Welcome back to The Thunderbox! It’s been a minute since we published one of these. I think the last monthly (ha) edition was posted in November of 2023. Going forward, I can’t promise this will be a regular thing, but let’s see if we can make it happen more frequently than once every 18 months. A quick note for anyone receiving this through an email subscription. First of all, thank you for subscribing! Secondly, this post looks better when viewed through the website. This link will take you there: The Thunderbox
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We’re at the end of shoveling season (please let that be true). Here in Ottawa that’s actually meant something this year. After a couple of relatively mild years, winter came back with a vengeance in 2025. We’ve had a ton of snow in the Nation’s Capital and it seemed like it all arrived in the same week. That’s good news for snowblower sales and bad news for my back. Also bad news for my back? The route my buddy Mark and I just planned for our annual spring trip.
Sweet segue.
Map Courtesy of Maps by Jeff
This year’s spring opener is a big one. It’s the most ambitious trip we’ve ever put together in terms of total kilometers. If everything goes as planned we’ll be covering 175 kilometers over 8 days in mid May. If everything doesn’t go as planned you’ll find us stranded somewhere on North Cuckoo Lake arguing over who’s idea it was to plan a first trip of the season with average travel days of over 20 kilometers (uh, mine, but don’t remind me if it looks like I’m winning the argument).
20 klicks a day? That kind of flies in the face of multiple years worth of Lessons Learned posts, doesn’t it Drew? Well, yes. But here’s the part where I try to convince you, and myself, that this time will be different .
This year’s trip, unlike our last few, is a more paddling focused trip. We’re covering significantly more total distance than we did last year and the year before, but our planned portage distance is actually less than what we covered last year and not all that much more than what we did the year before. In 2023 about 25% of the total distance was portaging and in 2024 it was about 30% of the total distance. This year, we’re planning for about 20%. And, on average, those portages are shorter than last year’s and in the same neighbourhood as the year before.
Why am I clinging so desperately to these cherry picked portage figures? Because portages suck. They are typically the most draining part of a canoe tripping day (assuming that day doesn’t include a hellscape pretending to be the Aylen River or any other of Algonquin’s fine alder sanctuaries). And it’s not just the portages themselves. Loading and unloading eats time, takes energy and is one of the best opportunities you’ll get on a trip to wreck your back. All in all it adds up to a lot of extra time. My well researched and not at all made up just now theory is that for every minute you spend on a portage you’re costing yourself three or four minutes on the water. So, theoretically, if you’re adding a bunch of kilometers to your total distance, it’s better for those kilometers to be on the water, right? (Please direct all helpful reminders about headwinds and weather delays to hr@opm.gov).
Okay, so we’re all agreed that adding distance on the water is the best way to add distance. Still, our route is another 30 kilometers over and above our longest trip. Seems a bit aggressive, right?
Well, yes. But, maybe no?
Nice Trail!
I’m holding onto two things for this one. While this route does explore some new (to us) territory, a decent chunk of it is along routes that Mark and I have paddled before. There’s got to be some kind of bonus for familiarity, right? On top of that, the majority of this year’s trip is along regular maintenance routes. In recent years we’ve been exploring more low maintenance parts of the Park. Among other things, this typically means more difficult portages that haven’t seen a ton of TLC (Last year we did 9 KM of low maintenance portaging in a single day. This year we’ve got about 9 KM of low maintenance portage spread out across the entire route). It also usually means smaller lakes with more frequent portages leading to more frequent load/unload time sucks. Finally, you’ve probably got a couple of *expletive deleted* creeks thrown into the mix as well. A regular maintenance route usually means a more heavily trafficked part of the Park. This means the portages should be receiving more frequent maintenance, the *expletive deleted* creeks aren’t as long and there shouldn’t be as many load/unload delays as you small lake hop.
