Each canoe trip I've done is full of lessons, whether it's a new skill, new situations, or figuring out what gear I'd rather have for the next outing. Each time I go on a trip, I make notes on what worked and what needs to be tweaked for the next one. For instance, I've learned that for trips in mid-summer, bringing an ax is overkill for firewood processing, a knife and saw can get me everything I need for the size of fire I'll need. Or having a bunch of small bags or dry sacks to organize my bag is much better than everything just piled in (it's embarrassing how long it took me finally learn this lesson). Our last two days in Temagami would teach us that ensuring your maps are accurate and having a solid GPS system are invaluable while tackling crown land.
Missed Part II of our trip? Check it out here!
The Temagami River had been a fun challenge on our second day. Rewarding us with beautiful scenery and Bald Eagles overhead, it was well worth the exhausting journey. However, it had still cost us being 6 km off our original goal. We had a decision to make, to spread out the distance between our last two days, or push ourselves and complete the 34 km between us and our original third-night camp lake, Wasaksina Lake. We leaned towards the latter, regardless of the fact that it would be the most distance either of us had ever covered in a single day by canoe.
Between getting breakfast ready, packing up, and convincing Teddy to get out of bed, we hit the water by 8:30. Grey skies presided over our journey as we pushed hard to cover the rest of Red Cedar and Hangstone Lakes. We maintained a steady pace, with Teddy nodding off in the centre of the boat. Clearly, leisurely walks around our neighborhood hadn't quite prepared him for the rigors of a canoe trip.
As we made our way through beautiful Hangstone Lake, we kept our eyes locked on the far shore for any sign of our next portage but couldn't see anything that resembled a trailhead. More often than not in crown land, portages are only flagged with a thin orange ribbon tied to a branch. However, at times, the only sign that a portage lies ahead is the unnatural break in a tree-lined shore and worn earth where paddlers have trudged their gear up from the water repeatedly for years. Here, all that presented itself was a creek that inevitably connected with our next body of water. After touring back and forth along the shore for any sign of a path, we decided to wade through the shallow creek, towing the boat behind us. Teddy reluctantly took to hopping along the rocky banks as he had the day previous, though much slower this time.
When we had finally reached Norris Lake, we began a 10 km section that was a steady cycle; short paddle, portage, and repeat. Often when I plan trips, I account for the extra time it can take to portage difficult trails or elevation changes, but what I hadn't accounted for was a tired pup to tag along. As we paddled up to each portage, Teddy would need a good amount of coaxing from his napping spot in the canoe. He began to loosen up as the day carried on, slowly finding his energy but still often needing help over large fallen trees or rock-strewn creek beds.
By the time we came to our 800 m portage that would bring us to a longer paddle through the fishing boat-crowded Jumping Cariboo Lake, dark clouds passed on either side of us. The hike took us up and over a road and then along a hydro cut, making the walk a pleasantly easy one. As we put the canoe into the water, a downpour passed over but was gone quickly. It appeared as though the storm had seemingly opened up in the middle to let us by without being soaked, but who could really get that lucky?
We made quick progress across Jumping Cariboo, waving to several boaters as they hurried back to their cottages before a second system moved through. The water was calm as we pushed into Ingall and then Waha Lake. As we unloaded the canoe on Waha's western shore, the gentle breeze that had kept the day's temperature moderate, slackened. We could feel the humidity set in, and the air began to feel thick as we trudged across land to get into Brophy lake. It was clear that a summer storm was on the way, pushing us to try and reach our goal of Wasaksina as soon as possible.
As we dipped our paddles into the waters of our next lake, I took a glance down at our maps. For our trip, I'd packed a Back Roads Map Book waterproof topographic map (the NEON 22 in case you're a map nerd like me) which covered the majority of our route but cut off from the end of Hangstone lake until the North West shore of Brophy. To cover this missing section, I had printed off a small portion from my digital Jeffs Map's copy of the Temagami region, saving money and space by not buying an entire second map to cover 15 km of travel. However, I'd made an error when printing off this section, and hadn't included Brophy Lake, as on the BRMB map, it was labeled in such a way that you might take our next lake, Greenlaw, to be Brophy. In short, I was missing a lake and became quite confused when the lake we were currently paddling, Brophy, looked nothing like what it did on the map. In what felt like a last resort, I pulled out my phone and opened Google Maps, which even without a signal, works as a GPS system (though the details of lakes are reduced to polygonal shapes). It was enough for us to figure out my mistake, and were able to maneuver to the end of the lake and find our portage. It is hard to describe the sense of relief one feels when you "unlost" yourself in the backcountry, but euphoric may come close.
