I snapped a wide-angle shot of my makeshift campsite from the water. It wasn't the most spacious site that I have had the pleasure of occupying, for sure. I had made a reluctant decision to camp there in a pinch, but in the end, it treated me just fine. 

The weather was beautiful. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and my world on the river was calm and peaceful. It was a beautiful morning paddle. 

An hour after leaving my campsite, I knew I was getting close to Santoy Lake, but I also knew that I had one more formidable logjam to portage past first. 

A few minutes later, I rounded a bend heading due west into a straightaway and saw the logjam ahead in the river. 

I found the signed take-out for the portage on the right. There were a couple of cached fishing boats there, as well. 

The take-out was another yank up a steep muddy embankment, but much easier than the one around the first logjam the day before. Once I got my canoe and gear ashore next to the upside down fishing boats, I started down the 350-meter portage. The first thing I did was mug for the trail camera that had been placed on a tree near the start of the portage. 

I wondered what kind of large-mammal images the owners of the trail camera were hoping to capture,  moose, bears or humans. The answer to that question was most likely all of the above. Perhaps it was a way of keeping track of how many people completed the Steel River Loop in a year. Or maybe it was a vigilant eye watching over the cached fishing boats. 

The trail ran parallel to the logjam along the bank of the river for the first 150 meters or so and then turned to the west to traverse a bend in the river for the remainder of its length. Again, it was clear and well-used.  

The sun-baked logs that were jammed in the river looked like they had been there for a very long time. 

It was a relatively easy carry compared to the longer one the day before, and the put-in on the far side of the bend had a nice flat spot to load the canoe. Up to that point, that had been a rarity on this river. 

After putting in, it was about a 20-minute paddle to the north end of Santoy Lake. The river entered the lake in a wide, straight outflow. When I arrived at that point, the wind immediately slammed into me. I had completed my journey down the incredible Steel River; it had lived up to expectations in terms of fun, beauty, and challenge. Now the scenic lake portion of the loop and the demanding portages between them lay in store. 

Santoy Lake is famous for its windy conditions. That has much to do with the fact that the south end of Santoy is only 5 km away from the north shore of Lake Superior. The distance from where I was at the mouth of the Steel River at the north end to its southern shore is a little over 10 kilometres long. Conversely, the width between the towering cliffs and ridges along its western and eastern shores is only about 1.5 Kilometres at its widest point. This creates a powerful wind-tunnel effect when the wind blows in from "the big lake they call Gitche Gumee".  The calm and peaceful conditions that I was enjoying earlier in the morning upriver were a thing of the past. The sky had clouded up considerably, and when I got close to Santoy Lake, the wind from the southwest was a force to be reckoned with. 

By the time I arrived at the lake proper, I discovered that there was no way that I would be doing the infamous Diablo Portage that day. The wind saw to that; it would have been foolhardy to paddle the 3.5 KM distance to the Diablo portage take-out against the wind and the waves apparent on Santoy.  

There are two methods of portaging to Diablo Lake from Santoy Lake. The most frequently travelled route is to take the Diablo portage. It makes sense for most people who start the loop at the Santoy Lake put-in at the south end of the lake. 

As I mentioned at the outset of this trip report, the Diablo portage is reputed to be one of the most difficult portages in Ontario. It rises over 100 meters in elevation, most of that in a very short distance right from the take-out. After the initial vertical assault at the beginning of the portage, the canoeist must then negotiate a narrow thread between two ridges that is covered with ferns that hide ankle-busting holes between rocks. Just when the portager thinks it couldn't get worse, it does. The last section before Diablo Lake consists of a scramble through a ravine filled with massive boulders, which is very challenging, indeed, with the weight of a canoe over one's head. The good news, comparatively speaking, is that all of that madness is only a little over 1000 meters in distance. 

The other method of reaching Diablo Lake from Santoy is a series of three portages from the very north end of Santoy Lake. These portages were cleared by the Biigtigong Nishnaabeg in 2020, I believe. This route consists of a 1200-meter portage from Santoy to a small lake called Pike Lake, followed by an easier 350-meter portage from Pike Lake to a small pond called Little Diablo Lake, culminating in another challenging 550-meter portage from Little Diablo to Diablo Lake. The total distance is over twice as long as the original Diablo Portage and would take considerably more time when factoring in loading and unloading the canoe at each end of each portage. Either way, the same elevation gain has to be achieved. 

So the big question is: What's the lesser of the two evils? Do I want a more difficult, but shorter, single portage? Or do I want three portages that are potentially easier at any given moment, but drawn out over three separate carries, which extends the duration of the 'pain'?

Well, unless I wanted to call it a day at 11:45 AM and make camp at the nice beach site at the north end of Santoy Lake, I had no choice but to take the second option of the three portages, being bound to the north end of the lake by the wind. I had trouble just getting out of the mouth of the Steel River with the wind that was coming at me, let alone paddling the 3.5 kilometres to the Diablo Portage. The wind, in all likelihood, would have only gotten stronger over the afternoon, and if I did make camp at the north end of Santoy, there was no guarantee that the wind would be calm enough to paddle the lake the following morning anyway. If I had made camp and had strong wind again the next morning, I would have wasted most of a day for nothing.  Besides, I was already at the north end of Santoy, so I decided to try the 3-portage route. In retrospect, now knowing what was about to happen, I should have just made camp! 