That’s the theory, at least. Does it add up to an extra 30 kilometers over the same number of days? We’ll find out I guess. The good news is that our route gives us lots of outs. If we get to Day 4 and realize we’ve signed ourselves up for something terrible, we can cut off part of the loop and still have ourselves a great trip. Same for Days 5 and 6. But, you know what? That’s not going to happen. I’m excited about this route. It’s getting me to lakes I’ve wanted to visit for years, and taking me back to lakes that I’ve wanted to see again for almost as long. It’s also fun. We get a little bit of everything. We’re on the Tim River, we’re checking out the cellar on Burntroot, we’re adding in a water taxi ride across Opeongo (only way to make the loop work. Without the taxi the trip would be over 200 kilometers) and we’re touching on almost every one of our previous trips at some point along the way.
Awesome.
Bringing back the Trip Calculator for this one!
Historically, issues of The Thunderbox have followed a pretty standard template. There’s a short intro section, followed by Spotlight Lake and Gear Review sections then a rundown of my most recent campsite and trip reports. That template will probably come back some day, but that day is not today! Why? Because I don’t feel like doing a Spotlight Lake right now. I feel like writing about ruins. So that’s what I’m going to do!
Ruin o' the Month
There are ruins scattered all over Algonquin. Makes sense. The Park has had (and continues to have) multiple uses over the years. It sometimes seems like you can’t go more than a couple of lakes without stumbling over some relic from the distant (and not so distant) past. Maybe it’s a slowly disintegrating ranger cabin or the footprint of an old farmstead or the ruins of an old sawmill or … well, you get the picture.
These occasional glimpses back in time are some of my favourite moments in the Park. I love that that there were people standing where I’m standing, seeing the same view I’m seeing, decades (and centuries!) ago. I like to think about what life must have been like for them. For the most part these ruins are what’s left from people who lived and worked in the Park. People for whom Algonquin was their world, not just a place they paddled through on the weekends. It’s a world and a life I can’t really begin to imagine from the comfort of the 2020s (which, uh, aren’t allthatcomfortable at the moment), which makes it so very cool to stumble across its remnants every so often.
I’ve visited quite a few abandoned cabins in the Park over the years. The ranger cabin in the picture above is on Guthrie Lake and it’s probably been my favourite so far. I came across this one in May 2018 and something about this spot really spoke to me. (Editor’s Note: If a cabin speaks to you, run). Guthrie is a pretty little lake that isn’t all that close to anything. To get there you need to follow a low maintenance route that lives up to its ‘low maintenance’ billing. But once you get there it’s worth the effort. The cabin sits on a small point at the north end of the lake. The point is dotted with pine and has a great view of the rest of the lake, including of the small rock wall that lines part of the eastern shore.
When I said I wanted a cabin with a view I didn’t mean of the sky.
Walking around the crumbling walls I could imagine a ranger standing in the doorway of a less dilapidated version of the cabin, watching the early morning mist rise over the water and planning their route for the day. Maybe they’re heading down to Clover Lake, or back up to Macdonald Creek. Maybe they’re hiking towards Basin Lake, or cutting back to one of the logging roads that would have criss-crossed the Park even then. Whatever it was, they’re probably seeing parts of the Park that very few of us ever get to.
I’ve heard that the Guthrie ruins are in much worse shape now than they were back when I saw them. That’s too bad. It would be nice if it were somehow possible to freeze these things in time so that future trippers’ imaginations can be triggered the way mine was. Eventually all that’s going to be left of that cabin will be a few moss covered logs, and I don’t know if that has the same impact. The good news is that I do know that, cabin or no cabin, that spot on Guthrie Lake is going to be enjoyed by paddlers for years to come. Sure, the ruins are cool. But the real magic of that decaying log cabin isn’t so much the building as it is the place where the building stood. And that place, that secluded little point at the north end of a lake where the morning mist rises from the water and the possibilities for a day of exploration are seemingly endless, is going to be around for a good long time to come.
Spotlight Sites
I said I wasn’t going to do my usual rundown of recent campsite reports this time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to talk about campsites. I figure, instead of just listing off some of the sites I’ve been to recently, why not check in on the ones I want to visit again? (if my blurb for each spot isn’t enough, you can click on the accompanying picture to go to the full review).
This is an awesome site on Manitou’s west shore. Tucked into a small bay just before the portage onto Fassett Creek, this is probably my favourite of the Manitou sites I’ve visited. The beach kind of speaks for itself, but the fire pit and surrounding area are just as nice. There’s a slight hill up from the lake, and at the top of that hill there’s a nice and level pad that is tailor made for watching the water after a good dinner (and for pitching your bug tent!).
