Friday was a long day of waiting. Irene had put the prime rib on the bbq around 3:00 PM, the beer was in the cooler, and the only thing missing was several canoeists. Sometime between 4 and five, Mihun and Iskweo rolled in, and shortly afterward Odyssey and Mrs. Odyssey showed up. Robin was the late arrival, coming in around 6:00. The usual backyard shenanigans proceeded. Mihun presented three of us with beautiful weather vanes, all carved and painted to portray each one of us in our canoes. These are real works of art, and mine will never see the outdoors.
After a few beer were consumed, Robin burned me good by hand delivering a special “paddle sock” to me. It’s strange how life on the internet can actually be reflected in real life, and everyone had a good laugh over my new accessory. Further irony occurred when I checked the mail upon returning from the trip. A mysterious package from Alan Gage was sitting in my mail box. I opened it up, fully expecting a two piece kayak paddle, only to be surprised by another paddle sock. So now I own two of the things I despise. Robin’s gift is on the right, Alan’s on the left. Next time I make fun of something, I’m going to shoot big, and say that kevlar canoes are for sissies, maybe one of them will show up in the mail.
After a gut busting meal, and a few more beverages, air mattresses were spread out and the group drifted off to sleep to the sound of rain pounding down on the tin roof. Unfortunately, for Mihun, the rain came down so hard that the roof leaked right on her.
Departure the next morning was by 9:30, and we made our way up the Ogoki road in light rains. We dropped off all the canoes and gear at the Marshall Lake port. Robin had brought an excellent cart, so while three of us drove to the Kapikotongwa River bridge, the rest of the group began having the gear down the 1.2 kilometre trail.
Robin setting up his cart with Iskweo
We finished porting around 2:00 and were greeted by a moderately wavy Marshall lake. After a group consultation, it was agreed that we would stick close to shore and cross to the far shore at the narrows to take advantage of the lee shore. The crossing went without incident, and upon arrival we were greeted by the first of three eagle nests that we would see on the trip. All of them had young eagles still in the nest.
Paddling the lee shore.
Robin disappeared behind us for a while, and when he reappeared, he had procured a piscine extravaganza for our supper.
When I finally located the established campsite, I was shocked to see a party of fishermen there. This was a first, as we have never had competition for campsites in these parts of the boondocks. An even bigger surprise awaited me when I talked to them, as one fellow there in his 80’s recognized me. When he was 75, he had completed the Marshall lake loop canoe trip with his 69 year old buddy. They had stopped by my place to get maps and left me with some fresh produce from Southern Ontario. It’s a small world.
Now we were faced with another lake crossing to get to the other established site, and just as we started to cross, a very strong wind came up, accompanied by rain. We quickly got into camp and got the rain tarp up. I’m no tarpologist, and I’m sure Hoop would snicker at my modest granny knot spectacle. It wasn’t revealed until a few days later that the real tarpologist was Odyssey, who freely admitted to being a Hoop-a-lite.
Mihun fished from the rocks of the site and landed a couple of pike.
The next morning we crossed the lake and headed down Gripp River. We had three ports to do today, all short and in good shape.
It was a mixed bag of weather all day, with the only constant being a head wind. We were headed for the nice site on Gripp Lake that Robin had found last summer.
Unloading at the second port of the day
Running a little riffle
Robin busts a move
The fishing canoe
Loading up at the last port of the day
On the way to Gripp Lake, I saw something blue on the shoreline of a cliff side. I’ve always been a bit of a pirate at heart, so I paddled over to have look. The wind was blowing pretty strong, and as I stared at the item of fascination (a rotten piece of blue tarp), the wind blew me sideways into a low lying cedar tree. I didn’t even see it coming, and the next thing I knew, I was swimming. The tree had booted me completely out of the canoe. Fortunately, the canoe stayed upright, and after some gymnastics, I was able to swing back into the canoe like a monkey. It just goes to show, you never know when the ticket might drawn that awards you a trip to the great unknown.
Later that night, Robin and Iskweo tried out my trusty little chum, and the response was positive.
The next morning dawned to a thick drizzle, that eventually burned off.
Gripp Lake in the morning.
Our destination was Summit Lake today, and this was the first introduction for some of the canoeists to the Northern Ontario delicacy known as Loon crap. To be sure, there might be some loon crap in the slimy, stinky mixture, but I think the name is designed more to describe the consistency and stench of the mud, rather than an identification of its contents. One thing is for sure, loon crap is not paddle friendly, and after a couple of days of churning through it, one can end up with arms like Popeye.
