Trip Reports, Campsites & More
Welcome to the 2024 Moosie Awards! It’s hard to believe we’re nine years into The Moosies, but it’s also hard to believe that they cancelled Firefly after only 14 perfect episodes. But they did (cancel Firely), and we are (nine years into the Moosies). If you’re new to these parts, The Moosies are my annual look back at the past tripping year where I hand out awards in categories like Worst Portage, Best Campsite and, new this year, Best Video Of A Beaver Doing Beaver Things (guess which animal I got a video of this year!).
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If you’ve read my 2024 Lessons Learned post you’ll know that this was a lighter than usual year for me as far as tripping was concerned. I got out on four trips total, one in April, one in May, one in September and one in November. You’ll probably notice that there’s a large, summer shaped hole in that list. That’s because my family and I took off on a trip of a lifetime through parts of Europe in July. The trip was unforgettable while also eating up any time I might usually set aside for canoe tripping in the summer. Not that I’m complaining, standing at the Top of Europe is a pretty good alternative to standing at the top of The Devil’s Staircase. Fewer bugs, too.
The good news is that even though it was a light year for tripping, I managed to pack a lot in to the trips I did do. There were beautiful views, animal sightings, campsite visits and terrible thunderboxes aplenty. As always, The Moosies will be split into two posts. The first will cover the smaller awards like Best/Worst Portage, Best Swimming Spot and Best Sunset. Part Two will cover the big ones: Best Lake, Best Campsite and Best Route. Unlike last year, when there was a clear favourite for that last one, this year I’m not so sure. All my trips were fun, and I think each of them could make an argument for Best Route. So who will it be? You’ll have to read on to find out, so let’s get started.
Let’s start with a new category. Algonquin has 29 official access points and quite a few unofficial ones as well. You can access the Park from the north, south, east and west, or follow highway 60 into the heart of the Park and bust out of its center like a chestburster in Alien. In other words, you’ve got lots of options for where you can start your trip. Which probably means this is going to be a robust category with plenty of strong contenders, right?
*flips through notes*
Oh. There’s one contender. Just one.
It turns out I started almost all of my trips this year from the same access point, #17, Shall Lake. This means that the default winner for the inaugural Best Access Point Moosie Award is the Shall Lake Access Point (default winning: when you come away with the W but still feel like you lost).
The good news is if you’re going to be a one access point tripper there are worse places to start than Shall Lake. Located about 40 KM north of the town of Madawaska on the eastern side of the Park, the Shall Access Point has something for everyone. You can use it for easy access to nearby, family-friendly lakes like Farm, Crotch, Booth and Shirley, or it can be a jumping off point for longer trips looking for relatively quick access up into the center of the Park. I’ve started family trips from Shall Lake and I’ve started trips that would guarantee my family would no longer be speaking to me if l’d dragged them along from there as well. On top of the diversity of route options you’ve also got easy access to three of the Park’s historic ranger cabins, plenty of really nice campsites (particularly on Booth) and more than a few nooks and crannies to check out if you feel like exploring. All in all, it’s a good spot and it’s the (default) winner of this year’s first Moosie,
Last year was a banner year in the Best Swimming Category. We had contenders that would have easily won in other years that didn’t even come close to topping the eventual winner, Clamshell Lake. In fact, I would guess that when we do the tenth anniversary Uber Moosie Awards and stack all the award winners throughout the years against each other, last year’s contenders will own the podium in a way that we haven’t seen since Vancouver 2010.
This year … not so much.
Don’t get me wrong! Any swim in Algonquin Park is a good swim. But, to take home a Moosie you don’t want to be just good. You want to be great. And great was kinda lacking in the swimming department this year.

Both of this year’s contenders come from my eight day pre-May 24 trip. Unlike 2023’s version of that trip, where snow and freezing rain were a regular thing and the only way l’d be putting on a bathing suit is if it was the first of six more layers, 2024’s May trip felt more like mid-summer than mid-spring. The temperatures were in the 20s almost every day and we didn’t see a drop of rain the entire time. What we did see were a ton of portages. And bugs. And the thing you want most in the world after a long day of portaging and running from insects is a nice place to cool down and rinse the dead bugs from your hairline.
