Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Monday, January 11, 2016
Welcome back?
It has been far too long since any real content has been posted here. The reasons are many, but most centre on some pretty dramatic changes in my life over the past several years. I don't want to belabour the point, so just know that life is better now than it's ever been, and I hope to do more of the things I love, including doing fun things in the forest and writing. Side note; I cannot figure out what's going on with layouts on Blogger right now. I've tried and tried, so I apologize for how this looks. I welcome your formatting tips.
Back on point. With the recent holiday season, and inevitable brief period of reflection around the beginning of a new year, I've had the chance to reframe some of my adventures and overall cumulative 'outdoor knowledge'. Derek, one of my very best friends, hosted a New Year's Eve party, with about 15 or so people in attendance. On the mantle of the fireplace in his house, amongst other keepsakes, was a can of Heineken that he and I stumbled upon during a canoe adventure on Georgian Bay about 10 years ago. Miraculously, when we found the can, it was full. Just hours before finding that can of beer floating in the frigid waters along the rocky shoreline near our camp, we'd been bitching to each other about how the only thing we needed to make that afternoon perfect was a beer. So on New Year's Eve, Derek re-told this story to a few of his close friends, and it's been on my mind ever since.
Now I have managed to have a few smaller adventures in recent years; I haven't completely stopped getting out and enjoying natural places. Last summer I took a group of buddies on a three-day canoe adventure as a bachelor party for my friend Matt. The experience level within the group varied, so the trip was planned to have challenging aspects for a group of fit young guys, but was designed to not be so taxing as to be miserable. The trip culminated with the delivery of a bear barrel full of beer and associated shenanigans, so the boldness of the adventure should not be overestimated.
What this trip reminded me was that there are a lot of skills that get developed over time, and incorporated into one's subconscious almost. Things like reading the skies and interpreting the direction of a July thunderstorm, or minute details like what knot to use to when using a rock as an anchor for getting a bear hang rope over a branch. When taking on routine navigation or camp tasks I was asked what I was doing, why I was doing it, and it started to dawn on me that I might have more wilderness expertise than I give myself credit for. Also, it dawned on me that I'm a bit older than I want to be reminded of.
What does this mean for now? Well I think recent trips have been welcome escapes from urban life; a chance to recharge batteries with a fun but not-so-challenging foray into nearby and familiar places. My next adventures need to return to the boundary pushing experiences I've had in Gros Morne, Killarney, and the French River. They need to be tests for new skills and ideas; for stepping off the official route, but literally and figuratively; to make wilderness adventures the exhilarating and intimidating experiences that leave me awestruck by the natural world.
And, seriously if anyone can tell me why my drafts don't remotely resemble the published version of posts on here, I'd love to know how to fix it. Time to change platforms?
Back on point. With the recent holiday season, and inevitable brief period of reflection around the beginning of a new year, I've had the chance to reframe some of my adventures and overall cumulative 'outdoor knowledge'. Derek, one of my very best friends, hosted a New Year's Eve party, with about 15 or so people in attendance. On the mantle of the fireplace in his house, amongst other keepsakes, was a can of Heineken that he and I stumbled upon during a canoe adventure on Georgian Bay about 10 years ago. Miraculously, when we found the can, it was full. Just hours before finding that can of beer floating in the frigid waters along the rocky shoreline near our camp, we'd been bitching to each other about how the only thing we needed to make that afternoon perfect was a beer. So on New Year's Eve, Derek re-told this story to a few of his close friends, and it's been on my mind ever since.Now I have managed to have a few smaller adventures in recent years; I haven't completely stopped getting out and enjoying natural places. Last summer I took a group of buddies on a three-day canoe adventure as a bachelor party for my friend Matt. The experience level within the group varied, so the trip was planned to have challenging aspects for a group of fit young guys, but was designed to not be so taxing as to be miserable. The trip culminated with the delivery of a bear barrel full of beer and associated shenanigans, so the boldness of the adventure should not be overestimated.