Now knowing which lake we were in as we hopped into Greenlaw, which at its longest point might be 700 m, we quickly came to our next land crossing. It became incredibly bog-like, and the path ahead was nowhere to be found. Sierra and I searched the shoreline for any sign of human traffic, but either this portage was rarely used or the mud and reeds had swallowed up any signs of travel. I hopped out of the boat and trudged through the sinking ground, and after nearly losing my boots several times found a thin path through the long grasses and alders where I could just make out some footprints pointing in the direction we needed to go. I made my way back to the canoe and we loaded up and made our way forward.
Slogging through the boot-sucking mud and dense vegetation of the swampy mess we found ourselves in, we weren't entirely sure where this unmarked portage would take us. The map showed that the swamp eventually produced a small creek that would lead us to a short 60m trail into Wasaksina Lake. I knew that we needed to continue North for roughly 300 m and then follow the dogleg of the swamp almost due West. It would eventually produce the lakeshore of Wasaksina, even if we never found the small creek.
Luck would be in our favour though, as we were just about to make the turn westward, we almost fell into the creek. Eagerly, we packed up the canoe and glided down the small waterway, which proved to be just deep enough for us to navigate easily. Within fifteen minutes we could see the end of the creek, and a very obvious orange tag to mark our final and short land crossing of the day. As we hit the shore and began the routine dismount, massive raindrops began to fall. I carried the canoe across the 60 m, having to watch my step as the trail ended with rocks scattered everywhere, making footing precarious. It looked as though when water levels were higher, our trail was actually where the creek trickled into the lake.
I dropped the canoe, and made my way back to help Sierra with the loose items and to corral Teddy. Then, with our weather luck finally running out, the sky opened up and unleashed one of the most formidable thunderstorms I've ever witnessed. Lightning would flash and be immediately followed by the roar of thunder, signaling that the storm was directly above. We quickly shuttled the last of our gear to the end of the portage and threw the bags under the overturned canoe. Throwing our raingear on, we huddled into the forest for some protection from the downpour, the rain so heavy we could no longer see across Wasaksina. We stood there for nearly thirty minutes, hoping the storm would pass over so we could continue on our way. We hadn't brought any raingear for Ted, and he began to shiver from the sudden drop in temperature and precipitation. I strapped his lifejacket on to hold in some extra heat and pulled out my emergency space blanket to wrap around him.
We nervously waited out the storm as our watches ticked past 5:00 pm, wanting to still cover 4 more kilometers before making camp, which would take roughly an hour. Thankfully by 5:30 the rain and wind eased up, and we were able to make our final push to our projected goal. We paddled hard through the narrow eastern section of the lake to emerge into the larger body of Wasaksina. We aimed for a campsite on the northern shore about halfway across, but as we pulled in closer, saw the first fellow canoeists of our trip. They had set up camp in the exact spot we had planned for. With it already five minutes past 6:00 pm, we scanned the shore for any sign of a suitable campsite, but all we could see was a dense and steep shoreline, so we turned to a small island 500 meters from land.
A moss-covered rock would be a more apt description of our home for the night, with just a few stunted trees and shrubs dotting the small area. In total the entire island might have been 80 meters long and 30 wide, but we were able to scrounge up enough driftwood to get a small fire going to warm up beside. With the fire burning steadily, we set to getting camp set up. After pulling up a few small plants, we had a fairly flat and soft area for our tent and had it up in no time. Teddy was curled up in the tent and asleep before we even had dinner rehydrated, the long day had worn his seemingly endless energy low.
After finishing dinner we quickly turned in for the night, exhausted by the 34 km we had covered over 12 hours. The night's rest may have been one of my best out in the woods, with the thick moss making for an incredible mattress.
Our next morning greeted us with sore muscles and stiff joints. Not even the pillowy sleep atop the moss could save us from the repercussions of a long day on the water. We packed up and skipped our regular breakfast of oatmeal, instead opting for a quicker meal of Clif bars and trail mix. We were on the water by 8:30 am, with 16 km to cover to reach our take-out at Lake Temagami boat launch.
Teddy was pleased to sleep in the canoe and was noticeably slower on our three portages. We were grateful that these trails were well defined and looked well-trodden, allowing us to simply put one foot in front of the other. With a calm morning, we pulled ourselves easily through to the finish by way of Shiningwood Bay, a satisfying end to an incredible trip.
A quick note: Unfortunately, there aren't any photos for these final days through Temagami, as our phones became crucial to our navigation system and we didn't want to risk them dying. Since this trip, I've made sure to have a portable charging system to ensure our electronics can have enough juice! A proper GPS device is next on the list.
Great to read about this final day! What a challenging day for all of you. Might to good to add some orange plastic ties to you next pack when you travel crown land. Adding them to your portage entrance/exit points will help countless other travellers. If that is allowed of course😉