It was a little busy at the put-in. There were a couple of fishing boats launching before and after me. Another one came in from the water to load their trailer just as I was paddling away. 

I made my way up the shallow and weedy Harris River for 15 minutes or so. With Victoria Island ahead of me, I turned left into a larger bay and saw the massive Harris Lake Marina on the left with its intricate docking layout. I paddled hard to get through the mayhem of motor boats whipping about on their way to and from the Marina. The shores of the lake were dotted with cottages on all sides. 

A little over an hour after I had pushed away from the boat launch, I was entering the narrows that would take me out of Harris Lake and into the South Branch of the Magnetawan River. Even in those narrows, I had to contend with boats humming past me. 

So far, Harris Lake had been busier than a mosquito at a nudist camp. 

At the end of the S-bend narrows, I entered Magnetawan Provincial Park proper. 

Out in the South Branch of the Magnetawan River, I turned eastward and paddled along the southern shore. There were fewer cottages than on Harris Lake along this section, but I was still firmly within cottage country. 

At about 1:30, I spotted a nice-looking campsite on a point on the southern shore. I hadn't had any lunch yet, so I thought I would stop in and eat a sandwich that I had already prepared for the occasion. 

I brought my food barrel ashore and looked around the site. It was a nice site with good views looking up and down the wide expanse of the South Branch. 

Unfortunately, as is often the case with campsites that can be accessed by motorboats, some inconsiderate idiots had left their mark in the fire pit. 

As a non-operating park, the camp sites in Magnetawan Provincial Park are not maintained. No one is paid to take away rubbish. I'm simply in awe (not in a good way) of the neanderthals that do this sort of thing. Who do they think will clean up their mess? I guess they just don't think.  

I took my barrel back to the rock at the front of the site and ate my lunch there. I'd rather look at the water than a fire pit full of garbage. 

After lunch, I went back to the firepit, crushed up the cans, and stuck them in the garbage bag that I brought along. I can't stand seeing garbage in the wilderness, so I clean it up when possible, but part of me wonders if I'm enabling the problem. Maybe if people stopped cleaning up after the troglodytes who leave their beer cans all over a campsite, these thoughtless wonders might clue in that leaving trash on a site is a problem when they return to the site and find their garbage still there. But then again, maybe not. If they're too thick to understand it's a problem in the first place, then they would probably be too thick to notice it's a problem if or when they return. 

The cottages were fewer and farther between as I moved east on the South Branch. Just before reaching Big Deep Bay, the river narrowed, and the shoreline became steep and displayed a lot of exposed rock, creating a gorge-like effect. It was very pretty. 

Big Deep Bay is a bit of a crossroads on the South Branch. The river extends to Timber Wolf Lake to the south and into another series of small lakes on the way to the Naiscoot River system. Heading that way would take the canoeist along the Magnetawan River Loop that starts and ends at Wahwashkesh Lake, further to the east. My loop route would take me northward, upriver to the north channel of the Magnetawan, then west down the Thirty Dollar Rapids section, and back to the South Branch over a long portage. 

The CNR rail bridge spanning the river at the north end of  Big Deep Bay marked the way.

Out on the bay, there was strong wind blowing in from the southwest. I tacked northward to avoid the waves hitting me broadside. There was a motorboat pulled ashore at the bridge, and four people were working their way up over the tracks to the steep north side.  After paddling under it, I found out why. There was a rope swing hanging from the bottom of the bridge on the north side. 

I guess they were a swing quartet. 

While paddling across the large bay just past the bridge, some dark clouds blew in quickly, and it started raining hard. I reached for my rain jacket at the top of my pack, but I only needed to wear it for five minutes or so. It was just a short-lived summer squall that quickly moved on. 

Fifteen minutes upriver from that bay, the river narrowed considerably. The thick forest and rocky shores made me feel like I had finally entered some true wilderness away from cottages, rail lines, and motor boats. Praise be to Lord Paddlesworth, the patron saint of misanthropic, vertically-challenged canoe trippers between the ages of 52 and 60!

By 3 PM, I arrived at my only portage of the day, a 346-meter trail past a rocky drop in the river. There was nary a trickle of water coming down the rocks. 

Boy, the water levels were really low! I have seen quite a few waterfalls in my canoe travels; this might have been my first waterdrip. Would I be wading through Thirty Dollar Rapids later in the trip?!?

The landing area for the portage was at a rocky beach on river-right. It was a pretty view, looking back downriver through the narrows that I had just paddled.

The trail was wide and very well-used. There was a short side trail leading to a cabin near the take-out. Despite being steep in a few spots, it was an easy carry to the put-in. There was a rough campsite on the upriver end of the trail; however, that area was incredibly buggy, even in the middle of the afternoon during the last week of August. 

At the put-in, the downriver view of the drop revealed a lot of exposed rocks. I didn't bother to walk over to take a peek at the drop in the low-water conditions; it thought it would be underwhleming.

Upriver from the same spot, the river was shallow and weedy. 