What this trip reminded me was that there are a lot of skills that get developed over time, and incorporated into one's subconscious almost. Things like reading the skies and interpreting the direction of a July thunderstorm, or minute details like what knot to use to when using a rock as an anchor for getting a bear hang rope over a branch. When taking on routine navigation or camp tasks I was asked what I was doing, why I was doing it, and it started to dawn on me that I might have more wilderness expertise than I give myself credit for. Also, it dawned on me that I'm a bit older than I want to be reminded of.
What does this mean for now? Well I think recent trips have been welcome escapes from urban life; a chance to recharge batteries with a fun but not-so-challenging foray into nearby and familiar places. My next adventures need to return to the boundary pushing experiences I've had in Gros Morne, Killarney, and the French River. They need to be tests for new skills and ideas; for stepping off the official route, but literally and figuratively; to make wilderness adventures the exhilarating and intimidating experiences that leave me awestruck by the natural world.
And, seriously if anyone can tell me why my drafts don't remotely resemble the published version of posts on here, I'd love to know how to fix it. Time to change platforms?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tips for Pushing Your Comfort Zone
It's not as though I've put in many major outings in the past year that could allow me to speak authoritatively on the subject of pushing one's limits, but the successes of my trip to Newfoundland and last week's blitz of the Lachloche Silhouette Trail make me feel at least partially qualified to offer some suggestions to others.
Tip #1: Choose something kind of far from home, and preferably set a slightly intimidating goal.
This will motivate you to not bail out for 'minor' reasons. In Newfoundland we'd booked our backcountry permits, accommodations, rental car, and flights well in advance, and to quit without a VERY good reason would have been a ludicrous waste of money and time off. The Long Range Traverse was a significant step beyond anything I'd attempted before, and once started there were no options of backtracking or cutting out early. The fastest and only way out was to get through the route.
Tip #2: Do not carry anything you won't actually use.
In Killarney my only extra items were a change of clothing to sleep in at night and a can of bear spray. We also had bear bangers, which we used but probably could have left behind. My pack weight came in just over 10 pounds without food/fuel/water. This made covering big(ish) distances easy, climbing technical terrain simple, and setting up/tearing down camp fast and simple. No extra crap to take up space and clutter things up. Part of our plan for knocking off the distances required was simply to continue walking unless it was unsafe (ie. exhaustion induced stupidity, too dark for technical terrain navigation, thunderstorms while traversing high exposed ridges). Wet, cold, hot, humid, buggy conditions were not going to factor into our schedule.
Tip #3: Travel with competent and compatible trekking partners.
Competent doesn't necessarily mean 'expert' bushcraft guru. It can be someone with some outdoor experience in possession of true common sense and the confidence to voice their opinions. In Gros Morne we all contributed to navigating our route, and all recognized the need to STOP when we no longer recognized the terrain around us from what the map described. Also being able to recognize when your goal-obsessed focus is leading you into higher-risk situations is very important. If you are aware that you've stepped into that next level of risk potential, and are familiar with the terrain and your own abilities then things may work just fine. However, it's very easy to be blinded by the elements of familiarity ('I've hiked this section of trail 5 times before') when new elements are added to the situation (cold rain, while hiking in the dark). Make sure someone in your group is comfortable enough to speak up when stepping beyond the 'challenging' and into 'risky' situations.
I guess that pretty much summarizes my 'top 3' tips for pushing your comfort zone. There are lots of ways you could push yourself besides these. Try going out there without sleeping gear for a night, or carry only non-cook foods. Try a solo-overnighter. I've written my suggestions in the context of tackling higher mileage adventures in remote locations, but these aren't always accessible for everyone, so by all means get out there and try something new in a way that works for you.
Tip #1: Choose something kind of far from home, and preferably set a slightly intimidating goal.
This will motivate you to not bail out for 'minor' reasons. In Newfoundland we'd booked our backcountry permits, accommodations, rental car, and flights well in advance, and to quit without a VERY good reason would have been a ludicrous waste of money and time off. The Long Range Traverse was a significant step beyond anything I'd attempted before, and once started there were no options of backtracking or cutting out early. The fastest and only way out was to get through the route.
Tip #2: Do not carry anything you won't actually use.
