Canoe Lake to Catfish & Beyond
Part One: Canoe Lake to Shippagew
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The End
There’s something deeply disconcerting about coming to the end of a portage that you started under blue skies to find a wall of towering grey looming over you. It’s like you entered the woods in one dimension and exited into another. And the new dimension kind of sucks. Unfortunately you can’t turn back to the blue sky dimension, that door is closed and it’s blocked by an impenetrable wall of bugs. The only way you can go is forward, quickly, and hope that you can make it to your site before the thunder does.
The Beginning
Thanks to many years of trial and mostly error I’ve refined the rules for planning my spring canoe trip down to a science. I’ve figured out what works, what doesn’t work so well, and what’s a downright disaster. And first and foremost among those spring trip planning rules, my Canoe Tripping Prime Directive if you will, is to start slow (and don’t share your technology with less advanced species of course). There have been at least a couple of times where a more aggressive plan in the first couple of days has left me sapped for the back end of the trip. It turns out that a body that hasn’t carried a canoe or a pack in six months maybe doesn’t love getting smacked in the face with 20 kilometers of travel and a handful of uphill portages while it can still taste that morning’s breakfast wrap.
So, like the Borg, I’ve adapted. The Canoe Tripping Prime Directive says that the first day has to be manageable. A manageable first day means keeping the total travel under 10 kilometers if possible, and certainly no more than 15. Portages are fine, but don’t go from zero to 60 all at once. How about zero to three? One might be longer than 500 meters, but try to keep them all under a kilometer. The important thing isn’t setting a distance record. The important thing is getting on the water, appreciating the feeling of the canoe beneath your knees, the paddle in your hand and rush of being back on trip.
Start slow. That’s it. That’s all you have to do.
The Plan
My buddy Mark and I arrived at the Canoe Lake access point just before 10 am on the Monday after Mother’s Day. We’d left Ottawa earlier that morning, hoping that we could be on the water as quickly as possible. Why did we want to be on the water as quickly as possible? Because in planning this year’s trip we had violated the Canoe Tripping Prime Directive like we were Captain Kirk visiting yet an alien planet where everyone speaks English and wears too much spandex. As we pushed off from the beach in front of the Canoe Lake permit office we had close to 25 kilometers of travel and the 2.3 kilometer Ink Lake portage (along with a couple of much shorter carries) between us and our first night’s sleep.
And our second day wasn’t much better.
Our plan was to go north out of Canoe Lake through Timberwolf to the Tim River. We’d go east along the Tim to Shippagew. From there we’d head north again to Robinson, before heading east to Catfish and then turning south to Hogan and Sunday Lake. From there we’d finish our loop heading west along highway 60, ending up at Smoke Lake 8 days and 175 kilometers later. An ambitious route, sure, but one that seemed manageable as we were going over the maps in December. Why? Because unlike our last few spring trips, this was a paddling focused route rather than a leg workout disguised as a canoe trip. Even with all the extra total distance, our portage distance was actually less than the year before. And it’s the portages that kill you. Give me the choice between an extra kilometer of portaging and an extra five kilometers of paddling and, assuming the forecast doesn’t include the words “tornado” or “flying cow advisory” I’ll pick the paddling option every time. I’ve done 35 kilometer days of mostly paddling and felt better at the end of them than after a 10 kilometer day that was half portaging. There were some long carries along our route, sure, but they were decently spread out and might even feel like a nice break from all the paddling (ha).
Day 1
We left the access point beach just after 10. It was a gorgeous morning. The sun was bright, the sky was clear and there was just the right amount of breeze to keep things comfortable without making the paddling difficult. We turned out of the access point bay and followed the eastern shore north, passing one of Camp Wapomeo’s two islands before throwing caution to the (non-existent) wind and cutting across to the western shore.
It was a lovely way to start the trip and the season. Canoe Lake is probably the busiest lake in the Park. It’s a popular access point for backcountry tripping, home to two summer camps (or two halves of the same summer camp operation if you want to get technical), a number of cottage leases and is usually stop number one for anyone day tripping into the Park from the city. On any given summer’s day the traffic up and down the lake is steady at its slowest, bananas at its worst. On the first Monday after Mother’s Day in May? Once we were away from the access point we saw at most a couple of other canoes until we were closing in on the split between Potter Creek and Joe Lake.
