain. We were coming up to the dreaded 2.4km portage. Arn and Gosia had heard stories about mud and water on the portages from a staffer back at the start, but so far we had seen pretty decent footing. Maybe, we thought, all of the bad stuff was along the long portage.
For that reason and the rain, Gosia had Jenn and I scout out the nearest campsite on Shrew Lake, just in case we encountered some nasty obstacles (or a lack of will) on the long portage. If so, we would have a backup location to which to retreat. Jenn and I paddled over in the intensifying rain to the nearest site, situated on a small point. It was rather small, though, and with our three tents and nine people, would be a tight squeeze. We paddled back to the rest of the group and reported our findings. A bit of incentive for us to just put our heads down and power through the long portage and get to McKaskill.
Nearing the big one
The portage to McKaskill (well, actually to Dove Lake, a tiny body of water immediately adjacent to McKaskill) was not at all straightforward. Right off the bat, Nancy slipped on mossy rock and took a full-on soaker into a flooded bit of trail. That started a general downward trend in our mood. The portage trail itself was notably rougher than all of the other portages so far - uneven, bouldery in places, and with frequent uncleared blowdown. Also, there was a fair bit of elevation gain and loss, mostly in the form of minor but steep ups and downs. Then, about halfway through, we encountered "the canal".
Mid-portage Canal
Before us, the portage trail ended and water began. Not the water of a lake, but just water right on the trail. It was deep, and we could not see the far end. Crashing off in the woods to the left was Arn, trying to find a bushwhack route around the water. Not particularly liking these long, wearying portages, it looked to me like the perfect opportunity for a little shoulder rest. I flipped the canoe over put our packs in, slipped it into the water. There was more than enough depth to float the canoe, our gear, and ourselves.
The flooded section of portage trail was probably a good hundred metres long. Very deep in spots, too - probably in excess of four feet. It was actually quite nice to be able to glide along this forest canal rather than hoof the canoe and pack along the trail, so in a way, I was grateful for this mini-lake along this quite long stretch.
With the crossing of the canal complete, it was time to resume portaging. The trail continued to be challenging: up, down, blowdown, rough. We took one five-minute break just beyond the halfway mark.
Watery portage
A final steep set of descents brought us to Dove Lake, a small body of water separated from McKaskill by only about 30 metres of land. It was still raining steadily, and the 1.5 hours of portaging (it took us quite a long time) had us feeling kinda beat. We were looking forward to getting to McKaskill and finding a place to have lunch.
The recent and current rains were such that the level of Dove Lake was very high, and in fact a temporary stream had formed along the path of the short portage connecting us to McKaskill.
Lo and behold - A cabin
Examining the map for campsites on McKaskill, we noted that there was a cabin (generally a rarity these days in Algonquin) along the lake's south shore. Since we were headed in that general direction anyway, we decided to have a look at it. Perhaps, maybe - if no one was there - it might be a nice place for lunch....
Soon the cabin came into view - a sturdy and tidy little structure set on a small rise above the lakeshore. There we no canoes around, although there was a splotch of red back in the woods. We pulled up and came ashore to have a closer look.
Lunchtime Hideaway
The red splotch turned out to be a pickup truck, parked a ways behind the cabin and at the end of a simple forest track that presumably connected back to civilization. The cabin itself was, happily, empty. Although a bit cluttered and messy, it was a solid structure with all of the necessary bits in place to provide a great lunch location: a dining table, a functioning wood stove, and - most importantly - nicely watertight.
Refuge from Rain
No one disagreed that we should skip this chance for a sheltered lunch break (save Emma and Nel, who put on tiresomely extended airs about how the cabin was creepy, filthy, and repulsive), and we quickly set up shop. In no time, Dave and Arn had the stove fired up, and the chilly damp of the cabin was soon replaced with a nice, comforting warmth. We placed our wet clothes on various posts and benches to give them a chance to dry out.
Cozy Corner
Lunch was prepared, eaten, and cleaned up. We lounged about, occasionally looking out the windows to confirm that the day's light rain was continuing. It was. We told ourselves we'd move on to our intended campsite at the next break in the rain.
The longer we stayed in the cabin, the less we wanted to leave it. We had gotten used to the temperature and humidity level, and stepping outside into the chill damp was immediately unpleasant. We began to muse... if no one comes to claim the cabin, might we perhaps consider staying here for the night?
This particular cabin was part of the park, and was indeed a bookable entity. However, this was not interchangeable with campsite reservations (which we had). And, most importantly, if someone else had indeed booked it, they would reasonably be expected to kick us out. After some debate, we reluctantly concluded that the proper thing to do was to vacate and make tracks to our campsite.
We packed up our gear and headed back outside. It was still raining, and it felt immediately clammy and damp. I wasted no time in packing our canoe and sliding it down to the water, when I heard a call back up from near the cabin to halt. I stopped and walked back up.
Turns out that the debate about staying at the cabin had fired back up again, and now most of the group had had a change of heart. Maybe, if no one showed up by, say, 8pm, then we'd stay for the night. If someone did show up, then 8pm would still give us enough light to quickly paddle over to a campsite and set up. Even Nel and Emma - convinced that several serial murderers must have lived here - thought it was a good idea. So, I went back down to the canoe and hauled everything out and back up to the cabin.
Settling In
Fully settled back in, we got out the games and spent the next few hours relaxing indoors. We even started tidying up the place, picking up bits of trash, sweeping the floor, cleaning out the outdoor flreplace (which was full of wet toilet paper), generally making the place more homey (the last occupants had been veritable pigs, really). 6pm.... 7pm... 8pm... it was really starting to look like we'd be spending the night here. Gosia, however, continued to express some worry far into the evening.
By the time sunset approached, we were fairly sure no one was going to show up (Arn and I put the chances at 75%-25% in our favor). Ironically, the weather outside had broken, and a late-day sun shone through the trees from the west. Didn't matter - we were staying put. We did decide, however, that we'd still camp in our tents, and use the cabin only as our living space. That way if someone did happen to show up late, it wouldn't be too much trouble to get out of their way. Plus it made us feel a bit better about not having paid the higher cabin rental rate.
courtesy JInnes
After watching the beautiful sunset and twilight scenes outside and having a very civilized dinner indoors, we chatted and drank fairly late into the night. A very nice end to what had - for a while - turned into quite a dreary day!
