Canoe Lake to Catfish & Beyond
Part Three: Catfish to Opeongo
Hi there! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy and feel free to subscribe if you do! 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: Canoe Lake to Catfish & Beyond – Part Three (And, if you don’t already subscribe, there’s a subscription sign up at the bottom of this report!).
This is Part Three of my Spring 2025 Trip Report. If you want to catch up on Part One or Part Two, you can find them here (Part One) and here (Part Two)
Day 5
Day five started with a thunderstorm. Not an “is the world ending?” cacophony of bangs and flashes type of storm, but more a polite combination of distant rumbles and a lot of rain. Fortunately, we had managed to get the tarp up before the rain hit and stayed dry throughout the storm without being stuck in the tent. Unfortunately, our chairs were stuck in the tent which meant that we ate breakfast standing under the tarp and then spent the next half hour to forty-five minutes trying to decide how wet we were willing to get just to have a spot to sit down. The answer was not wet at all and the end of the rain found me still standing under the tarp, relatively dry but with like slightly tired legs? They couldn’t be too tired though, because we had a couple of decent portages ahead of us on the way to Hogan Lake.
We packed quickly and were on the water within about half an hour of the rain stopping. It was a later start than usual, but not late enough that we had to start rethinking our day’s plan. The route from Catfish to Hogan isn’t all that long, maybe 11.5-12 km total. But while Hogan was our destination, we weren’t taking a straight line to get there. The first lake south of Catfish Lake on the way to Hogan is Sunfish. Sunfish is a mid-sized lake with no campsites and all the lily pads. It’s also the jumping off point for a side quest over to Calumet and Cuckoo, a pair of small, dead-end lakes that possibly only exist to make the goal of getting to all of Algonquin’s lakes that much more aggravating, It ends up being about 10 kilometers worth of detour, turning a relatively low impact day into a medium one.
Calumet & Cuckoo Lakes
To get to Calumet and Cuckoo from Sunfish you have to paddle through Sunfish’s western bay which is basically a proto mud flat and a thin layer of water. The water trail to the Calumet portage is a constantly narrowing and ever winding paddle between rows of bultrushes. It’s the aquatic equivalent of a corn maze, without the roving bands of murderous scarecrows that I assume live in every corn maze. Instead we were treated to a relatively sedate paddle with just enough twists and turns to get you really excited when you realize you’re going to be doing the entire thing in reverse in an hour or so. As we approached the portage over to Calumet we passed a large beaver lodge that was both very pretty and a welcome change from the last half hour’s bullrushes in your face motif.
The portage takeout up to Calumet was both muddy and rocky (as you might expect of a portage takeout at the end of a shallow, mucky creek). I managed to get not one but two soakers before finding solid ground (which is a fine and normal thing on a canoe trip), but it still left me thinking unpleasant thoughts about all things Calumet. As I started up the trail, and that trail went quickly vertical, those unpleasant thoughts intensified as my legs protested against the uphill trail and my feet squelched in my shoes with every step. But then we arrived on Calumet and all the unkind thoughts kind of melted away.
Calumet is a pretty lake. It’s not all that big, but big enough that it doesn’t feel like a pond. It had been overcast for most of the morning, but as we paddled out from the portage the sun came out and stayed out. The combination of the suddenly brighter day and the beautiful scenery went a long way, and I was feeling significantly better about Calumet Lake as we paddled towards the Cuckoo portage.
That portage, a p310 into a dead end lake in the middle of the Park, looks like it’s halfway through being reclaimed by the forest. That said, it was a lovely walk. Everything was very green and lush, and the portage design team had thrown in an old stump covered in red and black banded fungi discs to add to the aesthetic. All in all, it was a nice break and Cuckoo, which we stopped at for approximately six seconds before turning around, seemed nice enough. It’s got one campsite and, according to Jeff’s Algonquin Map, is a hangout spot for Brook Trout. I would imagine it’s a popular spring fishing destination. Although, it didn’t appear to be all that popular on that particular spring day.