In Killarney my only extra items were a change of clothing to sleep in at night and a can of bear spray. We also had bear bangers, which we used but probably could have left behind. My pack weight came in just over 10 pounds without food/fuel/water. This made covering big(ish) distances easy, climbing technical terrain simple, and setting up/tearing down camp fast and simple. No extra crap to take up space and clutter things up. Part of our plan for knocking off the distances required was simply to continue walking unless it was unsafe (ie. exhaustion induced stupidity, too dark for technical terrain navigation, thunderstorms while traversing high exposed ridges). Wet, cold, hot, humid, buggy conditions were not going to factor into our schedule.
Tip #3: Travel with competent and compatible trekking partners.
Competent doesn't necessarily mean 'expert' bushcraft guru. It can be someone with some outdoor experience in possession of true common sense and the confidence to voice their opinions. In Gros Morne we all contributed to navigating our route, and all recognized the need to STOP when we no longer recognized the terrain around us from what the map described. Also being able to recognize when your goal-obsessed focus is leading you into higher-risk situations is very important. If you are aware that you've stepped into that next level of risk potential, and are familiar with the terrain and your own abilities then things may work just fine. However, it's very easy to be blinded by the elements of familiarity ('I've hiked this section of trail 5 times before') when new elements are added to the situation (cold rain, while hiking in the dark). Make sure someone in your group is comfortable enough to speak up when stepping beyond the 'challenging' and into 'risky' situations.
I guess that pretty much summarizes my 'top 3' tips for pushing your comfort zone. There are lots of ways you could push yourself besides these. Try going out there without sleeping gear for a night, or carry only non-cook foods. Try a solo-overnighter. I've written my suggestions in the context of tackling higher mileage adventures in remote locations, but these aren't always accessible for everyone, so by all means get out there and try something new in a way that works for you.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Mission Accomplished
Well, I can finally say that I've finished the Lacloche Silhouette Trail in Killarney Provincial Park. This loop trail of ~78km has been my adventure nemesis since 2008. Previous attempts have all been scheduled to complete the loop in 4 or 5 days, but this time we aimed for 3 and actually finished in 2.
So what went right this time? Pretty much everything, actually. First off, this winter's lack of snow pack meant that water levels throughout the area were at record lows, especially for mid-spring. Last year we encountered saturated trails that resembled creeks, and creek crossings that required serious recon to find a safe way over. This time the trail was bone dry and the creek crossings were mere step-overs. Even wet crossings like this one, became a matter of two or three stepping stones to get over. Needless to say this saved a significant amount of time.
We were also able to skip a length out-and-back section of trail adjacent to a river. For some inexplicable reason the park installed an elaborate steel bridge over the creek nearly two kilometers out of the way. Given the low water levels this season we found a location to step across just a few hundred meters downstream. As much as this was a big time saver, it also proved to be our first stupid mistake of the trip. After throwing his pack across, Derek jumped over, but didn't entirely clear the stream and soaked one leg. He immediately warned me that the rock on the far bank was very slippery and to be careful. Somewhat overconfident in my agility, I threw him my pack and jumped over. I made the distance just fine, but my forward foot slid out as I landed and I fell very forcefully on my left hip. I could tell it wasn't a break of any sort, but knew we had to keep moving or the area would seize up. So we pushed on and had no further events until late in the day.
After pushing beyond our 'assigned' campsite for the day, we began to head uphill into the hills of the Hansen Township segment of the trail. We were feeling confident still and were entertaining thoughts of a 30 minute dinner break following which we would put on headlamps and continue into the night. However, we started to both make silly footing mistakes and took a few minor falls each. Upon arriving at campsite H22 we decided to spend the night and start early the next morning rather than push our luck and possibly risk a serious injury. So after a quick dinner we hung up our food and went to bed.
I woke up to the early light of pre-dawn and the songs of countless birds in the trees nearby. I check my watch and saw it was 5:30AM, and there was still 30 minutes before we had planned to get up. After a few minutes I could hear Derek tossing and turning in his bivy, and asked if he just wanted to get up and get started. He agreed, so we tore down camp, made some instant coffee and pop-tarts, then hit the trail. There were immediately a couple of significant up and downhill sections of trail, and this seemed to affirm the Hansen Township section's reputation as being the most challenging part of the trail. However, the majority of the trail was atop the ridge with excellent non-technical footing, and we made
incredibly fast time.
