GLSKA TRIP REPORTS - 2005
A selection of GLSKA Trip Reports from the 2005 paddling season
[Past Trip Reports from the Archives] [Current Trip Reports]
RENDEZVOUS 2005
TWO REVIEWS OF THE WEEKEND BY NEW MEMBERS
Photos by Brian Minielly
PADDLING WITH YOUR PANTS DOWN
Karen Hood-Caddy
Having been a member of GLSKA for only a few days before arriving at Rendezvous, I wasn’t sure what to expect. What a veritable paddlefest it was! From the moment Rod Govan (just a new member too) and I arrived on Friday, classes were happening out on the water so we jumped in our boats and joined one led by Mike Daly.
Rod and I had just finished our SK1 training two weeks before through the Barrie Canoe and Kayak Club so it was great to practise all we’d learned. Mike taught us some new things too, which proves how valuable it is to have different teachers.
No sooner were we back with our tent set up than the evening event with Les Stroud, Survivorman, began. Les played music, showed films and told stories – Les is enchanting himself, but having it all happen under a huge canopy of trees and stars was perfect!
The next day we had to choose between workshops which was hard as we wanted to go to them all, both on land and on water. We chose to do the one that Tim from Whitesquall was offering, entitled Dancing with your Kayak or something like that, and it was excellent. Tim teaches with such skill and ease, and his knowledge of kayaking is immense. A true master, he delivered almost a complete SK1 course in a few hours, with panache! To me, this workshop was the highlight of the weekend!
Then we were on to the Olympics. The races were a blast, although as a woman, I would have liked more that didn’t favour muscle strength. I signed up for a competition that involved a quick sprint to a buoy, a "debriefing," literally, where one dropped one’s shorts, then a sprint back and redress. All WITHOUT TIPPING of course! Should I be proud of taking my pants off so quickly and tossing them in the air with such glee? What is this new club bringing out in me?
After the awards, there was a potluck dinner that would have pleased a Gourmet Club and more wonderful entertainment with Dave Hadfield and his band. Dave has a true kinship with nature and sang songs so true to nature and water I thought at times I could hear the paddles humming along.
On the Sunday, the hot, sunny weather held and we went on a day trip out to Bateau Island.
There was also an equipment exchange on all weekend and I bought some neoprene gloves and Rod got a tarp that we’ve used on many trips since.
Overall Rob and GLSKA members did a superlative job creating a weekend that was well run, full of learning and full of fun. A happy paddle is a wet paddle, and mine did not want to go home. Sign me up for next year please. Thanks for a great time.
FIRST VIEW OF RENDEZVOUS
Laura Matthews
I arrived Thursday night, which is one reason why my particular view of Rendezvous was sought after for this issue. Based on my experience, I would recommend a Thursday-night arrival for any newcomer. There was a lovely calm to the private peninsula on Parry Island. It was difficult to select a spot for my tent, with so many prime spots to choose from. I found my way to an intimate gathering of about 10 other early arrivers around a picnic table, which was a nice way to get to know a few names (I was told, of course, those were the only names I would need to know for the weekend). I also learned this first night that it isn’t wise to attend a Rendezvous without a bug jacket. (Note for next year!)
Despite the calm of dusk on Thursday night, the wind picked up and by early morning, Friday, it was around 15 knots. It was not great for sleeping, nor was it inspiring for the lesson I had booked with White Squall. White Squall had agreed to provide a CRCA Level I course (review and assessment) in a day programme for GLSKA members. I’m always keen on education, so was pleased at the opportunity to compress a two-day programme into one. I was joined by Brian and Ray, and our instructor was Jack Elliot. I knew Jack from a White Squall trip that I took two years before. That trip is what inspired me to buy a kayak, so it was a pleasure to meet up with Jack again. Jack says it all pretty straight: he began our session by emphasizing that we all have areas to improve on, and certification is not what matters. The session was really about skills for safety. I found it a great review for the beginning of the season, but was very happy to receive the certification without having to offer a bribe!
By Friday night the campground was overflowing with kayakers – which seemed somewhat of a contradiction to the culture of solitude that seems to go with this sport. One highlight for me on Saturday was the opportunity to meet Ron and Nancy Coulson in an on-the-water session. It was the perfect follow-up to the lesson the day before, and it was a pleasure to see first hand, Ron’s dedication to sharing his knowledge with other kayakers. My second highlight was the kayak Olympics, and I am proud to say I was on the winning team. I thought we were so clever in assigning our #1 guy to as many races as possible. I have since learned that this happens every year. Sam has to be on his own team next year! The third highlight was the potluck food feast. I was expecting kayak camping fare and had no idea that there would be so many delicacies. Next year I will be better prepared.
