Early last spring I did my only solo trip of the season (I went camping a ton last summer, but the other trips were all in a canoe with family). The plan was to put in at the North River access point (26) and do a loop east to Allan, south to Shoal, the low maintenance portages through Menona and Wee George to Big George, bushwhack out of the north end of Big George to logging roads, which I would walk to the edge of Wabamimi, bushwhack into Wabamimi and then take the series of low maintenance portages from there back to where I started. When I went looking last year, I could find no reports of anyone having tried this particular bushwhack before, but satellite imagery assured me the logging roads were there so I figured I'd give it a shot. What's the worst that could happen, right?



North River was alder choked and twisty at the access point, making it challenging at times to make the corners - smacking a kayak paddle off alder branches doesn't seem to help turning much, oddly enough. I wasn't the only one having challenges with the alder branches, as it wasn't long before I found a life jacket in the river. It clearly hadn't been there long, so I scooped it up in the hopes of returning it to its owner. A few minutes later I came upon three guys in a heavily laden canoe. Two of them were wearing their life jackets, the third hadn't noticed his was missing. My good deed done for the day, I carried on, secure in the knowledge that good karma was sure to come my way. 


North River alders. The further from the access point you get, the better the river gets

A bonus life jacket in North Tea River, soon to be returned to its owner

A few minutes later, I realized I had a fair bit of water in my cockpit - too much to be explained by my less than graceful maneuvering in the river. I figured I must have a small leak in the boat somewhere, and I'd look into it further when I got to my campsite. But by the time I reached the mouth of the river, my kayak was sitting very low in the water and I was worried I was going to capsize. This was early Spring, and the water was still freezing cold: I needed to pull up on dry land, fast, but I was effectively still in marshland. Realizing I wasn't going to reach true solid ground in time, I pulled up at the first place where I figured it could bear my weight. And it did, but I was ankle-deep in icewater. Dragging my kayak out, I popped open the rear hatch to discover it was full of water. My gear, my clothes, my sleeping bag were floating. They were in dry bags mind you, but it was clear the dry bag containing my clothes and sleeping bag wasn't so much a dry bag as a "your stuff will be slightly less wet than if you had taken them into the shower with you" bag. I pumped out and dumped the rear hatch and cockpit, then flipped my kayak over. Right along the bottom of the keel at the far back of the boat was a massive crack. Sunset wasn't far off, I had no dry clothes or sleeping bag, rain was in the forecast and while I had some repair materials in my emergency kit, the crack was going to be tricky to manage until I could fix it properly. So I slapped some tenacious tape over the crack (love that stuff), paddled back to the car, and then drove home. So Day 1 of my trip consisted of five hours driving to the access point, two hours of paddling, and then five hours driving home again. 


Pumping out my flooded kayak

I got home late, draped my soaking wet clothing, gear and sleeping bag over every surface at my disposal and then crashed, hard. In the morning I spent a few hours repairing the crack, then I re-packed my camping gear, put the kayak back on the roof and headed back to the access point. The second time I made it to North River Lake without drama, surprise lifejackets or cracks, and set up on a beautiful campsite at the far end of the lake. 


View from my campsite on North River Lake

To get back on my trip plan I'd have to turn two travel days into one on the following day, and so there was no messing around the next morning: breakfast, pack up and get moving. Downstream on the North River with its three low-maintenance portages (they were totally fine), south through Allan, North Depot and Clamshell along with a handful of portages, then into Shoal and finally the 1555 meter low maintenance portage up into Menona. That 1555 meter portage felt hard, but then I was at the end of a 7 1/2 hour travel day so that might have had something to do with it. Menona wasn't super exciting, nor were its two low maintenance campsites, located on the two portages. But after "raking" the nicer of the two sites to clear a few million pine needles away from the firepit, I got a fire going and settled in. 


Somewhere between Allan and Clamshell

Menona campsite at the end of the Shoal portage. 

The next day, on paper, looked pretty easy, going from Menona to Big George. Two low maintenance portages totaling a little over 3 kilometers with a tiny lake (Wee George) between them was the entire travel day. But the 1810 meter from Menona to Wee George also included a 100+ meter elevation change, and not in the good direction. Still feeling the effects of the previous day's travels I found it a hell of a slog, double carrying and taking breaks constantly. But I finally found my way to Big George. The sun was out, the island site was really nice and I was booked there for two nights - finally a chance for some R&R! Here's the thing though: I'm not really that good at R&R when I'm alone. I knew that going in of course, but my logic was that I'd use my rest day on Big George to scout the bushwhack route and if I decided it wasn't manageable, I'd take the portage out of the west end to the Petawawa, to Cedar, and then head back to my car through the series of low maintenance portages from there. So the rest day was meant more as a safety stop in case the bushwhack plan wasn't feasible. But I was on my Big George campsite and it was still only early afternoon, so I decided to go scout the route right then. 