Ten minutes east of the portage, I paddled under some formidable power lines. I had paddled under those very same lines a week earlier on the French River near Dalton's Point.  

It made me think of a good friend that I had growing up. Both of his parents were electricians. We didn't get to hang out that much because he was always grounded.

Directly under those lines, the river became so narrow and shallow that I had to get out of the canoe and scrape it over the rocks to get to a place where I could paddle again. I was really beginning to get concerned about how low the water levels would be while running the Thirty Dollar Rapids. How much of a treacherous boneyard would it be?

On the other side of that liftover, I entered a wide bay as I veered toward the north. The thickly treed and rocky shoreline was gorgeous. 

Fifteen minutes past the bay, I was out of the boat, wading and scraping again. I must say, the South Branch between the main channel and Big Deep Bay is somewhat bipolar in nature; it doesn't know if it wants to be deep and wide or shallow and narrow. 

While wading my canoe through this minefield, I felt it appropriate to bellow out a wonderfully off-key rendition of that Lady Gaga song Shallow. Why not? Except for the creatures of the forest, I was all alone as far as I knew. 

"In the sha-, shallow. In the sha-ha-sha-la-la-la-llow!"  

Birds erupted from the trees and flittered away. Fish swam upriver away from me at breakneck speed. Squirrels sprinted vertically up tree trunks in a feeble attempt to gain distance from ground zero. I think I even saw some pine trees drop their needles. The creatures of the forest were in unison with a singular thought, "Crash through the surface, where he can't hurt us! We're far from the shallow now."

I'm still waiting for my big break on Canadian Idol. 

I had just enough water to maneuver my canoe through those rocks without having to lift it out of the water. I'm not 100% sure, but I think it was my singing that made that possible. Here is a look back at the sha-ha-sha-la-la-la-llow.

Paddling out of that shallow channel, the low water levels exposed a lot of rock on the shores. Gorgeous. 

Shortly before reaching the main branch of the Magnetawan, I paddled through a narrows that had a jagged rock wall on the eastern bank. From a distance downriver, it seemed as if the rock possessed a series of faces that were lined up and looking at the river. Who knew the South Magnetawan had its own Mount Rushmore?

Up close the faces on the rock disappeared, but the sharp, craggy features were, indeed, a work of art. 

Five minutes later, I came to the confluence with the main branch just as some more nasty clouds began to blow in. I turned my canoe to the east and double-timed my strokes to get into Trout Lake to find a campsite and get set up before the heavens unleashed. 

Thankfully, I didn't have to go far. I found a nice eastward-facing site on a point on the south shore. It was up on a rock in a lovely grove of trees. The only downside was that it was directly across the river from a small cottage. There wasn't a boat at the cottage, however, and it appeared to be vacant for the duration of my stay at the site.

As seen in the photo, the site was equipped with some accoutrements. It had a plywood table and some additional bushcrafty furniture. It even had a rake! Unfortunately, it also came with a bag full of trash leaning up against a tree. I mean...WTF? Seriously?!?

I debated whether or not to stay at the site after seeing this. I didn't know what was in that bag and what kind of smell it would emit to attract animals. I only brought a small food barrel with me, and this large bag of garbage wouldn't fit in it at night. Besides, I was reluctant to put that bag in my barrel with my food, with who-knows-what kind of creepy crawlies already inside it. I certainly wasn't about to start picking through it to see what was in it.

In the end, I decided to stay. I would tie the bag up and just take my chances that it wouldn't attract any animals to the site. It had likely been there for a number of days already. In better weather, I would have just moved on to look for a cleaner site, but rain was imminent, and I wanted to get my hammock and tarp up before it started. Sigh. Some people just don't get it. 

With rain on the way, I got my kitchen tarp up and collected some wood to put under it to keep dry so I could get a fire going. While getting my hammock tarp up, it started raining. Once again, it was a short shower that didn't last long. I was just in the nick of time; nothing got wet. 

It was just after 7 PM and I got a good fire going to cook up my steak. 

The clouds blew away to the east, and the sun came out. I was just about to put my steak on the fire when Lord Paddlesworth distracted me with a pretty rainbow. Awesome. 

What a beautiful evening it turned out to be! The rain had cooled down the temperatures, but I was cozy under my tarp next to the fire. A mix of colourful clouds, blue skies and rainbows was my backdrop. The ambience was off the charts. Just when it couldn't get any better, I cooked my steak to perfection, which I washed down with a tasty cold beer. 

By 8:30 PM, the sun was going down. I walked over to the west side of the point and scrambled down the slope a bit to get a clear downriver view of the Magnetawan River to the west. More clouds were blowing in. The sun was casting a golden glow that created a purply reflection off the clouds. I sat there watching the sky for some time, enthralled in the beauty of my surroundings. This is just one reason of many why I love canoe tripping so much. 

It sprinkled sporadically after dark for a bit, but only in small amounts. I slept well throughout the night, and nothing came for that bag of garbage as far as I was aware. Whew...