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9/21/2016 1:11 am  #1


Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

I know.  I write too much.  But I like writing, so there you go.

Day 1 (9/16):
Finished packing at 12:30am.  (Wanted to pack the day before, but circumstances….)  Woke up at 4:00am…rolled out of bed and departed Buffalo at 4:40am.  Scooted Toronto rush hour traffic barely.  Another half hour and I would have regretted “sleeping in”.

Tossed the boat, the junk, and myself in the water at Magnetawan at 10:45am or so for my first solo canoe trip.  I had decided I would make some little videos to show to cub scouts, so at the end of the shorty carry to Hambone), I made one because that place has significance for me.  On my first canoe trip about 37 years ago, with the boy scouts, this view of Hambone is what hooked me on Algonquin.  So, I made a little video about it. 
I also retold a story that has become family lore.  On the return portion of that same canoe trip – here’s the short version– it was at this portage, in the middle of a very dark night, that I, without ever laying eyes on it, peed on a moose.  And that is the genuine, 100% completely unfabricated, unvarnished factual honest truth.  But I digress.




 
There was a bit of a lineup behind me on the carry, so I kept it moving.  On Hambone, I misread the map slightly and was looking for the portage in the wrong spot, but I had company – a couple had made the same mistake.  Dumbery loves company.  A quick correction, a little walk, and I was on Ralph Bice.  There, with a fair breeze behind me on a nice day, it was not an unpleasant paddle, although my left elbow (tendonitis) was problematic, even with the thing I wear.  I moved some furnishings for my parents two days prior and that may have done it.  Ordinarily I can paddle forever on my right, switch to left for respite, but I don’t generally stay on the left very long.  It hurt both ways, so I was switching constantly.  It wasn’t exactly a clinic in paddling. 
 



It took me a little while to find the carry to David.  I mistook a peninsula for an island for one thing, though I caught that error before paddling to a regrettable point.  For another, that portage sign is Algonquin’s best kept secret.  It is way up there away from the water’s edge.  I never did see it until I was on it.  I heard noises in that area while looking for it – campers hooting it up to give warning to big hairy animals that humans were entering, so I knew I must be close, then I paddled past a backpack and knew the yellow sign had to be there somewhere.
 
For those who have not exited at this portage, fun awaits you.  Big rocks adjacent to a 1 meter exit out of the water that is straight up to lots of rocks and roots and a steep climb to get up to a landing area.  I’m looking at this, and my canvas canoe, and thinking, this is not going to end well.   I couldn’t really even ground the boat or secure it, so I had to empty the boat as quickly as I could while it sat there banging against rocks.  A few new broadside scrapes resulted.  I don’t know how I did it, but I got the boat out.  It felt like carrying a bathtub up to the second floor of a house without hitting anything, although it wasn't quite that steep.  The boat only weighs around 60 pounds (27 kg), but I was suddenly envious of people in bulletproof Kevlar canoes that weigh nothing, who run them up on the rocks hard and drag them up over hill and dale with no ill effect. 
 



I took this picture in great haste to show how steep it is, and I'm not even up to the flat area yet. 

I encountered a young man (I’m now old enough to say that about guys who are in their mid-to late twenties), who was heading the same direction I was.  His buddy was on the other side of the portage.  My chief concern all along had been that I would arrive at David, for which I had a permit, to find a squatter on the island campsite at my personal Lake (it may come as a surprise to some of you that my real name is not dontgroandaddy, it is David).  Algonquin only allows one permit on that lake in spite of there being two campsites, and I really wanted the island plus I read somewhere the other site wasn’t in great repair.  So I’m thinking uh-oh…..where are these guys heading, because we’re pretty much heading toward a dead end region here.  So, I asked where they were heading – Mubwayaka.  Ahhhhh, thank goodness.  The next lake north.  That lake also has two campsites, with one permit only.
 
The entrance to David can be described as a series of inconveniently placed rocks.  In general, the portage is a 600-something meter walk with some up-down and some mud too.  Not bad.  I did take time out when I carried the backpack and gear to make a video for the cub scouts to show them a moose print in comparison to the size of my shoe.  Then for the balance of the portage I recapped the trip so far, huffing and puffing with a pack on my back (without mentioning that I was under burden, so all the viewer will know is that I puff hard when I walk), and taking a timeout to address a mosquito issue on the back of my neck.  Cinematic genious. 




