Day 4
home again home again
(jiggity-jig)
Our day starts much the same as all the others on this trip, with a gentle rain. In hindsight, we had unwittingly chosen the only four consecutive days of rain for this journey, during a summer which would accurately be remembered as a drought.
Unsatisfied yet again with our breakfast of stale coffee and instant oatmeal, our thoughts quickly turn to imaginings of real food. We begin brainstorming our next meal from the food at home in our newly acquired solar powered freezer. Angela and I agree that chicken burgers and a dram of rum would not only be our ideal lunch, but also provide enough motivation get us back home ....today.
Wasting no time packing up our wet camp, we discuss the merits and pitfalls of the 26 kilometer journey ahead of us. To put it into an urban perspective, this would be like paddling north up Toronto's Don Valley Parkway from Lake Ontario to just above the 407 in Markham.
Con: The wind will be against us the whole way,
Pro: Chicken burgers.
Con: It's raining.
Pro: Rum.
Con: Complete exhaustion.
Pro: Home.
We take one last look around camp for any overlooked items, say a quick good bye and thank you to the site, then shove off. Once on the water, we take pause for a photo op.
Unsatisfied yet again with our breakfast of stale coffee and instant oatmeal, our thoughts quickly turn to imaginings of real food. We begin brainstorming our next meal from the food at home in our newly acquired solar powered freezer. Angela and I agree that chicken burgers and a dram of rum would not only be our ideal lunch, but also provide enough motivation get us back home ....today.
Wasting no time packing up our wet camp, we discuss the merits and pitfalls of the 26 kilometer journey ahead of us. To put it into an urban perspective, this would be like paddling north up Toronto's Don Valley Parkway from Lake Ontario to just above the 407 in Markham.
Con: The wind will be against us the whole way,
Pro: Chicken burgers.
Con: It's raining.
Pro: Rum.
Con: Complete exhaustion.
Pro: Home.
We take one last look around camp for any overlooked items, say a quick good bye and thank you to the site, then shove off. Once on the water, we take pause for a photo op.
Your intrepid adventurers.
The paddle home is beautifully scenic, and sparingly dotted with motorized fishermen. The wind, while against us and ever present, is not as bad as expected given our mostly western course. In the bigger waters of Noganosh Lake our vessel is momentarily detained by an MNR boat for questioning. The friendly young park rangers want to know how long we've been in the park and where we've camped. Satisfied that we are not to blame, they inform us that they are trying to find the culprits behind a root fire still smoldering at a near by camp site.
Drifting along side-by-each with the rangers in the wind, I take the opportunity to ask about the rusty old spring mattress and hunt camp detritus piled high in their boat. They explain that when they are not trying to deal with potential forest fires, their time is mostly spent cleaning the park. One confides that the oddest thing he's ever found was an old rotary telephone, "just nailed to a tree in the middle of nowhere." As we part ways, Angela and I thank them for their cleaning efforts.
Refreshed from our much needed break, we resume our northern paddle through the narrows linking Noganosh to Smokey Lake. In addition to the water travel, our route today requires about a kilometer and a half of portaging. Once past Tornado's fly-in camp on Smokey Lake, we will quickly be met by the first of three portages along Smokey Creek.
Drifting along side-by-each with the rangers in the wind, I take the opportunity to ask about the rusty old spring mattress and hunt camp detritus piled high in their boat. They explain that when they are not trying to deal with potential forest fires, their time is mostly spent cleaning the park. One confides that the oddest thing he's ever found was an old rotary telephone, "just nailed to a tree in the middle of nowhere." As we part ways, Angela and I thank them for their cleaning efforts.
Refreshed from our much needed break, we resume our northern paddle through the narrows linking Noganosh to Smokey Lake. In addition to the water travel, our route today requires about a kilometer and a half of portaging. Once past Tornado's fly-in camp on Smokey Lake, we will quickly be met by the first of three portages along Smokey Creek.
Each of the Smokey Creek portages grows successively larger as we make our way north. The last of which, a muddy 500 meters rutted by the use of an old chain-tired garden tractor, spits us out on the Pickerel River.
Making our way west along the cottage heavy Pickerel, the winds blow hard at our bow, as if from Georgian Bay herself. We slog along, observing the myriad of family logos painted on the Canadian shield that mark the final destinations for droves of lost and unfamiliar weekend visitors.
Finally after a strenuous six kilometer jaunt, we reach our last turn south down Ranger bay. One kilometer of smiling and waving to our neighbors sees us to the dead end of the small finger of water, and the trail head to our property. Triumphantly we march, fully loaded through half a kilometer of our wild "yard" to our little slice of paradise. It's now 3:30 in the afternoon. Our 26 km trip, surprisingly, took us only about six and a half hours. Home at last. Angela fires up the range as I reach for the highball glasses
Cheers!.
Making our way west along the cottage heavy Pickerel, the winds blow hard at our bow, as if from Georgian Bay herself. We slog along, observing the myriad of family logos painted on the Canadian shield that mark the final destinations for droves of lost and unfamiliar weekend visitors.
Finally after a strenuous six kilometer jaunt, we reach our last turn south down Ranger bay. One kilometer of smiling and waving to our neighbors sees us to the dead end of the small finger of water, and the trail head to our property. Triumphantly we march, fully loaded through half a kilometer of our wild "yard" to our little slice of paradise. It's now 3:30 in the afternoon. Our 26 km trip, surprisingly, took us only about six and a half hours. Home at last. Angela fires up the range as I reach for the highball glasses
Cheers!.
Thanks for following along, and please make sure to keep and eye out for our next blog series: 'Living on $5000 per Year'
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