TOURduPARK
I decided to get up keep going. Would the way down the trail be a little less cluttered with fallen trees? Nope. It was just as bad, only this time the incline was helping – not hurting. After what felt like forever, I made it back out to the hydro field. You have no idea how happy I was to be walking there. Sure it was hot as hell, but at least the canoe over my head gave me some shade and NO FALLEN TREES! From here, I could see probably 5 km down the field, where the road I was on eventually would be. It was hot out, and without the protection of the forest canopy I was beginning to get uncomfortable. I followed along the road in the open field as I was supposed to, and when it came time to take a quick rest, I put everything down and walked about 20 m up the trail. When I looked back, I saw a strange site – my backpack and canoe in the middle of a hydro field – no water to be seen at all.
I picked everything up and continued on my way. I came to a small brook and wondered if worse came to worse – should I filter and drink this water? I noticed a small snake sunning itself in the brook. I looked at my nalgene and realized I had more than 70 percent of the water left, and I was about 40 percent through the trail. “No need to pump that water,” I thought, “I still have plenty.” Moving along, it wasn’t long before I plunged back into the forest, and back to the blow downs. It’s truly hard for me to express just how bad the trail was. Even the photos do not do it any justice. I wish I had taken more photos of this, as some areas are much worse than the ones I photographed – but – when you’re struggling just to make 10 m of progress, stopping to snap photos becomes less and less of a priority. Eventually, I crossed over the hydro field (yet again) and was back in the forest. This final stretch through the forest towards Grand Lake had its fair share of blow downs, but was nothing like the previous 4000 m. When I finally saw the blue waters of Grand Lake, I let out a loud “whooo!” and I instantly got a second wind of energy. I immediately dashed any plans of skipping the trip to Clemow Lake in exchange for my last night on Grand Lake. Sure it was another 1000 m – but what’s 1000 m when you’ve already gone 6000 m? Besides, I had my eye on the furthest site on Clemow Lake, I was curious to see the ruins there. After another 20 minutes of portaging – without blow downs – I reached the put-in at Clemow Lake. At first glance, the lake is a little eerie – the entire shoreline, all the way around the lake was cluttered with dead, standing trees – beaver flooding perhaps? I later found out it was due to a blockage at a culvert that drains Clemow into Grand Lake via the Barron River. Nevertheless, I launched onto Clemow Lake at 2:49 p.m. I feel like 2 hours and 40 minutes is actually a really good time for an over 6 km portage, especially given the blow-down situation – so either the times in my GPS are wrong (unlikely) or I just hauled ass to get through that horrible, horrible trail.
Day 7: Green Leaf Lake to Clemow Lake
Awake at 9 a.m. and would you believe it? Another bright, sunny and cloudless day. Somebody out there must like me because this is truly a reward! It was considerably warm for 9 a.m. actually the heat is what brought me out of the tent. I fired up the stove, made a cup of coffee and sat down by the water to enjoy it. The clarity of Greenleaf Lake is remarkable – and it actually has a green tint to it! I suppose limestone is somewhere down there. After my coffee, I began the process of taking down the tent. Although it was only 10 a.m. at this point, I wanted to get it out of the way before breakfast. With everything but my breakfast and stove packed, I loaded the canoe. I considered going fishing back at Greenleaf Creek but I eventually decided against it, for I had a long portage to complete today. I wanted to get going, it was already hotter than I wanted it to be and I knew it would only get worse. I ate my breakfast of oatmeal and a second cup of coffee. I packed the final items and gave a quick glance around the campsite. It was a good site, and I was glad to have had the entire lake to myself for two nights. Mind you, I kept to the north end of the lake, so I probably wouldn’t have heard much of anything from the other sites – but still, there’s nothing better than having a lake all to yourself in Algonquin.
That's an odd place for a canoe, EH?
A great campsite on Clemow Lake
It must have been a relatively large building
I launched onto a semi-calm Clemow Lake and began my paddle to the last campsite. Jeff’s old map indicated three sites on this lake, but on the new one there are only two. The first one is tucked neatly away in the forest and looks to be on relatively flat grounds, though I did not get out to check it out completely. I moved along, and could see the rocky outcrop where my site was located. After a good 25-30 minutes of paddling, I arrived at the site. From the water it looked great – large sloping rock leading into the water, ample flat space for my tent, and a stone chair and table in front of the firepit. Now I’m up to three sites on this trip that had stone furniture. Pretty cool!
