I have wandered the wilderness for as long as memory serves. It is a place of great mystery and wonderment. This Blog will help me to share some of the many lessons I have learned while wandering and paddling the forests and lakes I call home.
The Subaru Outback Wilderness Wagon is touted as being an off road capable machine - easily holding it's own on rough roads and terrain.
I had decided to camp at a site which could be accessed via two routes, one was via a portage trail and the other was via an unmaintained logging road.
This road has claimed everything from tailpipes to bumpers; however, I decided that it was time to put the vehicle to the test and take a chance running this wild stretch of dirt road.
My resolve was firm but my nerves were questioning my decision when the Subi's front wheels hit the first rut.
It wasn't long before the Wilderness in the Outback taught me to calm down and have fun, as this powerful vehicle tackled the road and showed me that the Subi was more than up to the task.
Canoe tripping is an experience which has to be lived to be understood.
A canoe trip can be a simple drop and plop. This is when you park your car, load your canoe with your gear, paddle to a campsite on the same lake. This type of trip is great if you need some respite from everyday life and you want to "melt" into the landscape for several days of relaxation and rest.
Canoe tripping; however, is a strenuous ordeal which requires planning and skill to execute effectively. I have seen people reduced to tears on a well planned trip. The reasons vary but inevitably the "tears" are the result of the persons expectations not meeting the reality of the situation.
Some people have the Hollywood or YouTube idea of tripping in their mind when they plan a journey through the lakes and woods. They envision soft gentle clouds dancing across a blue sky and calm gentle waters upon which their canoe glides. The portage trails are relatively flat with gentle undulations in ground elevations. Torrents of mosquitoes and blackflies don't enter the theatre through which their mind is wandering.
Canoe tripping has some of those elements; however, I can guarantee the bugs will take part in your trip; unless your trip is booked when the temperature is below 10 degrees. I can guarantee the portage trails will test your resolve. After walking the second 1,000 Meter portage you will ask yourself; "Why the heck did I pack all this junk?"
I can assure you that the wind will try to push you back to where you started and halfway through your adventure you will vow to never to do it again.
Experienced trippers know this simple truth and yet we plan our trips as soon as our tents and gear are stowed for the winter.
Tripping takes skill and patience, it takes courage and tenacity to complete a trip of extended distances. It will teach you everything you need to know about yourself. Your strengths and shortfalls will be highlighted by the trials and tribulations of a long canoe trip.
When you plan a trip, add at least 20% onto your estimated time. Plan and then plan again. Expect rain and wind. Leave the YouTube versions of tripping on your computer.
When your gear is packed, unpack it and pack it again leaving out the unnecessary items which are simply useless. Remember, wet gear can weigh five times the weight of dry gear therefore pack all clothing in dry bags and ensure your pack is water tight.
When you launch your canoe onto the first leg of your trip, smile and draw the fresh forest air deep into your lungs. Dig your paddle deep into the water and pull your boat up to speed. Leave all your expectations and trepidations behind you in your canoe's wake. Every stroke of the paddle from that point on will be one of discovery and adventure.
I often wonder what draws me to the quiet solitude of a wilderness lake or forest.
As a child, I spent as much time as possible wandering the forest trails around my home. It was within those green walled paths that I learned the ways of the forest and learned to "see" the lessons painted on the forest floor. It was there that I learned to remove myself from society and become a part of something that was ancient and profound.
Nothing has changed since those days long past, I have no power to resist the siren call of the woods. The trials I have traveled slide beneath my bare feet as body sleeps and my soul searches for messages and insight.
There are times when curiosity pulls at me and forces me to venture into places I would usually avoid, places where people rule and all other creatures must step aside and stay hidden.
I ventured out onto a cottage lined lake near my home. The cacophony of noise which bounced from shore to shore shattered any illusions of a peaceful paddle within moments. Boats and high powered watercraft created a chaos of waves which shattered on the shoreline continuously. My prospector canoe handled the waves perfectly; but the rat race on the lake forced me to retrace my strokes back to the seclusion of the marsh and then the portage trail from whence I came.
R.G.Wright
As I pulled my canoe back up onto the shore where the portage trail beckoned me home, the silence of the forest filled my being and pushed aside all the "noise" that had encapsulated me. I hoisted the canoe on my shoulders and walked the portage trail home pondering many questions pertaining to the impact of humans on the world. I have my thoughts which will remain my own. I am more than thankful that there are many wilderness areas here in Ontario which have been protected and provide us quiet paddlers a place to roam.
