The day dawned somewhat overcast. The Stratford-area contingent enjoyed a wonderful breakfast of Stephen Chandler's sunny-side up eggs at his cottage in Kenogami just outside Kirkland Lake, where most of our group had stayed the night before our trip, before heading south on Highway 11 to Tarzwell to meet up with the rest of our party. This consisted of Richard Denton and his son Tim, Jim and Marlene Fenora from the Niagara area, and Chip Honsinger, a visiting U.S. Rotarian (Jim, Marlene and myself being outnumbered by the Rotary folks on the trip). Ross Ventrcek had persuaded his daughter Jane and son-in-law Larry to drive theirs and Ross' van, carrying eight of our party and three of our canoes - Larry's boat trailer was very useful for this part of the exercise! Richard carried both his and the Fenora's canoes and Tim's kayak in the back of his pickup truck, and drove Chip and Tim. We got underway about 8:00, only a few minutes behind schedule.

In the beginning was the gathering...
(L-R) Bert, Richard, Marlene, Chip, Tim, Doug, Norm, Stephen, Jay, Jim, Ross

The trip to our put-in at Gowganda took about two hours, somewhat slowed by road construction and passing lumber trucks. The put-in itself was at a boat ramp, so we'd have the company of motorboats until our first portage later in the day. We arranged that Richard would call in on Friday night on his cell phone to report our progress to Jane and Larry so that they could arrange with Biz (Richard's wife) to meet them at the take-out point in Matachewan. It was 10:20 before we'd loaded the canoes and actually begun our trip on the West Montreal River. The day had turned sunny and warm, so we didn't mind our late start too much. Tim paddled his kayak solo, Richard and Chip paired up, as did Doug and Norm, Bert and Stephen, Jim and Marlene, and Ross and myself.

After an hour or so of paddling, I realized I was going to have a problem with my right wrist. It had been somewhat occupationally-stressed during the final hectic weeks of the job I had just left. I'd been having some tingling and numbness, and it hadn't recovered as fast as I'd hoped. I hoped the pleasant weather would hold so that the paddling would go easily.

There was the usual initial confusion of scale and landmarks along the water. Some of the party took a little longer to get their bearings using the topo maps Ross had printed and laminated for us. We reached the first MNR campsite marked on the maps around noon, and decided that the opposite shore was a better site for lunch. Given the earlier settling in period, it was no surprise that talk turned to GPS devices. Doug Thompson, as perpetual high-tech experimenter of the crew, began to take a long-running stream of jibes about not being able to find his unit when we needed it. Doug and Norm Bird fired up their stove while the rest of us ate a picnic lunch. It became apparent that we had, as usual, brought far too much food.

After lunch, Ross and Richard swapped places, so that we could socialize a bit more. This led to some adjustments in paddling styles. Richard prefers a wide racing paddle, so that I had to work a little harder with my laker paddle to keep up with his bow power strokes, and my wrist began to suffer for it. Richard and Ross swapped back to their original positions later, before our first portage.

We had a little light entertainment at the first marked portage, about 3km downstream from Lake Penassi. Though we'd feared that the water levels would be low, recent rains had brought the levels back up, and the first portage was quite runnable. Jim and Marlene went first, as lead canoe, and promptly tipped. Marlene claimed it was Jim's fault, and they portaged the 180m downstream while the rest of us took the opportunity to play in a little moving water.

The second portage was short, and Bert, Stephen, Ross and I followed Marlene and Jim's lead and took the 40m portage around the rock garden. The others made it through fine - Marlene had just been reluctant to take another soaking at Jim's hands!

The wind had come up throughout the afternoon, bringing in cool weather, rain clouds and the odd sprinkling. Ross and I took it easy as sweep canoe. Tim, despite his youth, kept up a good pace throughout the day. He stood sentinel to guide us into the channel leading to the night's campsite for at the esker on Rankin Lake. While showing as a wide body of water on the map, it was mainly a marsh. The channel was very shallow and choked with eel grass. Its main evidence was the grass pointing the flow out of the lake. The navigable entry was barely wide enough to pass a canoe. Eventually, we had to get out and drag the canoe into the lake itself. This wouldn't have been so bad, except for the rather long, thin leeches swimming in the water. Our campsites would have to be along the wide, sandy beach (fine with me, as I like sleeping on sand), as it constituted the whole useful part of the campsite. Once off the sand, the area was mostly bog and scrub-brush, just barely above water, and probably very nasty stuff to set up in should it rain.

