I had been camping but a few times as a child.  My parents would take us to Southampton, Sauble Beach, or the Pinery, to play amongst the dunes and surf.  Maybe lose one or two kids in the undertow.  It was easy camping really, a small rental trailer, picnic tables, coolers of beer for the old man.  Not much wildlife but the chipmunks and drunks at two a.m..  It was not so much a true wilderness, but for a wee child it was an introduction, if nothing else.

   As I got into my teens, I went to Algonquin Park a few times.  Just simple day hikes, or half day paddles. Car camping.  Nothing too challenging.  I wasn’t yet smart enough to realize the potential of nature.  It still left a small mark on me, enough to know I’d be back.

   A trip I took with my girlfriend to Canisbay Lake was a turning point for me.  It was just a three night stay, but it was away from the madding crowds(by half a lake anyhow).  We overpacked, of course, and probably had about an inch and a half clearance at the gunwales.  No worries on the paddle in, it was calm(though we nearly capsized on the choppy way out). We swam and hiked and paddled around. Good times.  A lovely sunset, and then the stars came out.  So many stars!  And the Milky Way!  Incredible!  Brilliant!  Magnificent!  I understood then, how beauty can make you go mad, and how sometimes it’s worth it. 

   The next day came and went, weather was a bit cool and damp, so we got to snuggle in the tent a bit(insert lecherous laugh here).  About an hour after full dark we were out in front of the lantern (fire ban),  when we heard a wolf howl.  I love wolves!  An answering call came from across the lake.  We gaped at one another, all wide eyed and open mouthed grins.  A few more wolves answered that call.  Then two or three more, and two or three more!  Then, what sounded like a hundred wolves, all howling together,  back and forth, for a full five minutes!  It blew my mind to smithereens.  I have never heard another sound in this world,  which could compete with the awesomeness of it.  I felt all the hair on my body stand on end, and I wanted to jump in the lake and swim to the middle.  I’m not afraid of wolves at all,  but this was some primal fear, from the old ape part of my brain, I guess.  It was truly magical.  My senses were stoked to begin the search.  The search for some truly wild places.

    I had gone fishing one afternoon,  a Williams Warbler seeking the trout.  It was kinda cool and breezy.  My girlfriend had opted to stay back at the site,  make some tea and read and relax.  I paddled to the end of the lake,  and let the wind push me back,  trolling along.  I got lost in the scenery, and didn’t realize how fast the end came up.  I was in the reeds,  laughing and trying to battle my way out,  when I heard a piercing scream.  It was my girlfriend!  Oh shit,  I thought,  she’s being eaten by a BEAR!  I got myself out of the cabbage,  and fought my way back toward the site, about halfway back up the shore.  I was paddling into a strong headwind now, and, inexperienced as I was,  kept getting turned around and pushed back towards the bay end.  All the while I can hear the screaming,  not so often now.  I was terrified.  Finally I gave up,  dove in the water,  and swam to the site.  Ready to kill that bear(lol).  More likely,  to be killed by that bear,  not having any weapon,  or any type of plan.  I bounded up the granite,  just in time to see the girlfriend viciously accosted!  By a chipmunk!  From fifteen feet up a white pine!  Apparently, Mr Chip Munk was angrily demanding granola as tribute,  and the chittering little guy had bullied my suburban girl into submission. Later, I would kill that little guy with a walnut and sling.  Irony. 