Sunday everyone dispersed into small groups to do what we all like to do best – go on an adventure. I signed up with Sandy’s group to search for the shipwreck Atlantic. Although we never found evidence of the wreck, it was the excitement of the search that mattered. Like every trip I’ve been on with GLSKA so far, it was a wonderful opportunity to meet old and new friends, from all walks of life, but with the same love of sky, water and rocks.
I’m already planning next year’s contribution to the potluck! See you then.
PHILLIP EDWARD ISLAND
Dorothy Van Esbroeck
It was February and I was hoping to pick a few rather calm and sunny July days for a trip. Checking the calendar, I picked the days leading up to the full moon on July 21st. What else besides the phases of the moon do you know in advance when selecting trip dates? I had been to the Phillip Edward Island area many times so it seemed a good choice for this leisurely trip. Gradually e-mails came in from fellow GLSKA members inquiring about the trip.
In the end it turned out there were 6 others besides myself, none whom I had ever met or paddled with before. Discussions and suggestions by e-mail beforehand had helped make the trip start a day earlier. I had e-mailed my trip goals which were mainly to camp and kayak, enjoy the area, lead my first multi-day GLSKA trip and have no one left behind.
Meeting at Chikanishing Creek in Killarney Provincials Park, it was easy to pick out the trip members – everyone who drove in with one kayak on their vehicle. I was happy to find out beforehand that there is a box at the parking lot that accepts credit cards to get your day passes for parking. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working for the first two who tried it and they had to go to the George Lake Campground office to help straighten out their pass situation.
We left about 3 o’clock as planned and paddled out stopping to notice the signs and to GPS the exit of Chikanishing Creek before crossing Collins Inlet. After the crossing we could hear noise which was rain hitting the water ahead of us and then sure enough it rained on us for a few minutes. We passed by the first island with good camping only to find the other islands like Le Hayes, Solomon, Marten and West Fox full of campers.
With calm paddling but somewhat threatening skies it was a pleasure to paddle on to the start of West Desjardin Bay. It was about 6:30 when we set up there on a spacious campsite. Sitting around after a leisurely supper, I listened to the weather forecast – rain ending by midnight.
Well, it was about 9 o’clock when the rain suddenly started. I hustled back to my kayak for my raincoat and then scurried off to my tent. When I got there I could see how my tent site might not have been the best. There was a small river running down the rocks, thankfully it seemed to run right under the waterproof floor of my tent. It wasn’t too bad; I went to sleep on a dry thermarest on a damp tent floor. If it was only going to rain 3 hours, how bad could it be? Well, it didn’t stop raining at midnight. Every once in a while it would let up but then start back even harder.
There were others worse off than myself I realized in the morning. Sean had had an open tent when the rain started with open dry bags and a river that seemed to flow through his tent. Not one thing left dry.
After trying to dry out some the next morning we were on the water by about ten. The forecast was for increasing winds. We got by Big Rock Portage and after passing between Hamilton and Bateman Islands, stopped for lunch. We then enjoyed some of the quieter channels before coming to Crume and Deer Island. It was windy with a forecast of 20 knots and up to70 knots near thunderstorms. We went back and camped on Crume Island. Reinforcement rocks helped keep the tents in the open down.
The next day was again windy so we opted out of exploring the Chickens. As we paddled back we had lunch around Big Rock Portage and stopped from about 12 till 2 to allow for a hike, swim or to read and sleep.
It was a strong west wind and we divided into 2 groups depending on our preference for inside or outside routes. There were metre waves and the next stop was Silver Island. We really got spread out here and with some people far ahead we ended up just following them instead of doing the inside channel.
After a stop back at the inside of Silver Island Channel we ventured on for what was only a 5-kilometre paddle but straight into a west wind with metre waves close together. It was 4 o’clock and energy levels varied. We partnered up. Three chose to go around Silver Island again and do the more outside trek across to the island just north of East Fox Island. It seemed as if people were heading off to different islands and near the end I was paddling alone, which was strange, as I was the one who knew where we were headed. (It can be hard to check your map, compass or GPS in wind and waves or with sunscreen in your eyes.) The two groups came together just at the end of the crossing.