Here is the canoe on David Lake.  Notice how it is drifting away from shore.  I realized this as I took the photo, then ran down as fast as I could and grabbed it just before I had to swim for it.  The boat and I had a little talk about it, but this same thing happened a few more times on the trip.  You would be surprised how often I do that in general.  My wife cherishes a photo of me swimming after a Peterborough cedar strip that I restored many years ago during the maiden outing.  Mistakes were made.  That boat was sold probably fifteen years ago, which should serve as a lesson to other canoes who seek adventure on the water without me.



Off to David Island (I named it, so it is now an official landmark) on David Lake, where I claimed dominion over all I surveyed, apologies to the mergansers who were using the big rock there.  I assured them they could remain, but for my entire visit, they elected to snub my invitation.
 
The campsite is really very nice.  It is a small island.  Great canoe access, great swimming & fishing rocks, great access for getting water, nice areas for tents.  The firepit is interesting, it backs up to a giant rock upon which a large tree has grown, and it happens that one side of the rock is flat, so the back of the firepit is actually a flat rock wall.  There is another giant rock in the camping area with a tree growing on it, in both cases the roots extend forever just to get to the ground.  The thunderbox was unusually difficult to locate, and it could kind of use a new lid.  But hey, the view was great.  I’m sure it has been relocated a few times, as there were a couple of really deep pits on that island, as in “WHOA!  Don’t step into the two-meter deep hole there!”  I put a tarp up, anticipating rain, so I would have a place to stick firewood and a dry place to read.   My plan was to remain here for both nights, so I was able to unpack pretty much everything.  There was plenty of brush, etc., to block the wind for the campsite too, and the wind was considerable at times during the weekend. 


 


Time to filter some water.   Uh-oh....where’sthefilter.  Where’sthefilter!  Where’sthefilter!!!!!  AHHHHHHH!  Oh, there it is.  Right where I thought it was after dumping the pack contents in a semi-panic. 
 
I will comment that it amazes and disgusts me how people are willing to mistreat some of these trees.  There are three or four very large trees on the island, that are kind of the “anchor” trees of the site.  It isn’t like they can be replaced in a hurry if they disappear, and of course if they die and look unsafe, rangers will either take them down or close the campsite I suppose.  So, why I find saw marks, hatchet marks, or an enormous section where it is clearly people who have peeled off bark and dug into the wood, chipping and grubbing away at it, or beat up areas of root on those two trees growing out of the rock is beyond me.  People are the worst.
 


Pretty neat, right?

In the area where I wanted to put my tarp, I spotted a dead mouse in the middle of the campsite.  Sizeable as mice go, but it was as dead as dead could be.  Then I realized it was moving.  Is it clinging to life?  No.  There’s a beetle working on it, going in and out of the body cavity, under it, and subtly moving the whole thing as it did.  I took some pictures, sorry if that’s gross, but it was fascinating.  Nothing goes to waste here.  Later on I took photos of a group of ants, carpenter ants(?), that were working on it.  Whether conscious or not, over the period of several hours, they had moved it underneath the pine needles and largely out of sight.  The rain the next day finished the job of concealment.  Insects probably don’t have a lot of strategic thinking as opposed to hard-wired behaviors, but I was pretty sure that insects that hide their mouse-carcasses under pine needles are the ones who don’t lose their mouse carcasses to critters, and thus the “smart” bugs survive.  I found a different place to put the tarp because I really didn’t want to disturb that little scene, thinking it would be more interesting to watch it than ruin it for the bugs by moving the mouse.  After all, how often do they get a great find like that?

 
I do apologize if this is gross, but I just found it fascinating.  The beetle (I don't think it was a bee) is right above the head.



The ants get a turn.

The chief downside to an island campsite is that there isn’t really any firewood to speak of, so a mainland shore visit was necessary.  I found sufficient for the night, maybe two nights, and brought it back, under the tarp.  Good thing.  That evening sky didn’t look promising.

I mentioned in a previous trip report that I have some food sensitivities, so meals are always a pain in the neck for me as opposed to part of the fun of camping it is for other people.  I had starkist tuna, single serving pouch, in sunflower oil.  I wanted it warm, so I cooked up some elbow noodles and stirred it in with the tuna.  It tasted like noodles and tuna.  With sunflower oil.  Good enough.
 
I enjoyed the solitude of the place quite a bit.  It was relaxing to contemplate the life of the lake, the insects, fish, mammals, birds, living there generationally.  Also, there’s a little semi-isolated ecology on an island where creatures like some insects and rodents are land-locked for seasons or generations; the mix of predators and prey are a little different than what occurs on the mainland as well.  I’m sure from time to time there is a moose or a bear as a tourist on the island, but few permanent residents.  There were no squirrels on the island (no red squirrels laughing at me anyway) and not even a chipmunk.  Plus, I had the opportunity to stand on a rock, facing the water, in the stillness of an evening when the wind had subsided, to listen to total, absolute, uninterrupted, silence; one of my favorite things. 
 