   Zipping along the Minnesing mountain bike trail on an early October morning,  is a pretty sweet way to start the day.  A low mist blankets the Algonquin forests.  The smell of earth,  myriad varieties of rotting vegetation, thick in your nostrils.  The colours glow golden in the slashes of sunlight.  I saw some signs of recent bear activity (leaves scraped off the path looking for grubs, and claw gouges on some birch), and pressed on.  I figured he’d leave the path probably sooner than later.  I was coming down a small hill,  there was a left turn at the end of it.  I was going fairly quick,  but I thought I could see something round and dark, through the trees around the bend.  As I skidded down into the corner I realized it was, in fact, a black bear!  I slammed on the brakes and yelled at the top of my lungs, in my nastiest punk rock voice, “GETOUTTAMYWAYBEAR!!!!!”.  By the gods if that bear didn’t literally jump straight up in the air,  legs pumping like a goddamned cartoon,  eyes bugged out in fear!  Of me!!  It hit the ground, spraying crap like a rocket, careening down the path at thirty miles an hour.  I had just scared the shit out of a 300lb. bear!  For real.  I actually laughed out loud,  it was an insanely funny moment.  Anyway,  the bear looked over a shoulder when he was forty yards away,  and seemed to realize,  I can probably take this guy, and stopped running.  Turned around and looked me dead in the eyes.  Stood up tall and raised his paws.  I shouted feebly,  tried to make myself look big.  He stomped the earth and chuffed loudly.  Shook his head,  as if to say,  we both know who backs down now.  Popped his jaws at me.  I backed away slowly, made it around the corner. I didn’t hear him follow, so I jumped on my bike and rode the hell back to my car as fast as I could. The lesson being, never laugh at wildlife, they know what it means and don’t like it.

    One of my fondest memories is from the east side of Algonquin,  possibly the most beautiful area of this huge park.  Stratton lake is wonderful,  and the cascades were a great day trip,  if overcrowded!  The day I spent paddling down the Barron Canyon was the highlight for sure.  Drifting down the meandering river,  between hundred yard cliffs of granite,  was awe inspiring.  I spotted a bird jumping off the cliff,  dropping like a stone.  A peregrine falcon flowed down the cliff face,  cruising at over 200km/h!  It passed twenty or thirty feet over my head,  close enough to make eye contact(and be put on notice, you’re too close!).  I don’t know if it had a nest up there or what,  but I didn’t see it again.  About an hour later,  after scarfing down a nice lunch on the move,  I heard a screech overhead.  Was the falcon back,  I thought.  No it was not.  Instead, there were several golden eagles riding a current of hot summer air above the cliff walls!  They circled overhead for maybe ten minutes, then, with few more boisterous shrieks,  wheeled away downstream, leaving me stunned with what I’d been so lucky to see.  It was one of the most beautiful scenes of nature I’ve ever witnessed.  The wilderness teaches us to be silent, patient, and alert.  The rewards of the lesson well learned are great.

     I was camped out on Killarney Lake one fall evening.  A young male black bear kept flitting around the edge of the site.  I’d chase him off, but he kept coming back.  Eating my dinner, Yogi came sniffing around again. I could tell he was hungry, and maybe had seen his mom get some easy pickins from some hapless campers in the past.  Maybe thought he could scare me into leaving my grub behind. I’m no easy pickins though, at least in the bush, and was pretty hungry from the days exertions.  I yelled at it fair bit and broke some branches,  and the bear split.  Not too far though, I could see him near the thunderbox.  After roasting up some marshmallows,  it was time for bed.  My new friend still sticking around.  After hanging my food 30 feet in the air between two trees,  it was time for bed.  I knew my food would be safe.  Bears climb better than most,  but would be smart enough to know the branches leading to the food were too weak to hold his weight.  I climbed into my tent and got into my sleeping bag.  Not ten minutes later I heard a loud(it’s always loud when you’re alone in a tent) crunchy noise approaching.  Like maybe a bear walking up. He came rambling right up to my tent.  The crunching stopped,  the last two steps a few inches away from my shoulders.  I figure his head is right above mine! I hear a whoosh. Yep.  That was its breath moving the tent inward like a gruff breeze.  The tent goes out very quickly,  as my friend inhales deeply.  Figuring out what I am,  what I had for dinner,  where I’d been today(OSA Lake).  I lay there quietly, not moving.  Normally I guess I would’ve kicked up a fuss,  made some noise, maybe  swatted his nose.  I decided not to,  just waited.  He stood above me for what felt like five minutes,  but was probably just a minute.  Then he just walked away,  smelling around the camp for a bit,  then moved on. It was a fairly worrisome few minutes,  this wilderness encounter, but it’s nice to test your nerve and not be found wanting. You’ve gotta choke back your fears, it gets easier with experience.

