Limitations

I had been worrying that I might develop COVID-19 symptoms while I was out here. The descriptions I had read were of weakness and an inability to function. Feeling like someone is sitting on your chest, has been a common description.

Paddling in a pandemic brings its own set of concerns – including carrying a thermometer. Alone in the bush with a high fever and overwhelming weakness could be debilitating or worse.

I was already so far behind that I could not complete the loop I had planned. My recourse was to enjoy a rest day, do some fishing and exploring, and then head back the way I had come.

The 9 km of meandering wetland and beaver dams on Loughrin Creek would take one day in itself. I could camp at the unmaintained campsite at the beginning of the long Loughrin portage, do that portage the next day, and then spend a whole day at Biggar Lake fishing and exploring there.

Suddenly the world looked a whole lot easier. It was an achievable plan, if greatly reduced from what I had intended. Lesson learned. The next time I took on a solo trip I would be packing for lightness. I wrote my new plan in my journal.

From my journal, Day 4, Wednesday afternoon, 17 June 2020

“Caught a 14 inch brook trout this morning. Cooked it for lunch and supper. Probably 2 lbs dressed. I had knocked down the barbs on all my hooks for some catch and release.

I’ve had a nap in the middle of the afternoon. I’m remembering trips with my ex. I loved having her with me in a tent.

I think about D__ who has stopped talking to any of us. He lived for decades in a loveless marriage he was responsible for creating. Then he got dirty about sex. He went to sending pornographic jokes. Affairs? I don’t know. I’m feeling that way and I don’t like it.”

It’s funny what you think about, where your mind goes when you are alone. The unhappy things rise up.

Freedom becomes not having to answer to anyone else, the naive perversion of freedom. Wanting the benefits of connection with others without having to make any kind of commitment to restricting my own behaviour. An excuse to renounce my responsibility, the fetishization of the independent individualist in me. Transcendentalism, a toxic formula for life.

I thought differently at 20. Then, being free was striking off on my own. I was discovering, learning to become independent. After marriage, kids, career, politics, a huge circle of friends, social activism, wins and losses, I see my life as a series of commitments. Independence is choosing a direction, not an abdication.

My journal, after 9 pm.

“I think I found the cabin, at least some cut logs piled up. It was near the location on the map.

I interrupted a medium-sized snapping turtle digging a hole to lay her eggs on the path down to my canoe. I was sorry to make her leave.

The evening fishing produced nothing, but had I caught my fish for the day. Of four days, I’ve eaten three meals of trout, two suppers and a lunch.

I worked hard on my rest day. I need to do some stretching before I go to bed.

I couldn’t hang my food barrel so I piled the pots and dishes on top of it and hope that’s enough to wake me up. And in case the wind comes up, I put two bailers of water on the fire to put it out.

Big sound of water being shed! Maybe my turtle is back? Maybe a moose? But no noise follows. Probably a fish.

It’s hot again tonight. The mosquitoes are really bad. I had to put my bug jacket on to brush my teeth.”

Waking Up

Bunchberry and Clintonia

My Journal, 16 June 2020

“Day 3, morning

Waking up to a scolding squirrel…I’m still on Loughrin Creek.

I’m going to look at this as a failed attempt…too much gear. I need to get down to minimum weight. This is not it; this is expedition gear. In the future, I need to go as light as possible with a waterproof bag to hang my food in. One pack and a canoe – two trips on each portage.

Today’s theme is commitment, as in losing it, rethinking it. I’ll get to Calm Lake and reassess this trip…”

After eating supper and drinking another liter of water, I had felt rejuvenated. The sun had already set, but it was still light. I decided to go back and get my canoe.

It was not a long walk to bring the boat to the top of the hill behind my campsite, but the hill itself was very steep. Carrying a canoe on my shoulders down that slope was to risk a sprained ankle. Even a minor accident while I was alone could have serious consequences. I had already got into the hyper-risk-adverse state I was told would happen on a solo trip by those who had done them.

I tied my throw-rope to the stern of the canoe and gave it a push. It slid down the trail over rocks and tree roots as I played out the line. When the bow came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, I finally had everything in one place again. I was done for the day.

I climbed into my tent, turned on my headlamp and wrote in my journal until I began to nod off. Despite all the water I had consumed, once I lay down, I slept the whole night.

The chattering of that annoyed squirrel confused me at first. I had been sleeping so soundly, I did not know where I was when I opened my eyes.

Overreaching

One of those annoying things I know about myself is that I tend to overreach myself. I will plan on having something done in an afternoon and it will take me three days of hard work. Things just look easier in the planning stage.

It was the same with this trip. I have done many expeditions on wilderness rivers from Quebec to the NWT (Northwest Territories), but there was always a group of us. We would haul three weeks worth of food and all our gear over the longest portage in two or three trips each. It never seemed to be a problem. That, and we needed heavy gear for sheltering and feeding a sizable group. I was carrying too much gear and it was too robust for a southern solo trip.

Coming out of North Tea Lake, I was looking at three short portages into Biggar Lake: 240 meters, 90 meters and 140 meters. Then after a 2 km paddle on Biggar Lake and up Loughrin Creek I would have a the long, 2 km portage and then a shorter one into Lawren Harris Lake. After that, a short and long portage into my destination, Calm Lake. In the planning stage, that meant I had time to do some fishing at the portages. So that was how the morning went, easy, fun, with a bass thrown back and a brook trout kept for supper.