Wide open spaces

We set up camp and were ready to start on making our dinner. It was just around 5:00 and beginning to look like rain again, when Richard and Chip called everyone together for appetizers, a glass of wine, and a "goodwill" presentation. We had smoked oysters, cheese, salmon pâté, "Hawaiian mix" gorp and macadamia nuts, which Chip had brought with him from the U.S., especially for this ceremony of sharing. Chip and Richard had brought special clothing as well - Chip was wearing Hawaiian garb, complete with the best approximation of a lei that he could find locally before he left home. Richard looked like he'd raided some unreconstructed 60's recluse's closet - the colours on his shirt were truly mind-expanding! (not that it shows much in this picture :-( )

Wilderness partying

A bit of history - Doug and Norm have annually tried to outdo Richard on first-night dinners. The escalation continued this year as well. At dinner Doug and Norm treated everyone to a nice Caesar salad. It was a nice addition to the steak, fried onions, potatoes and red peppers that Ross and I ate. Ours was the most plebeian fare of the group, I think! After dinner, Doug and Norm brought out a store of exotic liqueurs.

Feeding time at Rankin Lake

We ate quickly, as a brief shower descended on us. As after-dinner activity, Chip and Richard went for a swim, while Stephen and Doug went off for a little fishing. Personally, I think they went to check out the canoeists at another campsite across the lake! Stephen was trying out some rather interesting "antique" fishing gear that had belonged to his father. Doug claimed to have caught a 22" pike, but released it. No proof at hand, however.

Given the impending weather and the day's exertions, bedtime at 9:00 was very welcome.

6 Aug.

We woke early to a wet morning with very overcast skies. After a brief conference to establish the day's goals (campsite at either end of Mistinokon Lake), we prepared our breakfasts. As usual, Ross and I kept it simple - coffee, toast and oatmeal. Some of the others had bacon and eggs, etc. Norm and Doug's pancakes took a bit of a hit when rain began to fall while they were cooking. The highlight of breakfast, according to Chip, was the thought of lunch. Maybe I should've asked which of their team was cooking.

At last, the evidence!

My wrist was very definitely swollen - Richard diagnosed tendonitis. (Doug later agreed when called in for a consult.)

Lunch:

The three portages between breakfast and lunch weren't too pleasant, certainly longer and less well maintained than we'd expected.

The first, nominally 185m, was actually closer to 300m and very slippery thanks to the night's rains. Bert came close to ending his trip when he slipped and fell, barely avoiding impaling himself on the branches of a fallen pine. Thank God he had the presence of mind to roll towards his back! As Ross and I helped him up, we spotted one that could have stuck his throat or face, and several more that could have punctured his torso and legs. Blind luck, this time.

Richard, Chip and Tim chose to try their luck, despite not having a clear view of the river, and had some lining to do and a few more scrapes added to the canoe's totals.

The second looked quite navigable until the last few meters, where there was a drop of some 2m or so over a run of some 4 or 5m. Richard, Chip and Tim decided to try to run it as well when they ran into a problem. There was very little footing above or below the crooked chute, so that lining it through would be treacherous. Given the severe S-bends in the chute and the last meter of drop, it would be slim odds that a canoe wouldn't roll over as it hit the flat water coming out of the chute. Norm clambered back along the bank and helped them unload some of their gear. The canoe rolled within a 1/2 inch of its freeboard and just made it through. Norm attempted to make his way back, but slipped off the rock into the water and got some nasty bruises and abrasions along his shin.

Richard, Chip and Norm, just barely visible behind the bushes

The third was the longest of the three. The approach was extremely narrow, barely enough to get a canoe through and quite blind until you did. From the vantage point of the portage, though, most of it was a quite navigable canyon except for some stretches where there were chutes or no way out except sideways lift-overs and heavy-duty lining. Given the vertical sides in the canyon and the unknown depth of the water, only Richard, Chip and Tim took the challenge while the rest of us portaged it. Tim was sent back for the paddles and PFDs he'd just carried to the end of the portage.

We'd managed only four kilometers in about as many hours, Since it was now lunchtime, we settled in for a little feed and watched the weather try to make up its mind. Norm changed into long pants, to hide his condition from the ministrations of the good doctors Denton and Thompson, he said. Stephen got out his pole for a little fishing, Judging by the copious remains about the site, it was probably a good idea.

