ALGONQUIN : Rock Lake to
ClydegaleLake and back
July 28 & 29 2001.
Having spent two weeks in Canada and not a
canoe in sight - well not one that I could get into and paddle - my wife
Heather and my son Iain had decided they could no longer put up with the moan
"all this water and not one day on it!" They had repented and agreed,
nay insisted, (anything to stop the whinging) that I take two days and go and
paddle somewhere. So, in Canada, no boat, no kit, in fact no nothing, what
could I do? Algonquin, one of Canada's oldest and largest provincial parks is
blessed with some fantastic canoe outfitters where, for a reasonable price,
they will provide all you need for a day trip or an extended sojourn into the
wilderness.
We had booked a campsite for our RV (‘recreational vehicle’ - a big camper van
to you and me) at Rock Lake Campground right at the northern tip of Rock Lake
(see map) so this was the logical place to start. I had wanted to make the trip
a one way jaunt, but trying to arrange a pick up for me and the kit at the end
of my anticipated route was not practical, so I adapted plans and opted to
paddle the length of Rock Lake into Pen Lake and, if time allowed, on into
Clydegale Lake (approx. 10 miles). In the Algonquin, due to the popularity of
canoeing and hiking and the outdoor life in general, the Parks Commission strictly
ration the permits they issue allowing access to interior campsites. I had to
commit to a specific lake, so, Clydegale it was.
A visit to Opeongo Outfitters, on the way to our Rock Lake campsite, saw the
kit I needed sorted. Buoyancy aid XL (sorry, ‘PFD’), paddles, backpack, tarp
(lighter than a tent and this would be greatly appreciated during the
portages), stove, sleeping bag and foam mattress. The canoe, a 55lb Kevlar
15'4" model from Scotts (never heard of them before but quite a pleasant
paddle) had been booked by phone a couple of days earlier and had already been
delivered to the campsite. Food etc., I had decided to provide myself.
We arrived at the campsite, sorted the RV, still only 6:00 p.m. and the weather
absolutely gorgeous, as it had been for the whole holiday. Therefore, time to
find the canoe and try it out. The canoe was where they said it would be, by
the official boat launch. Into the water with it, - my - wasn't it light! Time
to put on the PFD. I didn't know that XL in Canada was a medium in UK! The PFD
didn't come close to fastening around my ever so slightly rotund figure, so it
made a great kneeler. The launch point was in fact into the river linking
Whitefish Lake to Rock Lake although I hadn't realised this at the time - too
excited and impatient. So off I went, turn left expecting to open out straight
away to the vista of a large lake. After approx. 400m still a river, must be
going the wrong way, so turned around. 800m in the opposite direction still on
a river so asked a family on the shore, nope, right the first time. Still nice
to receive a compliment from a local who said "nice to see someone who
knows how to paddle a canoe properly" - all those evenings reading Bill
Mason had their reward.
Reversed direction again. This time I found the lake without too much trouble -
you know its that big wet thing just around the corner. I spent a good hour
just playing and even though the Scott had a very slight keel it turned quite
nicely. Paddling on the lake in that weather and in those surroundings made me
think that I might like to take up "Freestyle Paddling". It appears
that I entertained some more locals, as they were again very complimentary. It
seems that although open boats are very common in Canada relatively few people
really know how to paddle them!
Next day, the sun was up bright and early and I had decided to start off circa
9:30 a.m. after a reasonable breakfast. Very little wind, clear visibility and
the sun still warming up. After the usual goodbyes, set off to the far
(western) side of the lake. This time I knew exactly where I was going and what
I wanted to achieve. The Scott tracked very nicely through the water and soon I
was paddling within some 200m of the western shore. I had read that there were
some native hieroglyphs on the rock face further down the lake and I wanted to
see them. There were very few other people that far out in the lake at that
time of the morning. I'd seen two other tandem canoes coming in the opposite
direction and one motor boat but no other human life. I had been told that the
next two lakes were even less populated as people only tended to go for day
trips and they were too far for the round trip. Peace and quiet. It really was
beautiful out on the lake.
Back to those hieroglyphs or pictographs. Search as I might along the cliff
faces I could see nothing that resembled anything man-made, which was
unfortunate as they are supposed to be over 600 years old and thought to have
been created by the Ojbiwe tribe. Without success, I carried on down Rock Lake
toward my first portage. By this time it was about 11:00 a.m. The sun was
getting higher and the wind was rising, still only about force 2 but I was
heading straight into it.