It was still a little windy, but nothing too crazy. I walked around the site, and I found it to have a very unique landscape. Mini hills and valleys everywhere. I went behind the site to check out the thunder box and found a new one had been installed, as the other one was completely crushed by a fallen tree – I suppose that was one shit storm you’d be glad not to be in – literally!
I thought the fallen trees would never end
It was 11:20 a.m. when I left the site and made my way down the lake. This is one of the most beautiful lakes I’ve seen in The Park – and I’ve grown quite fond of it. I was so fortunate to not only have gorgeous weather, but dead calm water for all three days. It was such a relaxing paddle down the lake, and because I only had one portage today, I decided to take my time. The sun was bright and reflecting off the water, it made me thirsty just looking at the crystal clear water. I reached for my nalgene and I realized something; I had made a miscalculation during the planning stages for this trip. I only ever bring one nalgene for water – I used to bring two, but found it to be too much. Well, I had a 6400 m portage that has a 144 m increase in elevation, followed by a 176 m decline. That’s going to take more than 1L of water. Plus, out of all the praise I gave to the nice weather it was finally working against me. It was getting really warm, and 1L was becoming less and less logical – perhaps I should spend the day at Greenleaf and wait till it cools off a bit. Then I remembered it’s usually the hottest around 3 or 4 p.m. so if anything, now is the time to go. I don’t carry a thermometer, but I would estimate that day at 30°C. I needed a water plan. I made it to the end of the lake and I pulled up to a rock on the southern side, about 300 m away from the portage. By this time I had finished the 1L of water that was in there, and pumped another. I chugged the whole thing. Then I pumped another. I waited about five minutes and completely downed that one. I now had 3L of water inside me, and my plan was to hold my pee as long as I could – turns out that would not be a problem. I pumped my final nalgene of water but stopped halfway to chug that, I was really worried about this. I cleaned the filter and pumped my actual final 1L. I packed the filter away and paddled over to the portage. I could see brook trout looking back up at me in the shallows by the log jam. Where the hell were you yesterday I shouted – they didn’t even move and I am pretty sure they heard me.
I looked at my GPS – it was 12:09 p.m. Was it really that smart to begin this portage at high noon in the blazing sun? I would soon find out. I loaded up, feeling a little ‘full’ of water and made my way down the first of three legs of this portage. I had no concerns about this section as I had traversed it to get in to Greenleaf, and there was only one fallen tree that I had to unload my canoe to deal with. I was at the first intersection by 12:20 p.m. Not bad by my standards. I took a short break, still feeling uncomfortably full from all the water. Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea after all. I was really surprised the bugs weren’t coming after me on the trail like they were a few days ago. I was thankful for that. After my short rest I loaded up and continued on – I wondered what was in store for me down the trail. About 150 m down the trail I came to my first couple of blow downs, nothing too serious and I could simply walk over them. When I arrived at the hydro field, I remembered what the girl at the permit office told me about following the hydro field because the portage was in such bad condition. Well, I can tell you this much – that girl has never been to this hydro field, because if she had, she would have never recommended someone follow it. First of all, there is no trail to follow and although there are no trees, there are massive stumps and boulders the size of houses that need to be scaled. I was thinking, “Is she for real? There is no way the portage can be more difficult than this.” I decided that keeping to the portage was the only rational thing to do. I finished crossing the hydro field and made my way back into the woods.