We'd pretty much finished lunch, with no sign yet of Richard and company, though we could occasionally hear their progress. Doug and Ross went back along the portage to watch, document and assist if possible.

Zoom in - any sign of the lads?

Chip was up to his armpits in water, lining through one of the canoes in somewhat unsteady footing. The others were faring little better. Because of the steepness of the channel, Doug and Ross weren't able to get in a very good position to help. Once they were in sight, Bert and Stephen went to their aid by water while the rest of us prepared lunch for the three adventurers. It had taken them over an hour of struggling to get through

The weather was not holding for us. As we prepared to push on, the breeze turned into an active wind, accompanied by a chilling rain. Ross slipped waist deep into the water as he stepped off a point of rock into the canoe and landed very hard on the side of his leg.

Progress the rest of the day was very slow, with the weather switching from torrential downpours, to sullen, dark skies, to bright, hot sun, then back again. For a very brief period, the wind came about and we had sunny skies and a following wind. It did not last.

By late afternoon, everyone was tiring. The group stopped for a rest break just past an open-pit gold mine at the southern tip of Mistinokon Lake. We took the opportunity to stretch our legs, then sheltered beneath the overhang of a fifth-wheel trailer belonging to the mine workers when heavy rains re-started. We decided to push on only to the first campsite on the west shore of the lake, about four kilometers away. With the headwinds and rain, it took nearly two hours to reach our goal.

Richard and Chip had caught up to the group by this time, and forged ahead, scouting for the campsite. The terrain didn't look promising. Steep cliffs fell into the deep waters, and what wasn't vertical was dense bush. The eastern shore now began to be dotted with cottages, and it looked like those might be our salvation.

Our hearts sank as we saw the lead canoe search about, then proceed north again, searching. They hadn't found the site. This was always a distinct possibility for every MNR campsite, since they had little or no money to maintain less-traveled sites. Ross and I landed and checked out the narrow shoreline at the area indicated on the map while Doug and Norm went upstream in a creek shown to border the site. Still no success. Finally, Doug and Norm spotted a small, dilapidated dock, behind which was a narrow, barely visible path leading uphill. When he checked it out, however, he found that it led to a flat tree-sheltered area, large enough to hold our entire company. It appeared to have been the site of a ranger's cabin, probably attached to the fire tower about 1500 meters away. We began to unload the canoes. As if to bless our choice, the wind stopped and the sun re-appeared, strong and warm.

We set up camp about 4:30 and began to prepare our evening meal. Tim had maintained a good pace throughout the day, despite the long day before, but had stayed with the main body of the group as Richard and Chip forged ahead. He was probably beginning to despair about his dinner and sleeping bag. Everyone re-assured him that we would not let him starve or freeze. If anything, he'd have to pick and choose which culinary delights he'd savour. Ross and I had beef stroganoff (rehydrated), Bert and Stephen had noodles and chili respectively, Doug and Norm had stir-fry and Jim and Marlene had hamburgers (also rehydrated). Stephen got high marks for originality for using his coffee pot to cook his chili in. I wasn't that wild about the idea, it being my night to wash dishes.

Unfortunately for Tim, Richard returned from scouting out emergency campsites about 6:30, so that he was forced to wait and dine with his dad. This was not necessarily a hardship - they had bacon and smoked oysters, among other tasty items. And of course, the "cask" of wine. Not to be out-done, Norm and Doug offered up the remains of the assorted liqueurs they'd supplied the night before. As we ate, two lads from the cottages across the way came past our site, looking for a route to the fire tower. They returned several hours later, vowing not to make that trip again in anything other than bright, dry weather.

We'd made arrangements to call Jane about 8:30 that evening on Richard's cell phone, but its limited range wasn't enough to punch past the heights of land separating us from the nearest repeater in Matachewan. It was only eight kilometers away as the crow flies, but one long hike over land or water. We might have had some luck by climbing the fire tower, other than that we'd first have to slog through muck and mire, then climb 1500+ ft.. In the dark. Both ways.

The evening cooled rapidly, and most of the group went early to welcome beds. Richard, Chip and I stood around a small campfire for a while, sharing camp stories and burning assorted trash and bits of wood. Tim had borrowed my water purifier and was giving it a good breaking-in from the dock when some passing fishermen offered him a nice bass. Tim ran up for his dad, and together they accepted the fish, gill-stringing it to their canoe to save for breakfast.

