Triplogs / Triplog#33 / Days 2&3 / Days 4&5 / Days 6&7
IN via Cart Trail - White Partridge L - Little Dickson L - Dickson L - Little Dickson L - White Partridge L - Out via Cart Trail
Day 6 (May 11)
Long before 8 am, we were up, and eating breakfast, and getting ready to break camp. That day we were to head back to White P. This meant we had to go back to THAT portage, the one from hell. Wisdom can come to young guys like ourselves, if we put our minds to it. Thus we realized the night before, that we could never outdo Master Bo, in his lazy ways. We went to bed earlier that night, with much less booze consumed, thus that morning, all were sober and ready to tackle the portages. No pictures, no video, no nothing of that crossing back to White P, it was all work, work, work. Mike had managed to do The Little Dickson-Sundassa in one crossing in 54 minutes, this included approx. 7 minutes total in rest periods. I might add too, that he was carrying his canoe and a full Barrel.
The tenting area on Little Dickson Lake, squeezed in as we were
For most of our stay on Little Dickson Lake, David slept out in the open,
underneath his orange MEC tarp
I got off my lazy butt and carried Bo's canoe from the beaver dam, plus my backpack, to Sundassa Lake. Crossing the dam was a little more tricky this time, as there was a gusty wind. I crossed with some difficulty, and while I was crossing back again empty handed, Bo was there. "I'm not crossing this with my canoe in this wind", Bo mentioned. Whatever was Bo going to do? Bo walked down to the beaver dam's edge, and rolled the canoe over, plunked it in the water, and gave it a hard shove. The canoe, buffeted by the winds, floated along the dam, passing me, where I stuck my paddle out, and pushed it along to the finish. Bo strolled across the dam, hands in pockets. He sure was a lazy & smart sonofagun! Next, I carried Mike's Barrel and Bo's Canoe on the last portage from Sundassa Lake to White P Lake. All of us hauled ass that day, and we were proud of ourselves. It took us just a little over 4 hours to do the crossing, shaving almost 3 hrs off our previous time of 7 hrs, 4 days earlier. Mike and I, were ready to launch onto White P first. Everyone else seemed in good hands, so we loaded up. Mike was standing in rough water, holding his canoe steady, while I handed gear to him. It was quite windy, and the waves were kicking up quite a bit. Mike and I both studied the lake, and decided we could cross safely, although it would be a helluva paddle. I could tell Mike was itching to try out his beloved shiny, if not by now scratched and dented canoe in the rough waters, he was curious to see how she handled. I had no qualms about doing this, the waves were not that high, it was just that the wind was right in our faces...so stamina was the order of the day. We shoved off, and paddled, then paddled furiously, and then furiously still. After about 15 minutes of really hard paddling in the bow, I was growing tired. Mike, had one trick up his sleeve. "Beer, Beer' BEER!" was all Mike said, when I complained I was running out of steam. Well that did the trick, I had forgotten we had beer back at the meadow, and that was all the encouragement I needed, I dug my paddle in and paddled my heart out, the waves continuing to crash over the bow, and soaking me occasionally...Beer, stroke, Beer, stroke,BEER ! On and on the fever-ant command went, both of us chanting it like we were hypnotized. Within 5 minutes of reaching the opposite shore, I ran out of steam, It was ok though, as we were just another minute or so from the wind shadow. mike continued to paddle till we came upon calm waters. We had made it...It took us about a solid 25 minutes of hard paddling to get across. We were a considerable distance down the lake from the meadow, we had no choice but to face the waves head on. With us in the wind shadow along the shoreline, we looked back to the portage. We couldn't see anyone on the water, and it looked like the wind and waves had picked up considerably as well. We made it back to the Meadow around 1pm. We pitched our tent, gathered some firewood, set up a trap system(it had drizzled a bit here and there), and relaxed, as mike prepared some lunch, while I got a fire going. Shortly after 3pm, Both canoes could be seen coming over. By around 3:30pm, Bo & Shiela, and David & Derek, had landed. When they had arrived to launch onto White P, we were already halfway across, and the waters were very rough.
It rained heavily that nite on WP....
...but with tarps, good friends and live music by Bo, our hearts and souls were warmed,
without the need of a fire...okay so a little drink here and there helped too.
So the four of them, sat back and waited out the wind and waves for a few hours. Derek & David, set up their tent next to ours, under some tarps, and Bo & Sheila at the other end of the meadow, under a tarp system as well. This way all three tents had sufficient coverage and still lots of walking room under the tarps. This was a good thing, as it had begun to rain on and off, throughout the afternoon, and into the evening. With the four of us, comfortable under the tarp system, complete with chairs and BEER, Bo and Sheila joined us. Bo had brought along his guitar, and gave us a real treat that night as he sang many songs to us, and a special song of our Algonquin trip. All I can say is, you had to be there, and it is a memory I'll always treasure. It continued to rain on and off into the late evening. Everyone was getting cold, and tired..we did after all break our pledge to be lazy sonofabitches, and we needed to rest. Before midnight, everyone was asleep, with the sound of the rain drumming on the fabric of the tarps and tent, a sound which I find comforting and it knocked me out cold.