This is a fantastic island site on Fork Lake. Fork is one of the closest lakes to Highway 60 (so much so that I’m pretty sure I heard a truck or two when I was staying here). But this site is great. It’s one of only two on Fork, which means you’ll have a semi-private lake, and it’s got a lot going for it. It’s got a big footprint, lots of room for tents, great views and a nice fire pit area. Best of all? It’s not Fork Lake, Site 1!
Okay, this is cheating. This section is clearly called Spotlight Sites, not Spotlight Ranger Cabins. That said, I still very much want to go back to this cabin some day. Located at the south end of McKaskill Lake, this cabin is awesome. It’s got a great view of McKaskill, nice swimming, and a bug tight (ish) interior! It’s also conveniently located for a bunch of day trips and way better than being in a tent if it’s snowing (I know this from experience).
Radical Routes
From time to time I get asked for route recommendations. Honestly, if you’re a regular reader of this blog I’d hope by now you’d know not to take my advice on anything camping related. But if you really feel like throwing caution to the winds and listening to a guy who once thought it would be a good idea to race a thunderstorm across Kiosk, there are a few routes I’d personally love to do again. I’ll talk about one of them in here. Who knows, maybe this will be a regular thing? Or maybe this will be like that episode of The Office that takes place entirely at Schrute Farm and we’ll never hear from Radical Routes again. In the meantime, let’s talk about the Welcome Lake loop.
The Welcome Lake Route is a two or three night trip out of the Rock Lake access point. This is a great route for anyone with a couple of trips under their belt who want to try some longer portages and get a bit deeper into the Park than you might do on a typical overnight or two night trip. This route offers a little bit of everything. It’s got big lakes, small lakes, rivers, a leg munching mud pit, beaches, waterfalls and, of course, portages. The loop includes one of my top five favourite lakes in the Park (Louisa) and one of my top five places to wade through mud in the pouring rain (between Rence and Frank).
I’m not going to write a full trip report of the loop here, I’ve already done that elsewhere, but I am going to hit some highlights. And I’m doing it with bullet points.
I’d be curious to see how which direction most people pick do do this route. We did it clockwise and it worked pretty well. Starting from the Rock Lake access point (access #9 on Highway 60), we paddled south to Pen Lake where we stayed for our first night. Our second day took us west through Welcome, Harry, Rence, Frank and Florence before settling on Louisa for the night. Our final day took us from Louisa back to Rock. This worked out fine, but if we’d had a bit more time I think I would rather have pushed on to Welcome Lake for the first night. Why? We’ll get there.
Pen Falls, Fall ColoursThis route has a couple of pretty waterfalls along the way. The portage between Rock and Pen goes along a short river. This isn’t so much a falls as it’s a series of stumbles (I’ve definitely used that joke before, but we’re nine years into this thing and the well is running dry. Fortunately, the falls are still flowing freely). This spot is particularly lovely during fall colours.
The second set of falls is just west of Pen Lake along the P280 that joins leads to the Galipo River. I’d love to tell you how much I liked checking out these falls but that would be a lie. I didn’t even know these falls existed until I was watching back the video my buddy made of this trip months later. Turns out I’d walked right past them with the canoe on my head. Honestly, this makes sense. It once took me a month to realize the house behind us had been torn down.
Welcome Lake is beautiful. It’s shores are lined with beaches and I’ve been told the campsites are decent. We stayed the first night on Pen just across from the Galipo River outlet and while the site was fine, in retrospect it would have been nice to have the time to make the trip across to Welcome.
After Welcome you paddle through Harry and Rence Lakes, which are connected by the Galipo River, so no portages, right? Well, sort of. There are no portages, but we were definitely walking in parts. I’ll let Trip Report Drew tell you about it.
“It turns out that the stretch between Harry Lake and Rence Lake was less awesome than the stretch between Welcome and Harry. Water levels were lower, the beaver dams were dammier and there’s a fun little stretch at the end where the only option is to drag across an ankle deep sandbar while it rains on you. Oh yeah, it had started to rain again.”