I reached the first portage about noon. Whilst I was emptying the boat a group
of men, all paddling tandem, had completed their portage from the south and
were just chatting when one of their number announced he had caught a snapping
turtle by the tail. He had indeed. About 2 foot (60 cm) long from head to tip
of tail it was putting up quite a struggle. I certainly would not like to have
been holding it by the tail. The jaws on those amphibians are very powerful and
can easily remove a finger or two! Anyway my first portage was shown on the map
as 375m. That might be the case as the crow flies but when you go up hill and
down dale albeit on a reasonably good path it surely doesn't feel like it.
The heat by now was building, I would estimate about 32oC, and with
the humidity it felt very hot. The water I had taken with me, about 4 litres,
was diminishing but very grateful I was for it. The first portage completed,
now for Pen Lake.
The wind had risen again and was up to force 3-4 and still into my face. It was
very cooling but I had to be careful of the sun now. The wide brimmed hat I had
brought with me served its purpose well in keeping the sun off my neck. The
shorts I was wearing were the same length as I had worn for the past two weeks
but through kneeling and sitting they were exposing the unweathered skin above,
which was beginning to feel overexposed. The paddle down Pen was uneventful but
lovely. Not another person in sight in any direction. Only Heron and Boobies
whose cry was quite distinctive and penetrating.
2 o'clock and I was feeling both hungry and thirsty so on the only rock in the
lake I was able to relax for half an hour and replenish my energy. Someone had
obviously had a similar idea some time before, but had had the time to build a
fire. A superb site for a small barbecue.
Onwards now to the second portage. This should be a doddle to an old
experienced hand like me, after all I had already done one and this next one
was only a mere 275m. Straight up and straight down over a very rocky path and
in between trees! It had been suggested that if I could make it all the way to
the southern end of Clydegale Lake there was a lovely and remote campsite on
one of the islands. I felt good and thought to myself, yes, I'll go for it, no
problems.
The first part of the lake led me due south, still into wind and it was getting
stronger. By the time I had hugged the shore to take what shelter I could from
the wind and reached the first identified campsite, only a distance of about
half a mile, I was getting tired but the site was taken. This made me think. If
I paddle against this wind all the way to the island I will be knackered and
there is still a chance that it too might be taken. Right, lets be sensible, cross
to the east shore and check out the next marked campsite. (There is absolutely
no fly camping allowed so you have to get to a marked site.) Didn't find it!
The angle at which I traversed the lake took me ever so slightly too far south.
OK, on to the next one on the western shore having turned the corner to go down
the body of the lake. If I thought the wind was a hindrance before it suddenly
grew to at least a 4.
Next campsite found, small beach but actual campsite was at least 5m up a
fairly vertical climb. I needed my boat to make a bivvy with the tarp so
thought I had better check out the next one to see if it was any better. Still
paddling into wind I got within sight and saw the tell tale signs of
habitation, PFD's strung up, towels out and a glimpse of a bright orange tent.
No choice but to paddle back to the empty site I had left some 10/15 minutes
earlier.
As it turned out this site was very acceptable once I had carried all the kit
up the steep slope from the beach, altho'’ this slope would prove to be a pain
as having run out of drinking water all water now had to be taken from the lake
& boiled for 10 minutes before consumption - and I didn't have a large
water carrier. After a good days paddling in strong sunshine, it doesn’t take
long to drink three cups of tea.
The site was a small clearing about 15 meters square. There was a fireplace
that had been built up over the years into quite a substantial structure, a
couple of logs around the fire for seating and a small supply of firewood left
by the previous tenant. It is a common courtesy to leave at least enough wood
including protected kindling for the next occupant to quickly start a fire
without having to search frantically in poor weather. As it happened I had
brought my own kindling and so used this. Soon after landing I had the fire
going and was thinking of another cup of tea.
I very soon realised I had a few friends around. One chipmunk had made his
burrow underneath the fireplace - he obviously had paid extra to have his
condo' with built in central heating. This little fellow was very cheeky,
totally unafraid and tried to raid my food stocks at every opportunity. The
local red squirrel on the other hand was very aloof and spent most of its time
hurling abuse at me from the safety of its branch. Bears crossed my mind - at
the time of booking the campsite the warden had reminded me that there were
indeed bears in the area and to take the relevant precautions. A bit more of
that later.
By this time the wind was dropping to a nice gentle breeze so I made up the
bivvy using the tarp and by resting the canoe against two very well placed and
spaced trees (well one was a tree and the other a 2ft high stump) and went for
a swim. The water was beautiful. Clear, clean and warm - totally unlike any
Scottish loch or Welsh lake. From the photographs I hope its apparent that
there were no other visible signs of habitation so it was perfectly possible to
go skinny dipping, or fatty dipping in my case. But did I or didn't I? Was
there a sighting of Moby Dick in Clydegale Lake in July 2001? You'll never
know!