The central kitchen at this campsite proved a nice setting for our pot luck dinner. Every day we had watched Sean cook up delicious meals such as tea biscuits, gourmet pizza or French toast with his oven. For our last night there was Laura’s amazing oriental dish with stir-fried vegetables, Cynthia and Jane’s tabouli, rice, noodles, eggs and pad thai. Sean attempted to match his other gourmet meals with blueberry biscuits.
With the trip almost over and a relatively calm day, we were on the water by 9:00 the next morning for an hour of rescue practice or instruction. One member of the group had never done a wet exit or any of the rescues before so it was with some trepidation I had watched her in the last few days as she paddled through the waves. Probably feeling a bit like she was now being bombarded with instructors, she quickly got an introduction to some rescue skills.
After loading the boats, we were back on the water shortly before 11. Having had our thrills of waves and open water, exploring between islands as well as through reeds was the path chosen for the day. We also practised paddling as a pod of boats something we hadn’t done in the wind and waves.
After a quick break and fuel stop, we started off crossing Collins Inlet in a tight group. I did not want to be strung out across the Inlet with boat traffic. We did get farther apart as we approached. I had lamented to myself when we headed out that we hadn’t explored any islands to the west of Chikanishing Creek; but because there was some disagreement as to where the entrance of the creek was after we crossed, we did get to see some of the islands. Herbert’s Fish and Chips was our late lunch destination.
As a first time GLSKA trip leader, I must say I learned as much as some of the newer paddlers did. In discussions during and afterwards, I really learned how important it is to communicate. I had said it’s windy, partner up, but I didn’t check to see if everyone had the same understanding of what partner up meant. Also when it did get windy, and people were paddling in front, it quickly became impossible to communicate by way of a whistle.
Around breakfast the last day, we shared our highlights of the trip, which included things like the waves, the people and the pace. For me it was great to meet 6 fellow paddlers who I hope to paddle with again. I will remember Ostap for trying to limit his new yellow boat to only one scratch a day, Sean’s willingness to squeeze his kayak through anything remotely possible, Cynthia and Jane for always making time for a swim and Laura for her determination on choosing campsites with a view.
At the end of the trip I was in the park office and I was chatting about the rain Sunday night. Apparently it had rained 5 inches. Some other friends had been pulling out at Chikanishing Creek when we were putting in. They had paddled around Phillip Edward Island in canoes and never had more than 10 km/h winds. So if I have a choice of trip dates, I might choose somewhere just after the first quarter.
LAKE SUPERIOR:
HATTIE COVE TO MICHIPICOTEN RIVER
Nancy Coulson
What can I say about the largest of our Great Lakes that hasn’t already been said? Not too much! Pristine water, unbelievably scenic rocky shorelines, sandy beaches (some rivaling tropic getaways), amazing sunsets, etc., etc.
Nine of us – Amie Chong, Bill Lanning, Bill Jackson (B.J. for this trip, as we didn’t want both Bill’s coming when someone yelled "Bill"), Rick and Cindy Rogers, Mike Daly, Gord Skarott, and Ron and myself – arrived at Naturally Superior Outfitters throughout the day on Friday July 8, after enjoying the 8-hour-plus drive, broken up by frequent stops at everyone’s favourite coffee place and one at the Busy Bee restaurant, just outside of Sudbury, for breakfast.
Dave and his staff quickly got us squared away with our fees for our shuttle to Pukaskwa National Park, Friday night dinner and breakfast Saturday morning. During dinner, Rick gave us some bad news. He had an injured wrist, and although he had thought it would withstand the trip, he now unselfishly decided to drop out so as not to hold us up, and more importantly, not to cause it further injury. We were all sorry that this happened, but now we were down to seven.
After dinner we moved outside and most of us participated in a group paddle in a voyageur canoe. It was quite an experience and we had a chance to see the area surrounding our host’s property. Pretty impressive!
Breakfast was at 6:30, and after eating, we loaded our gear into the shuttle vehicles and headed out for Pukaskwa Park. Cindy and Rick followed in their vehicle; they decided to paddle with us to the first campsite, spend the night with us, and then go back to the park for a few days before they headed back home.
We arrived at the park, paid our fees and, after unloading our gear, received a compulsory backcountry orientation from a park officer before we could depart. We ate our lunch while listening to all the "do’s and don’ts," and received some valuable information and some answers to questions a few of us had.