The wild rice normally grows very thick in this area, and it usually serves to identify the one and only channel through the duck poop stew. However, the rice seems to be a couple of weeks behind this year, so finding a channel was next to impossible.
Churning through the poo.
Catching a break in the wild rice
Paddling across Summit Lake
Summit lake offers some expansive views, and we watched as the weather came down the lake, sometimes in a walking wall of water.
We were fortunate that Odyssey took this opportunity to reveal his rank as an acolyte in the tarpology sect of the Hoop-a-lites. Odyssey was so far advanced that he even had mastered the esoteric secrets of the prussic knot, allowing us to shift the tarp left or right on the ridge rope with no fear of losing its hold. It was a beautiful thing to see. I took most my pictures that night from under that splendid tarp.
The next morning we set off to join the Arctic watershed. Summit flows both ways, south to Superior, and north to James Bay. We saw our third eagle nest just up the lake, with the Momma flying around with a concerned and dangerous attitude.
On the way up the lake there is an interesting little erratic boulder that I have often used as a lunch stop.
Around 50 years ago, or more, the creators of The Canoe Atlas of the Little North also paddled by this rock formation, and one of the authors made an illustrated rendition.
Summit lake soon began to peter away into Loon crap Lake, and we all struggled to get to the mouth of the Powitik river at the end of it. Upon reaching the river, I suddenly realized that the water was the lowest I had ever seem it. We usually walked our canoes through a right channel of the river, but there was barely a trickle going through it. The left channel revealed a passable channel, if the canoes were walked.
The low water continued to plague us for the rest of the trip, and ultimately forced us to change our timeline. The next section of the river had a couple of indicated ports, both of which we were able to line. The rest of the day consisted of negotiating boulder gardens, interspersed with vast fields of loon crap. At one point, Robin and I were paddling through straight poop, with no water on top. It was quite the workout.
The end of one of the rapids we lined.
We only saw one moose on the trip, which was highly unusual. I have always seen at least 8 to 12 moose every time I came through. We did see two wolves and a few bears. Perhaps the water was just too low for the moose to feed safely without getting sucked down to China in the quagmire of Loon poop.
We ended the day with some fairly intense lining, which often had us practically swimming the canoe through small chutes. The falls where we camped is a nice site, although they were only about a tenth of the normal size.
Mihun took a cast and landed a good sized pike right away.
We had a good night there, and I finished off my gin, being forced now to swallow vodka as the evening refreshment.
Loading the canoes the next morning proved to be somewhat challenging. The normal loading spot was a hundred paces down a trail, but it ended in a couple of hundred feet of loon crap, so we had to load at the bottom of the falls. It was precarious and slow, but everyone was successful in not damaging any body parts.
A short paddle brought us to the junction of the Kapikotongwa River, and it was here that we had to make decision.
The Kap, downstream from the junction of the Powitik
Our original plan had been to paddle up the Kap river into Faubert Lake. We were then going to find a possible campsite, cut it out and develop it. However, one glance up the Kp from the junction showed us that this was not to be. Miles of weeds and loonshit stretched in front of us, so it was decided that we would just continue down the river and get out at the bridge a few days early.
We camped on a big bald rock that night, and after imbibing a few drinks, it was decided that we would head back to my place the next day and drink cold beer.
Bald rock site
Both Mihun and Iskweo went fishing that night and landed a couple of monstrous pike. They were big enough to make swimming a scary proposition.
Everyone got up early the next morning to the crashing of thunder in the distance. I was on the water by 7:45, as I knew I had three ports to cut before we could get out today. The paddle down the Kap was serene and beautiful.
The rest of the day was business as usual, with much chainsawing, sweating and occasional swear word, probably directed at me. The first port of the day, a 660 meter mud fest, took and hour to cut. As people were porting it, I kept hearing things like “Where’s the trail?” Well, it was’t a great port, but e have far worse. I took my last load down through the rapids, and ended up spending almost an hour lining through the beastly mess.
We got back to the bridge just before 3:00, and the celebratory beer I had left under my back seat was still actually cold. As we drove hime, we were engulfed in a micro burst, with the winds blowing horizontal, and large hail smashing into our vehicles. Quite an ending to the trip. When we reached my place, my wonderful wife already had beer in the cooler and supper on the bbq.