    One time I was paddling the canoe in the interior of Algonquin.  I spotted a beaver dam,  and what seemed like a small lake beyond.  I checked out my map,  the lake had no name.  Of course I had to check it out.  I dragged my boat across the dam and into the stream on the far side.  It was weedy as hell,  but the was a path cleared through the middle by what I figured was a previous canoe.  Black spruce surrounded me,  fitting in the cold gray day.  The water was like oversteeped tea,  a dark green-brown.  I went around an isle of spruce,  quietly enjoying the solitude.  As I coasted through decaying bullrushes I heard a sound ahead.  A munching sound.  I looked up,  and twenty yards away was a huge bull moose.  In October, this is something to be worried about.  Rutting moose attack more people than bears,  and there was nowhere for me to run.  I slid near the shore, twenty feet away from him.  He glanced at me, then went back to his dinner of water grasses.  There was something else,  fifteen feet away from the moose.  It was a blue heron, fishing in the shallows.  I couldn’t believe my luck!  It was a perfect scene.  I quickly shot a few pictures,  then just relaxed and enjoyed the show.  They paid me no mind,  and I watched with pleasure.  This scene became my painting ‘Moose and Heron’.

    I lost my front teeth, not for the first time, to a giant of a black bear many years ago.  Some friends and I had gone camping north of Opeongo in Algonquin Park.  We found a great site,  and started setting up.  I had just got my tent up when I heard a twig snap on a small hill beside our camp.  I looked up just as this 450lb. bear looked down at me.  He decided to come and visit,  slowly rolling down the rise.  I told the guys to back it up into the canoes.  They still had the food in them, thankfully, but we left our packs and tents on shore.  We watched the bear bite at our backpacks and knock the cooler of ice over.  Some bears are extremely intelligent, this one stupidly eating our ice seemed a bit of a dunce. He went over and chomped on my knapsack.  He left mine and grabbed my buddy’s pack.  Picked it up and ran into the forest with it!  With everything he needed for the week long trip.  We never saw that pack again.  We waited a while to see if he’d come back, and eventually decided we’d better get our stuff and move on.  If a bear is successful at getting food,  he’ll always come back.  I was taking the last pole out of my tent, bent hard with the tension,  when something brushed up against my shoulder, rudely bumping me.  I thought it was Jamie,  taking his giant tent down beside me.  I turned to harass him for being clumsy, when I realized it was the bloody bear who’d come back and was making a beeline for the canoes.  Badly startled,  the tent pole flew out of my hands and smashed me in the face.  I could feel my teeth broken in half.  Grabbed my bloody mouth,  ‘Oh my teeth!!!’,  then ‘Never mind teeth!  Bear more important than teeth’(in these moments you tend to talk like cavemen).  We backed it off again into the canoes,  watching this bear rummaging around our site.  Eventually he left, and we were able to pack and split.  We were bothered by bears the whole trip,  every site we went to had a resident bear it seemed.  It was not so much scary,  as annoying.  I still have a plastic coffee mug with four bear teeth holes in it,  not a bad souvenir, but one I’d have gladly done without!

  