Packing the kayaks was not an easy chore. A lot of very careful placement of stuff was needed, but we all managed. Gord always leaves room for my banana bread, and this time was no different.
We paddled away from the dock at 1:30, stopped briefly offshore to make an offering of tobacco to Michipeshu, the god/spirit of Superior, to ensure safe passage on the trip. (I won’t jump ahead too much, but it sure worked, we had eight days of great weather (actually too hot), and just two mornings with any wind and waves to speak of.)
Our first stop was only six kilometres into the trip, at White River. The campsite was just at the mouth of the river and was certainly not a "choice" site. There was a large pebble beach with quite an incline for the landing area. It did have a bear box and thunderbox though. We got our tents up quickly and then had a swim in very "refreshing" water. You get the drift; when someone tells you the water is "refreshing" you know how it really is.
Bill showed us how he had jazzed up his kayak with reflective guidelines and tape; it was really something. Also interesting was the little pink bunny that he had tied onto the front of his boat; it even looked like it had a tiny life jacket on. He told us about finding it floating in Lake Ontario and rescuing it. Hence, his nickname, "Billy Bunny".
Rick and Cindy paddled up the river to the falls and the suspension bridge, but the rest of us opted out. On thinking back, I wish I had gone to see the bridge, but I think that the long day of driving and the almost sleepless night made the decision for us. We saw Rick and Cindy off, and then headed off ourselves into quite a good headwind that lessened as we neared Oiseau Bay.
There are six kilometres of rocky shoreline here, with few good landing spots. We stopped for a break on an absolutely beautiful beach at the Willow River. It is usually quite a busy spot, with lots of tent sites, but when we stopped we had it all to ourselves. Everyone had drinks and a snack and lathered up with sun protection and then we set off again. From the Willow River to Oiseau Bay the shoreline is extremely pretty, with pink and black granite swirls in the rock. We paddled into the bay and went toward the beautiful expanse of beach that awaited us. We got our tents up and then four kayakers from Minnesota joined us. One of the fellows was quite familiar with the area and after introductions, everyone traded stories about previous Superior trips.
Already on Day 3, with only 38 kilometres behind us, we realized that we had better "step up the pace" while the weather was good. We were headed to Cascade Falls, a favourite place of Bill Mason, the legendary canoeist, filmmaker and painter.
As we neared Cascade Falls, we could see the water coming off the rocks into the lake, and hear the roar of the falls. Ron and I went to the far right of the beach where there were driftwood logs the size of telephone poles and a small patch of sand big enough for our tent. The others went to the far end of the beach, beside the falls. Bill and Amie found a grassy area behind the beach for their tents, and Mike, Gord and B.J. settled on a few sandy bits amongst the gravel and cobblestones. We set up in record time and went into the water for a much-needed "cooling off." Most of the group stood directly under the waterfall. (I took a great "manly man" photo of B.J. standing under it. I bet you Dorothy has put that one in a frame!) A short swim and a climb up the rocks brought us to a natural "hot tub" pool, where we just sat and enjoyed the water cascading into it. On the climb up, there were lovely little purple rock flowers clinging to the rock face, a nice thing to see. It was a little bit of heaven on earth, a must-see for anyone doing this trip.
We were serenaded to sleep with the sound of the waterfall. It was a very relaxing sleep after our 30-kilometre day. While we slept, something bit Ron’s lower lip. (We think a spider.) He had a bit of discomfort in the morning and commented on it. It started to swell and continued to do so during the day. We would have loved to spend another day there, but the old Superior motto, "paddle while the paddling is good," reminded us to head off to our next stop, the Pukaskwa River.
The day’s paddle took us past Tug Harbour, Bonamie Cove and Pointe La Canadienne, which is known for being a bad area with reflection waves in a south or southwest wind. Luckily for us, we had no wind to speak of. The mouth of the Pukaskwa River has a gravel bar with numerous tent sites. We set up once more and spent the late afternoon relaxing, swimming, rinsing out our smelly clothes and just generally having a good rest. Amie practised her balance brace and Mike paddled up the river and reported back on things to see. Gord, Ron and I paddled up as well and enjoyed the scenery and the nice calm pool farther up the river.
The afternoon was hot and the sun was relentless. Mike had made a great, huge tarp, which he proceeded to put up. A few people were designated to hold the poles and tie knots, and the tarp was up. What a welcome relief.