As the morning progressed I kept checking the map for upcoming landmarks and campsites, and making mental estimates of where we needed to be by lunch time in order to complete the remaining distance that day. My final judgement was that if we could get to the side trail junction for Silver Peak before noon, we could finish the remaining distance before dark. We passed that junction at 11:30AM, and were onto the final segment of trail by 12 noon. This is where the trail became challenging.
I had seen this section many times before, and covered the distances between its best-known features frequently enough to feel we could continue to make excellent time. What I had forgotten about was how broken and uneven the rock of the southern ridge was. The footing probably would have been fine if we had fewer miles in our legs, or sturdier footwear on our feet, but after 15 hours of walking we both had sore feet. Mine had developed several large blisters on each foot, and on weight bearing parts of my feet, so I was already walking slower and more gingerly than I would like. Adding very uneven footing, with nowhere to place a foot without thinking about it, to this situation forced us to slow down significantly. Soon we were both in the 'pain zone', had stopped talking, and were trudging on with heads down more than up. We took a 20 minute break at campsite H47 on Heaven Lake, which in my opinion is one of the prettiest spots I could hope to set up camp. We both restocked our water bottles and chowed down on junk food. I also was able to make a quick call home to Steph to confirm that we were okay and on pace. Our original plan would have had us camping at this location on night #2, and knowing there was good cell reception there, I had prearranged to make a call late that day to act as the first step of an emergency plan. Steph knew if we hadn't called by 6pm, that there was likely a reason for it and we were either dealing with illness or injury, and wouldn't have enough food to extricate ourselves to the next access point. Well, the call home was 4 hours early, and I was able to confidently declare that we would have the trail done and be home sometime before midnight!
After our 20 minute sit-down break (one of maybe 4 the entire trip), we pushed on towards 'the Crack'. This is one of Killarney's most famous features and a popular destination for day-hikers and car-campers. As with the preceding section of trail, the footing remained challenging, and there were a few significant little climbs to tax our energy and motivation levels. Upon arrival at Crack we stopped to admire views of Georgian Bay and Manitoulin Island to the south and southwest, and the interior of the park to the west and northwest. Of note, was just how low water levels were in the large interior lakes, even from such a distance away and from high elevation. This definitely aided our effort to complete the trail in a quick fashion, but would certainly be a challenge for navigation by canoe, and my pose fire risks later in the summer. After descending the Crack (essentially a boulder-filled crevasse), we continued on to the relatively flat trail running to the day-hike parking lot. Here the Lacloche Trail stays in the forest and continues west to George Lake campground. Given the utterly terrible condition of our feet, we opted to exit to the road and walk on non-challenging footing of the gravel roadside.
Our hike concluded around 6:30PM on day two of our outing. Hiking time: 20 hours. Total wilderness time: 29 hours. Distance covered: somewhere around 73-75 km. This was an utterly satisfying feeling to have finally completed the loop. Lost along the way was some of the enjoyment that comes from being able to stop and admire scenic vistas, frame and capture beautiful photographs, and being able stop and putter in camp with gear, fires, and tasty food.
 |
| 'High Risk' permit |
We were also able to skip a length out-and-back section of trail adjacent to a river. For some inexplicable reason the park installed an elaborate steel bridge over the creek nearly two kilometers out of the way. Given the low water levels this season we found a location to step across just a few hundred meters downstream. As much as this was a big time saver, it also proved to be our first stupid mistake of the trip. After throwing his pack across, Derek jumped over, but didn't entirely clear the stream and soaked one leg. He immediately warned me that the rock on the far bank was very slippery and to be careful. Somewhat overconfident in my agility, I threw him my pack and jumped over. I made the distance just fine, but my forward foot slid out as I landed and I fell very forcefully on my left hip. I could tell it wasn't a break of any sort, but knew we had to keep moving or the area would seize up. So we pushed on and had no further events until late in the day.
 |
| Our route. |
After pushing beyond our 'assigned' campsite for the day, we began to head uphill into the hills of the Hansen Township segment of the trail. We were feeling confident still and were entertaining thoughts of a 30 minute dinner break following which we would put on headlamps and continue into the night. However, we started to both make silly footing mistakes and took a few minor falls each. Upon arriving at campsite H22 we decided to spend the night and start early the next morning rather than push our luck and possibly risk a serious injury. So after a quick dinner we hung up our food and went to bed.