Fish were hitting the surface to feed on insects, but they were not at all interested in the spinner I had to offer them.  Did not like the look of that sky though….hmmmm.  It was pretty, but not so sure it wasn't bringing me a dose of rain.  Oh well, time for a little warming fire.  Dozed off in front of the fire a few times, awakened by an owl once or twice, shut down camp and hit the hay around 10pm I guess. 
 
Day 2 (9/17):
Woke up to the sound of rain pitter-pattering the tent.  It is always deceiving since water that falls from trees on a tent frequently sounds like more than it is, so you don’t know until you are out of the tent.  That was 6am.  Then 7am.  Then closing in on 8am, and saying hey, you didn’t come here to sleep.  Although……    
 
It wasn’t bad out.  Grey skies, but I’ve seen greyer.  Breezy, but I’ve seen breezier.  What to do today….fishing on David or a day trip to David Creek.  A day trip to David Creek of course! 
 
A short 80 meter carry to Mubwayaka later, I put the boat down, and it began to rain.  This isn’t so bad.  I just want to do this expeditiously, because that wind will make the return trip tricky if it kicks up the water.  I decided to put on my rain pants, already had the jacket on.  I should have put the pants on earlier, because just walking around camp, moving the boat, I had gotten my pants a bit wet, and now I was just trapping moisture it in there.  I should say I had a daypack with me too – first aid, lunch and a little extra food, full water bottle, knife, bear spray, bailing cup, flashlight, and I had a spare paddle.
 
Twenty minutes later.  Raining harder.  Hmmmm.  Well, no thunder, so rain is rain, let’s press on.  I rounded the bend on the lake toward the creek.  Raining harder yet.   Hmmmm.    I got to the mouth of the creek.  Getting creamed by rain.  Hmmmmmmmmmmm.  I have maybe 6 cm of water in the boat under my feet.  I figure I’ll bail out when I get to the creek.  


This was the heaviest rain photo I took, but it got a good bit harder than this.  This is heading east, toward the mouth of David Creek, which is up there in the gap between the trees.

 I mean it can’t rain a whole lot harder, can it?  By golly it can.  My plan was just to get to the mouth of the creek anyway.  On a nicer day I would have explored, but this had become a touch and go mission.  It is in a “provincially significant peat bog” and I just figured I’d see the beginning of the creek and call it quits.  When I did get there, the rain tapered off, so I took a few pictures, now realizing that my camera lens had condensation on it.  I had introduced moisture into the waterproof bag sufficient to allow that just by sticking my wet hand in there once or twice this morning to retrieve it.  Oh well, everything dried out in the end…after I got home Sunday.  I made a brief video claiming David Creek as my personal territory, but allowing the two loons I saw there, the one frog I had seen, and whatever moose might then be occupying the region unseen to remain, which I thought that was pretty doggone nice of me.  Plus, I have decided to keep the Creek there rather than relocate it to my back yard.  I just don’t have room for it.



This is the point where the lake ends and the creek begins. 

Then I sat with my bailing cup (coffee mug) and bailed and bailed and bailed and bailed.  Time for the return trip into the wind.  The water condition wasn’t bad because the rain had beaten it down.  Then the rain started up again.  I looked at the sky and wondered where it was coming from.  The skies were just not dark enough for this much rain.  So, it rained, and it was pretty hard.  I got up around the bend again, and I was then getting creamed by rain.  Then down the length of the lake back toward the carry, but the sign wasn’t visible, because I was now entering a new phase of rain: obliteration.  Guess what it WAS possible for the rain to get harder.  I got to the carry, and should have bailed out before pulling out, because I could barely move the canoe enough to dump the water out of it.  And yes, I did it again, the canoe tried floating off...   



This is the accumulation of water in the boat after bailing at David Creek, then returning to the Mubwayaka carry. 

By the time I got to the other side of the carry, naturally, the rain subsided.  It was still raining, but it was no longer torrential.  Now just a light shower.  My feet were soaked of course, but I had determined on a clothes-management course of action that morning.  I was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, right down to the pre-soaked socks.  I knew my feet would be soaked that day anyway, so there didn’t seem any point in putting on dry socks.  The worst part was putting on cold, wet socks.  They warm up quickly enough, but what an icky feeling that is, sliming on wet socks. 