Day 7 (May 12)
Bo feeding me some breakie
Rain don't slow Bo down
Bo & Sheila's Tent set-up on WP
It poured all night long, but inside Mike's tent all was dry and comfortable. We were up early, breakfast was made, and then Derek & Mike paired up, and decided to do the 2200m portage to White P creek. I stayed behind, letting the gloomy weather decide my mood. I hung around camp doing nothing. David hung around too, but soon became bored of being bored and went for a solo paddle. I went over and hung out with Sheila & Bo, and was introduced to the Meadow rabbit, a rabbit that has been known to frequent the meadow at White P over the years. Just after 11am, not one but two pickup trucks drove in the meadow. One hauling a big wagon like trailer. What the hell? I thought perhaps these were wardens, but after observing the fellows as they climbed out and prepared to set-up camp, I realized they weren't wardens after all. I went over to talk to Bo, who was talking to one of the guys that drove in. I was introduced, and then watched and listened for a bit. The guy Bo was talking to excused himself, and went about his business. I waited till he was out of earshot, and I guess Bo saw the confusion and anger building in my expression. Vehicles! what gives Bo? Status card holders, he told me. Ahh..ok..made sense, still I was not pleased by the appearance of the vehicles on the edge of White P. Status card holders are natives who have exclusive rights in The Park, Whereas certain laws do not apply to people of their status. For me personally, I felt as if the unique wagon ride I had experienced into White P, had somehow been tarnished by the appearence of the vehicle. Even to this day, words can't explain the disappointment I felt. I put these disturbing feelings behind me, and pulled out my camera realizing I was missing some opportunities as some horses came down the cart trail and into the meadow. No one wants to take pictures of trucks in Algonquin, but horses, ahh..what beauty and power in such a graceful animal. It was 11:30am, and the team of horses was hauling a wagon(not unlike Stewart's) of men and gear. They had come in the same way we did. Sheila was enamoured with the horses, and greeted the horses as they came plodding along through the meadow. 25 minutes later another team of horses then 30 sec. later another! Well the next thing you know, it's almost 12:30 pm and there's like 20 some odd people running around! The sun came out, and the raincoats came off, and it really started to warm up.
In the afternoon, the rain stopped and folks started showing up
Early afternoon, wagon after wagon showed up
By 12:45pm, Mike and Derek came back. The look on their faces was one of stunned confusion. What the hell?? Same thing I said! David was back too, he did not look pleased. A couple of guys set up their camp within meters of our site, they looked pissed cause of where we were camped, feeling somehow they had been cheated out of their spot. There was mutterings of discontent among the four of us. Then the sound of chain saws rang out. The status guys getting some firewood, the easy way. This was really starting to get on our nerves. We had come on this trip and had experienced nothing but peaceful, quiet, Algonquin wilderness for six full days, then all of a sudden the silence was utterly shattered.
Sheila greeting some horses after their long journey into The Park
Making friends: Sheila letting the horses catch her scent
Sheila managed to scoop a ride from another horse
Bo was heard saying "I told ya", he had warned us, that in some years, the meadow ended up being just like a town. Some of the horses were employed to haul out logs, to be chopped up, it was really interesting to see old methods employed in modern times, but we were all still in shock. It had just become a really busy place all of a sudden. It suddenly felt like I was at a rodeo or something, unwillingly, I might add. Stewart had mentioned relics of logging days and military relics as well off the cart trail, before the terminus at White P. We decided to check'em out and get away from the shocking noise. By 2:30pm I came back to camp, in the bush the black-flies were getting real thick. They weren't biting yet, but they might any minute it seemed. Derek, along with David went back out to fish, and Mike went out for a solo paddle, they were fed up with the noise. After awhile, all three came back, Derek with a nice 2 or maybe 3 lbs lake trout! Alot of the guys had finally settled down, and then the camp emptied around 4pm, as everyone seemed to take off and go fishing. Modern methods, such as motorboats, were a disturbing sound to our virgin-ized ears of the last 6 days. Much trout was brought back and the fellows that had camped so close to us, were quite generous, in giving us a plate full of breaded trout and sauce to munch on. The muttering died! These guys were really cool and knew how to break the ice. Just before 6pm, another team of horses showed up...with Stewart's team already there to take us out the next day, there was a dozen horses present. It was quite a party that night, none of us didn't really participate in, we just hung around our tents, wishing the noise would go away. Then at around 11pm, firecrackers went off! WHAT THE HELL?! One of the young status holders was drunk and setting off firecrackers by the shoreline. Status or no status rights, I was pissed(not drunk, just very angry), before I could get myself into trouble, one of the farmer guys, was enraged and ran through our camp and over to the young kid setting off the firecrackers. "Stop that shit right now! You're spook'in my horses", he yelled. It certainly was true, his horses were shifting around alot, making nervous noises, stamping their hooves. They were upset, and so was the horse master. Soon the noise was quelled. I decided to call it a night. With all the noise though, long into the night, it wasn't till after 1am that I was able to sleep.
activity at our campsite between rainshowers
More horses at White P...
and another horse..
..and even more, pictured here is Stewart's horses, Kipper and Kryszan
Derek with his laker he caught on White P...nice one!
Mike Relaxing in the sun
Mike smiling, just before he realizes we have a village full of new neighbours
Logging the old fashioned way...for firewood
The resident rabbit on White P