We stopped to check out Calumet’s two campsites on our way back to Sunfish. The campsites are located relatively close to each other near the Sunfish portage, just across the bay on the north side of the lake. One of those sites, the one closest to the portage, seems kind of decent. It’s got a nice fire pit set up and room for a couple of tents. Some very thoughtful person had even left a pretty healthy stack of cut firewood near the fire pit for the next person to use. The other site, which can be walked to from the first site, is… well, in my notes for this part of the trip I wrote “second site is really far back from the water and feels like a cave”. So, yeah, May Drew was unimpressed. October Drew, who is so much older and wiser than May Drew, wonders if that second site might be a decent shoulder season spot since it is very (very) well protected from the elements. May Drew says October Drew can take his rationalizing and shove it and also wonders why it’s taken him five months to write this trip report. (December Drew, checking in as he proofreads before posting. Turns out October Drew wasn’t doing all that great a job at getting this thing over the finish line either).
The trip back out to Sunfish from Calumet was somewhat faster. We had a slight current and a slight tailwind, both of which | hadn’t really realized we had been fighting on the way in. Soon we were back out on Sunfish proper with our side quest behind us, ready to finish off the day.
Sunfish Lake to Hogan Lake
Sunfish to Hogan is basically one long portage broken up by a couple of small lakes that don’t provide enough of a break from the walking to justify the time spent loading and unloading the boat. That said, I really like this stretch! Newt Lake, the first lake south of Sunfish, has one of my favourite portage put-in views in the Park. The portage leading up to it is a bit of a slog, with just enough up and down to make you wonder how much it would cost to shave 10 lbs off your canoe’s weight (a lot. It would cost a lot). When that flash of blue comes, it’s accompanied by a small put in with a handful of sun bleached logs scattered across the first few meters of the lake. A couple of low… we’ll say spruce … branches overhang the best spot to put the boat down and rather than get in the way they act more like a frame for the view. All in all, it’s a lovely sight, made even more lovely by the fact that you’re not looking at it from underneath the canoe.
It’s about a two minute paddle across Newt to the next portage, a p720 over to Manta Lake. As we pulled into the portage takeout I realized I was out of gas. A wave of exhaustion hit from seemingly out of nowhere and the prospect of another portage so soon after the one we’d just finished was kind of miserable We decided to stop for lunch before doing the portage, which was an excellent decision. Normally I’d rather do lunch once the portage is out of the way, but in this case I wasn’t going to get across that carry without a solid base of dried meat and cheese. Mark, who is an ideal tripping partner for many reasons not least of which is his intuitive awareness of where everyone else on the trip stands at any given moment, offered to take the boat even though it was my turn. I was happy to accept. By the time I was across the portage the Baby Bels and Pepperettes had done their job and I was feeling much better about Life.
Manta is another small lake and the Manta to Hogan portage is another big portage. It’s also a bit of a jerk portage in that it teases you with a glimpse of Hogan well before you actually get to the end of the carry. On top of that, once you spot that first bit of blue, the portage throws a couple more ups and downs at you before finally relenting and letting you out at the end of a small bay on Hogan’s north side.
The view from that put-in was beautiful, and not only because it meant we were looking at something other than trees and a twisting path in front of us. The sun had stayed out through the afternoon and its rays were glinting off the waves on Hogan.
Oh, yeah. The waves.
Hogan Lake
Hogan is a big lake. It’s around seven or eight kilometers from west to east, and those seven or eight kilometers can turn the lake into a quasi wind tunnel if the wind is up (and it feels like the wind is always up on Hogan). That was certainly the case when we arrived. It was blowing west to east, which was not ideal as we were going to be crossing to the south shore and then paddling east to west. This meant we had to get across about a kilometer of choppy water, then turn and paddle into that wind for another couple of kilometers before we’d get some shelter. Fun.
While it was windy, it wasn’t bad enough that we had to consider taking the loooong way around rather than cutting across the lake. It did, however, make for a very focused paddle once we left the shelter of that northern bay. We cut across Hogan on a diagonal, then hugged the south shore as we paddled east. Since Hogan was our home for the night we were keeping an eye out for any decent looking campsites. The first two we passed were both empty and okay, but not okay enough that we felt like we needed to stop and stake our claim. Besides, I had a spot in mind, the westernmost site on Hogan’s western island (Site 1 on the review map). I’d stayed there a few years back and absolutely loved the site for its location, views and set up. I was hoping for a return trip and happy to keep paddling to turn that hope into reality.