It was an interesting trip, made somewhat challenging by the low water. The main lesson I learned on this trip is take more gin, it’s a very good drink when it’s hot out. Kudos to all the participants who drove so far to sample a little piece of my favorite country. Robin is still up on Marshall lake, enjoying a few days of solitude.
After a few beer were consumed, Robin burned me good by hand delivering a special “paddle sock” to me. It’s strange how life on the internet can actually be reflected in real life, and everyone had a good laugh over my new accessory. Further irony occurred when I checked the mail upon returning from the trip. A mysterious package from Alan Gage was sitting in my mail box. I opened it up, fully expecting a two piece kayak paddle, only to be surprised by another paddle sock. So now I own two of the things I despise. Robin’s gift is on the right, Alan’s on the left. Next time I make fun of something, I’m going to shoot big, and say that kevlar canoes are for sissies, maybe one of them will show up in the mail.
After a gut busting meal, and a few more beverages, air mattresses were spread out and the group drifted off to sleep to the sound of rain pounding down on the tin roof. Unfortunately, for Mihun, the rain came down so hard that the roof leaked right on her.
Departure the next morning was by 9:30, and we made our way up the Ogoki road in light rains. We dropped off all the canoes and gear at the Marshall Lake port. Robin had brought an excellent cart, so while three of us drove to the Kapikotongwa River bridge, the rest of the group began having the gear down the 1.2 kilometre trail.
Robin setting up his cart with Iskweo
We finished porting around 2:00 and were greeted by a moderately wavy Marshall lake. After a group consultation, it was agreed that we would stick close to shore and cross to the far shore at the narrows to take advantage of the lee shore. The crossing went without incident, and upon arrival we were greeted by the first of three eagle nests that we would see on the trip. All of them had young eagles still in the nest.
Paddling the lee shore.
Robin disappeared behind us for a while, and when he reappeared, he had procured a piscine extravaganza for our supper.
When I finally located the established campsite, I was shocked to see a party of fishermen there. This was a first, as we have never had competition for campsites in these parts of the boondocks. An even bigger surprise awaited me when I talked to them, as one fellow there in his 80’s recognized me. When he was 75, he had completed the Marshall lake loop canoe trip with his 69 year old buddy. They had stopped by my place to get maps and left me with some fresh produce from Southern Ontario. It’s a small world.
Now we were faced with another lake crossing to get to the other established site, and just as we started to cross, a very strong wind came up, accompanied by rain. We quickly got into camp and got the rain tarp up. I’m no tarpologist, and I’m sure Hoop would snicker at my modest granny knot spectacle. It wasn’t revealed until a few days later that the real tarpologist was Odyssey, who freely admitted to being a Hoop-a-lite.
Mihun fished from the rocks of the site and landed a couple of pike.
The next morning we crossed the lake and headed down Gripp River. We had three ports to do today, all short and in good shape.
It was a mixed bag of weather all day, with the only constant being a head wind. We were headed for the nice site on Gripp Lake that Robin had found last summer.
Unloading at the second port of the day
Running a little riffle
Robin busts a move
The fishing canoe
Loading up at the last port of the day
On the way to Gripp Lake, I saw something blue on the shoreline of a cliff side. I’ve always been a bit of a pirate at heart, so I paddled over to have look. The wind was blowing pretty strong, and as I stared at the item of fascination (a rotten piece of blue tarp), the wind blew me sideways into a low lying cedar tree. I didn’t even see it coming, and the next thing I knew, I was swimming. The tree had booted me completely out of the canoe. Fortunately, the canoe stayed upright, and after some gymnastics, I was able to swing back into the canoe like a monkey. It just goes to show, you never know when the ticket might drawn that awards you a trip to the great unknown.
Later that night, Robin and Iskweo tried out my trusty little chum, and the response was positive.
The next morning dawned to a thick drizzle, that eventually burned off.
Gripp Lake in the morning.
Our destination was Summit Lake today, and this was the first introduction for some of the canoeists to the Northern Ontario delicacy known as Loon crap. To be sure, there might be some loon crap in the slimy, stinky mixture, but I think the name is designed more to describe the consistency and stench of the mud, rather than an identification of its contents. One thing is for sure, loon crap is not paddle friendly, and after a couple of days of churning through it, one can end up with arms like Popeye.
The wild rice normally grows very thick in this area, and it usually serves to identify the one and only channel through the duck poop stew. However, the rice seems to be a couple of weeks behind this year, so finding a channel was next to impossible.
