Seven minutes later, I approached a narrowing in the river and saw the CNR rail bridge ahead. 

Below that bridge is a set of rapids known as Train Trestle Rapids, a formidable set that is the first in a series of rapids collectively known as Thirty Dollar Rapids. The series got its name from the days when the mighty Magnetawan River was a logging river. A log drive once got stuck in that section of the river. Apparently, it cost the logging company a month's wages for each man in that crew, an amount of thirty dollars per man. 

There was no way that I was blindly entering those rapids without first getting a look at them. The river was moving fairly quickly toward the top of them, so I got out at the start of the 2380-meter portage on river-left. I walked up the trail for the first 150 meters and arrived at the railway tracks. There, I walked along the tracks to the top of the bridge to scout the river. 

Because the water was low, a lot of the bite was taken out of this set which has been known to dump a few canoes over the years. I spotted a line where I could start on river-right, make a hard turn to the left, close to a large boulder on the left bank, and then work back toward the center. It would work at the current water levels; if I were to choose that line at higher water, it would send me careening into that large boulder on the left. The line to take in high water would be to stay right, but at current levels, that would take me over some exposed rocks.  

Here is a bird's-eye view of the rapids from the bridge. 

I did not dillydally on that bridge lest a train rumbled through. Getting caught on that bridge would not have been ideal. My mind went to that tense scene in the film, Stand By Me. I wasn't overly concerned, though; my bridge was a lot shorter! 

I went back down to my boat and ran it just as I planned. It was a fun ride! Indeed, I kissed off that large boulder on the left, but not enough to cause any issues. Getting through that first rapid gave me some confidence to overcome what I would encounter downriver. I also felt better about some of the bigger sets downriver; the water levels were tame compared to the YouTube videos I've seen of that rapid in May and June. 

After running another CI rapid below Train Trestle, I reached a short flatwater section before the next challenge. I turned to get an upriver shot of what I had just paddled. I was too far on the left to get a full view of the river. 

Ahead of me, the calm flatwater would be short-lived. I could see what looked like an island in the river ahead, and the river looked to pick up speed in the main channel left of the island. I paddled up to the island and got out on the rock beneath a dead tree at the eastern end of the island. 

On the right side of the island, the water gave way to exposed rocks on the riverbed. That way was a no-go. 

Left of the island, the river narrowed through a couple of rocky drops that were unrunnable. I would need to portage past the island on river-right atop a huge bouldery knoll. 

I went back to my boat and slowly paddled down the left channel to a place where I felt I could still get out of the canoe safely. It was a bit of a task getting my canoe and gear up on that boulder in the moving water. I was able to knock off a good length of the carry by doing so, however. 

Likewise, it was a steep put-in below the rapids in a back eddy. At least the water wasn't moving too much there. This whole process took quite a bit of time, but I was in no hurry. Much better to go slowly and safely rather than rushing through it. I congratulated myself on having enough wisdom the night before, having decided to leave this section for the following day when I was fresh and had the whole day ahead of me.

Here is a shot of the drop after I was back on the water and through it. 

That drop was followed by another very short section of flatwater. When I reached the end of the calm, I pulled over on river-left on some exposed rocks to scout the upcoming section of whitewater. I found a trail there. I wasn't sure if it was part of the 2380-meter portage or a separate trail that ran parallel to it, closer to the river, used to portage past the upcoming section. 

Here is a shot of the landing area with an upriver view.

I walked a couple of hundred meters down the trail and then bushwhacked down to the riverside to assess the situation. It was about a 500-meter-long set of rapids leading to a formidable drop. The rapids weren't terribly huge; the issue was that the river was a boneyard. I stared at it for quite a while, debating what to do and to see if I could pick my way through. 

With the water levels low and the push of the river not being too great, I decided to go for it. I planned my line carefully and went back to my boat to execute my plan. 

Back on the water, my plan imploded spectacularly. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men...

Early in the run, after bumping a rock and sending me sideways, I was forced in a direction I had not intended to go. From there on in, it was instinct, reaction and improvisation that got me through the run. It was, indeed, a nasty bump and grind. I managed to make it to a spot on river-right, about 50 meters above the formidable drop and into an eddy where I could pull my canoe ashore and breathe a sigh of relief. Looking back, I'd like to think that I took the 'creative problem-solving' approach to that run. 

When deciding on doing that section, I had weighed the pros and cons. With the water so low, I knew if I got off course, and indeed I did, the consequences wouldn't be severe in the low-water push. Had the water levels been higher and the flow much stronger, I would have portaged that section with so many exposed rocks showing. 

Here is an upriver shot of the boneyard after I pulled ashore. 

I was not out of the frying pan just yet, however. What lay ahead was a tricky carry on river-right over another substantial, narrowing and unrunnable ledge. 

I scrambled over the rocks on the right to get a lay of the land. I would be able to easily carry over the rocks, but the put-in would be one heck of an acrobatic balancing act. It would be a steep descent down some naturally formed steps to a small ledge that was three feet over some moving water. I would need to balance all my gear on that ledge, tie my boat off to something, lower it down over my gear and into the moving water, and then get my gear and myself into the boat while it was frothing about. 

The following two upriver photos show what I was dealing with.

Here is the downriver look from the ledge. 

I managed to do it just as I described, but had one close call when I almost dropped the boat while putting it in. That would have been quite a bit of trouble, swimming after it downstream and then getting it back upriver to where my gear was in that small canyon.  

Part of me wondered, had I eddied out on river-left instead, would I have been able to access the portage trail there? I couldn't see the trail through the trees, and the bank looked pretty steep, so I think I ended up doing it the only way I could have. 