Once we reached the split we turned towards Joe. Between us and Joe Lake was the notorious Joe Lake portage. This beast of a carry is 300,000 millimeters of portage nightmare fuel. The put-ins and take outs at either end are guarded by wide beds of proto-glass and the terrain in between has at least a couple of spots where the path narrows so much that you could only walk four people abreast (uh, this is a 300 meter portage that is wide, flat and has great, beach-y landings on either end. By the time you finish reading this paragraph you’d be across it. It’s fine).
Having escaped the Joe Lake portage we turned the canoe north towards Tom Thomson Lake and lunch. In between us and Tom Thomson (and also a delicious turkey sandwich) were Joe Lake, Tepee Lake, Fawn Lake, The Little Oxtongue River and Little Doe Lake. The good news is that while that might sound like a lot, that entire stretch includes exactly zero portaging. The trip from Joe to Tom Thompson is a (mostly) uninterrupted stretch of paddling. Joe turns into Tepee which turns into the Little Oxtongue and so on. These are all lovely lakes to paddle and are all very busy in the summer. In my opinion, the spring is the best time to head through this way. It’s quieter, which among other things, means that there’s a decent chance of seeing some cool wildlife, especially along the Little Oxtongue. Unfortunately, a decent chance isn’t the same as a 100% chance, and our paddle north was wildlife-free.
The only exception to the uninterrupted stretch between Joe and Tom Thomson is a massive dam in between Little Doe and Tom Thomson that may or may not require a quick in and out of the canoe depending on whether or not someone has created a channel through it that year. That dam has been around for as long as I’ve been tripping in Algonquin (and a lot longer than that!) and I’ve found it both ways. This year the beavers had been hard at work and the dam was about as solid as I’ve seen it. It gave Mark and me a chance to practice the tandem balance beam lift over routine we’ve honed on past trips through the likes of White Partridge Creek and the Nipissing River. Fortunately we hadn’t gotten too rusty after the long offseason and we managed to get the canoe up and over the dam without putting a hole in it or putting one of us in the lake.
We arrived on Tom Thomson less than two hours after putting in on Canoe Lake. Despite being relatively early into our day we decided to stop for lunch on one of Tom’s campsites. Our next stop was the 2.3 kilometer Ink Lake portage and we figured we’d be happier with a bit of fuel before attempting that carry. We spent a pleasant twenty minutes or so lounging on Site 7’s rocky point and admiring its rocky furniture before getting back in the boat and continuing on.
The Ink Lake Portage
The portage in between Tom Thomson and Ink Lake is a long, up and down carry. The ups and downs aren’t egregious, the height of land on the carry is only about 20 meters above Tom Thomson, but it feels like there are a lot of them. On top of that, even when the rest of the Park is bone dry it seems like the portage is hoarding a few mud patches and flooded spots all to itself. Every time I’ve done this carry I’ve tried to do it without ending up ankle deep in muck, and every time I’ve failed. This time around was no exception, and I got my first soaker (of many) of the trip about halfway along the carry. Fortunately, that wet shoe was the worst of it for the portage and it wasn’t too long before we were walking down the long set of steps that marks the descent into Ink Lake.
About those steps. At first glance, they seem like a great idea. The slope up from Ink Lake is immediate and steep. Without the steps you’d be scrabbling up some pretty interesting terrain. With the steps it’s a bit easier, but also seems somehow riskier. The steps are basically a collection of 4x4s (maybe 6x6s) at regular intervals up the hill. In between there’s hard packed dirt or, in places where that dirt has eroded, nothing. A missed step could easily lead to a broken leg (or worse). I’m not saying the steps shouldn’t be there, I’m pro step!, but it is a place where you want to be very careful with your footing, which isn’t always the headspace of someone who’s just finished a 2.3 KM portage. Watch your step(s)!