While on the portage, I loaded the boat with wood, and headed for home (after re-adjusting the way it was loaded).  After dealing with the firewood, sat down under the tarp to read, but not before putting on a dry shirt.  I was sweat soaked and water-logged.  I will make a brief plug for the Onwego lightweight chair.  That thing was killer awesome.  On a day like this, rocks get wet, logs get wet, and a dry place to sit is key to a tired aging buttocks.  It is a pretty comfy chair, and pretty light as well.
 
Heard a tree fall on the mainland at that time.  What a sound!  I was putting on that dry shirt, so I had my pants halfway down to tuck it in, etc., when I heard it start going.  At first I couldn’t quite place it, then realized what it was, and dashed, well, sort of hobbled to the shoreline of the island holding my pants on (more or less) just above the knee (I share that little visual for the entertainment value you may derive from it) to see if I could spot it, but in that time, and it had to be five or ten seconds, it was all over and back to silence.  It never made it to water so there was no splash, and I couldn’t for sure pick out where the new “hole” was in the forest.  It did inspire me to do a quick informal survey of the trees above me on the island for their immediate survivability!  What an impressive sound that was.  That was no lightweight either.  That was an old timer and it took out a lot with it on the way, limbs snapping throughout, and very loud from the very first sound to the bitter end.  The mass must have been terrific.  The cracking and crunching and tearing was incredible to hear.  I think the people on Mubwayaka must have heard it.   I wish I had seen it go, or seen the top of that tree shake and shimmy when it happened…from a distance.  I was very tempted to go over and seek it out, but I was kind of done for the day, plus you never know what else might have been loosened up to fall by the machinations of that one large tree.  The rain came and went in fits and starts and eventually subsided around dinner time.  I didn’t like the look of the clouds coming over, so I had a slightly early dinner (same as the first night, but now with a little black pepper mixed in – that’s living!), but the weather was actually blowing past at that point.
 
I made a little video that night for the cub scouts to show them how to make a fire – and HA!  - got it in one match.  I showed it to my kids later on.  There was a time when I was a “one-match-wonder” with starting fires, and that went on for years until a very windy day got me.  My kids were very disappointed (in a good-natured way) to see dad start the fire with one match.   I later smothered that fire with wet wood, and had to work like a dog to get it going again, but that wasn’t on the video, so it never happened officially.  I dozed off a few times in front of that toasty fire, then discovered that my flashlight had gotten soaked in the rain and was no longer operable – thank goodness for the spare.  Checked in on the dead mouse, no longer visible, under the pine needles, buttoned up camp and went to bed.   At some point overnight, I was heartlessly awakened by the loudest owl ever in the history of the world, but he stopped after one giant hoot.  I am assuming the owl was as tall as I am, maybe taller…..
 
Day 3 (9/18):
Up at 6am, or so I thought – it later turned out that my watch had lost a half an hour.  Oops.  I was off the island at about 7:50, wearing dry socks that were dry for about half as long as it took me to tie the shoelaces on the first shoe.  I was just about ready to get out of camp when I heard rain coming across the lake, and thought oh-no, please, not again.  Turned out to be a thirty-second light shower, and that was it for the day.  Then I packed up, took a quick mental inventory, turned around one more time just before loading to see if I had forgotten anything, and spotted the tent.  Oh yeah.  That thing.  I guess I should take it down and pack it away.
 
A decent wind was already up and I was concerned about Ralph Bice.  Did not want to get involved in an energy-sapping exercise to get across that lake fighting wind and wave.  The wind had been my friend on the way out on Day one, but we weren’t pals anymore.  Now it was in my face and much stronger.  On the carry back to Bice, I went with the pack and gear first, which gave me opportunity to go through the forest banging my paddles together a lot to ensure that the first visitor on that trail that day, me, would not encounter Yogi or Boo-Boo.  Getting into Bice from that steep portage entry was only marginally more enjoyable than it had been going up.  That was unpleasant and a bit treacherous.  Interesting side note, to me anyway, my glasses kept fogging up on that trail.  Lots and lots of moisture hanging around.
 
I paddled strategically, staying behind landforms.  Startled the heck out of a lovely young lady who was washing her hair on a peninsula.  I thought I was making plenty of noise, but she and the girl next to her were certainly surprised when I rounded the peninsula.  Campers would say hello by asking if I had stayed dry the day before. That was the question of the day.  No was the correct answer.  Then they’d tell me they had a tarp.  I would nod my head, then we’d wish each other farewell.  I suppose I could have just stayed under the tarp on Saturday reading, but in the absence of thunder and lightning it was just rain, and it beat down the waves completely, so I figured if worst came to worst, I wasn’t far from shore, I could always pull up and get safe.  I never felt like I was flirting with danger on my little trip to David Creek, I just felt like I had agreed to get soaked. 
 