I woke up to the early light of pre-dawn and the songs of countless birds in the trees nearby. I check my watch and saw it was 5:30AM, and there was still 30 minutes before we had planned to get up. After a few minutes I could hear Derek tossing and turning in his bivy, and asked if he just wanted to get up and get started. He agreed, so we tore down camp, made some instant coffee and pop-tarts, then hit the trail. There were immediately a couple of significant up and downhill sections of trail, and this seemed to affirm the Hansen Township section's reputation as being the most challenging part of the trail. However, the majority of the trail was atop the ridge with excellent non-technical footing, and we made
incredibly fast time.
 |
| Hansen Township section |
I had seen this section many times before, and covered the distances between its best-known features frequently enough to feel we could continue to make excellent time. What I had forgotten about was how broken and uneven the rock of the southern ridge was. The footing probably would have been fine if we had fewer miles in our legs, or sturdier footwear on our feet, but after 15 hours of walking we both had sore feet. Mine had developed several large blisters on each foot, and on weight bearing parts of my feet, so I was already walking slower and more gingerly than I would like. Adding very uneven footing, with nowhere to place a foot without thinking about it, to this situation forced us to slow down significantly. Soon we were both in the 'pain zone', had stopped talking, and were trudging on with heads down more than up. We took a 20 minute break at campsite H47 on Heaven Lake, which in my opinion is one of the prettiest spots I could hope to set up camp. We both restocked our water bottles and chowed down on junk food. I also was able to make a quick call home to Steph to confirm that we were okay and on pace. Our original plan would have had us camping at this location on night #2, and knowing there was good cell reception there, I had prearranged to make a call late that day to act as the first step of an emergency plan. Steph knew if we hadn't called by 6pm, that there was likely a reason for it and we were either dealing with illness or injury, and wouldn't have enough food to extricate ourselves to the next access point. Well, the call home was 4 hours early, and I was able to confidently declare that we would have the trail done and be home sometime before midnight!
After our 20 minute sit-down break (one of maybe 4 the entire trip), we pushed on towards 'the Crack'. This is one of Killarney's most famous features and a popular destination for day-hikers and car-campers. As with the preceding section of trail, the footing remained challenging, and there were a few significant little climbs to tax our energy and motivation levels. Upon arrival at Crack we stopped to admire views of Georgian Bay and Manitoulin Island to the south and southwest, and the interior of the park to the west and northwest. Of note, was just how low water levels were in the large interior lakes, even from such a distance away and from high elevation. This definitely aided our effort to complete the trail in a quick fashion, but would certainly be a challenge for navigation by canoe, and my pose fire risks later in the summer. After descending the Crack (essentially a boulder-filled crevasse), we continued on to the relatively flat trail running to the day-hike parking lot. Here the Lacloche Trail stays in the forest and continues west to George Lake campground. Given the utterly terrible condition of our feet, we opted to exit to the road and walk on non-challenging footing of the gravel roadside.
Our hike concluded around 6:30PM on day two of our outing. Hiking time: 20 hours. Total wilderness time: 29 hours. Distance covered: somewhere around 73-75 km. This was an utterly satisfying feeling to have finally completed the loop. Lost along the way was some of the enjoyment that comes from being able to stop and admire scenic vistas, frame and capture beautiful photographs, and being able stop and putter in camp with gear, fires, and tasty food.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
On a Mission
- no 'in camp' time, just keep walking even if it's slow
- make quick work of easy terrain, but keep the pace down to avoid any 'red zone' time
Thursday, November 17, 2011
A Quick Dose: Highland Trail, Algonquin Park
A couple weekends ago I was able to cobble together enough time off to get out for a weekend hike with my buddy Dylan. We were about to head back to school following the autumn 'independent learning' (ie. avoid anything to do with school) week, and headed north to Algonquin Park for some backcountry adventure.