Ink Lake to Timberwolf
I really like Ink Lake. It’s a small, circular lake surrounded by creek grass and drowned trees. It didn’t take us long to load up and paddle across it to the entrance to Ink Creek. As we paddled we talked about how long the creek was. In my mind, it’s basically a short hop from Ink Lake to McIntosh. Mark, who pays much more attention to things than I do, thought it was a bit more substantial than that and, like usual, he was right. The good news is that it’s a pretty paddle. Ink Creek isn’t a creek in the way that Maple Creek or White Partridge Creek are creeks (in other words it’s not a portal to whatever dimension the Event Horizon went to when it activated its gravity drive). It’s a nicely meandering paddle north through more creek grass and drowned trees. Despite it being longer than (I) expected, it wasn’t too much later that we were paddling out of the creek and onto McIntosh Lake.
Remember how I said I liked Ink Lake? Well, it turns out I really just like the entire stretch between Canoe Lake and Timberwolf (the long portage notwithstanding). McIntosh is a beautiful lake. Dotted with small, rocky islands, it’s large enough that it doesn’t seem crowded despite being home to over 20 campsites. We paddled up the west shore towards the Timberwolf portage, hopping from island to island and generally enjoying the scenery as we went.
The portage from McIntosh to Timberwolf was meant to be our last of the day. It’s a 410 meter carry that feels like a bit more thanks to not insignificant climb up from McIntosh (incidentally, in case you need to add to your “places in the Park where you randomly get cell service” map, the portage takeout on the McIntosh side of the carry had surprisingly good cell reception). That said, 410 meters of well maintained portage is only going to take you so long, even with a bit a climb thrown in, and soon we were pushing off on Timberwolf Lake.
Timberwolf is slightly smaller than its neighbours (McIntosh to the south, Misty to the north), but is still a decent size. Unlike McIntosh and Misty it doesn’t have a ton of campsites. There are only six spread around its edges, compared to 22 on McIntosh and 20 on Misty. Our original plan had been to spend the night on Timberwolf but Timberwolf heard that plan was like “really?”.
It turns out that the sites we saw on Timberwolf were kinda terrible. True, we only paddled along the eastern shore, which means we only saw half of Timberwolf’s sites, but unless there’s a gem hiding out on the big island in the middle of the lake, I’m confident in saying that Timberwolf’s sites average out to subpar at best. The only halfway decent one we saw, the middle of the eastern shore sites, was taken. Of the other two sites the one closest to Timberwolf Creek was probably the more appealing, but only in the sense that getting punched in the stomach is more appealing than getting punched in the face. We got out at the site, looked around at the enclosed, cramped and deadfall strewn terrain and decided that maybe adding another 3 KM or so to what was already a pretty long day wouldn’t be so bad.
And we were right! That 3 KM along Timbewolf Creek and into Misty gave us our first two trip highlights within a five minute span. To start with, Timberwolf Creek was a nice paddle. Like Ink Creek it falls more on the “this is kinda nice” end of the creek spectrum instead of the “I hate everything and everyone” end. It was a relatively straight paddle between low humps of golden creek grass. The creek ends in a larger open area that might be confusing except that the Park has helpfully installed a small yellow portage sign showing you where to turn to find the portage. And that portage is a dream. It’s 140 meters of easy terrain that takes you alongside one of the prettiest waterfalls I’ve seen in the Park.
Misty Lake
While we’re not talking Algonquin’s version of Niagara Falls here, this is still a spectacular spot. It’s a small waterfall that drops Timberwolf Creek the five or so meters it needs to turn into Misty Lake. Man, is it pretty. The water funnels down along ever narrowing offset rock steps into a larger pool. As it was mid May and we were less than a month from ice out, the flow was strong, and the falls were an overlapping cascade of white water. I sat on a small rock across from the falls for a few minutes just watching. It was awesome.
Also awesome? The moose that was wading in the shallows just beyond the portage put-in. It was hanging out in thigh deep (for it) water, ducking its head beneath the surface periodically while a duck floated nearby, proving my long held theory that every moose has its own guard duck. We paddled quietly out of the put-in bay, keeping as far away as we could to avoid disturbing it but it didn’t seem to care. It looked up a couple of times but apparently felt secure enough with its guard duck to dismiss us and go back to munching on slimy green stuff. We drifted slowly past, soaking in the moment for as long as we could before the setting sun and my growling stomach reminded me that we still had some work to do before the day was over.