Sunday morning early risers were on the way home and we were starting to collect on the portages.  The paddle on Bice was about forty-five minutes, and I did take a couple of opportunities to rest, but not long.  The wind was getting considerable, but the lake hadn’t really kicked up yet, and I didn’t want to give it a chance to get going.  Heading out on Friday had taken me three hours.  Heading back to the car, two and a half hours, against the wind.  You get better as you go I guess, or at least know where you are going so you can focus on a point with confidence that’s where you want to go.  Once I was out of the water, with people loading up, I noticed a guy who was walking and moving very slowly, with his head down a little.  Somebody had just helped him get a canoe on his car.  It turned out he had slipped getting firewood, smacked his neck hard right at the join of the neck to the body, and was in a great deal of discomfort.  I offered to help him strap down but he wanted to get that himself.  He was going to go get his neck checked out.  He said his friends were still out there, so I’m not sure how that worked, but it was pretty clear he paddled himself back to the access point probably from wherever.  I could see bruising on the back of his neck.  One tough guy, I’ll say that for him, and I’ll bet he talked his friends out of escorting him back.  We’re all susceptible to falls and injury even with great precaution.  I noticed that I was placing my feet a LOT more carefully than usual when I have a pack or a boat, and even on the last carry I was thinking “you got this far without injury, stay focused….”, because solo, you are your own backup plan.
 


Special thanks to the guy whose pickup truck I used as a tripod to take this photo.

Well, that was it for me, except oh yeah, my only dry pants were in my backpack.  Thank goodness I didn’t get them soaked.  Complete change of clothes at the car, remnants of food bag next to me in the front seat, and I was off, heading home to Buffalo, by way of Toronto, where I was immediately re-immersed into the concrete jungle, slightly depressed about the loss of solitude and serenity, and regularly getting cut off by ferrari’s and other hot sports cars trying to snake their way through traffic at a million km/hour, followed by 45 minutes at the Peace Bridge, then getting home to the news that we are getting some water seeping in the basement.  It appears that the hot water heater has expired dramatically, and took out a lot of carpet with it.  Ahhhh, civilization….

 

9/21/2016 12:02 pm  #2


Re: Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

I looked up the insects that were working on the mouse.  The beetle looks to be a Necrophorus Beetle, aka Burying Beetle, aka Carrion Beetle.  I suspect that the one I saw was not the only one present. The pronounced motion of the mouse makes me think others were inside.  Carpenter ants apparently do consume dead mice when they are lucky enough to come across them in attics, etc., so there you go.   Bugs eat mice.  Its official.  And Burying Beetles are called Burying Beetles for a reason, so that mouse really was being spirited away out of sight.  Pretty cool.  Or pretty gross.  Depends how you see it.

     Thread Starter
 

9/21/2016 6:58 pm  #3


Re: Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

Fantastic report. Thank you.

Being outdoors in serious weather really reinforces how comfortable indoors is. You're absolutely right about agreeing to get wet.

 

9/21/2016 9:07 pm  #4


Re: Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

Thanks for the report. 

I love tiny island sites, but I never knew David existed. Then when I was planning a solo trip about a month or two ago, I saw it on the map, and thought "this is perfect!". So I read a few trip reports, and saw that the distance/paddling/portaging was the perfect amount for travelling solo. It was going to be a 2 nighter as well, and this looked like the perfect place to call home for that amount of time.

Then I checked the reservations, and it was booked

I ended up going back to Linda Lake, which I was at last year as well (this year was solo, last year wasn't). I got the tiny island site both years, which is one of my favorites. If you like these types of sites, you should check it out (you can read my trip report here: http://www.myccr.com/phpbbforum/viewtopic.php?f=108&t=45348). I also like to write a lot...

But David Lake is high on my list and will probably be a solo trip next year. Thanks again for the detailed report.


Trip Reports & Campsite Pictures
algonquinbeyond.com
 

9/22/2016 7:22 am  #5


Re: Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

Great write-up!

I just got back from a wet solo as well this past weekend (will get to a report eventually) but love the portrayal of thoughts-to-self . . ."uh oh, where is my . . . . ." that hit home for sure!!

 

 

9/23/2016 7:09 am  #6


Re: Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

Thank you for this terrific report! I can smell the pine and feel the dampness when I look at the photos.

 

9/23/2016 9:01 am  #7


Re: Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

Beautiful report! Thanks so much for sharing!

 

3/21/2017 3:29 pm  #8


Re: Weekend on David Lake 9/16 - 9/18/2016

Months old but I just read it now. Great read - thanks for posting it!

 

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