Wednesday brought another hot sunny day and as we began to head east here, we were paddling directly into the sun on the water, pretty hard on the eyes. We were headed to Floating Heart Bay, a 39-kilometre paddle. As we paddled toward this bay we talked about how the name may have originated. Whatever the origin, it was aptly named – a really beautiful place. We met a solo canoeist when we came ashore and asked if we could share the beach. He said he was getting ready to leave and it was all ours. We discussed the weather and shared trip stories with him; then he was on his way. We said our good-byes and proceeded to set up camp. It was so hot, a few of us had to get in the water before we could even think of setting up camp. The water was a might chilly but we were so darned hot coming out of our wetsuits that it was a welcome relief! The Minnesota boys paddled into the bay and set up for the night at the other end of the beach. We set up B.J.’s Batwing tarp to try to get some relief from the sun and then explored the area a bit.
Dinner preparation was always fun, checking out what everyone was having. Ron and B.J. with their Freddy Chef dinners, Bill’s "add boiling water and wait" dinners, Mike and Amie with delicious concoctions and Gord and I with our Tortellini and tuna, in my case, and tortellini and something for Gord. We joked about what we would have with our tortellini the next day. Tuna, tuna or tuna, in my case but he had more varied supplies, chili and skillet surprises. So many choices to make. I had to borrow TUMs from Bill for a bad case of heartburn. It couldn’t have been the tortellini, Gord was fine. All joking aside, we all ate pretty well. Next time maybe I will opt for Freddy Chef, perhaps the Clayquot Sound salmon; now doesn’t that sound appetizing?
We spotted a large voyageur canoe go by the entrance to the bay and then a half hour later a zodiac came to the beach asking if we had seen it go by. They were the camera crew, doing a film of some sort, and had got separated. We told them where the canoe went and off they went in pursuit.
We met up with the Minnesota fellows later in the evening, on the beach and told them that we had discovered a thunderbox just off the beach. We talked for a while, feeding the relentless mosquitoes before we were forced to head into the tents.
Thursday morning we were again up early preparing for a 34-kilometre day, heading for False Dog Harbour. The sun was again heating up quickly as we got underway. We left the beach with no sign of life from our beach mates.
We had a good headwind (12 knots) and waves less than a metre, not too strenuous. We passed Point Isacor, and luckily conditions were with us, for this point has sheer cliffs and in rough weather, breeds deadly reflective waves. In calm conditions there are a few places to land, but none in surf conditions. There is an 8-kilometre stretch with no take out points available. B.J. and I were paddling beside each other and he mentioned that his boat was porpoising, and when I looked over I could see that after going into a wave the bow was not coming up as it should. We waited for Ron and Mike to catch up (Amie, Gord and Bill were up ahead.) and Ron and B.J. went into shore to find a place to pull out to see what was happening with his kayak. The rest of us were going to continue on to just past the point where there was a nice beach to stop for lunch, about three kilometres away.
There was a bit of a misunderstanding about the intended spot to stop and we ended up going ashore where there was a rocky shoreline and high rocks. Unfortunately, where we had to pull our boats up was behind a rock face and we were virtually invisible from the water. We watched for B.J. and Ron and soon spotted them going past, quite a ways from shore. We blew whistles and waved our life jackets, Bill used a mirror for sun reflection, but on they went, to the agreed-upon lunch spot. Gord jumped into his boat and paddled in a diagonal direction to them, to try to cut them off, blowing his whistle, but to no avail. He eventually caught them and the three of them came back to where we were waiting. We had a good rest, ate our lunch and enjoyed the down time.
B.J.’s problem, it turned out, had happened because his front hatch cover was a bit loose from some collected sand that had got under the seal and the hatch had completely filled with water.
After lunch we headed off to find a camping spot near the Dog River. We originally headed for what looked like a beautiful sand beach, but as we got closer, realized that it was in fact a large cobble beach, so we turned around and went into a small bay which we had just passed and camped on a smaller beach. After setting up, we proceeded to see what was salvageable of B.J.’s food. Soon the surrounding rocks that were still in the sunshine were littered with bags of instant oatmeal, bread, clothing and anything else that had the misfortune to be packed in his front hatch. Luckily he didn’t lose a whole lot, not that it mattered too much, as he must have had a premonition that something like this would happen, with all the extras he was packing. He would never starve on this trip. Luckily his sleeping bag and clothing were in the back hatch.