The creek to the portage was like nothing I had ever seen before. The alders grew so thick, they made a tunnel overhead that I had to duck at times to get through. I started thinking that a machete might have come in handy. That half kilometer of narrow creek took quite a bit longer than I had anticipated.

It was late afternoon when I arrived at the yellow sign indicating the portage. I was not particularly worried. I had bought the new canoe because, at 60 pounds, it was 25 pounds lighter than my ABS canoe which I was used to carrying.

The trail started out fairly benign. I threw my pack on my back and started hiking up the trail, hurrying to make up for lost time. That was where I made my first mistake. I had my water bottle in the pack and it was already half empty.

On long portages, I like to leapfrog my gear. So, after walking a half a kilometer or so, I set the pack down. It was a hot day. I took out my water bottle and had a drink. Then I put it back in my pack and started back for the canoe. That was my second mistake; I should have carried the water bottle and filter back to the canoe. The dominoes were lining up.

I brought the canoe up to the pack and walked a little further until I came to the first steep hill. With a lot of effort, I managed to carry the canoe to the top and rest it on the cross-bar that the park rangers had nailed between two trees. Then I went back to the take-out to get the food barrel. At that moment, I realized I had too much gear. Everything should have gone in one pack. With my food in a 30 liter barrel, I had created one trip too many.

I brought the barrel to the canoe and left it there. I went back to the pack and struggled up the hill for the third time. A much needed drink almost emptied my water bottle. I was a little worried, but I thought, there is always a creek somewhere in the bush. And I had my water filter at the top of my pack .

There were three steep hills on that portage. The trail went along a crest and kept climbing. No creek of any sort flowed across or beside it. It didn’t take long before I had emptied my water bottle. Bushwhacking when I was alone was not an option. And, it was getting late. The portage was taking much longer than I had planned. The dominoes were starting to fall.

My journal: Monday, 15 June 2020

“Day 2

This was a difficult portage with vertical climbs both up and down. Down meant I had to climb back up for my second and third trips. I guessed I was about two thirds of the way across the portage and the sun was getting low.

I was getting desperate for water…starting to feel cramps in my left leg. I decided I would leave the boat on the portage trail and take the large pack… see if I could find some water ahead.

I did not have to hike very far before the trail dropped back down to Loughrin Creek. I slid down the hill, pulled out my filter and pumped a few milliliters of water. I swallowed that small drink with a huge sense of relief. Then I pumped a full bottle.

I made the decision to camp on the portage trail right there beside the creek. The sun was near the horizon, my legs were feeling weak and threatening to cramp, and both the canoe and the food barrel were back up the trail above the steepest hill I’d yet encountered.

With whatever energy I had left, I climbed the hill and made may way back to the food barrel. I decided the canoe could stay where it was until morning. I needed to eat — and get some rest.”

Paddling in a Pandemic

In a normal year, my paddling friends and I would have been getting together in March to plan our summer canoe trip. This was not a normal year. In mid-March 2020, Ontario went into quarantine. On March 17, I moved in with my partner. If we were going to hunker down, we wanted to do it together. We lived in Toronto, one of the epicenters of COVID-19 in Canada.

The pandemic meant no group trips, but I did not want to go through a summer with no canoe trip at all. The solution was a solo trip, just me, my canoe, and my fly rod.

I needed to do a circular trip where I ended up back at my car. No passengers, no needing to get a ride back to the put-in with someone else driving. Algonquin Park seemed to be the best choice…and the trout fishing there is great.

The idea of a solo trip was somewhat disconcerting. For me, a big part of canoeing is the social side. I love cooking over a campfire or camp stove. I love the chatter in the evenings. I like being able to share spotting a moose or an eagle. This was going to be different.

I called three canoeing/kayaking friends who had been on solo trips. They all assure me it was wonderful to paddle alone as long as a person was careful. I reminded them that one of our party had broken his leg three years earlier. Still, having talked about it, it was now a question of saving face – despite my anxiety.

From my trip journal:

“Day 1, June 14/20

Only one gas station at Sunridge. I filled up for the trip back. There is no knowing when I’ll get off the lake that day.

Got on Round Lake a little after noon. I paddled hard but the Algonquin Park map did not show a 4 hour paddle to get to the first lake inside the park. And there was a strong east wind in my face. Altogether it was a tough go. My back is sore. I need an ibuprofen to sleep.

No rain. That was good, but the wind was unexpected. Frost predicted tonight. I’m in my Patagonia undershirt and long underwear.

It was a long paddle to get here, but the wind dropped and I wanted to get most of this long lake covered in case there’s more wind tomorrow. I found a good campsite on the south shore of North Tea Lake. It was almost dark when I pulled in. I got a fire going to keep the mosquitoes away and to warm me up. I put a handful of dehydrated turkey and peas in a pot of boiling water with some macaroni while I set up the tent. Not the best supper, but I ate it all.

My new canoe paddled well on her maiden voyage. It’s a prospector design like my cedar strip canoe. With my heavy gear in the bow it paddled very well into the wind.

A long day. My back is hurting. Cold tonight. I’m glad I brought my heavy sleeping bag.”