There are two cottages on the north end of Santoy Lake. I skirted the shore past the first cottage next to the mouth of the Steel. It wasn't far, but it was tough because I had hefty waves coming at me broadside on my left.  The other cottage was just past that, and the portage take-out was on a rocky beach to the west of that cottage dock. 

No one appeared to be inhabiting the cottage at the time. I walked over to the edge of the rocky beach and, for curiosity's sake, took a quick picture of the beach where the campsite existed across the mouth of the Steel . 

The beach looked nice, and the campsite in the trees behind the beach is purportedly a nice one. I would have liked to have stayed there if it weren't so early in the day. Knowing what I now know about what was about to happen, have I already said that I should have?

With some very difficult portaging ahead of me, I opened my food barrel and made a couple of wraps on the rocky beach to boost my energy.

Just after noon, I put on my canoe pack, loaded my hands with my paddles and fishing gear, and began my first leg of the first portage. Let the onslaught begin! 

The portage from the cottage started as a small road that was easy to follow. The portage wasn't signed, however, and it made me wonder if I was on the portage at all, and not going down a road that the cottage owner had made to access the back of his/her property.

After 5 minutes or so, I arrived at a junction. I knew from looking at the map that the portage was supposed to follow Diablo Creek up to Pike Lake, and I also knew that Diablo Creek would be on my left, so I turned left. Well, the bouldery trail, which did not seem well-travelled at all, took me back to Santoy Lake. I guessed that this was the real portage that I was supposed to take from the lake to avoid starting at the cottage property. I had no idea that it existed. In my trip research on the portage, I had read that the portage started at the cottage rather than further up the shore at the point where I found myself. I guess others had made the same mistake. 

After humping it back to the junction, I took the other trail further into the forest. The road narrowed into a walking trail and went through an open clearing before veering to the southwest and crossing Diablo Creek. The creek was moving fast there, and I had to watch my footing carefully while wading through the creek so as not to slip on the rocks. 

 The bushy trail on the far side of the creek is where I got injured. I could see a path had been cut through the thick bush there, but it was fairly overgrown. What made it difficult was that I couldn't see where I was stepping. The trail was covered with ferns and small bushes. Under the undergrowth, it wasn't flat either. The trail was littered with bowling ball-sized rocks and small depressions that I couldn't see. It was gnarly enough that I paused to reach into my pocket, take out my phone, and snap the photo posted below. 

I take a lot of photos on my trips of things that I feel might add to the narrative of my trip reports, and perhaps that is why I paused to take that photo of that section of the trail. My thinking at the time, most likely, was to show various sections of the trail for others who opted to take this secondary option to Diablo rather than the Diablo Portage. In retrospect, I might have subconsciously had a sense of foreboding upon seeing that trail and snapped the shot for that reason. I can't remember exactly why I took the shot, but I do remember that right after I put the phone back in my pocket and started portaging again, I got injured. 

On that path, I inadvertently stepped into a small depression. Now, at 5'6", I'm not a tall man. As I stepped into the depression that was covered in undergrowth, I came down onto a stem that was sticking straight up from below. That dastardly stem just happened to poke me hard in my right eye. I guess you could say that at that moment, my portaging ability (i.e., my leg length) came up short. 

Immediately, I had completely blurred vision and couldn't see a darn thing out of that eye. What horrible, rotten luck! One minute, I'm humping it down a trail like I had done so many times before, and the next thing I knew, I couldn't see out of one eye. I mean, it happened so fast! I guess I could have said that it happened in the blink of an eye, but I didn't even have time to blink! If only I had blinked, I would have had a scratched eyelid instead of the injury that I received. 

I put down my pack and what I was carrying in my hands, and walked back to the creek. There, I rinsed out my eye, thinking that perhaps I just got something in it. Still no vision. I sat for a moment contemplating the situation. Obviously, I should have contemplated a little longer. That point, in retrospect, is where my decision-making process failed me. I became aware that I had an eye injury, but I didn't know how serious it was. I wasn't seeing complete darkness with that eye; I had vision, but everything was just a giant blur. I could see colours, but I couldn't really make out the shapes of things. Nothing was distinguishable. I have had blurred vision from eye scratches in the past, but the scratches were minor, and soon my vision would improve within a few hours or overnight. I convinced myself that this was a similar case, and I just had a scratch.

I was obviously in denial. I mean, I didn't even think of ending the trip or seeking medical assistance at that moment. I mean, come on! A broken leg or ankle, a knock on the head, being mauled by a bear, a heart episode -- these are all reasons to end a canoe trip, right? But a little stem that poked me? No way! I told myself that it was just a scratch; I would wake up the following morning, and my vision would be much improved and on the mend.  