    Had my first capsize on Nellie Lake.  It was somewhat worrying.  I was doing a six day solo loop trip. I launched from Widgawa Lodge.  Starting from the West River,  I’d head across the west end of Charlton Lake to Frood Lake.  But I immediately began taking pictures,  blew by the turn and the Willisville channel to Frood. What a doughhead!  I then had to portage across an old snowmobile trail 800m.  As if I didn’t have enough hard carrying ahead of me.  Anyhow, I got to Frood, passed by Franklin Carmichaels cabin before getting into Cranberry Bay. Big carry into Grace Lake, 1800m maybe, uphill.  Spent a couple of days on Grace Lake, possibly the most beautiful lake in Ontario. Portaged into Nellie, over 2km for sure, all uphill too!lol  Had a great day there, on the ridges.  Thought I found a couple spots where Group of Seven paintings were done.  A big wind came in from the southwest that night.  I could hear it building over Georgian Bay for fifteen minutes before it got to me. Freaked me right out. Sounded like giant trains in the sky.  The next day it was cold and blustery, maybe -5 or so with the wind. Was blowing probably 15-20km/h with gusts to 35.  I canoed across the lake to the southwest cliffs.  Climbed the mountain and took some halfway decent photos.  Clambered back down around 1pm for lunch.  Got in the canoe, tried to cross the lake but got blown sideways, and almost over, when I left the protection of the cove. Crap! I hadn’t noticed the wind speed had perhaps doubled, now a steady 30km/h with gusts to 50 or more! And me sitting high with only my daypack for weight. I could see my site,  it’s right over there! I was hungry, and in a fit of poor judgement, decided to try the crossing. I could have just waited out the wind, it usually drops late in the aft. Got up some speed this time, it did not matter.  Immediately I was fighting a tip, paddling only on my right, wind from the left, no bloody weight. I picked out the last tip of land before 9k of open water, and hoped I was fast enough to get there. I just about made it, in fact I made it, but when I went to leap to the rocks, a gust pushed the boat away, I overcorrected and went over the side, landing on the submerged rocks on my back(hard!) and on the back of my head(softer). In the freezing cold water I somehow managed to hook a hand over the canoe to keep it from being pushed down the lake.  Dragged the boat out and tried to find my daypack. Oh no! The water on Nellie is the clearest I’ve ever seen(you can see the bottom like it’s an arms length away but it’s not, it’s 92 feet deep. So I look in the water for my pack for ten minutes before I realize I’m wearing it. Camera and whatnot, ruined. Memory card ok, thankfully. I’m soaked and freezing cold, only have one partial change of clothes. Nothing to dry myself with. So I strip down, naked but for my sandals, No one’s around, I’m not an exhibitionist. I collect two big loads of wood, warm and dry now.  I put on the shorts and t-shirt, spark a fire. Start drying gear. Go for one more armload of wood and hoof a log with my bare toes, hard. !Holy Jesus! that cost me one and a half effing toenails. I terrified the woodland creatures with much swearing at this time. That was the worst of it. As far as capsizes go it was pretty mild, I guess. Thankfully, the backpack I forgot I was wearing took the brunt of my fall on the rocks. Finished the trip, Onto Murray Lake, and then a nice paddle up Howry Creek to Charlton Lake and finally, back to Widgawa Lodge. All was well.

    I left my toes alone until I arrived back home. Took the tape off had a shower,  then spent half an hour with tweezers, q-tips, and alcohol, cleaning everything up. It was intensely painful work. More swearing, maybe a tear or two. Then all patched up, fresh bandages on, everything snug. Still had that half a toenail, so there’s that. I leave the bathroom and go in the kitchen to get a coffee, and boot the table leg hard with my wounded foot!  It hurt quite a bit, I must say. The half toenail, gone. Bloody smears on the linoleum. I must have cursed for five minutes, It was not even separate words, just every swear you could possibly think of, mishmashed and jumbled together for five solid minutes. All in one breath. My neighbours wouldn’t make eye contact with me for a while after that.

   On the same trip I lost my front teeth to the giant bear on, there were many other encounters with black bears. In fact, by the time our group got out five days later, we were known by many campers and rangers as ‘the bear guys’. Even with near perfect food safety techniques, bear encounters can’t always be avoided. Usually it’s because the bear has become habituated to people, from previous campers not being safe with food storage, or actually feeding them! People can be such idiots.

  Proper food storage is fairly simple, and basically involves hanging your food pack suspended fifteen feet from the ground, preferably ten feet away from the trunk. Do this in the woods and you are usually ok. Not always though, as we were to find out.

  After the bear chased us off our first site, we started across the lake to find another. We saw a few canoes launched ahead of us, in a panic. We paddled over to see what was happening, guessing the bear who had visited us was paying someone else a visit. Sure enough, as we approached the guys who’d jumped into their boats, we could see the large bruin on shore.  We all crossed paddles with the other dudes, tying our canoes together to chat and whatnot. A few Australians and their friend from the Falls. We popped drinks out of coolers. One of the Aussies noticed my buddy’s carton of OJ, for mixing with his vodka. “We learned last year, portaging those cartons of mix is too heavy, we brought all dry packs this year. We’ve got Kool Aid, Tang and iced tea.” “Like all those packs the bear is eating” said my friend. We all look over, the bear is taking out one packet of Kool Aid at a time, tearing it open with his teeth, and sucking the powder out in one puff.  There was purple and orange all over his snout! He went through the pack, scarfing back every single bit of the poor guys would be drink mix. “Gonna have to man up, drinks are straight up this week boys.”  “I’ll share some of this with you” said my buddy.  “Well, at least we’ll get our pot of chilli, after he’s done rifling through our stuff. I’m starved.” said Aussie#2.