The two best places to wash away those bugs were in front of the McKaskill Ranger Cabin and Site 1 on White Partridge Lake. Both of these spots are westward facing and both get great afternoon sun. The far shore is a bit further away on White Partridge, so it felt like it kept the sun a bit longer, but both work well as spots to bake away in the afternoon heat. White Partridge is fronted by gently sloping slabs of flat rock that are almost ideal for slipping in and out of the water. The McKaskill cabin has a pretty steep climb down to the water, but that’s not such a big deal as the Park has installed a handy set of stairs from the top of the hill to the best swimming spot. The underwater terrain around White Partridge is rocky, which means you need to watch your footing a bit, while the underwater terrain in front of the McKaskill Cabin is silky soft. I’d still want to be wearing water shoes at both places, but i’d be a little less worried about slicing my foot open at McKaskill.
Pretty evenly matched, right? The shoreline is better at White Partridge but the underwater terrain is better at McKaskill. It seems like it should be a tough choice, but it’s not. By far, my favourite swimming spot of the two, and the winner of this year’s Best Swimming Spot Moosie Award, is White Partridge Lake – Site 1.
But why Drew? Why?
For me, the shoreline is what puts White Partridge over the top. I love those big slabs of rock that run into the lake. They’re great for getting in and out of the water from, they’re perfect for drying off on and, as an added bonus, when you’re getting out of the water after your swim you’ve got a relatively debris free surface which means you’re not immediately getting half a forest floor’s worth of dirt and crud stuck to the bottom of your feet like you are if you try to walk around the McKaskill site. On top of all that, there’s a cool little island not that far offshore that would be fun to try and swim to if you’re feeling energetic (which I was most definitely not on the day we stayed there).
So, congratulations White Partridge – Site 1. You’re the winner of this year’s Best Swimming Spot Moosie. I’d say see you at the 10 anniversary Uber Moosies but, let’s be honest, you’re probably not even making it out of the qualifying round.

Portages get a bad rap. They’re an integral part of any canoe trip and an intimate reminder that you’re travelling through the wilderness. When you’re in the canoe each paddle stroke can feel a lot like the last. On a big lake it can seem like that smear on the horizon that marks the far shore doesn’t change all that much from minute to minute. When you’re on a portage every step, every bend in the path, every hill brings new sights, new sounds and new experiences There’s nothing that compares to that first flash of blue as you get to the end of your carry, just as there’s nothing that compares to the feeling of accomplishment when you finally put down the boat and reflect on what you ve just finished. Portages are good. And the best one I crossed this year, and the winner of this year’s Best Portage Moosie, is the p760 from Farm Lake to Bridle Lake.
This is a great little carry. At 760 meters it’s not far enough to leave you gasping, but far enough that you feel like you’ve accomplished something by the end. The path is clear, level and straight. There was not an instant where I felt like I was in danger of losing the trail, and the open forest on either side made for a gorgeous walk. I did this carry in early November, and my favourite moment was passing through a small copse of … let’s call them fir trees? That had a faint dusting of snow on their branches. It felt like I was walking through a Christmas Tree farm and it reminded me that sometimes the best moments on the canoe trip come when you’re walking under the boat rather than sitting inside it.
Portages are the worst They’re a necessary evil if you want to do any kind of long canoe trip and an intimate reminder that your back hates you and wasn’t built for this s#it. When you’re on a particularly long or technical portage every step can feel like it’s your last. Portages are the black holes of the wilderness. Time slows down as you cross their event horizon, then keeps slowing down the further you go. There’s nothing that compares to seeing that first flash of blue then realizing that that flash was a head fake and the trail actually goes for another five hundred meters, just as there’s nothing that compares to the feeling of despair when you finally put down the boat, look across the puddle in front of you and realize that you’ve got another forced march through the bugs waiting for you in about 50 paddle strokes. Portages suck. And the worst one I crossed this year, and the winner (there are no winners here) of this year’s Worst Portage Moosie is the p2600 between Little Dickson Lake and Sundassa Lake.

I don’t even know where to start with this carry. This is a low maintenance portage on the route between Dickson Lake and White Partridge Lake. We did this portage towards the end of an already long day and it damn near broke me. We must have been one of the first people through for the year, because the trail was littered with blowdowns and deadfall. At the worst parts it felt like I was stopping every 50 meters (or less) to navigate around some godforsaken bundle of sticks that used to be a tree branch. It was like I was walking through the Graveyard of the Ents. The trail wasn’t always clear, and I found myself wondering where I was supposed to go a couple of times. At one point, we wandered off the path into a quagmire of downed tree trunks and branches and didn’t realize we were off the trail because the mess we were trying to push through looked exactly like the mess we’d already pushed through. Ugh. Just thinking about it now is making me wonder how much I can get for my canoe on Ebay (do people still use Ebay?). And I haven’t even started on the bugs.