Fortunately the first campsite we saw (site 13) was free. Even more fortunately, it was an awesome spot. From the water it didn’t look like much, but once we had pulled up on the (wide, accessible) sandy beach we could see that it would do just fine. There was room on the site for a couple of tents, a really nice fire pit set up and an awesome western view. We sat on the beach eating our traditional first night steak and sweet potato courtesy of Mark and completely avoided the traditional first night bug assault as they were nowhere to be found. Nice site, great food, a beautiful sunset and no bugs? I’m not sure what else you could ask for on a first night.
Day 2
We woke the next morning to a mix of blue and white overhead, but clearly trending more blue than white. We ate, packed up quickly and were off the site just after 8 am. (Reason # 789 that I like tripping with Mark is that we both like to get moving as quickly as possible and we take pretty much the exact same amount of time to pack up. Being on the same page with the person you’re spending the next week covering an ungodly amount of terrain with goes a long way towards making sure you’re still speaking at the end of the trip (or the end of Day 2)).
Paddling north on Misty to the Pandion Pond portage I was somehow surprised that Misty opened up to our right (to the east) not far from our campsite. I shouldn’t have been. The map clearly shows that Misty keeps going west to east past our site before turning back into the Petawawa River, but my brain had decided that we were camping on an alternate universe Misty Lake that just ended at our campsite. I’m glad that wasn’t the case. It was a beautiful view. The lake was perfectly calm, the sun was a couple of hands above the tree line and the rapidly dissipating clouds were promising a gorgeous day on the water.
That promise was a bit of a relief. Our goal for the night was Shippagew Lake, some 23 kilometers and 1/2 a Tim River away from where we were starting out. I’d been looking forward to this day for a while. I’d be adding some new to me lakes to the list, and this would be the first time I’d paddled the stretch of the Tim between Shah and Shippagew. But I’d also been slightly worried about this day. Further upriver on the Tim generations of beavers have turned parts of the river into an obstacle course of dams and muddy bits. 18 of our day’s 23 kilometers were along the Tim and I’d had visions (read: nightmares) of us dragging over successive dams in the pouring rain while the beavers pointed and laughed. Fortunately the blue skies and calm water had chased those visions away, leaving behind nothing but good vibes and the portage over to Pandion Pond.
Misty to The Tim River
The Misty to Pandion Pond portage is only 720 meters, but it’s maybe not the 720 meters you want to start your day with. This was a pretty technical portage with a few sections of up and down (but always trending up) and some bonus muck along the way. I’m not sure why Pandion is called a pond instead of a lake. For me calling something a pond conjures up images of a shallow pool of water with lots of green stuff growing around the edges and maybe a frog philharmonic serenading you as you paddle across. That’s not the case with Pandion. It took at least a few minutes to paddle across to the next portage and the water was clear and seemed deep enough. There are no campsites on Pandion, so it’s always going to be a pass through on the way to somewhere else, but for my money it’s a decent pass through.
Pandion was my first new lake (uh, pond) of the trip and was a reasonable reward for all that effort. Not in a “man, this is spectacular” kind of way but more of a “this is nice”. It’s kind of like getting the last Freezie on the hottest day of the summer. It’s not the flavour you would have chosen if you had first pick, but it’s still a Freezie and you’re still happy you have it.
The portage between Pandion and Shah is shorter, only 340 meters, but just as technical as the one we’d just finished. This one was more mud and blowdowns than rocks and rises, but it still took more effort than I’d expected based on the distance. Shah, like Pandion, was pretty in a generic kind of way. It’s small (but not too small), with a handful of campsites. I’d be happy to stay here for a night if I was planning a paddle along the Tim the next day, but I don’t think I’d want to make it a multi-day destination.
For us, Shah was barely even a multi-minute destination. We were across it quickly and starting the p1110 down to the Tim River shortly thereafter. This portage was tough. Even though it was still relatively early, the day had warmed up considerably. Like the other two portages along this stretch, you have to watch your footing along this carry. There were rocks and muck and a few bridges over swampy bits to navigate. There were also bugs despite the fact that I had specifically requested my portages be bug free for this trip, and they were more than happy to keep me company as I made my way down to the Tim.
