(picture by Jason Irwin)
We’d decided to depart O.S.A. Lake as early as possible. As in before dawn. The winds really pick up later in the day and wanted to avoid trying to cross Killarney Lake under those conditions. Packed up, boiled water as we did so, poured the water into the freezer bag, put it in the cozy and off we went. The lake was dark and misty, and we found the portage by headlamp light.
As we were portaging across I was surprised to see someone doing what we were doing. A pre-dawn portager.
“Good morning.”
No response. Didn’t look at me, didn’t return my greeting, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. I know I’m kind of a big, intimidating guy, but come on.
Saw him again on the second trip across.
“Hi there.”
Once again, not a smile, not a nod, nothing. Totally ignored me. Okay then.
When I got to the put in point I was busy changing out of my boots back into paddling booties (the scene in the picture.)
Jay came up, with a zip lock with a bunch of maps in it. “Look what I found.”
“Not really sure what that guys problem was...”
“You too huh?” Jay responded. “Said hello and he ignored me. Twice.”
“Yeah me too. What an asshole.”
“Well, he dropped his maps. Want to bet we’ll see the guy again in a while coming back this way to trying to find his maps. And want to bet that mr. personality disorder will be willing to acknowledge us and talk to us then?”
Never did see him again though.
Moral of the story: when you can’t extend some common civility to someone who is friendly to you, you’ll lose your maps.
As we were portaging across I was surprised to see someone doing what we were doing. A pre-dawn portager.
“Good morning.”
No response. Didn’t look at me, didn’t return my greeting, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. I know I’m kind of a big, intimidating guy, but come on.
Saw him again on the second trip across.
“Hi there.”
Once again, not a smile, not a nod, nothing. Totally ignored me. Okay then.
When I got to the put in point I was busy changing out of my boots back into paddling booties (the scene in the picture.)
Jay came up, with a zip lock with a bunch of maps in it. “Look what I found.”
“Not really sure what that guys problem was...”
“You too huh?” Jay responded. “Said hello and he ignored me. Twice.”
“Yeah me too. What an asshole.”
“Well, he dropped his maps. Want to bet we’ll see the guy again in a while coming back this way to trying to find his maps. And want to bet that mr. personality disorder will be willing to acknowledge us and talk to us then?”
Never did see him again though.
Moral of the story: when you can’t extend some common civility to someone who is friendly to you, you’ll lose your maps.
While we paddled and took advantage of the calm conditions, we did also coast at various points along the shore to take pictures.
At about the halfway point we stopped to have our breakfast. Holy hell, was it ever yummy. The whatever, hour or two that it simmered inside the cozy made it ambrosia like. Was that ever a good breakfast. Oatmeal, whole milk powder, brown sugar, nuts, dried fruits, seeds.
What I saw whenever I looked down. I got these paddling booties at MEC and I’ve been extremely happy with them. I keep proper boots for actual dry land use, and these for in the boat and all the jumping in and out, wading through muck, walking out to go swimming, dragging boats through shallows, etc. Great traction and they’ve stood up well to a lot of abuse. I’ve used them on five canoe trips now. Just have to make sure that you take them off when you get to your site and dry your feet, put powder on, put socks on, put boots on. Your feet sitting in water all day will really start to do a number on them. Wearing thin liner socks with them is a good idea. (I have a second pair of these, the lower cut ones without the zipper that I use for hiking as my camp shoes and also for any stream crossings I do. At 700gms (+-) I find them a bit too heavy, but they do work well for their intended purpose. They work serviceably well for climbing too.)
We went around the left side of an island at the eastern end of Killarney Lake and rounded the corner to be confronted by this. We could have probably picked our way through, but we opted to backtrack and go around the right side of the island instead. Doesn’t have a name, but it has site 14 on it. Right across from it is another island with another site on it, #15. Kind of odd looking at another site across a not very long distance. Might be fun if you were with a large group. Split the group between two sites. Or couples camping. Toodle back and forth between the two sites. If that was your thing – not mine.
The eastern end of Killarney Lake, after having back tracked around the island. Looking towards Silver Peak. The sky being overcast made for somber pictures, but it was cool and the lake remained placid.