I was three-quarters of the way through Thirty Dollar by that point and was fairly confident that most of the nasty bits were behind me. From my trip research, I knew that I had one more formidable drop at the very end. I wasn't too worried about it, though; my concern was if there were more nasty boneyard sections where I might potentially wrap on some rocks. 

After another short flatwater section, I pulled ashore once again on river right to scout a section that went around a small bend, making it hard to see what was ahead. 

After walking up the shore and looking downriver, I saw that I had a nice, clear run ahead of me for a bit through some CI rapids. 

I went back to my boat and ran that small section, and then eddied out again on river-left this time. Here is an upriver shot of the section that I had just run. 

From that same spot, downriver looked like an easy run to the left of an exposed island of riverbed rocks created by the low water conditions.

From there, it was a fun run for the next few minutes through a narrowing and over a small ledge into a pool. From that pool, I could see the end of Thirty Dollar ahead. The issue was that there was another ledge between the pool and the end of the rapids. I eddied out yet again on river-left to see if I could spot a way over that last ledge. 

After pulling ashore, I snapped the following upriver photo of the ledge that I had just run. That part of the river was fun and exciting. 

Downriver was a different story, though. I was certainly glad that I had the wherewithal to eddy out before careening over that last ledge. (Lord Paddlesworth must have acknowledged my ritual back at Three Syne! No sacrifice was necessary!) The low water had exposed most of the rocks across the ledge. There wasn't a clear channel over the ledge. 

I lined my canoe over the ledge on the left and put in just below it. Immediately, I had to perform a strong front ferry to the centre of the run, and from there I could run the last forty meters of Thirty Dollar Rapids through a clear channel, avoiding the many exposed boulders on either side of me. I whooped in delight, having completed Thirty Dollar Rapids unscathed. 

Here is a shot of the last vestiges of Thirty Dollar from below.

I was so glad that I had decided not to portage. Sure, it took me two hours to get through Thirty Dollars by picking my way through it, but I didn't care. As I mentioned, I wasn't in a hurry, and I was being careful. I had to; the water was incredibly low, and I was all alone. I hadn't seen another canoeist at all on the trip thus far. 

Besides avoiding the fatigue that would result from a difficult 2380-meter portage, I was able to travel down some of the most beautiful sections of river that I have ever seen. Somehow, the low water made it even more scenic. Those exposed rocky banks of the river in the gorge-like sections were simply stunning. 

Furthermore, despite having some of the lowest possible water levels one could experience on the Magnetawan, I was still able to get some fun runs in. Sure, it wasn't the thrill of having the CIII runs at highwater, but I was over the moon, nonetheless. 

Unfortunately, those elated feelings would be somewhat dampened by an impending long portage. Ahh, the highs and lows of canoe tripping, indeed! 

Speaking of highs and lows, I used to have a penguin and a polar bear as pets. When I mentioned that to my doctor, she diagnosed me as being bipolar. 

Below Thirty Dollar Rapids, the landscape changed drastically. For the previous two hours, I had been negotiating a river that was making its way through jagged rocks. Suddenly, I found myself paddling on a river with sandy, weedy banks. 

The river curled around a bend, and I entered Miner Lake. The portage back to the South Magnetawan Branch was supposedly immediately on my left as I entered the lake; however, the only thing I saw there was a swamp. I paddled into it and saw that it was a water outlet. In fact, it was the place where the South Branch rejoined the North Branch to make the Magnetawan one river again. 

Paddling up the outlet, I spotted the start of the portage trail. It wasn't signed, but an overturned cached fishing boat let me know where it was. Some local rodents did not want to make it easy for me, however. They required a toll to use the portage, and that price was hauling my canoe and gear over a five-foot-high wall that they had built right in front of the trail. 

It was just before 1 PM when I arrived at the portage. I made myself some lunch at the take-out to boost my energy for the 1419-meter carry. 

I discovered that I could have shaved a couple of hundred meters off the carry had I continued to paddle upriver. The take-out upriver would have been considerably steeper, though, so I'm not sure what would have been the lesser of the two evils. 

The trail went up a bare rocky knoll for the first few hundred meters and then crossed a back road. There was a sign on a tree there instructing the trail users. I took a blurry photo of it. 

When I saw that sign, I was instantly curious why the portage was called the American Trail. When I got back to civilization, I googled it, but didn't come up with anything substantive in a quick online search. There must be a historical reason for it, and I'm still curious about any events leading to its name. It also made me wonder if the name of the trail would give Trump the idea to charge a tariff to use it. I got my elbows up and walked on...

From the road to the put-in, the trail worked its way upward but much less steeply than it had been in the first few hundred meters. It was a forest walk from that point on. Thankfully, it was easy to follow and looked to be well-used. 

All in, the carry took a little over an hour and a half in two trips. I was happy to have it done with when I reached the put-in. 

I checked my phone quickly at the put-in and saw that I had cell service. Yep, I was back in cottage country. I gave my wife a quick call to let her know my progress and estimated ETA to arrive at home later that evening. I could be wrong, but she seemed happy that I survived Thirty Dollar in one piece. 

I began paddling back up the South Branch toward Harris Lake. Indeed, there were numerous cottages on the northern shore. 

As I worked back through the narrows leading into Harris Lake, some of the cloud cover began to give way to blue skies. This gave some brightness to an otherwise gloomy day.

As I made my way southward on Harris Lake, the wind picked up considerably. However, in the distance, I could see that those blue skies that I had earlier spotted were on the way in. I worked hard to get to them. 

Unfortunately, those skies were just teasing me. After a brief period of sunshine, the gloom settled back in. At the end of the day, Lord Paddlesworth looked out for me one last time. As I was approaching the boat launch on the Harris River where my vehicle was waiting for me, the impending rain was still holding off.