We stopped en route in Huntsville for dinner at a local watering hole, and to grab up some supplies at the grocery store. Being late October, it was already dark by about 6:30pm, and we had to set up in the dark upon arrival at Mew Lake campground. It got surprisingly cold that night, and sometime in the early hours it began to rain lightly. Actually, once it began to get light out we realized it was actually snow. Eager to get on the trail we heated up some breakfast and packed up camp. Unfortunately for us, the permit office wasn't open and wouldn't be open until 10am. Somewhat disappointed, but with little option, we drove down slippery roads to the visitor centre to kill some time and enjoy a hot chocolate.
Once 10am rolled around we quickly picked up permits and got on the trail. Our route gave us several options in terms of what kind of mileage and time we could put in. Our permit was for the east end of Provoking Lake, which is on the first loop of the Highland Trail. We could travel counter-clockwise, circumnavigating most of the lake and hiking 15+km on the day, or travel clockwise and total about 8km. We opted to take the short option and enjoy the scenery with no pressure to make time on the trail.
Along the way we stopped at the bridge that crosses the Madawaska River. The snow on the trees and ice around the rapids below were beautiful, and an interesting contrast to previous times I'd been to the same spot.
Further along the trail, we took a short side-trail to a look-out on a cliff high above Starling Lake. Further to the south we could also see Lake of Two Rivers, and the old Mew Lake airfield.
Moving on, we arrived at camp in time for a late lunch. After refueling and setting up camp, we explored further down the trail to the east of camp. In a nearby campsite someone had left a massive pile of hemlock boughs on top of a pile of dry pine needles raked up from all over the site, essentially leaving the most of the area bare. Now I can see someone raking up all those dead needles to supplement their mattress for comfort and warmth, especially with the below-average temperatures we were experiencing, but cutting live boughs old-school bushcraft style was shocking to see in such a high-traffic area of Ontario's busiest park. Sure, trees are a renewable resource, but if everyone made their beds this way at each site they visited this part of the park would soon be stripped bare. Let's work on those LNT practices people!
After returning to camp we collected some firewood (fallen deadwood, as per the park regs), took some photos of the lake and our home for the night, and got some dinner going. While puttering in camp a couple of hikers arrived, having taken the side trail to our site and missing the main trail. We pointed them in the right direction, explaining that the next site was across a small bay from where we were. Somehow the 'bay' portion didn't seem to register, and they headed straight for the shoreline. A little clarification got them on the right path again. Following dinner that night, these new 'neighbours' had a full-blown domestic dispute with their R-rated argument traveling clearly through the night air over the lake. It was tough to piece together the actual conversation, but we were given plenty of opportunity to make our own jokes at their expense. We clearly had little recourse as it was just a really loud argument, and trying to confront them about the noise would likely only give them a mutual target for their anger. Things eventually settled down, possibly with an amourous conclusion if the last sounds we heard from them were anything to go by.
Our other neighbours on the lake, out of site around a point to the west, were having a good time from the sound of things, but they too got quiet as the night air got colder and colder. With most of our firewood used up, we called it a day too. Dylan took a hot rock into his sleeping bag, while I benefited from the auxiliary heat provided by Panzer.
In the morning we packed up fairly quickly and headed for the trailhead. Panzer had been limping around for much of the previous evening, so we took a little shortcut via a portage which connected to a nearby 'rail trail' in order to keep the terrain a little less demanding. I'm not sure that it mattered in the end, as Pan seemed to have recuperated over night (what can I say, he is a tank), but it did cut a bit of time off our hike. With classes resuming the next day, and several big assignments and tests in the following days, getting back to Lindsay seemed like a good idea. All in all it was good weekend adventure and a nice way to wrap up our break week.
