Mixed bag of weather
Around 4am I was awoken to the sound of loons calling, the long and lonely sounding wail that the loons often make in the middle of the night. In the half-wakened state the ethereal sound of the loon calling sank me back to my dreams with a smile.
I woke up around 6am, Joan was already awake and mentioned that she couldn't see a thing outside, there was heavy fog. The photographer in me perked up - Photo-op! I had an uneasy sleep, the uncomfortable feeling that I was going to roll over pervaded my sleep all night long, so I settled back and slept for an hour longer - There would be other foggy days. Joan complained of the same thing, we each sloped away from each other, so we both settled in for more shut-eye.
By 7:00am I was looking forward to some coffee and got up, filled the kettle with water and fired-up the stove. While waiting for the water to boil I took a few shots of the lifting fog while my camera lens began fogging up in the process. Joan cooked up some bacon and tomato sandwiches with egg which went down very well and I fired up the kettle again for more coffee, the morning was cool but comfortable, the black flies were not awake yet.
A fog shrouded forest enveloped us as we awoke on Friday morning
After breakfast I set off into the forest behind camp with my collapsable saw, looking for fallen trees to cut up for firewood. Joan set about improving the tarp set-up adding a wall to our overhead tarp. So if it rained, we could sit outside on the fireside bench and remain dry, tending the fire to keep warm.
I returned from the forest covered with black flies and a few trees in hand, mostly balsam fir that was very dead and very dry, so they would burn. I set about the task of chopping up the wood and also gathering additional kindling to add to the kindling pile. After this was done, I tried fishing from shore but had no luck after an hour. With the threat of rain we decided to stay on shore, the bugs weren't too bad and there was a light breeze that kept the flies off our backs for the most part.
The north shore campsite among red pines on Gouinlock Lake
By 11am it started to rain and soon we were under our tarp as the rain became a downpour. The flies disappeared and it was with a sigh that we sat back and enjoyed the rainfall. I piled wood on the campfire which kept going and was also aided to some extent by an overhanging canopy of pine.
By 12:30pm the rain ceased and the flies returned, again they were just swarming, not crawling nor biting. There were however a great many of them. We each had clouds of them following us around. I went back down to the water to fish and began dropping my line into the deep drop-off on the South side of the rocky landing.
It wasn't long before the black flies really started to annoy me. The air was still and the cloud of flies thickened. Never before had Joan or I actually begged for wind. Being a canoeist I'm used to cursing the wind, not this time though; I was cursing the lack of wind, demanding that something be done about it. Even a nice arctic blast would've been welcome… Cool or windy, take your pick!
Instead, the air just hung there, overcast with the temperature rising. The air felt stuffy and humid..the worst conditions for us and the best for the little devils. Suddenly I had a tug on my line and I started reeling in, that got an immediate response as I had a fish hooked and it began to fight back. The fight lasted about three minutes with me calling for Joan to grab my net from the canoe; I hadn't expected to catch anything, I almost never do, I'm such a lousy trout fisherman.
Not this time though, it was a real beauty. After a few minutes of the fish splashing around in the shallow waters, it became exhausted and I deftly netted the fish, while keeping it in the water. Joan let out a cheer, I had caught a fish for her. However, she felt sorry for the fish and asked that I let it go. I complied, unhooking the trout gently and letting it get free from the net and swished it back and forth a few times in the water as those before me had taught me. After a moment or two the fish revived and swam back to the depths from whence it came. I figure the fish was at least 2 lbs, it was a handful to hold.
A nice lake trout I caught from the shore of our campsite
I was more interested in speckled trout and hoped that I might catch one of those. I find lakers fishy tasting compared to specks. I had batter and oil just in case Joan changed her mind, but for now the lake trout lived another day.
By 1:30pm the clouds had begun to break-up and blue sky could be seen, next came the sun and with it a light wind. Ahhh…it was heaven; no flies, no people, no noise…just the soothing sound of the wind through the trees, music to our ears.
The afternoon weather was perfect for a paddle
Not soon after this, the sound of a motorboat could be heard, then another - following the first boat. Oh crap! I hadn't realized that there would be motorboats on Little Cauchon Lake as well. Oh well, the sound drifted down the lake towards where we first came onto Little Cauchon, the sound echoed loudly along the Northeast corner of the lake to which I suspected a valley opened up there, conveying the sound towards us. After about ten minutes the engine(s) cut and the sound died.
Joan & I got into the canoe and paddled around the lake, first we explored the only other campsite on the lake. It actually wasn't a bad site, but you could tell it hadn't been used in a long time. The campsite had an ok fire-pit and three tent pads that were very flat and level. The thunder-box hadn't been used in a very long time. The sawn tree trunk segments that had been left behind at the fire-pit had been there for so long that they were beginning to turn to sawdust.
We were right about the lack of wind. While we had a small breeze in the afternoon at our campsite, this site had none at all and it felt stuffy, the black flies were numerous there too and they were starting to bite we noticed. Back into the canoe! We paddled around to the Southeast corner of the lake, here there was a cliff face with lots of downed trees. Beyond the cliff was a small bay where there were many birch trees that had also been downed, looking very much by a 'wind event'. After about an another hour around the lake in the canoe we headed back to camp.
We had chicken wings heated over the fire for dinner that night and washed it down with tequila and citrus juice with ice-cubes! Yes! Joan had brought some ice, wrapping it in newspaper..it had lasted two days. The cool drinks did well to wash down the hot wings.
More motorboats, this time coming back up the lake…. Dinner time for them as well I guess.
By 7pm more rains came along including thunder and lightning. The rains were quite heavy at times, but with the great tarp set-up by Joan and me feeding the fire, we were quite cozy. After nearly an hour the storm disappeared but the sky did not clear up and it remained cloudy for the most part.
More showers passed by to the north of us
Late in the day it began to clear up again
By 9pm we had settled into the evening routine of some snacks and a few drinks around a warm fire while our surroundings dripped from the after effects of the storm. I was beginning to wonder about the loons on our lake. We had seen a pair of them floating around, but they were't vocal at all. The only time we had heard them was while we were sleeping at 4am. Now as I saw them drift by our campsite in the fading light of the day, I hoped that they would sing this night.
Not half an hour later we were rewarded with the soft and ethereal sounding tremolo call of the loons. It had been over seven long months (Lake Opeongo - October 2010) since we last heard such a wonderful sound. Too long!
A brief sunset between rain showers
Last storm of the day consisted of thunder & lightning with heavy downpours
It was a beautiful evening: the air still, the black flies had gone to bed, loons calling, the air thick with the scent of pine from the recent rainfalls, the fire crackling through the silence of the forest and in the distance the sound of a generator starting up echoed across the water from the direction of the portage. What the hell??
Yeah that's right, a generator with its staccato-like rhythm echoing clearly across the lake seemingly from Little Cauchon Lake (In the direction of the portage). Joan was annoyed, but I was livid. How far does one have to go to get solitude in Algonquin Park? In my younger days I was naive enough to think just going to Algonquin Park was a guarantee of solitude. I knew better nowadays; go several portages past an access lake, pick a small lake with minimal campsites and you're sure to be left alone, or so I thought.
Annoyingly enough the sound continued till 12:30am! I was so angry. Guess someone was watching a hockey game, eh? Sigh.
Next Page - Day 3 | Previous Page - Day 1 | Return to Top of Page