Portage trails are varied in length and can be anything from an easy walk through the woods to a muscle challenging trail that would test the most athletic woodland traveler.
Many portage trails cross bodies of water which are not navigable by canoe. Bridges of all sorts can be found throughout canoe country. These range from simple planks of wood which test our sense of balance to engineered crossings complete with railings. Most deep woods crossings are made from logs gathered in the surrounding area or rocks thrown into strategic places.
This video displays one method of crossing a marsh area. I describe marsh-land as a submerged or a semi submerged area which has a tendency to suck shoes off unsuspecting hikers.
This building method maintains water flow and helps to mitigate damage to the wetland. Nails and fasteners are not required.
We had just arrived at the east arm of Opeongo lake in Algonquin Park. I make one simple comment about the canoe pack that I am about to carry and my son decides to give me a piece of his mind.
A canoe is a light-weight boat capable of carrying loads ten times or more than the weight of the craft itself. Stability is the key. If you load your canoe improperly; the boat will not track well and you are putting yourself at risk of tipping. A properly loaded canoe will sit evenly in the water and will be easier to control in winds and waves. Always take into account the weight differential of the bow and stern paddlers. Less is always best when canoeing. Think carefully about the gear you wish to bring with you. Make sure that it is absolutely necessary. You will understand this statement when you have completed a long portage.
Winter is fading as the sun returns to warm the land. The forest streams are trundling their way to nearby lakes and ponds. The wild ones that persevered through the cold months shake off the chill and meander around the woods loving the warmth. Migrating birds are returning and filling the silent woods with their songs. Frogs and turtles rise from their deep sleep and move to the surface of the ponds to say hello to a world they have not seen for several months. Spring peepers; small frogs with huge voices, call out into the night creating a chorus of sound which fills the hollows of the forest with deafening power. Soon the black-flies will come out from under the leaf litter and fill the air with their clouds of annoyance. Knowing that they in turn will feed the fish, makes their arrival easier to accept. It is simply part of the cycle which makes the forest healthy and whole. Into this awakening world I move, as quietly as possible and without purpose. I want to soak in all the sights and sounds of the spring for I know, without question, spring will turn to summer and new sounds and sights will fill my mind and spring will fade into memory. Once again my paddle can dig into the cool water and my canoe can glide silently into the wilderness carrying me into the world which I call home.
Canoes are the quintessential water craft of the Canadian wilderness. These little vessels were used as a primary means of travel well into the 1800's by people who lived along the waterways located throughout the country.
The canoe depicted here was built by the Peterborough Canoe Company in 1956. They named her the Minetta. This canoe has a mid-ship depth of 30.5 cm. (12 Inches) and a beam of 84 cm. (33 Inches) and she is 457 cm. (15 ft.) long. She has rocker and tumblehome designed into her hull which makes this little boat a thrill to paddle, but you have to be careful because she can be real touchy and dump you if she's not treated right.
I found her in a carport where she was being used to hold firewood. The canvas cover was rotted and her ribs were in danger of splitting. I re-canvased her within a few days of getting the canoe home. I did a haphazard job yet she carried my son and I on several long canoe trips without complaint. I decided to strip the canoe down to it's ribs and refinish it properly. The picture above depicts the extent of hull rot that I had to carve out of her.
After extensive repair to ribs, keel, thwarts and gunwales, I sanded her down and decided to add a thin coat of fiberglass cloth to her stern and bow. I do realize this is an affront to canoe craftsman; however, I never professed to be a craftsman.
With the ribs repaired and the planking back in place; it was time to put the canvas on. I rigged up a stretcher using ratchet straps and pulled the canvas as tight as I possibly could. Then I slipped the canvas over the canoe's hull and tacked it in place.
My next task was to install the new gunwales which was a task in and of itself. I had to steam the wood in order to obtain the various bends required to fit the hull. Then I varnished the canoe with several coats of high performance marine grade varnish. This step had to be done with great care and patience. Mistakes here would make or break the finished product.
The final stage of the rebuild was painting the hull. This again was accomplished using high grade marine paint and a heap-load of patience. The very last stage was to apply the Peterborough decals to the decks and the brass prow strips to the bow and stern.
The moment had come; after several months of patient work, I lowered her into the water and held my breath. Gently pushed by a slight wind she responded by trying to weather vane. She felt alive.
