Canoe Trip - Fall 2012 - Final Day

DAY FIVE – OCTOBER 3, 2012 – 4.5 miles

 

We woke up around 6:20 to the sound of the pines above us rustling in the wind and the water gently lapping on the beach. Clayton and I looked at each other and barely had to say anything as we knew what the other was thinking. Pack up now while it’s calm and get ourselves across the lake before the wind got any stronger. By 7:05 we were launching the canoe and chuckled at how quickly we were able to break camp and pack up the canoe. The waves were just starting to come in but the paddling was manageable. As we left the beach and found ourselves halfway to the point where we were heading I looked ahead at the moon just setting over the trees and the sun just rising behind us. The sky was a myriad of pinks and reds and oranges and the lake glowed in the morning chill.

We noticed another campsite and pulled in to check it out. By this point we were only around the bend from where the final portage was and we had time to kill. The worst was behind us. So we pulled in to explore.  Like the beach we had just come from this was obviously a well-used campsite but the location was completely different. Higher up on the granite shore there were a number of cleared areas for tents and another large communal area for campfires. In the summer this area would be great for swimming as there were flat rocks to sun on and jump off.

We pushed off knowing this was our last morning of the trip. The final bay on Buzzard was calm and quiet and mist was rising. We drifted through it eerily and it swirled and stirred as we slipped through pulling up to the portage point. The initial trip up the portage revealed that we had a very steep climb ahead of us. Clayton scoped it out as he was the one who would be carrying the canoe across. This would be our longest portage as it took us over 14 minutes to walk back, even without carrying gear.

As we loaded up the remainder of the gear, Clayton with the canoe and me with the paddles and food bags, we were silent. I walked behind him as he maneuvered the canoe up the steep slope, so steep in places that the bow was bumping into the rocks in front and he had to tilt it slightly to get the canoe up the hill. I prepared myself to grab the stern if needed. Turns out it wasn’t needed. I watched as Clayton deftly tackled the steep incline, placing one foot, pausing, then the next as he searched for footholds on the rocky hill. Throughout the climb he kept the canoe steady although I could see him beginning to work up a sweat by the time we reached the top. He adjusted the cushioning on the yoke and then we continued the rest of the portage.

From the beach we could see a point a couple hundred metres out. It looked sheltered from the wind and was bathed in sunlight. We decided to stop there and brew a pot of coffee, delaying the end of the trip as much as possible. We had just enough Sangsters for the last two cups. Sitting back, we enjoyed the sun’s warmth and reflected on the last few glorious days. It was a bittersweet a moment. As much as I looked forward to a hot shower and fresh fruit I was reluctant to leave the wilderness and all its beauty and simplicity of life.

Don’t get me wrong – it is not easy - setting up and breaking camp daily, cooking breakfast, washing up and packing the canoe, paddling, portaging, making supper, cutting firewood, packing and hanging the food bags before some quiet time around the fire with a flask of Drambuie. But there is a rhythm to the routine, one we hone each time we set off on an adventure. There is also comfort in routine and a satisfaction in instinctively knowing what needs to be done and doing it.

After we finished our coffee and washed and packed the dishes back up I called Mom to let her know what time we planned to arrive at our takeout point. Dad would meet us here with the car.

We took our time paddling back, savouring the beauty and soaking up the sights. We sighted two bald eagles circling above as we tucked into the lee side of the last big island. The only sound was the wind in the pines and the sound of our paddles, dripping and pulling in the water. As we rounded the island we could see the landing ahead as well as a couple of cabins in the bay. The parking lot was on the other side of the railway tracks so we got all the gear up and over to wait for my father. While preparing the coffee we also made up the last pasta salad we’d packed and while we waited for dad we had a bite to eat then pulled out our e-readers and leaned up against the canoe to wait for our ride. Dad was prompt and anxious to hear all about the trip as we drove back to the house. It was nice to have a cold beer and a hot sauna waiting for us when we arrived.

We’ve now had a couple months to contemplate and look back on the trip. Whenever I feel stressed I pause and remember how I felt that first night, sitting on the rocky point and staring at the full moon rising over the tall trees. I can transport myself back there. I consider myself very fortunate to be able to do these things with my husband. Trips like this solidify my love for the wilderness and spending time there with someone who loves it as much as I do.

I realized at the end of the trip that we took no pictures on the final day...:(((