As we passed by the second of the okay sites the Hogan cliffs came into view. This was my first time seeing them and they were impressive from the water. There’s a path to a lookout from the base of the cliffs and we’d talked earlier in the trip about climbing them when we got to Hogan. Unfortunately, by the time we were paddling past we were both beat and the prospect of hiking up a steep hill wasn’t all that appealing. So we left the cliffs unclimbed (but as an excuse to go back to Hogan some day!) and continued on to my island site.
Which had burned down.
Huh.
You know what’s a bummer? A burned out campsite. That’s a bummer. You what’s an even bigger bummer? When you’ve spent most of the day (and the days before too!) looking forward to that campsite. That’s a bigger bummer.
I don’t know if it was lightning or a campfire that got out of control or a wayward dragon, but something set that site on fire between the last time I was there and now. About half the trees had been knocked down, and those that still stood were charred and broken. We took about two seconds to decide that this wasn’t the place for us before backtracking to the last free site we’d passed, a small, grassy spot tucked away in a narrows between the island and the mainland.
Fortunately, this spot ended up being a decent backup option. I was a bit worried that the grass would bring out the bugs, but there was a strong wind blowing through the site for most of the afternoon that kept them at bay. We set up camp, took a swim (our fifth day in a row swimming, that’s never happened on a May trip before) and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon just hanging around the site. The bugs did decide to join us once the wind died down, but that was around sunset (which was spectacular) and was just the excuse we needed to retreat to the tent and call it a day.
Day 6
This day was always going to be weird. Our plan was to get from Hogan Lake down to Sunday Lake, a distance of approximately 45 KM. That’s a lot for one day. Fortunately, we were going to have help for about 15 of those kilometers thanks to Algonquin Outfitter’s Opeongo water taxi service. We planned on taking the water taxi from the Proulx portage to the Sproule portage. This was both an excellent way to set a personal best for crossing Opeongo (cutting 2.5 hours down to 15 minutes!) and a good way to add some stress to our morning. Our date with the water taxi was set for 1:30, which meant we had to get from Hogan to Proulx before then. Otherwise, we’d be looking at adding 50% more work to our day, which is not an ideal outcome.
Fortunately, the route between Hogan and Proulx is pretty straightforward. There are two portages sandwiched around a lot of paddling. I mean, one of those portages is just over a kilometer long and the other is three times that distance, but hey, two portages!
We were on the water by 7:35 am. There was a bit of rain while we were packing up, but by the time we pushed off the rain had moved on and so could we. Hogan was perfectly calm. I took this as a good sign. Every time I’d paddled Hogan before that morning the waves had been auditioning for a starring role in The Perfect Storm 2. I figured if even Hogan wanted us to make our pickup time, nothing could get in our way.
Nothing (P3730 Hogan to Big Crow)
Thanks to the ideal paddling conditions, we were soon at the portage down to Big Crow. The portage takeout is quite nice; easily accessible and with plenty of room to unload. Also, plenty of room to contemplate the sheer uphill climb directly in front of you. While most of the Hogan to Big Crow portage reasonably flat, the first part took its design inspiration from the start of a roller coaster. It begins by climbing straight up, then it climbs some more.
We had already decided to double carry this first part of the portage. While neither of us are big fans of double carrying in most situations, we are both big fans of making it through a trip without any significant cardiac events. We figured the single carry was the best way to make that happen in this case, so Mark grabbed the canoe, I grabbed a pack and we started up the hill.
After about 30 seconds I was convinced we’d made the right choice. While the path is well maintained and easy to follow, it felt like every step was higher than the last, and my legs were not loving it. My pack, which had been getting gradually lighter and easier to manage every day, felt like it was getting a day heavier with every 10-20 meters of elevation. By the time I was halfway through the steep part I was wondering if we should just make base camp there and try for the summit tomorrow.
So, yeah, I’m glad I didn’t have the canoe as well.
We ditched the double carry as soon as we got past the steep bit and made great time across the rest of the portage. The middle third of the carry winds between access roads and across boardwalks, while the final third follows a cart trail and is basically a road itself. It started to rain as we arrived at Big Crow, and continued to do so as we began the biggest paddling portion of the day.
Big Crow to Opeongo
Big Crow connects directly to Little Crow which connects to the Crow River which connects to Proulx, all without any portaging. That’s around 12-13 kilometers of paddling without any interruption. Normally, I’d love that much time on the water. When the Weather Gods have teed up a post portage ice bath in the form of a gentle but consistent spring shower for the first half of the paddle, it’s less exciting.