I climbed into her bow and faced the stern. Plunging my paddle deep into the water I pulled the canoe up to hull speed and fell in love with the little boat that was once used as a fire-wood holder.
She responded to my influence like a well trained horse, turning on a dime with a deft stroke of my paddle we returned to the center of the pond and I laid in her hull for well over an hour. I wanted to feel my pulse mesh with the hull. To say that I was elated would be an understatement.
This canoe paddles like a dream and is the fastest boat I have ever paddled. She sheds high waves due to her tumblehome and she can carry a heavy load without complaining. The designers of this canoe knew exactly what they were doing.
The Peterborough Minetta was produced between 1948 and 1963. The model number is 1815 followed by the serial number. Unfortunately the numbers were part of the rot I had to cut out on this one. I will never know her true build date.
Wood canvas boats are my favorite, as I stated before, no other canoe moves like them. I often tell people that these boats feel alive when you are in them. My average trip length is a minimum of 130 Km. with many portages. I refuse to use my Minetta on such journeys - she is tough but the work I put into her was so extensive I don't want to repeat it. I take her off the rack when I want to cruise a wilderness lake and limit portages to a bare minimum. She is quiet and swift, allowing me to pass unseen by campers as they sit around a fire as the stars circle Polaris.
Tin cans have been utilized as makeshift stoves for many years. The tin-can stoves became known as Hobo stoves due to the fact that they were used extensively during the great depression as people drifted around the country looking for work. As a survival or camp stove, the tin-can stove is perfect. It will boil water in less than five minutes, it is easy to make and it is lightweight. There is no need to carry bulky propane canisters or white gas containers and it is easy and safe to use.
If you create a rock cairn around the stove, you can place your pan on the rock-rim and efficiently direct the heat to cook your food. When you are cold and wet from a long haul through the portage trail, this little stove is a quick way of warming up before hitting the rain laden lake for the next leg of your journey. The only downfall to this little stove is the noise it makes as it clangs off your backpack when you move down the trail. Stuff it with leaves and forest debris and that will help solve the issue of noise. (Unless of course you feel more comfortable letting the wild ones know you are coming.)
I make these stoves very plain and simple. There are many fancy designs floating around on the internet. As long as you have a loading/air intake hole at the bottom of the stove - it will work perfectly. Give this little stove a try, I am sure you will love it.
To some, the owl is a harbinger of bad news. If a person should encounter one of these winged predators during the course of their day or night, bad luck will surely follow. The only time that portent could be possibly relevant is if a person should suddenly find themselves transformed into a rodent, bird or rabbit. With acute senses, these birds of prey hunt with unrivaled accuracy. Their eyes are capable of capturing enough light that even though you literally can't see the hand in front of your face, they can see the buttons on your shirt. Their ears are situated on their head in such a way that the roundness of their face acts as a sonic dish allowing them to hear the slightest of rustlings on the forest floor. The wing tips of an owl are softened allowing them to fly soundlessly. As their wings push the air downwards while in flight, their wing tips lift and dump the captured air in such a way that no sound of their flight can be intercepted by their prey. I have had many encounters with owls. On one occasion, a barred owl swooped down and took the hat off of a fellow paddler while we were traversing a small pond. I may have incited the owl to do this by mimicking the owls territorial call. The winged predator decided to show us who was in charge. The reaction of my friend dumped us into the shallow water and after the shock wore off we laughed until our sides hurt. I am sure the owl watched the entire show.
Laying within your tent, your head cushioned by a pack or pillow and your eyes scanning the nylon walls which seem illuminated by the darkness of the forest night. Your ears will reach out instinctively and scan the forest for sound. If you are lucky, you will hear an owl call out into the night. A soft sound which echoes through the forest and resonates off cliffs and trees. It will enter your consciousness and instantly propel you into the primitive world to which we once belonged. Call back as best you can, you may be answered. This time the owl will answer from very close by indeed, for this bird is territorial and will investigate even the worst of imitations of it's call.
Pondering the world from the seat of a canoe as you traverse a lake or river is always rejuvenating. As you pull your paddle through the water, you open your mind and soul to realities which are normally hidden. The living world around you becomes tangible and you become part of a vast group of interconnected creatures. The longer you paddle, the more you connect to the environment through which you travel. Given enough time, something wonderful happens; you realize that you have become part of everything that surrounds you and your mind switches gears. Your spiritual mind comes out of hiding. Now you see things from a different perspective, you are open to thoughts which are not polluted by social engineering. You are free - no drugs or alcohol required. Grab a paddle and plunge it deep into the water. Pull yourself forward and leave your worries behind. It works for me and I am sure my fellow paddlers would agree. Just remember to treat the wilderness as you would your home, for in truth, it is the only home that really matters.