There were bugs. Lots of bugs
You know what? That’s enough. I don’t want to dwell on, or ever think about again, that carry.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the P2600 between Little Dickson and Sundassa! This year’s Worst Portage, and the carry that will haunt my nightmares until I hang up the paddles for good.
I don’t do a best animal sighting award every year. That’s because some years the only animal I see is our dog swimming in frantic circles like a slightly unhinged perpetual motion machine trying to eat the splash from her paws. You’d think that in a paddling season where I only had four trips and 13 days in the Park this category might have to take a year off but, like my dog thinking that next time she’s finally going to get that splash once and for all, you’d be wrong.
I saw lots of animals this year! So many that it’s hard to pick a winner. I love seeing the wildlife in the Park and each sighting is always really fun. I watched an eagle soar over Lavielle back in May, then another one circling Farm Lake in November. I followed a flock of Snow Buntings up Major Lake Road and paddled past pairs of loons on Round Island Lake. I watched a pair of river otters splash across the Opeongo River, disappear into the woods then jump out in front of us and splash across the river again a few minutes later. I watched a beaver dive on Mountain Lake and narrowly missed a camouflaged moose in between Booth and Chipmunk (I’m calling this one a vicarious moose encounter). But I think my favourite sighting of all was my last sighting of the year, a solitary moose silhouetted against the darkening sky on the hydro cut near Shall Lake just before sunset this past November.
As far as sightings go, this one probably wouldn’t get into the record books on details alone. We were far away (paddling along the Opeongo River toward Shall Lake while the moose was about half a kilometer away at the top of a hill) and it was a brief sighting (the moose, quite reasonably given that it was the day before hunting season opened, didn’t seem to want to hang out in that massive clearing for too long). That said, the sighting came at the end of my last trip of the year and was the perfect capper on both the day and the tripping season. It was also my first moose sighting of the year, and I’m always a bit disappointed if I go a full season without running into any of the Park’s organic AT-AT Walkers. Besides, the other main contender for this year is about to get a category all to themselves. In fact, let’s do that now!
You may have noticed that I have barely any pictures to back up all those animal sightings I listed in the previous category. That’s because it turns out I’m really bad at getting my camera out when it counts. Want a thousand pictures of a random rock in the middle of Maple Creek? Then I’m your man. Want a quick enough reaction time to get a shot of that moose before it crashes into the forest? Nope, not me (maybe head over to check out Cody’s work at Algonquin & Beyond, he’s got a ton of great wildlife shots (but then come back here for more pictures of rocks)). Which is why I was so excited when I was actually able to get my camera out to capture a video of a beaver swimming across Mountain Lake, and why I was even more excited when it did a beaver thing for me without even being asked. Granted, this is a very specific category with no other competitors, but it’s a category nonetheless so congratulations to our inaugural winner in the Best Video of a Beaver Doing Beaver Things category, this video!
Our last category for Part One is an old favourite. Sunsets are the best (sunrises too, but who’s go time for those anymore?). It’s pretty amazing what you get when you mix sunlight, clouds and, I dunno, magic? Whatever it is, whoever’s in charge of putting together the sunsets in Algonquin continues to knock it out of the Park. That said, this is kind of a tough category to judge this year. Not because I didn’t have any sunsets, turns out they happen every day, but because they were all kind of the same.
I was very lucky with weather this year. My entire spring trip the thermostat was set to blue skies and 20. That makes for awesome tripping weather but apparently slightly less awe inspiring sunsets. Without clouds, most nights were some version of watching an orange ball drop over the horizon. Which is great! But means that none of them really stood out. So, how do we judge Best Sunset? We don’t! Instead, we take the easy way out, call it a four way tie and move on to Part Two (how’s that for an unsatisfying ending?). So, in no particular order, here are my four favourite sunsets of the year:




And that’s it for Part One of this year’s Moosies! We’ll be back in a few days with Part Two and categories like Best Campsite, Best Lake and Best Route. Until then, it’s trip planning season! The only thing better than poring over the map in February is paddling across that map in May. My May trip is set and I’ve started looking at some mid-summer options as well. With any luck I’ll have at least a couple of trips firmed up by the time Part Two comes out. Then all that’s left to do is go sit at the edge of Opeongo with a flame thrower and wait for the ice to go away.
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