We stopped en route in Huntsville for dinner at a local watering hole, and to grab up some supplies at the grocery store. Being late October, it was already dark by about 6:30pm, and we had to set up in the dark upon arrival at Mew Lake campground. It got surprisingly cold that night, and sometime in the early hours it began to rain lightly. Actually, once it began to get light out we realized it was actually snow. Eager to get on the trail we heated up some breakfast and packed up camp. Unfortunately for us, the permit office wasn't open and wouldn't be open until 10am. Somewhat disappointed, but with little option, we drove down slippery roads to the visitor centre to kill some time and enjoy a hot chocolate.
Once 10am rolled around we quickly picked up permits and got on the trail. Our route gave us several options in terms of what kind of mileage and time we could put in. Our permit was for the east end of Provoking Lake, which is on the first loop of the Highland Trail. We could travel counter-clockwise, circumnavigating most of the lake and hiking 15+km on the day, or travel clockwise and total about 8km. We opted to take the short option and enjoy the scenery with no pressure to make time on the trail.
Along the way we stopped at the bridge that crosses the Madawaska River. The snow on the trees and ice around the rapids below were beautiful, and an interesting contrast to previous times I'd been to the same spot.
 | ||||
| Madawaska River |
 |
| Madawaska crossing: Dylan and Panzer |
Further along the trail, we took a short side-trail to a look-out on a cliff high above Starling Lake. Further to the south we could also see Lake of Two Rivers, and the old Mew Lake airfield.
 |
| Above Starling Lake |
 | |
| Left to Right: Starling Lk., Mew Lake Airfield, Lake of Two Rivers |
Moving on, we arrived at camp in time for a late lunch. After refueling and setting up camp, we explored further down the trail to the east of camp. In a nearby campsite someone had left a massive pile of hemlock boughs on top of a pile of dry pine needles raked up from all over the site, essentially leaving the most of the area bare. Now I can see someone raking up all those dead needles to supplement their mattress for comfort and warmth, especially with the below-average temperatures we were experiencing, but cutting live boughs old-school bushcraft style was shocking to see in such a high-traffic area of Ontario's busiest park. Sure, trees are a renewable resource, but if everyone made their beds this way at each site they visited this part of the park would soon be stripped bare. Let's work on those LNT practices people!
 |
| Home for a Night |
After returning to camp we collected some firewood (fallen deadwood, as per the park regs), took some photos of the lake and our home for the night, and got some dinner going. While puttering in camp a couple of hikers arrived, having taken the side trail to our site and missing the main trail. We pointed them in the right direction, explaining that the next site was across a small bay from where we were. Somehow the 'bay' portion didn't seem to register, and they headed straight for the shoreline. A little clarification got them on the right path again. Following dinner that night, these new 'neighbours' had a full-blown domestic dispute with their R-rated argument traveling clearly through the night air over the lake. It was tough to piece together the actual conversation, but we were given plenty of opportunity to make our own jokes at their expense. We clearly had little recourse as it was just a really loud argument, and trying to confront them about the noise would likely only give them a mutual target for their anger. Things eventually settled down, possibly with an amourous conclusion if the last sounds we heard from them were anything to go by.
 |
| A Cold Evening |
Our other neighbours on the lake, out of site around a point to the west, were having a good time from the sound of things, but they too got quiet as the night air got colder and colder. With most of our firewood used up, we called it a day too. Dylan took a hot rock into his sleeping bag, while I benefited from the auxiliary heat provided by Panzer.
 |
| Cozy dog |
In the morning we packed up fairly quickly and headed for the trailhead. Panzer had been limping around for much of the previous evening, so we took a little shortcut via a portage which connected to a nearby 'rail trail' in order to keep the terrain a little less demanding. I'm not sure that it mattered in the end, as Pan seemed to have recuperated over night (what can I say, he is a tank), but it did cut a bit of time off our hike. With classes resuming the next day, and several big assignments and tests in the following days, getting back to Lindsay seemed like a good idea. All in all it was good weekend adventure and a nice way to wrap up our break week.
 | ||||
| Misty Dawn |
 |
| Independent learning: Acer saccharum |
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