A lovely peaceful evening followed. Having cooked supper I went looking for a
bit more firewood, bigger stuff to see the fire through the evening, and found
the "dunny"! The Park Wardens issue a couple of plastic bags for you
to transport all waste (and I mean all) back out with you so it was a sort of
pleasant surprise to realise I didn't have to pack that out on this occasion.
Mind you it's amazing what mind control you can exert when faced with the dunny
experience. I was sure I could wait until the following evening.
Bed by about 10:00p.m, listening to the sounds of the forest, peeking out occasionally
under the edge of the tarp to see the odd luminous pair of dots in the murky
surroundings. I woke about 2:00 a.m. thinking - what a plonker! I had packed
all my food away in my Duluth bag and dutifully hoisted it about 20 ft up into
the air to prevent any marauding bears from becoming too interested. However, I
had forgotten about wind direction. I was lying downwind of the food so any
bear would probably walk straight through the campsite and through me to get at
it, and it really wasn't far enough away from my sleeping quarters. Do I get up
and move it just in case. Nah! Actually I had a good nights sleep and woke
without concerns a 7:00 a.m.
I had thought the previous evening that if the wind came again at least this
time it would be behind me. I could rig a sail if I could find suitable dead
branches, but at 7:00 a.m. it was as flat as a millpond.
Breakfast over, I cleared the campsite and was ready to paddle by 8:30 a.m. One
final check, water ok, I had boiled enough the previous evening to see me back,
litter - none, food - none, firewood - yes. There is a saying about wilderness
camping - "take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints."
I was determined to leave the site better than I found it and it was pretty
good then.
The wind was rising slightly and I made short work of the return trip to the
first portage, passing the campsites that I had tried to use the previous
evening. Seeing their occupants just beginning to take to the water, with a
quick hail and wave I left them behind, to enjoy their day. During the portage
into Pen Lake I kept looking for some branches to rig a sail, but being
restricted to dead wood it was proving something of a difficult task. Most were
not the right length or diameter and those that were were too brittle. Never
mind, there was still another portage to come and at least I wouldn't have to
dismantle the rig or carry the additional weight.
Pen Lake was a doddle, still only 10:00 a.m. and the wind freshening. The sun
was not really out and it was still a nice day but there were some clouds
building over to the west. As progress was so good I thought that I would be
back at journeys end by early afternoon so I decided to have elevenses rather
than lunch and this I had just bobbing along on the water letting the wind do
the work. 12:00 noon, I reached the last portage. Last chance to make a rig and
to finish the paddle in style sailing up Rock Lake right to the campsite. Not a
suitable piece of wood in sight. If only I had my pole!
I had been on Rock Lake no more than 10 minutes when I felt a little spot of
rain on my shirt. Yes, it was very overcast and would probably rain, time to
get out my cag which was packed away on the top of my Duluth bag. No sooner
than I had opened up the bag than the heavens took their cue and opened up as
well. It was like someone had just turned on a tap and I was sitting under it.
Put on the cag, closed the bag and paddled to the shore to find some shelter.
They have Murphy out in Canada as well and his law was being applied to the
letter. Virtually the only piece of shore line without a landing place of any
sort. There was already an inch of water in the bottom of the boat and it
looked as if the deluge would last for some time. I finally found an
overhanging tree that afforded some shelter and gratefully took advantage. I
sat there for about 20 minutes just enjoying the scenery when the rain stopped
as suddenly as it had started. The wind was still in my favour and I could see
the rock face where the pictographs were still supposed to be so lets find
them. And this time, after a good 20 minutes just floating in the area studying
the rocks, I still couldn't find the damn things.
The last hour was a gentle paddle, the weather getting brighter all the time.
It didn't take long for me to dry out completely in the warm air. Many more
canoes and motor boats on the water than the previous day, but only one solo
paddler. In fact he was the only solo paddler I had seen over the two days.
At 2:00 p.m. I reached the campsite and quite gratefully and with some
difficulty uncoiled my legs and hauled the canoe up the beach. 8 hours hard
graft out, 6 hours leisurely paddle back. Not a bad way round.
It was over. Two days of peace and solitude, just paddling through some
exquisite country. An experience I will never forget and one that I would love
to repeat, but this time with some friends to share the beauty and tranquillity
- and for at least a week! Any offers - just don't tell the wife?
Neil Fuller