Very quietly skimming across the smooth water, the slight swooshing sound of the canoe, the gentle ripple of two practiced, in sync paddles, the burble as the paddle is pulled out, the ripple of dripping water, the slight splash as it goes back in the water, ravens cawing in the distance, breezes wafting across us, redolent smoke infusing the air, mist wreathing prominences, the shockingly azure lake water, lumpen quartz hills, ancient mountains, scoured and scarred by eons and of water and wind and ice and plants, their patchy mantles of polychromed foliage reflecting in the liquid mirror, doubling the beauty, the barely audible bu-bum as polished wood is layed across polished wood, the buzz of a zipper being deftly opened, the faint electronic whirr of a camera coming to life, the ginger clicks as megaworld is etched into micropixels, an as graceful as possible bu-bum as another paddle is laid across thwarts, the bee-beep and chirping as another camera starts up, the subtle clicks as it strives to do justice to the awe the brains and eyes register, a whispered voice from behind, a chuckle in response...a moment that will remain with us forever.
Little guy, big pack.The start of the portage to Norway Lake.
Loon on Norway.
Where we were headed on the right.
Our site for a few days, Site 11.
Circle around and check it out from the rear.
It almost felt like a bit of a redoubt. After coming ashore there was a height to scale in order to access the actual site which was atop the cliffs. Great spot to hang out at night, feet dangling over the edge, looking at the stars, listening to the loons.
Hammock, aka the Inner Space Craft. Compared to stealth camping, it was glorious to have the room to have pack contents strewn about, to be able to sort through it all, and leisurely repack it all to stow it under the tarp for the night.
The view out the front of the site.
Looking west across Norway. The entire time we spent here was grey and overcast. Kept it nice and cool. Despite the grey clouds, it never rained, the entire week, save for a very brief sunny sky shower the second to last afternoon.
Crossing Norway to hike along the Killarney Ridge to the Crack.
The forest close to shore. It would give way to something a lot scrubbier as we got up into the hills.
Looking northwest to the LaCloche Range
Looking to the southwest. Kakakise Lake in the centre, and Manitoulin Island in the distance.
Looking northeast to the LaCloche Range.
Rocks. On the one hand really fun terrain to move through since it’s almost a strategy thing. Each move you’re looking several moves ahead to see where best to place your feet, and move your body. Yet there’s also the potential for falling or tripping, and many of the rocks you step on are wobbly. The quartz is very smooth, very slippery. It doesn’t have the gritty grippiness of granite. My knees were really feeling it after a few days of hiking through this terrain. It really is a full body workout. Trekking poles are a good idea in this area. The other thing that made hiking here a challenge, besides looking where and where not to walk, was that the trail isn’t that well blazed. Cairns are the route markers, and in some areas it’s fairly obvious where you have to go. In others it’s less obvious. There isn’t a well worn trail that makes it obvious where to go. I doubt that thousands tromp along here every year, and given how much of the route is over rock, there isn’t much you can follow. You really have to hunt for the route.
Jay in the lead.
Jay checking the viewfinder to see if he likes what he saw. Looking northwest. The patch of blue on the right is Proulx Lake.
Proulx Lake.
Little Superior Lake.
Looking to the southeast, towards French River.
Photographing the photographer.
Me high on the Killarney Ridge.
Proulx Lake Cairn.
In the end we never ended up making it to the Crack. The hike took longer than expected, noodling around taking photos. It wasn’t terrain I felt like speed hiking in. We never would have been able to make it there, and then get back in time. I was equipped to spend a rough night out, but we decided to go back. I didn’t mind at all, as to me the sights and sounds and smells on this hike were great in and of themselves. It really is about the journey and not the destination. We ended up getting to the Crack from another approach on another day, and as it turned out, that was just better anyway. More time to hang out, better weather conditions.
In the end we never ended up making it to the Crack. The hike took longer than expected, noodling around taking photos. It wasn’t terrain I felt like speed hiking in. We never would have been able to make it there, and then get back in time. I was equipped to spend a rough night out, but we decided to go back. I didn’t mind at all, as to me the sights and sounds and smells on this hike were great in and of themselves. It really is about the journey and not the destination. We ended up getting to the Crack from another approach on another day, and as it turned out, that was just better anyway. More time to hang out, better weather conditions.
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