“Yeah, there’s no way he’s going to bother with that fire, the chilli will be sweet.” said Aussie #3.

It was as if the bear had heard him. It walked right over to the fire, and swiped their dinner off the fire and onto the ground. Began lapping it up. Well, these guys were pissed now(as if we weren’t, missing teeth and packs!) and wanted to put a scare into the bear. They had an air horn on the boat, pulled it out. We floated toward the shore alongside them. We almost landed the boats, we were(stupidly!) only ten feet from the bruin. They let loose with the horn. The bear didn’t even look up. I almost jumped out of my boat, it was so loud! The bear continued slurping up the ground chilli.  Mmmmmm....dirt and chilli! We had to split, there was only an hour of sunlight left and we had to find a site and set up. We invited the Australians along, they said they’d wait out the bear, see what happened. They ended up at our new site at about ten o’clock, hounded away by that persistent nuisance. Hopefully he wouldn’t follow, and he didn’t. Unbeknownst to us, there were already several other bears on this side of the lake! They would visit us in the early hours. 

  Thankfully they came for the Aussies first, their food anyhow.  They had dropped some chips on the ground, a stupid decision on their part. After feeding on some Pringles, it followed their scent over to the tree they had hung the rest of it.  Took it down in two seconds flat, and couldn’t be scared away. Those guys decided to pack it in and head to the casino in Niagara Falls for the rest of the weekend.

  In the morning we went hiking in the woods for a while. Someone found some wild mushrooms and we all partook, but one. Our minds went wild, we decided to canoe back to where Todd had his pack taken. See if we could find the remnants of his gear, damn fools that we were. If you’ve ever walked down a bear trail you know how close and dark and utterly claustrophobic the deep woods interior can be. So we walked along, unable to see more than two feet on either side of us. The forest, thick and stifling. We made it maybe three hundred yards, and our fear of a bear mauling one of us finally became too much to bear(I did just do that), and we headed back.  No backpack for poor Todd.

  We screwed around for a while that afternoon, then all but one laid down for naps. We were all woken by the one, whispering “Bear in Camp!”. I unzipped my tent, and the bear walked right in front of me. I almost pooped my pants. He went over to the fire, sniffed around for a second, then walked quickly to the tree we had hung our food in.  It was strung up, 30 yards outside of our site, 25 feet up, between two pines. It took the bear only one and a half seconds to climb the 25 feet and slash the rope. The food crashed to the earth with a thud. We booked it into our canoes when the bear looked hard at us. We waited and waited, debated just giving up and leaving, but some of us were not for quitting just yet. After an hour or so, we beached to see what was happening. The bear was nowhere in sight, but none of us had actually seen it leave. We posted lookouts, and carefully made our way forward. No bear, the food all scattered about. But looking closer, it seems the dumb bear only took some sweets, candy and whatnot. Most of the rest of the food, the good stuff, steak and bacon and burgers, had fallen down to the shoreline, down a muddy embankment to the waters edge. I climbed down and started hucking food up to Jamie. He packed up one bag and handed it off.  Then another, and handed off. Jamie takes the now full cooler, asking me if I need a hand up. No worries, I say, there’s a root here to grab. Jamie leaves as I reach for the wood. It looks old and dry, but I figure I’ll get up as it snaps. I do, in fact make it up, and as I land, the stick breaks with a CRACK! It was like a rifle shot!  As it does, that giant bear leaps out of the bed of flowers beside me, where it had been sleeping off its sugar rush. The bear had been only ten feet away from us the whole time! It jumps four feet into the air, legs spinning madly, like a Looney Tunes cartoon. Lands and shoots off like a rocket. Thankfully it was pointed away from me. I was defenceless, suffering multiple heart attacks and strokes I was so scared.  I jogged back to the canoes and we made like bananas and split. We broke into the Big Crow Cabin(sorry Park staff!) that night to get a much needed respite from the bothersome beasts.