Ron’s lip had been swelling by the hour and his lower jaw on his left side looked like he was storing a tennis ball. He had been feverish throughout the previous day and was getting much worse. We were having a lot of whispered conversation about what to do about the bad situation with his mouth and fever. We had nothing in the way of antibiotics, just aspirin, Tylenol and Benadryl, none of which were any help. (We are definitely packing some strong antibiotics for any future trips.)
With everyone looking forward to the next day and the planned trek up to see the falls, we all retired early. Amie and Ron were up very early, Amie doing stretches on the rocks and Ron trying to pierce his lip with a needle to relieve some pressure. We discussed whether we should change our plans and get more paddling done to be closer to the Michipicoten River and our take out, to get Ron some medical attention. He said we weren’t going to miss the falls, so we paddled out and before long came to the huge gravel bar at the mouth of the Dog River. We paddled past the gravel bar and found a good landing spot not far upriver.
We packed our bags with lunch and our cameras and began the hike to the falls. It was quite a climb through dense forest and was sometimes hard to see the trail. We came out onto the rocks along the way and walked above the river, even though some areas were quite slippery and steep. To get to the high falls we used a rope that has been left hanging over the cliff for this purpose. A bit more of a hike and then we were there; what a sight. Anyone going on this trip should not miss Dennison Falls. We sat and enjoyed our lunches and the view and then everyone but Bill, Ron and I opted to climb to the top of the falls. Ron promptly went to sleep and Bill and I stayed with him. The Minnesota boys showed up and we talked and sat around with them for awhile and then another group showed up, so after our group returned from the upper falls we decided to take our leave.
We got back to the kayaks, and after a much-needed swim, headed to Minnekona Point, our last sleep. We passed some incredible beaches and with it being Friday, we realized we had to find a campsite before the weekenders started coming out from Wawa. We had another group meeting about whether we should stop for the night or just stop for supper and then keep going to get Ron to hospital. We settled on staying the night and getting a really early start the next morning, and as dusk was advancing quickly, realized that stopping for the night was the safest thing to do. His paddling skills weren’t affected, thank goodness, but his fever was steadily climbing.
We stopped at the point and asked permission to share the beach with some people from Guelph. Poor Ron, he felt he had to explain about his face; he thought they might think he looked like that all the time. They were agreeable, and with a large rock grouping between the beaches we didn’t really see each other after setting up. The tents went up and then we all went into the water to combat the oppressive heat. I discovered we had a thunderbox, nicely placed in the woods. Finding a thunderbox on a site was a real welcome addition to the trip.
We noticed that having travelled about 250 kilometres east, nightfall was coming earlier; so after a late dinner it wasn’t long before we went to bed. There had been a beautiful display of stars every night and this night gave us a great Aurora Borealis display as well.
We were up before the sun on Saturday morning, had breakfast and packed in record time. We did the remaining 14 kilometres in record time and pulled into the Michipicoten River and Naturally Superior at around 9:15 a.m. Ron and I also made record time getting the kayaks on the van, the gear stowed away and Ron to the hospital. The others unpacked at a more leisurely pace and we agreed to meet up at the Wawa Motor Inn. They insisted on staying until Ron was treated and for that, as well as their concern on the trip, I am forever grateful.
We got to the inn around 1:30 and went over what the doctor said and did for Ron (pumped enough antibiotics into him to treat an elephant) and his instructions until we got home. We enjoyed a good lunch, with perked coffee and food that wasn’t from a box or can. Boy, that food tasted good.
We headed out for our drive home around 2 p.m. Bill, Gord and B.J. had driven up together, but B.J. came with us, to help me out with the driving. We weren’t letting Ron get behind the wheel; he slept most of the way. After the Sault, B.J. took over and drove the rest of the way home. The two vans drove south together and we stopped at the Busy Bee restaurant again for a great dinner this time. We had said goodbye to Amie and Mike at the inn and were surprised and pleased when they pulled in to join us. They were going to Sudbury for a visit with Mike’s family before heading south. We sat and rehashed the trip a bit, then headed out. Thank goodness for B.J. coming with us and sharing the driving.
We reached Parry Sound around 11:30 p.m. Gord left for home, Bill stayed with us and B.J. went next door to his place. We got all our stuff sorted out the next morning, said our goodbyes and then started resting up for the next trip on July 30. [See Johanna Wandel’s write-up of that trip in the following article.]