The Tim River
Arriving at the Tim River was exciting. I’d been looking at that particular stretch on the map for a long time and it was nice to finally be there. From the portage put-in the Tim looked a lot like I’d expected. Slow flowing water drifting amiably along between alder lined banks. The good news is that those alder lined banks weren’t that close together and that slow flowing water was still moving faster than no flowing water.
Like the Nipissing River to the north, the Tim can sometimes feel like more of a puffed up creek than a river. This is particularly true further upstream, where the twists and turns and dams between Rosebary Lake and the Queer Lake portage tried their best to get me to give up canoe tripping a few years back. As we paddled along I slowly started to realize that while the Tim below the Shah portage still has its share of twists and switchbacks, they’re nowhere near as frustrating or as frequent as they are further west. We paddled downriver at a decent clip, gliding easily around corners and between the alder. This was a marked improvement from previous creek/river experiences where we were mostly gliding into corners and through alder.
It took about 40 minutes to reach the first of our three portages left on the Tim. This was a P280 that happens to be at the site of the Pine River Farm ruins. I’d been looking forward to seeing some 19th century farm remains but the only relic I could find was a twisted piece of metal that looked less like a history lesson and more like a tetanus shot waiting to happen. To be fair, I didn’t look very hard. The portage starts off in a large meadow that I’m guessing featured heavily in things back when the area was a farm. We could have explored the grass or checked out what was in the treeline on the far side of the meadow, but it was hot and getting hotter and we still had a long way to go. So we picked up our gear, made a point of not banging our shins on the rusty cut-o-matic 3000 lying beside the path, and continued on our way.
There’s a small campsite on the downriver end of this portage. I’m not a huge fan of river campsites, but I suppose this one would do in a pinch. The main thing I remember from this spot is that picking up the portage trail again once you wander into the campsite is kind of hard. It turns out the path out the back that looks like the Thunderbox trail is actually the portage (but, also, the thunderbox trail. You’ll want to take care of business quickly if you’re using the box here). Eventually I stopped wandering around the site like an extra in the Blair Witch Project and found my way to the other end of the portage.
The next portage, a surprisingly hilly p450, isn’t all that far away from the P280. The river in between the two is also pretty straight, which meant that we were pulling up to the p450 less than 20 minutes after leaving the p280. The main difference between this portage and the last one was that it was about double the length and three times as hilly. Oh, it’s also where we met Borys.
Borys
As we ground the canoe into the bank at the portage takeout I realized there was another boat just up the path. It was a solo boat with a fishing rod holder, places along the sides to snap in paddles and a GoPro mounted on the carrying bar. The owner had clearly put a lot of thought into the placement of the accessories and as someone who is constantly looking for ways to make carrying things more efficient, I was impressed.
We loaded up our gear, Mark with the canoe, and started along the trail. This portage begins with a relatively steep climb up a narrow-ish path. We’d just reached the top when we ran into the owner of the canoe. He was an older guy, bearded and expressive. Mark was ahead of me and stopped to talk with him first. As I caught up I could see that the man looked exhausted. He was sweating heavily and moving slowly. His name was Borys and he’d spent the last four days holed up on one of the sites upriver with a brutal case of food poisoning. This was the first day he’d felt like he had enough energy to move on, but it turned out that enough energy to move on didn’t necessarily mean enough energy to move on as far as he needed to. He’d been on that portage for two hours already and had only managed to get his pack across to the other side.
He asked us if we could help him with the rest of his gear, which we did. Once we’d got our stuff across we doubled back to get Borys’ canoe and barrel. I took the canoe and started ahead while Mark walked with Borys to keep him company and make sure he made it across. While they walked they talked and Borys told Mark the story of the last few days. He was pretty sure it was a dehydrated meal that had gone bad that did him in. He’d been so sick he’d barely been able to keep water down and had ended up pretty dehydrated himself. He was solo and was meant to be leaving on another canoe trip to Wabakimi Park the next week. He had only a few days to get out of Algonquin, or he’d miss the start of his next trip. That’s why he was pushing on to Shippagew that day. He needed to get moving or he was going to miss his train to Wabakimi.