The rain followed us out onto Big Crow, and strengthened gradually as we paddled towards the south shore cliff. While it was a bit chilly, it was also beautiful. Hogan’s calm conditions had followed us to Big Crow and the rain drops hit the flat water in perfect little diamond splashes. Granted, my appreciation for the beauty of it all was very much inversely correlated to how hard it was raining. The skies really opened up as we paddled into Little Crow, at which point my inner monologue was less “you know, this is kind of nice” and more “expletive deleted this expletive deleted expletive deleted”. We stopped briefly on one of Little Crow’s sites to dig out our rain gear, which was the right decision even if we only needed it for a couple more minutes. Essentially, I had the rain stuff on just long enough to get it good and wet (while keeping the parts of me that weren’t already soaked reasonably dry) before the rain petered out for good.
The paddle up the Crow River between Little Crow and Proulx was quite pleasant. This stretch of the Crow is wide and deep. There’s a bit of a current, but not enough to slow things down appreciably. At one point we passed a group of racers coming the other way who were making significantly better time than we were. They also looked significantly less tired than I felt, which seemed unfair given how hard they were paddling and how much quicker they were moving.
On our way through Proulx we stopped at Site 6 for a quick break. This one has been on my ‘to visit’ list for a long time, mostly because it’s always been taken when I’ve paddled through and I felt like that was probably a sign that it was a decent site. And it was! This is an awesome spot. It’s got a huge interior, tons of room for tents and great views while feeling kinda private thanks to a modestly ingrown shoreline that perfectly straddles the line between too much green stuff and not enough green stuff. We spent a couple of minutes stretching our literal legs then hopped back in the canoe for the last figurative leg of the morning’s paddle.
We arrived at the Proulx to Opeongo portage with plenty of time to spare. As we pulled up there was a group of guys getting ready to take off for their long weekend trip. Unfortunately, one of them had managed to spray themselves with bear spray. Not that I’m speaking from experience (I’m speaking from experience), but I can tell you that spraying yourself with bear spray is not fun. Bear spray is basically jet propelled pepper spray on steroids (the active ingredient is something called capsaicin, which is derived from chili peppers). And it hurts like hell. This poor guy had got some on his arm and was trying to figure out what to do about it (the answer is to flush it with cold water and soap and prepare yourself for an unpleasant half hour). After confirming that there was in fact no bear nearby that had prompted the bear spray misfire, I grabbed our canoe and set off before we became collateral bear spray damage.
The portage between Proulx and Opeongo doubles as a cart trail. This means that it is wide, relatively flat and easy to follow. We were across in no time, even stopping to paddle the little pond just before the Opeongo end, and found ourselves at the water taxi dock with about an hour and a half to spare. We stashed our gear out of the way, got out some lunch and waited.
It was interesting watching people come and go from the portage over those 90 minutes. It gave us a chance to chat with a bunch of different trips, and also to see some very different portage styles. One couple in particular had a massive Grumman that they were tandem portaging by doing a full overhead press. My shoulders were aching just watching. As they made their way towards Proulx offering each other their thoughts on what the other one was doing I felt like I was watching an inflection point in their relationship. Either they were going to finish the weekend knowing that they’d found their forever person or they’d never speak again. I don’t think there was any middle ground.
The water taxi arrived exactly when it was supposed to and helped us make short work of the Opeongo part of the day. We were at the Sproule portage 15 minutes after leaving the Proulx docks, ready for yet another long carry. I’ll admit, while I definitely appreciated not having to paddle Opeongo, and using the water taxi was the only way we could make our trip work, I think building a trip that needed the water taxi at a point that wasn’t the beginning or the end was a mistake. I’ve used the Opeongo water taxi a few times, but always at the start or finish of a trip. There’s something about getting into that boat that feels final. My brain kind of flipped over to trip wind down mode at that point, and it was weird buzzing past the access point and getting dropped at the trail that time forgot (we’ll talk about the Sproule carry soon), knowing that we had another 3 KM of carrying, and 2 more days of paddling, ahead of us.
You know what else we have ahead of us? One more post! Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion to Spring Trip 2025: Canoe Lake to Catfish and Beyond. There will be drama. There will be foreboding skies. There will be random body parts. But the only way to find out which body part is to come back for Part Four.
To Be Continued!