Almost immediately the real problems began. The trail quickly became steep, and as I looked ahead of me, it showed no sign of letting up for a while. I’ve walked steep portages before (Hogan to Big Crow) but this incline really took it out of me. I came to another set of blow downs, only these ones could not be walked over. Fallen trees everywhere with branches sticking out in every direction. Some you could walk around through the bush, others required me to unload. At one point, I was on my hands and knees crawling under a bunch of fallen trees as I forced my canoe over them. I check the GPS; I had only made it 500 m from the last intersection. This was not good. I still had 5500 m to go and by the looks of it, there were going to be plenty more blow downs. And there were. It got to a point where I was progressing at less than ten metres per minute. I was somewhat furious that a regular maintenance trail had been reduced to this condition – especially since it follows an old road – get some guys on ATVs out here with chainsaws and clean this up. It was absolutely unbelievable. It got to a point where I put the canoe down and walked with my backpack for 200 m. I got to a small clearing on the trail where I could put my pack down and relax for a minute. As I sat on the trail, sweat dripping off my face, under the blazing sun I really wondered if I was doing the smart thing. If this trail was clear – no problem, sure it has one hell of an incline, but at least it wouldn’t be a struggle through trees and branches too. I sat for a good 20 minutes; I was breathing hard. I let myself cool off while pouring a tiny bit of that precious water on a bandana and tying it around my neck. I went back for my canoe, and struggled with it to get back to my pack. I loaded up for a single carry and continued. I really can’t stress enough how many fallen trees there were – I would estimate 100 fallen trees for every 200 m. Sound impossible? The only way to know for sure is to go across the portage and experience it for yourself – but I don’t recommend it until there is confirmation that it has been cleared. By this time, an hour has passed and I still have not made it to the peak of the trail – which is only about 1/3 the total distance I needed to cover. More fallen trees had me walking up, over, around, under. All while scraping the hell of my canoe at times. For some of the really big fallen trees, you could see someone had come through this way recently because there were a few branches broken or cut in cases where going up, around, over or under were simply not an option. Over the remainder of the trail, I would find these small clearings and be thankful they were there – it probably saved me an hour if not more. While cursing in my head at all these trees, I noticed the trail began to flatten out. I was so happy, my legs were burning and I was breathing hard. I stopped at the top of the hill and rested a while longer in the shade. It was still very hot, probably hotter than when I had started this trail. I was still thankful there were no bugs today – adding that to the recipe and I probably would have gone insane before getting to Clemow. As a matter of fact, while relaxing at the top of the hill, I debated NOT going to Clemow, instead making camp at one of the sites on Grand Lake. We’ll see how that works out when I get there.
Severe winter storms have affected the entire east side of Algonquin Park...
A different view of the foundation on Clemow Lake
I figured I’d take a walk in the bush to see if I could find anything. I made my way east through the brush, and found it quickly became very thick. I could not find a clearing, or even new growth to indicate where a building might have been. Eventually, the bush became too thick to continue. With no prospect in site, I decided to return to camp. While on my way back, I was about 30 m behind the campsite when I noticed something unusual on the ground. It was a slight hump in the forest floor and was remarkably straight. At first glance, it looked as though a tree had fallen and had been there for years, thus being submerged in forest floor debris. I stood back to take a photo of it and suddenly I realized something. There were three more of these humps, all connected at the ends, and I was standing in the middle. I stood there in awe as I realized what this all was. I was standing in the middle of the foundation of the building I was looking for. There was no mistaking it – it was a rectangular-shaped box with very little growth in the middle, but enough to distract you when looking for a clearing. I began to take photos of the foundation, and really began to wonder what I would see had I been standing in this exact spot, only say, 70... or 90 years ago – perhaps longer – I don’t know. I just absorbed the feeling of being in a historic spot, without any knowledge of what this building may have been or contained, when it was built, or whom built it. It was a complete mystery yet I knew something, at one point was going on here. How many people were here? Were there farm animals as well? Was this a logging structure, or someone’s retreat? How long ago had it disappeared? Where were the rest of the remains? I had so many questions but no one to answer them. It was a good feeling to find something like this. Sure, I knew something was there when I looked at the map and saw the ruins symbol, but you don’t always find what you’re looking for when it comes to ruins. I completed my photography of the area and went back to camp.
Greenleaf Lake to Clemow Lake... via the worth portage imaginable
As I looked around more, I began to see the ruins, or what I thought were the ruins. There were a bunch of rusted tins and cans (from the days when this stuff was allowed I presume) and the odd rusting bucket. I also found a glass bottle that looked to be very old – just by the shape (not condition) of it. The more I looked, the more piles of cans I found. Some were clearly visible, and others were half buried in the forest debris that littered the floor. I wondered what exactly was underneath me as I walked around – history for sure. After taking my time to snap some photos, I began to wonder, “How do piles of old garbage constitute ruins?” then it began to click – perhaps they were NOT the ruins as indicated on the map – perhaps there’s something else. I continued walking around the site, carefully scanning the grounds looking for a trace of something else. A notched piece of lumber, some cable, anything really – but nothing turned up. When I referred to V3 of Jeff’s map, it indicated there is possibly a building nearby, just east of the site.
... and I mean really severe winter storms!
One shit storm you wouldn't want to be in
Another beautiful day in Algonquin Park
Another Stone Couch! These things are everywhere!
