The forecast leading up to my little 3-day trip was all over, so I took clothing loose in the car, and made decisions upon arrival.  I wore my winter coat – waterproof outer layer with removable fleece.  Overpacked a little, using one large and mid-size small pack, so I had to triple carry, but only had one 250-meter portage, and the smaller pack was needed anyway as a daypack for a day 2 side trip. 

At Canoe Lake, it was around 7-8 Celsius, with a very stiff wind blowing straight down the gut of the lake from the north.  Hooray.  Cars were everywhere.  The combined impact of a late opening day with Victoria Day weekend.  The lineup was several parties deep at the Permit Office.  I couldn't help but notice the one guy preparing to push off with his group who was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  The problem with playing Johnny Toughguy is that when you are freezing a half hour after push off, it is kind of hard to retreat from Johnny Toughguy and say "you know, I think I'll put on my..ummm....windbreaker", and save face.  Just sayin'.  Of course I looked like Johnny Freezalot out there, so that wasn't much of a look either, especially when the balaclava went on.  Look out, ladies!  

Pushed off at 10:30 into a nasty, chilling wind, and wore neoprene gloves (sorry ladies, I'm married).  I headed for the islands to catch a wind break.  The wind was a little easier to deal with on Joe and the rest of the way to Littledoe, but still a tiring nuisance all the way.  It took four hours to reach my campsite.  My forearms and elbows were smoked.  The following day I realized that the neoprene gloves greatly reduced my wrist and hand flexibility paddling.  Without them, I was fine, with them, I was putting strain on tendons.

The Canoe Lake area is not what you’d call “remote”.  I expected that, but still.  It was my first ice-out trip, so it was nice to know people were around, on the other, when a kid is on a paddleboard parallel to you, wearing a full wetsuit while you paddle a canoe full of camping gear, it is hard to feel wildernessy.

For any tribulations suffered in arriving at camp, Littledoe was lovely.  One of the prettiest lakes I have seen, and the campsite offered the nicest views of any campsite I can remember.  Bonus – I believe I inaugurated the thunderbox’s life of service, although you’ll forgive me for not examining that too closely.  Water access at this site is easy.  For a kitchen, there is a large table rock, flat as a countertop and as close to level as you could ever hope to get.  Parties passing would say “how nice a place that would be to sit and oh the site’s taken.”  It was just dumb luck that landed me here. 



A previous visitor moved the firepit…partially.  There were a half dozen large-diameter logs with the ends charred stacked in a crazy way by a makeshift firepit.  I restored the stones to the real firepit, but left the big logs where they were.  It isn’t worth the mental energy to figure out their motivations.


A gold finch visited briefly, all puffed up against the cold.  He flitted around, lighting on a backpack, the gravity filter, etc.  He wanted a treat so badly. I did not oblige, but thanked him for visiting.  He got all huffy about it and left.  Chickadees do that, but a gold finch?  It seems so beneath their dignity. 


In the late afternoon, the clouds broke up, blue skies appeared, and the wind calmed, resulting in spectacular views.  Beautiful.  The sun was not far from horizon when six ladies in three canoes went by.  They returned moments later.  The next site north appears on the map, but the park has taken down the sign and I think removed the firepit.  The ladies asked if I knew of other campsites on Littledoe, and I showed them my map.  I was curious how they got this far without a map yet didn't know where campsites were, but didn't have the nerve to ask.  They elected to take the site just south of mine, the only open one in the immediate vicinity.  Apparently it was a bit cramped, which was why they initially passed on it.  I offered for them to stay with me “I’ve got plenty of room here”, but they laughed that off.  So I’m either a harmless old man (sigh), or I resemble an axe murderer.
  
I intended to go to bed early, but the evening was gorgeous, and dark came late due to a bright moon (waning gibbous, for those of you who did not help your son study for a science test the night before).  When I headed to the tent, I realized I hadn’t unpacked, I had just thrown stuff in there. Nuts.  I was warm in a full base layer of clothes, inside a sleeping bag liner, inside a sleeping bag, but it was bitterly cold overnight.  In the middle of the night I was compelled to step out of the tent briefly.  Brutal temperature difference.  I think my tears froze.   (Hint – neoprene booties over your wool socks will keep your footies toasty.) 


My day two side trip to Baden Powell Lake happened with improved wind and temperature.  Saw the rest of Littledoe, and was kind of visited by a pair of loons.  They swam right toward me, and I got this photo of them looking at each other to determine whether I was a friendly or not.


Went through the narrows to Bluejay, then a 400-meter portage to the Vanishing Pond area.  The creek leading up to Vanishing Pond, was shallow, and I was going upstream.  Some S-curves were so tight they reversed course, which is deflating, and so narrow I kept smacking the marshline on curves.  I was looking for a little channel to take me toward Baden Powell (one showed on the map).  I traversed the entire length of the creek and back, then gave up on reaching Baden Powell.  The option seemed to be walking through a soaky marsh, I just wasn’t up for that (in spite of wearing knee high neoprene boots).  Mission not accomplished.   But I did like this photo a LOT.