As I wander through the wilderness and stumble across an old portage trail or an artifact, I ask the following questions - who was here before me? Why were they here? What were they feeling? Some of the questions will never be answered. Sometimes the answers are plain to see. The trails are littered with evidence of those who went before us. Some of it is obvious, other evidence is camouflaged; blending into the surroundings so well that it takes a keen eye to uncover it. Ontario was a logger's paradise, hundreds of thousands of acres of ancient forest were pillaged by the logging barons in search of the mighty white pine. Evidence of their quest lays decaying on the forest floor in places like Algonquin Park. When I am canoeing in Algonquin Park, I always search for the remnants of the loggers efforts. I find it fascinating to pick up an old object such as a water pitcher or old tool and wonder - who held this? Of course I will never know the answer, but my imagination begins to formulate ideas which are fun to ponder. This short video is based on one such search.
In my book, "A Long Paddle Home," the protagonist is haunted by his past and by a mysterious creature which follows his every move. In order to write the sentences within the story, I had to feel them first. With that goal in mind, I took a journey through Algonquin Park to the very place where a huge revelation within the story happens. The old Pine River Logging site on the Tim River. As I paddled toward the portage from Queer lake to the Tim River, the mist enshrouded shoreline allowed my imagination to run free. It was there within the mist that I was finally able to see the entity which wanders through the pages of "A Long Paddle Home." Shivers ran through me as I realized that this creature could actually exist. All indigenous cultures have a name for it. I call it - Agawaatesin.
People have inquired as to where I found inspiration to write the novel "A Long Paddle Home." I often reply by simply saying the ideas within the story just appeared as I was writing. That is not the whole answer. I have wandered the forests for as long as I my memory serves. I have read thousands of messages written within the fabric of the landscape. From the silence of a mist enshrouded coniferous forest, to the banshee like wail of the wind as it bends trees to impossible angles during a thunder storm, I have witnessed nature as she weaves her stories into a mosaic which is too vast to comprehend. On day while laying on the ground inspecting an ant colony, the feeling of being watched forced me to look to my right, sitting quietly on a leaf was the little fellow you see in the photo. I called him Yoda. The ideas for the story came from many such encounters. I have learned that to really feel the forest, one must slow down, lay down and look around. You are being watched. Once you are able to remove yourself from your own internal dialog, you will be able to absorb the lessons which the land chooses to teach you. I believe that little tree frog helped me to find the creature witch roams through the pages of "A Long Paddle Home."
After a great day of paddling, Liam and I chill out on the shore of Radiant Lake.
Liam decides to do an impromptu interview which I vowed I would not post. I do have some sense of self esteem; however, when you hit my age, who cares.
A canoe trip brings out some crazy stuff in people - Fun times.
During a trip like this, you shed a lot of baggage which society burdens you with. Nothing centers you better than long paddle on a remote lake.
Winter is closing in fast here in Algonquin Highlands. Snow covers my Swift Prospector Canoe as I look out over the beaver pond which is in front of my home. The pull of the paddle is strong and I have no ability to resist its song. I dust her off and we join hands and dance our last dance for the season. When spring begins to thaw the ice and if I am here to feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I will once again grab my paddle and place the yoke of the canoe over my shoulders. I will place her into the water and plunge my paddle deep. I need to hear her hull as she glides across the water before the ice silences her.
Liam and I wake up as the faint light of a new day infiltrates our tent. We pack up our gear, load the canoe and head out to see what the third day of our trip in Algonquin Park has in store for us. We have deep reservations about the planned route. Low water levels have us questioning our ability to make it to our next campsite before nightfall. The day begins with a Bald Eagle as it flies out from the south shoreline, it circles us and then heads back the way it came. Omen - Maybe.
Stay tuned! Liam and I embark on the third leg of the trip. Tired from the night before, we plunge our paddles into the cold water's of Crow Bay.
We head out for a day which will direct the course of the rest of our stay in Algonquin Park. As we wander, I begin to imagine what it would be like to walk with the ancient ones through this place of mystery and wonder. The writer in me begins to see the pages of a new book.