Large foundation on Clemow Lake
Long ago is was normal to bury your garbage - today, cans and bottles are illegal in Algonquin Park
I still had some camp chores to do, such as filtering water for the night and setting up the tent. I did not plan to set up the tarp tonight as the sky was clear, and I was going to be leaving early in the morning anyway – one less thing to take down tomorrow morning. I wanted to get a fire going a little early, so I would have a good bed of coals to cook my dinner on. It was hot all week and had only rained for a short while on night two, so finding dry kindling and firewood was no trouble at all. I got good fire going and threw on some wood to burn down. I watched it for a bit as the larger wood burned, then went about the task of setting up the tent. While I was unpacking and unrolling the tent, the winds began to pick up a little. I suppose I felt it a little more because I was camping on a point. They picked up enough that it became frustrating trying to lay down the ground sheet and tent without them blowing away. I decided I would wait it out an hour or two before setting up the tent to let the wind die down a little. I turned around and looked over to the firepit – all seemed normal. Then I saw it. About 10-12 feet away from the pit, in the dry needle bed, was another fire. It took me a second to process what had happened. With the winds having picked up so quickly, it must have taken a coal or burning piece of material out of the pit and onto the pine needled halfway down the northern slope of the site. I immediately rushed over to my backpack, pulled out my 10L collapsible sink and raced to the water. I filled up the sink and raced back to the unwanted fire, quickly pouring the water on the hottest spots. One load put it almost all the way out, and a second one took care of the flames. A third load stopped it all from smoking. I went back and forth to the water countless times more, completely soaking the immediate and surrounding areas, to prevent any underground fires. I then took a few loads to the fire pit itself and extinguished the flames there. The last thing I wanted to see was fire. I was really surprised at what had happened, and I thought, “How could I let something like that happen?” I don’t control the wind but perhaps I could have immediately returned to the fire when they picked up, instead of fiddling around trying to set up the tent in the winds for a couple minutes. The unwanted fire was not large, but an unexpected and unwelcome fire is obviously a terrible thing. I would estimate the burnt area to be about one metre by half a metre – roughly the area of an additional firepit. I sat down on the stone chair for a while and just relaxed. It was still windy, but not so much that I could not continue to set up my tent – so I did. The strong winds that evening didn’t last long; it must have been a quick burst. Eventually, I made some bannock (on the stove) and read for a while.
I still wanted to try to catch a fish for dinner, so I grabbed the rod and jumped in the canoe. I trolled around about 50 m offshore of my campsite for a good while, but nothing was biting. I thought I would head up to the little bay where the Barron River dumps into Clemow Lake. It was a really nice paddle through here, with large rocks on both sides of the narrows. I was casting just off of these rocks for a while, but still no such luck. I pulled into the little pool below the short waterfalls and just kept casting my line into the water right in front of the falls. I was getting nibbles here and there, but the only fish that kept coming up was some kind of perch or chub, I’m not entirely sure – what I do know is they weren’t the fish I was looking for. I figured for sure I’d catch something off these rocks or in this pool, seeing how I couldn’t catch a lake trout in the main body of water. I stayed out there for a good couple hours, using up the last of my worms and changing lures from time to time. I came back to camp empty handed. It was around 8:30 p.m. when the black flies came out. They came out in full force tonight, and I believe it was the worst swarming of the entire trip. I was completely covered in clothing from head to toe, with the exception of my face and hands. I had my pant legs tucked into my socks to prevent the flies from crawling up my legs. Black flies are really gross little bastards; watching them land then crawl around on you is just weird. I watched them on my socks; there must have been at least a dozen or more on each ankle. “HAHA!” I said to those little guys, “You can’t get to me now can ya?” Well guess what? Turns out, black flies can bite through socks – and they did. The strange thing was the fact that I did not feel the bites immediately, maybe only the odd itch. But when I went in the tent and removed my socks – my ankles were completely covered in bites and boy were they itchy! Since the wind had died down, I lit a small fire to help keep those guys away, but they just kept coming. It got to a point where I thought it wasn’t worth it, so I put out the fire and went to bed. It became very windy again over night, and the noise from it had actually woken me up a couple times.
tr 17: Barron canyon - greenleaf lake
P5070 - Greenleaf Lake to Grand Lake
Old tins and bottles can be found scattered around behind this campsite