On the return I spotted a Least Sandpiper (a cropped/zoomed image), and a Herring Gull whom I seemed to have annoyed earlier by dispatching a fishhead on the portage into the water (he looks ticked off). 




Passing through BlueJay, I saw one pair of Blue Jays chase another pair of Blue Jays hard, across the width of the lake.  So territorial.
    
On the narrows between Bluejay and Littledoe - I thought this resembled a gigantic grizzly bear head.


On Littledoe, I was surprised by a huge splash right next to me.  Two loons surfaced so close I could have touched them.  I said “Well, hello!”, and they disappeared.  That happens more than it should.  They can chase a tiny minnow underwater forever, but they can’t avoid a canoe in the middle of a lake.

Back at the campsite, I enjoyed some lunch while reclining in a protected groove of the big rock, food sack on my belly and food spread all over.  A cornucopia.  Realizing how close I was to Tom Thomson, I took a little paddle to say I had been on that lake. Both the photos below were taken on that little jaunt.





Later on, I completed restoration work on the firepit, then, suspecting rain, I set up the tarp to stow gear (a brilliant move for once).  After dinner I got a righteous little blaze going.  Embers kept falling on pine needles that were immediately around the firepit, so I cleared that area.  A beaver swam by the site that evening.  I never knew what the beaver says, but the beaver says “meh”.  Like a baby goat bleating, just without tremolo.  At first it sounded like a bee near my ear, and I actually swatted at it before realizing the sound was coming from the lake.  The beaver bleated periodically while it swam.  Moments later, another beaver followed.  Their den was somewhere behind my site.  I envisioned them curled up together in their hut, blissfully sleeping through a chilly night.  “Meh”, said poppa beaver.  “Meh” said momma beaver.


It rained steadily overnight, but there was no wind driving it, and it stopped just as I awoke at 5:30.  Perfect!  I broke camp after a quick (cold) breakfast and was in the water at 6:50. With very few people awake, it was nice paddle. I may make a puzzle of this mirror image....my wife likes puzzles, but I don't think she'd like me very much for giving her this puzzle.


I saw a pair of Common Mergansers (male is the white one, female is the one with crazy-hair), and a Black-Throated Green Warbler (zoomed in/cropped). 






Spotted two young moose on the narrows between the portage and Canoe Lake.  Both female, I believe siblings having just survived their first winter without momma after parting ways with her during the rut.  Their coats were kind of ruddy and spotty.  I gave a wide berth so they’d stay, but they weren’t buying it.  My last sighting was in June 2000, after the first canoe trip my wife and I ever took.  Then I skipped tripping for sixteen years.  Since July 2016 this was my sixth trip.  If you want to see moose, don’t go with me.
  

After a quick stop at the Tom Thomson cairn (quick - define "cairn": a mound of rough stones built as a memorial or landmark, typically on a hilltop), and a little more wind in the face, I washed up on the shores of the access point at 10:20am.  I wanted my “I survived photo” for the trip, but did not want to entrust the nearby individuals who had passed me in a motorboat with the task based on their operation of the boat and general ineptitude in getting it trailered.  Instead, I asked that favor of a couple of young men I ran into on the portage. He did a nice job considering the subject matter he was working with.  I know many of you have seen the cairn and the totem pole, but not everybody, and I thought it might be of interest.  Plus I really like the epitaph on the plaque, particularly the imagery of the park taking Tom Thomson back to itself.  The imagery on the totem is very fitting as well.




Yeesh.  This guy again.


The trip that had taken me 4 hours on Day 1 against a stiff wind, took 3.5 hours under more normalized conditions (including photo stops and visiting the cairn).  The bodies of water covered were all new for me: Canoe, Joe, Teepee, Little Oxtongue River, Fawn, Littledoe, BlueJay, Vanishing Pond, or at least a few strokes away from it, and Tom Thompson.

The drive home was rough from Toronto to the Niagara/Fort Erie split.  Sometimes it goes quickly, other times it is Victoria Day Weekend.  I fantasize about a giant bridge crossing right over Toronto, a north/south expressway with no exits.  The big smack of reality is the turn from the 400 onto 401 West.  Suddenly you are thrust back into it, one of ten thousand cars, and you realize from this point south it is all highways, gas stations, Walmart-based malls, Verizon stores, and all the trappings of civilized life.  It is very depressing, but you don’t get to wallow in it long; you have to pay attention for the two guys in matching Ferrari’s, playfully whipping through traffic with big smiles on their faces.

Moments like the evening of Day 1 on this particular trip are worth the fantastic effort it takes to get there and back home.  Watching the sun draw the day to close, feeling and seeing the weather; listening to thousands of peepers and the Roughed Grouse across the lake drumming his wings a few more times before nightfall; hearing loons start their nightly chatter, songbirds calling to each other across the lake, the white-throated sparrow singing about his love of country; the beaver bleating soft calls to his mate as he swims past, all as the silhouette of the forest fades toward night.  It is so calming.  What a battery re-charger.  There’s no price tag for that in terms of time, effort, or money.  I’ll put up with an awful lot to get those moments.  So I'll leave you with this - one of my favorite shots from this trip (hand held even with the longer exposure).  Maybe it will bring some of those evening sounds to mind.  Hope so.