The north side of Big George down at the east end is tricky terrain: there isn't really an easily defined edge where the lake ends and solid ground begins. Alders and other scrubby trees were everywhere, making it challenging to find a reasonable place to pull out. A bit further east, however, the alders gave way to a stand of cedars and I found a place to pull up on dry land. Leaving my kayak behind, I headed North. The cedars quickly gave way to a deciduous forest, and because the leaves weren't out yet I had great visibility in all directions. Solid trees were spaced well apart from each other, so it seemed pulling a kayak through here wasn't going to be a problem. It was a fair bit uphill, but I could see and maneuver which was better than I had hoped for. A few hundred meters and I struck the logging road - or what was left of it. This logging road had clearly not been in
use in many years and was extremely overgrown.


This was once a logging road. Trust me. 

But it was still identifiable as a path (sort of), so I started following it to the northeast, as I wanted to see if the logging road it connected with was in a similar state. After a kilometer or so I reached the other road, which turned out to be in excellent shape! I knew this road would take me all the way to the very edge of Wabamimi, with only a short bushwhack required, so I figured I was in business. Reassured and relived, I headed back to my Big George campsite and enjoyed a lazy evening. I even went for a swim - if jumping in and immediately getting back out counts as swimming. It was so, so cold. 


I know this looks like the most awkward dive ever, but cracking my head on an underwater rock doesn't really appeal to me. Alternatively, I've figured out how to do pushups on water. 

The next day was supposed to be a rest day. The day after that I was to bushwhack to Wabamimi and camp there before heading out the next day. But since my scouting was already done, I saw no reason to dawdle. I knew I couldn't camp on Wabamimi a day ahead of schedule - it's a tiny lake that allows one booking per night - so the plan became "Big George, bushwhack to Wabamimi, Wabamimi to the car" - in one day. 

I woke up the next morning and got on my way. Dragging my kayak through the pre-scouted forest up to the abandoned logging road was a fair bit of work, but it wasn't frustrating as I already knew what to expect. I had to continue dragging along the abandoned logging road because alders were growing out of the ditches and arching over the road, making it difficult for me to even walk upright much of the time - there was no way I could have the kayak on my shoulders. But once I reached the next logging road it was just a standard portage from there, single carrying on a nice day with road-quality footing. As I reached the edge of Wabamimi I started to get nervous: the forest between me and the lake was extremely dense: the only way I'd be getting a boat through there would be with a chainsaw and a few days of felling trees. So I kept walking the road, hoping for a change of fortune. As I reached the point where the logging road would start getting further and further away from the lake with every step I took, the forest finally started to look manageable: barely. It was probably less than 100 meters to the lake but it was a tough, tough slog manhandling my kayak through that forest and then down a few foot slope into the water. But I made it. 


Dragging from Big George to the reclaimed logging road


Dragging along the remains of the logging road directly north of Big George


A much better logging road. It stayed in this condition all the way to Wabamimi


This was about the best route I could find to bushwhack into Wabamimi. It wasn't fun, but fortunately it wasn't far.

I needed a break, so I headed for the Northwest site on Wabamimi - which is actually kind of nice! I mean it's scrubby marshland all along the back of it, but there's a nice big rock overlooking the water that was a great place to sit and have some lunch. I wasn't tempted to jump in the water though, because there were roughly a hundred leeches in sight along the edge of that rock alone. I really wished I could set up camp and call it a day, but there was nowhere between me and the car where I would feel comfortable stopping without worrying I'd be stepping on someone else's booking, so I soon packed up and got back on the water. 


Campsite on Wabamimi. Not bad, right? 

The two low maintenance portages between Wabamimi and Kabibonoka were definitely low maintenance - since they lead only to the dead-end, single booking lake that is Wabamimi I suppose that's no surprise. If the foliage had been out I think it would have been somewhat challenging to find the trail, but this early in the Spring it was okay, with just the occasional stop to figure out where to go. I have one hard fall along this stretch, but I didn't break myself or my boat so I carried on. Once I reached Kabibonoka, the low maintenance portages from there back to North River Lake were more travelled and easier to manage. From there it was just paddling back through the alders to the car and then the long drive home. It was a super, super long day - but I was proud I managed to pull it off. 

This was my first time bushwhacking on a camping trip (pre-planned anyway), but it won't be my last. I really enjoyed the challenge and planning involved in doing a loop that I couldn't find trip reports to guide me on. Despite it starting terribly, it turned out to be a pretty amazing experience. 

Oh, that crack? I know when it happened, and it wasn't during the camping trip. Somewhere in the preceding winter I dropped my kayak while lowering it off the wall I keep it on; it slammed into concrete after a few foot drop. I thought nothing of it at the time, and it didn't even cross my mind that I might have damaged my boat. But to not notice a massive keel crack at any point between then and when I launched into the North River months later is just incredibly dumb on my part. 

I don't regret that I went home to repair my kayak properly, but I also know that I could have dealt with it in the park, so part of me wishes I'd just sucked it up and headed for a campsite. Or even if I'd gone back to the car, I could have gone into North Bay for the night (an hour away), bought repair materials in the morning, fixed it in a parking lot and saved myself ~8 hours of driving. Certainly I could have handled it better than I did - but live and learn. I had an awesome time, bushwhacked a sea kayak and managed some pretty significant travel days, so I'm pretty happy with how it all turned out.