Our Superior trip was great; we had great paddling conditions, great weather and even greater people to experience it with. Thanks again to all of you for joining us on the trip, and for the excellent camaraderie we all shared.
GEORGIAN BAY:
KILLARNEY TO PARRY SOUND
Johanna Wandel
Eight of us had planned to paddle from Killarney to Parry Sound in August, but at the put-in it became obvious that not all the food bags were there, and our number was reduced by one from the start. So it was only Gord, Bill, Gary, John, Johanna and Nancy who were participating in the Ron Coulson special tour of the Bay.
Our first day was a short one, to Desjardins Point. This area is riddled with premium camping spots, and we spied one that seemed to be the cream of the crop from the water – and it was unoccupied! How could all these silly people bypass this perfect spot – gently sloping landing, sculpted rock, a perfect camping ledge high above the water – for other less enticing ones? Clearly, we were the smart ones for finding it. We didn’t look so smart five minutes later, when we discovered that the gently sloping landing was extremely slippery. I got out of my boat, and I sat down in the water, because my feet slid away beneath me. From there on, we all looked like we were part of a comedy routine – try as we might, we could not get in to shore. I have no idea how Gord eventually did it, but he extended his paddle to me and hauled me in, and by this time Gary was on land and he threw a towline to Ron to bring him in. Of all of us, only Nancy figured out where to bring her boat in and I think she was the only one who never wiped out in the slime.
Our campsite really was great. It had enough room for all six of our tents, it had a downed tree that would provide an emergency shelter (and did, the next morning, when we waited out some rain), it had rocks you could wander up to take in the view. Our first night on the Bay was uneventful, but our second day out there was just chock-full of events. It started with rain as soon as we’d finished packing up. We decided to wait for a bit rather than risk being struck by lightning. So we huddled in our tree, cracking jokes, and then Bill said something about Gary’s boat not complying with the no-paddling rule. It took us a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t a joke, and that the red boat really had launched itself. Fortunately, Gord braved the slime and he and his purple boat came out as a heroes. Eventually, though, we came to the same conclusion as Gary’s boat and launched.
We paddled off into some high winds. There was wind, there was big water, there were shoals, and there was more rain. I pulled out my goofy red hat, thus becoming invincible, and loved the rough water paddling. Unfortunately, we were in the shoals, and there were lots of unpredictable spots – just as I pulled level with Nancy at one point, I saw a big rock and veered right. Nancy, however, was practically over the rock, and had taken a breaking wave just before this one and thus was not even facing this one squarely. All I saw was a wall of white, and then I saw the white of her hull, and then (to my great relief) her head pop up. Her boat, however, was sucked into the washing machine. Gary was not far ahead – and he had his boat turned around and was heading into the washing machine for Nancy’s boat before it smashed on the rocks that were 100 metres downwind before I could even register where her boat was headed. Ron went in to get Nancy. I can’t believe the skill of Ron and Gary (or rather, I can – but I’d never seen it in action like this). I can’t imagine paddling through the water Gary went into to get that boat, never mind snapping on a towline and then bringing both boats in safely to a tricky landing. I was also very, very impressed with Nancy; she was so calm and collected. She got out of her boat, hung out on the rock where her feet could touch, swam out to my boat, and then, with Ron’s help, in to shore, without a hint of panic. Even more impressively, she got back into that boat less than two hours later – and went right back into the same conditions.
Nancy’s courage notwithstanding, the wind had picked up even further, and our next crossing was eight kilometres to the Chickens, with thunder rumbling in the background. That was enough to get Ron to call for us to wait it out for an hour or two – and we landed at a nearby cottage dock. Two hours later, I was shivering and miserable, and the wind hadn’t died down; I decided I needed dry clothes with rain gear over top, and a hot drink. At the same time, the guys realized that we needed a tarp, and a flurry of activity ensued. The tarp hanging job was so good that nobody wanted to leave it, and since the water made no move to calm down, we had to get over our aversion to trespassing and pitch our tents on the rocks around the cottage. It was all we could do, really, or else Ron and Gary would have had a busy afternoon rescuing five paddlers over and over again. John asked at one point, "so, we did about six kilometres today?" and Gord shot back "sure, three up, three down." In reality, John was close; we had covered seven in the seven hours since we’d launched form Desjardins Point. Oh boy.