Passing motorboats reminded us that we were getting much closer to civilization again, and it was at least an hour after sunset when they finally quieted down. A loon quartet sang me to sleep.

7 Aug.

The temperature dropped quite low overnight, well below the dew point, so that everything was very damp and chilly in the morning. Ross' knee and my wrist were causing both of us considerable discomfort. Doug, not normally known as pill-pusher in his medical practice, offered us some Motrin from his bag. Once we'd swallowed it, he informed us that diarrhea was a frequent side-effect. Nice timing, Doug!

Richard and company were still preparing their fish as the rest of us headed into the misty dawn. Ross and I took the sweep position, as neither of us was paddling up to our normal levels. The early morning weather, once we were under way, was deliciously refreshing, and very pleasant. The water was smooth, with a light following breeze. We passed dozens of claim stakes. It made me wonder how anyone could expect to get to any ore that might be found here, among these awesome crags and massive outcrops. It seemed as though the land would merely shrug off any attempts to do more than nibble at its edges.

After an hour or so, the weather began to turn nasty again. The wind came about and progress became more of a struggle again. Ross and I discussed the possibility of bailing out early at the last bridge before the portage at the Montreal River dam. It made no sense to risk needless injury or aggravate existing ones just for the sake of pushing on and completing the last four or five hours of the trip. Besides, we still had to contact Jane and Biz to arrange pick-up times.

We caught up with the lead group as they took a rest break at the bridge. There were a few trailers parked along the road on either side of the bridge. I approached one with the intent of finding whether a cell phone could reach town from there. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a large furry object suddenly rose from the wooded shadows nearby. I quickly realized that though quite large, this dog was still a pup. I established my credentials and was allowed past. The residents were still asleep, and quite surprised to find anyone knocking at their door so far from anywhere. I explained our situation and the master of the household, Guy Landry, graciously offered to drive Ross into Matachewan so that we could make our phone call.

Guy was a logger and trucker who spent his summer weekends camped in the trailer with his family. I wouldn't call it roughing it, though. He fired up the generator so that he could load up the coffee maker and the kids could watch cartoons. He also remembered passing our group near Gowganda at the beginning of our trip! Talk about coincidences.

I went off to pack our gear up from the river to the trailer while Ross and Guy drove into town. They returned shortly after, since Guy's cell phone had a truck-mounted antenna and had pretty fair reach. While we waited for Jane and Larry, Guy entertained us with coffee, some of his wife's excellent nut loaf, and stories about his two young sons' sports exploits (local hockey players of some consequence and bright futures) and his own on a trap line he that he kept in the winter.

Richard, Tim and Chip spotted us as they came up to the bridge and came over to check out the situation. We explained what we were doing, then Guy told them what to expect up ahead. Apparently there were two more portages on the Montreal River after what we had thought was the last at the dam. The first rapids were runnable, but the second had to be portaged. Fortunately, there was a "baggage trailer" - all you had to do was hump your loaded canoe onto the trailer and wheel it to the water at the other end of the portage. This message was passed on later when they caught up to the rest of the group waiting at the dam.

Larry and Jane arrived. Ross and I left the boys a bag of chocolate-chip granola bars for a treat, and I gave Guy's wife my unopened bag of dried apricots. As a good cook, I knew she'd find a tasty use for them.

We dumped our gear at Stephen's, drove into Kirkland Lake to pick up Ross' van, and called Biz. We arranged to meet in Matachewan at 1:30, then had a quick lunch. We arrived within minutes of each other and sought shelter from the rain in the local Legion Hall, where a rummage sale was in progress. I bought several items and got into a conversation with a local woman whose son attends the University of Waterloo, just a few blocks from my home.

Our group arrive at the sandy shores of the Matachewan public landing shortly before 2:00. We loaded up and returned to our respective accommodations to clean up before dinner in Kenogami.

Stephen thought he'd show off his northern roots at dinner by ordering local beers. This was something of a disaster for him, since every one he named had either gone out of business or been bought out by a large brewery. Most of the group had packed up before dinner and headed off for ice cream. Ross and I headed back with Stephen to finish packing up. As it happened, Ross, Stephen and I stopped for coffee in North Bay after a few hours of driving through the rain and the darkness. Minutes later, Doug, Norm, and Bert arrived! Our party traveled together until our paths diverged near Kitchener. I arrived home in Waterloo around 3:00 A.M.