Churning through the poo.
Catching a break in the wild rice
Paddling across Summit Lake
Summit lake offers some expansive views, and we watched as the weather came down the lake, sometimes in a walking wall of water.
We were fortunate that Odyssey took this opportunity to reveal his rank as an acolyte in the tarpology sect of the Hoop-a-lites. Odyssey was so far advanced that he even had mastered the esoteric secrets of the prussic knot, allowing us to shift the tarp left or right on the ridge rope with no fear of losing its hold. It was a beautiful thing to see. I took most my pictures that night from under that splendid tarp.
The next morning we set off to join the Arctic watershed. Summit flows both ways, south to Superior, and north to James Bay. We saw our third eagle nest just up the lake, with the Momma flying around with a concerned and dangerous attitude.
On the way up the lake there is an interesting little erratic boulder that I have often used as a lunch stop.
Around 50 years ago, or more, the creators of The Canoe Atlas of the Little North also paddled by this rock formation, and one of the authors made an illustrated rendition.
Summit lake soon began to peter away into Loon crap Lake, and we all struggled to get to the mouth of the Powitik river at the end of it. Upon reaching the river, I suddenly realized that the water was the lowest I had ever seem it. We usually walked our canoes through a right channel of the river, but there was barely a trickle going through it. The left channel revealed a passable channel, if the canoes were walked.
The low water continued to plague us for the rest of the trip, and ultimately forced us to change our timeline. The next section of the river had a couple of indicated ports, both of which we were able to line. The rest of the day consisted of negotiating boulder gardens, interspersed with vast fields of loon crap. At one point, Robin and I were paddling through straight poop, with no water on top. It was quite the workout.
The end of one of the rapids we lined.
We only saw one moose on the trip, which was highly unusual. I have always seen at least 8 to 12 moose every time I came through. We did see two wolves and a few bears. Perhaps the water was just too low for the moose to feed safely without getting sucked down to China in the quagmire of Loon poop.
We ended the day with some fairly intense lining, which often had us practically swimming the canoe through small chutes. The falls where we camped is a nice site, although they were only about a tenth of the normal size.
Mihun took a cast and landed a good sized pike right away.
We had a good night there, and I finished off my gin, being forced now to swallow vodka as the evening refreshment.
Loading the canoes the next morning proved to be somewhat challenging. The normal loading spot was a hundred paces down a trail, but it ended in a couple of hundred feet of loon crap, so we had to load at the bottom of the falls. It was precarious and slow, but everyone was successful in not damaging any body parts.
A short paddle brought us to the junction of the Kapikotongwa River, and it was here that we had to make decision.
The Kap, downstream from the junction of the Powitik
Our original plan had been to paddle up the Kap river into Faubert Lake. We were then going to find a possible campsite, cut it out and develop it. However, one glance up the Kp from the junction showed us that this was not to be. Miles of weeds and loonshit stretched in front of us, so it was decided that we would just continue down the river and get out at the bridge a few days early.
We camped on a big bald rock that night, and after imbibing a few drinks, it was decided that we would head back to my place the next day and drink cold beer.
Bald rock site
Both Mihun and Iskweo went fishing that night and landed a couple of monstrous pike. They were big enough to make swimming a scary proposition.
Everyone got up early the next morning to the crashing of thunder in the distance. I was on the water by 7:45, as I knew I had three ports to cut before we could get out today. The paddle down the Kap was serene and beautiful.
The rest of the day was business as usual, with much chainsawing, sweating and occasional swear word, probably directed at me. The first port of the day, a 660 meter mud fest, took and hour to cut. As people were porting it, I kept hearing things like “Where’s the trail?” Well, it was’t a great port, but e have far worse. I took my last load down through the rapids, and ended up spending almost an hour lining through the beastly mess.
We got back to the bridge just before 3:00, and the celebratory beer I had left under my back seat was still actually cold. As we drove hime, we were engulfed in a micro burst, with the winds blowing horizontal, and large hail smashing into our vehicles. Quite an ending to the trip. When we reached my place, my wonderful wife already had beer in the cooler and supper on the bbq.
It was an interesting trip, made somewhat challenging by the low water. The main lesson I learned on this trip is take more gin, it’s a very good drink when it’s hot out. Kudos to all the participants who drove so far to sample a little piece of my favorite country. Robin is still up on Marshall lake, enjoying a few days of solitude.
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