It has been a little while again I know, procrastinating over what to blog about seems to be a downfall of my personality. As things roll on here you’d think it would get easier, but it’s almost the opposite, say unless I have a health update content is hard to come up with. So, in this post I’ll write about what I love best and that will be my latest canoeing trip up to Algonquin Park. Now this is not the only place that I go to get away, challenge myself and the outdoor skills I continue to learn each and every I set out into the wilderness. But this is where it all started, my love, passion and sometimes obsession with backcountry tripping. Seven years ago four of us set out into the park really unexpected in what we would find or the difficulties we would come across. I remember that first trip like it was yesterday, heading down Rain Lake access road to the launch point where we headed off into the unknown, a map, two canoes four guys and some, should I say looking back now questionable gear. We battled a head wind heading Northeasterly on Rain Lake and took an hour and a half to reach our (my) very first portage and as we drew near the well marked sign I turned and looked at my friend and said “really? This is what we are getting into here?” The landing was sand, but beyond that was about a ten foot incline and after dragging our gear up that hill to where the trail flattened out I was sure this would be the first and last backcountry adventure I’d ever do. After completing two, at what the time I thought were strenuous portages we reached our destination lake, Islet and camped on a small island site. I had a $25 tent, minimal gear and nobody had a chair. As the darkness moved in that night and the stars came alive some switch turned on and my mind started to see what I have missed the first 43 years of my life. The rest of that trip went well, I was fortunate that the weather co-operated and we had nothing but sun, any rain would have surely penetrated that cheap tent, making life, well…miserable. Paddling out after three nights on that inaugural trip I knew something had awaken in me, something that everyone needs a love, passion, something that challenges your physical and mental spirit. Most importantly makes you smile and keeps that drive for life alive.
Fast forward seven years, I have been to the Temagami region many times, the wilds of Wabakimi provincial park, along with other smaller canoe route destinations. Once again I find myself paddling up that familiar stretch of water were it all started, Rain Lake in the park that still and always will have a special meaning to me, Algonquin. My route is different this time and I’m much more experienced, have all the right gear, but most of all I’m alone. I’m heading further into the interior and have many portages ahead of me, four alone today and it’s already noon in late September and daylight is not on my side. I reach the end of lake in good time, my solo canoe is fast. It’s a 350 metre portage to the next lake, for Algonquin that’s relatively short and I double carry my gear. Which means I first walk with my backpack, paddles, fishing gear, then drop those at the put in and return to grab the canoe, turning a 350m portage into basically a kilometre. I could try to carry everything at once, but I’m now north of 50 and know my limits, I also bring camera gear and accessories which makes my pack close to 60lbs itself. Back with canoe on my shoulders I load everything back up and away I go heading north on the next lake, I repeat the same process three more times until I reach my destination lake where I’ll set up camp for the night. It’s Wednesday and the interior is quiet, loons hauntingly call out I’m all alone on this piece of paradise tonight, I already feel that sense of simplicity and calm. There’s enough daylight for a quick fish, but I’m skunked for tonight, a lone paddler passes by me as I prepare my fire a simple wave is shared and he and his dog are quickly out of site. My fire burns hot and I let it go til the coals simmer, today on menu is the typical first night steak and rice dinner, cooked over an open fire after a long drive and day on the water I’m not sure if anything tastes better.
With dinner complete, in record time I must say and the dishes cleaned my food bag gets hung as the sun starts to set and darkness takes over. It’s dark early this time of year and by 7:30 my headlamp is needed, a couple more logs are thrown on the fire and I sit back in completely at peace . People ask if I’m scared out there at night, alone, my answer in no. A heightened sense of awareness is what I feel now after all these years and I feel more comfortable out here than any big city at night or in crowds of people upon people. A barred owl calls out as I sit by the fire, a splash in the water, a fish that I should have caught earlier. The fire burns down as I finish my journal entry, it’s only 8:30, but my eyes are getting heavy and my tent awaits, with my sleep pad and new down filled sleeping bag. Tonight it’s dipping to 8 degrees Celsius, it’s cool as slide into sleep system and tuck in, I grab my book, which is also a tale of adventure and read by the beam of my headlamp until my eyes get heavy. Everything is put into its place and I switch off the lamp to nothing now but complete darkness, every sound amplified as to where a chipmunk could sound like a bear, I lay there calm so very happy to be here.
My mind wanders as I close my eyes first to the travel for tomorrow, then to the illness that will always be inside me. It’s been three and a half years now and so far I’ve managed to remain stable and this part of me is what has changed the most, my mind set about life, simple, happy moments. I ask myself in the darkness, “Is this what keeps this disease at bay? The nature the wilderness and the solace it holds?” Along with the passion and will-power it takes to do these solo treks, could this be a secret, an invisible tonic that keeps life in this body and if it is? How can I bottle it up to help all others in need, to keep that quality of life that we all desperately need. The day has been long and off to sleep I drift, not even waking once throughout the pitch black night, next thing I see is my watch it’s now 6:30 a.m. I feel great, refreshed and happy to be alive, happy as can be.
Thanks for taking the time to read the blog, I will continue the story of my fall trip in the next post. Please consider subscribing, like and or comment. Cheers, Steve
Cancer Won't Run My Life 