But hey, it’s Georgian Bay, and on Georgian Bay, when it rains, it only does so for a short time, and then the sun comes out. And it did, we woke up to sparkling skies and big rollers, but none of the confused mess of the day before. We stayed out in the deep water for the most part, and it seemed like we were having a lunch break and heading for the Bustard Rocks in no time. At the Bustard Rocks (which have three lighthouses, they must be serious boat-munching rocks to warrant that), Gord and I realized that we both knew of the same campsite in the Bustard Islands, and we were on a mission to spend the night there. Ron humoured us, and we took the lead to get there. The landing was crap, the site was great, and there was swimming. And then there was dining. I had already reached the part of the trip where my dinners involve words like Lipton Sidekicks, and I had a hard time working up the enthusiasm to go through the whole thing. Lucky for me, Gord came to the rescue.
The sun continued, and we had an easy paddle day the next day; we were only planning to head as far as Champlain Island. Ron gave us a bearing. I noticed we were not following it too closely, but brushed that off with "magnetic declination" explanations to myself. But those explanations didn’t cut it after an hour, so I surreptitiously turned my GPS on – and then I had the confidence to call out to Ron. The GPS was right, we did a detour, but were still on the Churchills in time for our morning pit-stop and at Champlain Island for lunch.
The Champlain Island site was great: it was a high ledge with a great view and sheltered waters in front, and Gord hauled some rocks to construct stairs to deal with the slime at the swimming spot. We set up our tents, ate lunch and watched a bear in the neighbourhood. The poor thing; we blew our whistles at it; the people camped over at the next site blew their air horn at it. I pictured the bear ricocheting from one site to the other all afternoon, not feeling welcome anywhere.
The day after Champlain was hotter and stickier than the rest, but we had some good conditions for paddling, and we flew on down until lunch on the Naiscoot River. Bayfield Inlet is uninspiring to say the least, but we’d had a long day of paddling and there was nothing better on the horizon. Our site had flat rocks aplenty, but not even a tiny patch of shade (but Ron put up a tarp for that).
So, three great weather days, it was time for some more nasty stuff – and Georgian Bay delivered. The wind picked up overnight, and though the water was not too rough, we had a lot of headwind to plow through the next day. From Pointe au Baril to the McCoys – the last bit of our route – it was an eight-kilometre crossing, and I took the lead with Gord. That man can paddle like it’s effortless, and I was pushing and grunting and cursing him for setting that pace – but too proud to drop back. It wasn’t until we landed at the McCoys and I found myself cranky and fully into the signs of low blood sugar that I realized that my crankiness was unnoticed because everybody else was also cranky and equally low in blood sugar! Now, reasonable people would eat something at this stage; GLSKA types race to get their tents up.
The wind continued to pick up. Pretty soon, it became obvious that we needed to hang a tarp, and Ron did so. We sat under the tarp while Bill and Gord went blueberry picking, with which Nancy and I – with ingredient contributions from everyone – invented a dessert.
I’ve always thought the McCoys was a good place to be weathered in, and I’m happy to spend time there. The weather gods agreed on this trip: gale-force winds picked up during the afternoon. Gary needed a truckload of rocks to anchor his tent, which was pitched in an exposed place. In the morning, I crawled out of my sleeping bag to find the rest of the group looking out over the Bay, and I heard Ron say, "It would be foolish to be out there." Nancy filled me in that this was actually a diminished version of his earlier opinion, which had the word "suicidal" in it. The diminishing kept up, too, because by 9 a.m. we launched anyway.
And boy oh boy, was it fun! We had following seas, and big – well over 1-metre – waves. It was a lot of fun, even when Gary surfed himself right onto a rock. Still, the water was big enough that Ron proposed we consider camping at Henrietta Point instead of paddling to the more exposed Snakes, but that site was taken – and it turned out, we all had fun crossing to the Snakes, even if by now the rollers were form the side. This was a fast group of good paddlers.
And then the Snakes. There was some swimming, there was sitting in the sun, and dinner and then there was a shooting star, and then we went to bed; and then the trip was, for all intents and purposes, over. We paddled back to Parry Sound with a good tailwind and some more fun surfing; we showed off for the tourists on the cruise boat; we watched Ron sweet talk the lifeguard into letting us land at a beach we weren’t supposed to; and next thing, we were sitting in a restaurant with burgers and beers and it was back to "reality."
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