It sounded awful. There are very few things I can think of that would be worse on trip than being stuck alone on the Tim River, puking my guts out and too sick/weak to get out. It would make for a dramatic story though, or maybe even a video. Which, well, we’re in luck on that score, because it turns out that the Borys we met in that forest was actually Borys In The Forest, a Youtuber with what I’ve discovered is a very entertaining canoe tripping channel. Keep an eye out for his Tim River video, Mark and I might have earned ourselves a production credit.
Once we’d gotten Borys across I gave him a couple of Xact tablets to help with the dehydration. We talked for a few more minutes but eventually it was time for Mark and I to move on. Borys was going to keep going as well but was planning on taking his time. That P450 was the last portage until just before Shippagew Lake, and he was confident he’d be able to meander downriver now that the carrying was done. So, we said our goodbyes and pushed off, Shippagew Lake firmly in our sights.
To Shippagew
We stopped for lunch on a site just past that p480 (the last site on the Tim before Shippagew). It was actually a pretty nice site as far as river sites go. Up a short hill, it was flat with a good fire pit and a decent tent pad. Not a place I’d want to spend a ton of time, but good for a night and certainly good for lunch.
The rest of the paddle along the Tim was very enjoyable. The river straightens out somewhat and widens as well. As we approached the 2km portage (that we were thankfully not taking) up to Stag Lake hills started to rise on either side of us, replacing the creek grass and stunted trees with rock slabs and tall pines. Soon after that we came to our last portage of the day, a p120 just before Shippagew.
I’d love to tell you all about this carry but I can’t, because we didn’t do it. The river is straight here and the rapids the portage goes around looked manageable from above. We got out and scouted from the shore to be sure, then got back in the boat a shot those rapids like we were running from the Mountain Men. (When I say shot those rapids I mean drifted slightly faster downriver than we had before. These were rapids in name only).
After that heart pounding adrenaline bender it was only a few more minutes to Shippagew Lake, our destination for the night. I was excited to be staying on Shippagew. I’d heard great things about that lake over the years but never quite managed to work it into a trip. One of my main reasons for picking the route we did was so I could finally get there and I’m happy to say that Shippagew did not disappoint.
Shippagew Lake
Shippagew is a medium sized lake just northwest of Big Trout. There are two campsites on Shippagew but only one permit is available, which means that if you book Shippagew you’re getting yourself a private lake and your choice of sites. The good news is that once you arrive on Shippagew you’re not going to find yourself paralyzed with indecision when picking your home for the night. Of the two sites on the lake, the point site on the east side is the clear best choice. It’s like picking between Coke and RC Cola. Sure, at the end of the day they’re caffeine delivery systems masquerading as dark fizzy liquids, but one is refreshing and delicious and the closest thing to heaven we’ve found in liquid form, and the other is RC Cola.
That point site on Shippagew was perfect. Large, flat and surrounded by water on three sides. The site is dotted with just the right amount of pine and … I want to say spruce? …. to make it feel like you’re not completely exposed without impacting the (gorgeous) view in any direction. The swimming was excellent and the sunset view was awesome. And now I’ve run out of superlatives, so I’ll stop gushing before it gets messy. It was a great site. That’s it.
We’d talked about taking a side trip over to Blue Lake, but I’ve also talked about learning how to cook something that isn’t spaghetti sauce, so not all dreams come true. We spent the rest of the afternoon basking in the 27 degree sunshine and taking it easy. We’d had two pretty long days to start the trip (50 KM total according to Strava), which was farther than either of us had paddled in the previous six months combined. Mark napped while I pursued my newfound interest in becoming one with my camp chair.
We saw Borys emerge from the Tim sometime around sunset and I let out a breath of relief that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. He got set up on Shippagew’s other site just in time to enjoy the sunset. At least, I assume he was enjoying it because I know for sure that I was. It wasn’t one of those paint the sky in a thousand colours types of sunsets, but it did cast everything in a beautifully soft glow before giving us some pastel smears across the far horizon as the light faded.
Not bad Shippagew, not bad.
To Be Continued!
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
And Here Are Some More Pictures From Days One & Two.