Once you get through Harry and Rence you turn north towards Louisa. This starts with a large dam and a massively muddy spot that is just waiting for you to step wrong. If you can make it through this part without losing your boots, the rest of the trip from Rence to Louisa is pretty decent (provided you don’t have to stop and try and fight a root fire on Frank Lake like we did).
Louisa is one of my favourite lakes in the Park. It’s huge, it’s got a bunch of greatsites and it’s got some beautiful views. Seriously. Just go there.
Looking east down Lake Louisa
The trip ends with a p3000 across to Rock Lake and a stop at Pictobay on Rock Lake’s west side. This is a bay about halfway between the Louisa portage and the access point that is absolutely dominated by a massive rock wall. The cliffs are pretty cool, but it’s what’s at the base of them that makes it really special. If you look close enough you can find some very old indigenous art. You know what, I’m going to leave this to Trip Report Drew as well.
“I don’t quite know what to say about these. It’s one of those things I think you have to experience for yourself. On the surface, it’s a simple design. A few faded rust coloured spots in the shape of an animal. But then you start to think about what that animal might represent to the person who painted it, and how long ago they lived, and how incredible it is that you’re following in the footsteps (paddle strokes?) of people who have been travelling these waterways for hundreds of years and those few faded spots take on a whole lot of significance.”
And that’s about it for the Welcome Lake Loop. After you’ve finished pondering your place in the cosmos and the seemingly infinite march of time, all that’s left to do is paddle back to the access point and eat some post trip Doritos. I said it before, but I’ll say it again: this is a great little loop. I would happily paddle it again. It’s a good option if you’ve got some newer (but adventurous) trippers in your group, and it’s a good option if you’re a seasoned vet looking for a nice weekend loop. You know what? It’s just a good option. So go check it out!
Ice Out Update
The ice ain’t out.
Brewer Lake - April 18, 2025 - Gonna be hard to paddle this one today.
Final Thoughts
And that’s it for the Spring 2025 Thunderbox. Thanks for tuning in (especially if you’ve made it this far). Like I said off the top, I doubt these will become regular posts again, but I sure hope I can get at least a couple out per year. It’s fun writing about the Park outside of the lens of a trip report or campsite review.
As I’m writing this section, it’s April 16 and the ice is still making itself at home in Algonquin, settling in and running up the electricity bill like a houseguest who should have moved out a month ago. I spoke with one of the guys from Algonquin Outfitters a couple of weeks ago and he told me the ice was still 30 inches thick in front of the Opeongo store. That’s nuts. The Park is supposedly opening for backcountry trips as of May 2, but I’m not holding my breath. Our trip is booked for mid month and I’m not too worried about it. I figure the Park might have only been open for a couple of days by the time we push off from Canoe Lake, but I do think it will be open. And I can’t wait.
Why am I clinging so desperately to these cherry picked portage figures? Because portages suck. They are typically the most draining part of a canoe tripping day (assuming that day doesn’t include a hellscape pretending to be the Aylen River or any other of Algonquin’s fine alder sanctuaries). And it’s not just the portages themselves. Loading and unloading eats time, takes energy and is one of the best opportunities you’ll get on a trip to wreck your back. All in all it adds up to a lot of extra time. My well researched and not at all made up just now theory is that for every minute you spend on a portage you’re costing yourself three or four minutes on the water. So, theoretically, if you’re adding a bunch of kilometers to your total distance, it’s better for those kilometers to be on the water, right? (Please direct all helpful reminders about headwinds and weather delays to hr@opm.gov). 
Welcome Lake is beautiful. It’s shores are lined with beaches and I’ve been told the campsites are decent. We stayed the first night on Pen just across from the Galipo River outlet and while the site was fine, in retrospect it would have been nice to have the time to make the trip across to Welcome.
Once you get through Harry and Rence you turn north towards Louisa. This starts with a large dam and a massively muddy spot that is just waiting for you to step wrong. If you can make it through this part without losing your boots, the rest of the trip from Rence to Louisa is pretty decent (provided you don’t have to stop and try and fight a root fire on Frank Lake like we did).
