Interesting discussion - appreciate all the comments. 

Thanks for the insight. Another question I have is regarding where the demarcation point is for reservation purposes: Are the sites at the East Narrows, Sunnyside, Bob's Bay, Graham's Bay in the South Arm for reservation purposes?

Last edited by Bampot (7/27/2023 1:38 pm)

BarryB wrote:

As for demarcation line, check out the maps from the PCI  http://www.algonquinadventures.com/PCI/PCIindex.htm .

Their yellow "circles" zig-and-zag around what is understood to be the "demarcation line".
 

Excellent resource - thanks, Barry!

This has been an interesting read. I never give people advice on which side if a lake to paddle on because skill level is such a big factor. On one side conditions are typically better but consequences if you end up in the water are high. On the other it’s the reverse. That risk analysis is a really personal decision.

As for the question of risk on Opeongo. It’s true shoulder seasons are the most concerning. It has had a number of deaths. I was leaving the park as the dive team came in for one of the incidents a decade or so ago and I read Krista’s husband’s account of supporting the rescue in another. So I think it’s a lake with enough risk to take it seriously 🤷🏻‍♀️

Both times I've paddled Ope it has been calm, once even glass from Bates Island to the takeout. 

Echoing Martin's comments, any larger body of water can whip up nasty waves and wind.  I think the notoriety of Ope being a dangerous lake stems from the growing population of lesser experienced canoeists heading out to avoid portaging.  This usually results in overloaded boats, coolers with ice and beer etc.... Just last spring I watched a group of young paddlers loading full sized yeti's into old canoes at the Whitney launch into Galeairy, another lake that can get choppy fast.  

Funny enough the worst waters I've experienced in the park have been on Maple and Happy Isle.  

My experiences on Opeongo were about 40 years ago, and cured me of any desire to ever visit that lake again.  It is either some form of PTSD or learning from experience or a combination of the two.  I know it cuts me off from some beautiful locations in the park, but...nope.   

We paddled off on our first day, and I suppose Opeongo was unremarkable that day because I don't remember it other than it was a long paddle.  But our last day, in the east arm...we woke up at 6am to try to get ahead of the days' wind, but waves were already crashing on the sandy shoreline when we woke up, like breakers, driven straight at the campsite by a very hard wind.  This was maybe 1981, in a group of about 15, and I guess the dads had to get home that day for work the next day.  They should have determined we were wind bound and dealt with it.  As it was, we loaded the 75-pound aluminum Grumman wilderness battleships and shoved off.  The waves were so severe that the boats had to be loaded with our biggest guys standing thigh deep in the water on both sides of the boat, getting blasted by waves, to ensure the bow remained headed into it.  The boys in the bow and middle had to crawl up over all the gear from the stern to get to their spots, while the big guys steadied the boats, and that's how all the boats were launched.  It was an amazing view from the stern before we shoved off - waves were breaking and rolling past the hull, higher than the gunwales.  

I had the stern.  We were making virtually no progress against wind and wave.  Three teenage boys, a large canvas pack, a duffle bag, and a food box.  We were sitting low, waves almost like swells, but sharp-tops and deep troughs.  We cut through them somehow.  The boy in the bow and stern could switch sides when they wanted to, but I couldn't.  Had to paddle left side the entire time, weak side for me, but the boat wanted to heel to the left so much I just couldn't hold it paddling on the right.  The boat was heavy, so were kind of cutting through the waves to some degree.  From top to trough the waves were a good two feet.  There were times when we crested a wave and the stern would pitch so high that I'd take a stroke and the paddle would only get air.  Near the crotch of the "Y", where east arm meets west arm, there was a campsite.  We took a brief rest there, I don't know how long we'd been going without a break.  40 years later, we probably should have been paddling closer to the western shore the whole time, but we didn't know any better at age 15, and I'm not sure I could have gotten the boat over there without broadsiding it.  Our campsite was in the middle of that bay, and that kind of dictated our path.

Once we got into the big bay area, the wind changed.  Now it was coming from the west, broadsiding us, and in the middle as we were, the waves were no longer as sharp-topped.  They were white-capping into us, but they were much more like swells, and the troughs were deep.  We did catch a little water over the side from time to time, just a splash or two, but it was different paddling now.  Now it was more like three guys trying to maintain balance broadsiding up and over the waves.

After an eternity, we managed to get behind the islands on the eastern side of the lake, and caught a wind break.  From there on it was a lot more manageable, because when we came out from behind those islands, there was some genuine wind break coming from the mainland.  Andy C. was in the bow.  When we got him out, he was shivering.  It had been cloudy, cool, and miserable, and he'd taken the brunt of the wind for however many hours we'd been out in that.  The boy in the middle, John G., ran him into the portage store and poured coffee down his throat.

I'll never go on that lake again.  Ever.  There's no frigging way I'm going on that water.  I don't care about staying close to whichever shore makes sense, I don't care that most of the time it isn't that bad, I don't care that you can take a water taxi.  Pass.  Wisdom, fear or PTSD, your choice, but nope.    

None of our boats dumped that day, but by any standard we should have had one or two go.  I've paddled in bad conditions over the years, frequently solo, but that was by far the worst.  Word to the wise - sometimes you have to just recognize that you're windbound. 

I will say...and this is 58-year old me talking about 15-year old me...I think I did a lot of growing up that day.  It was my boat to stern, I had two boys in front of me, my age, my friends, and I felt their safety on my shoulders.  So, it didn't matter if I was desperate to switch sides and give my left side a break. I had to keep paddling and be strong about it or we were in trouble.  I learned how to focus that day in a different way than I had before.  I learned how to manage a type of stress I hadn't experienced before.  You can gain a lot in moments of adversity, even if they still scare the H out of you 40+ years later.

Post-script:  I vowed that I would not be going on the annual trip the following year if Opeongo was the jump off point.  It was.  I had to be talked into it, but relented and went.  Those experirences on Opeongo were unremarkable. Just that 1 day out of 4 total on Opeongo.  I guess....what little advice I have to share....is that if the conditions warrant it, then just stay put.  The rest of the world will still be there when you get out, even if your boss is pissed off about it.

Sorry so long....I always write too much.