What I should have done was go back to Santoy Lake to the beach site and reassess. I was only about 500 meters from Santoy Lake when I got injured. Santoy is an access lake. From the north end of the lake, I would have had a 10-kilometre paddle to the access road the following day, wind permitting. From there, I would have been reachable to receive medical attention from Highway 17. Perhaps, if I were with a canoe partner, they would have talked some bloody sense into me and told me to go back to Santoy Lake, but I was alone, by choice, and plodded on. I was having a great trip and didn't want it to end.  I picked up my canoe pack and proceeded down the trail. In my mind, I had just scratched my eye; it would heal, and I was going to finish the Steel Lake Loop.

Well, the portage got considerably more challenging after that. It began ascending in a big way, and it wasn't widely used, so there was quite a bit on the ground to negotiate in terms of footing. It was very rocky in many spots, and there was deadfall to negotiate. For the most part, the trail was discernible and fairly easy to follow except at one location. On a steep incline, I saw some flagging tape and mistakenly took a wrong path to the left of the main trail. After ten minutes or so, it seemed to disappear into the forest. I'm not sure why that side trail was flagged, but I suspect it might have been another portager who thought they were on the right path, but obviously wasn't. By the time I figured out I was on the wrong track, put down my gear to scout, backtracked, and found the correct path, I had lost nearly half an hour. 

I was also doing all of this with one eye working. My injured eye was in pain, so I kept it closed for the most part. I was having trouble with my depth perception using one eye and was going very slowly. On the steep bits, which meant most of the remainder of the portage, and because I only had one working eye, I took extra care with my footing. I had to triple carry many parts. Let's just say, I wasn't breaking any speed records on that portage. To add insult to injury (literally!), it rained for about half an hour or so during the portage, making everything wet and slick. It was also insanely humid in the forest on a muggy July 1st, which resulted in a lot of sweat dripping into my eye.  I was not having fun anymore. I believe I had firmly transcended into Type 3 Fun territory by that point.  All in, the first portage alone took me two hours and 45 minutes. In addition, it was longer in distance than expected; my GPS showed that the portage was approximately 1350 meters rather than the 1200 marked on my map, not including the part where I got sidetracked. 

I snapped this shot at the put-in on Pike Lake while filtering more water and eating some snacks. 

I paddled the short distance across Pike Lake toward the next portage only to meet my next obstacle. For the life of me, I could not find the portage take-out to get me into Little Diablo Lake. On my map, it was marked to the left of where Diablo Creek dumped into Pike Lake, but all I saw at that location was what appeared to be impenetrable thick bush. Thinking my map was incorrectly marked, I paddled the shore for a bit on both sides of the creek, but nothing in the slightest resembled a portage take-out spot. I looked for flagging tape and/or blazes, but none were to be found. I thought maybe I was missing something with only one eye working, so I gave the whole area one more pass from the canoe, only closer to shore this time. Nothing. 

I spotted a somewhat decent spot to land about 40 meters to the south of where the portage was marked on my map. From there, I bushwhacked parallel to the shore back toward the creek and found the trail. When I got there, I discovered why I couldn't find the take-out. A large tree with the portage sign on it had fallen completely across the take-out, obliterating the first few meters of the portage and hiding the trail from the water. Sigh. 

I bushwhacked back over to the boat and paddled over to the tree. It was a bit tricky, but I landed the boat, pulled out my saw, and cut away some branches to have enough room to pull my boat and gear further ashore. After that, I had to hoist everything over the fallen tree.  Whew. I kept telling myself that this was all easier than the Diablo portage, right? Right? 

This portage was definitely better than the last in terms of difficulty. It still wasn't 'easy', however. It started by ascending through a forest on a decent trail, but then went through some thick alder as it turned to the north, closer to the creek, where it entered into a clearing. I had a little trouble locating where to go from the clearing for a minute, but picked it back up by staying to the left of the creek. From there, it got considerably steeper as it went back up a forested embankment. Again, along this stretch, due to the steepness, I triple carried. Eventually, the trail ended at a small inlet where the creek flowed out of Little Diablo Lake. My GPS tracker told me that this trail was a little longer than expected, as well, at a distance of 460 meters. 

On my last leg of the triple carry up the steep part to the put-in, I got some nasty leg cramps. I had felt those before, a year earlier on another difficult portage.  This time, however, I came prepared. I reached into my barrel for some rehydration gummies that I brought along for just such an occasion. I sat for five or ten minutes to let the electrolytes kick in, but it seemed to solve the problem for the time being. 

Paddling across Little Diablo Lake, I wished it were bigger; I really didn't want to portage again so soon! Little more than a pond, it was much smaller than Pike Lake. Before I knew it, I was taking out again. Sigh. 

I found the portage from Little Diablo to Diablo to be the most straightforward. The take-out was clearly marked, and the trail was nearly a direct line to the end. It had a steep part at the start, tapered off and lowered slightly into a wet, mucky bit, and then, for the last 250 meters, a steep incline to Diablo Lake. The footing along the trail was fine, though, and there were no impediments that caused me to lift over or duck under. Because I was getting very tired by this time, and my eye was becoming more and more painful with the sweat dripping into it, I triple-carried the entire portage. I got those thigh cramps twice more on this one, which caused more delays to stop and consume both rehydration liquids and more gummies. In the humidity, I had sweated so much that day. My shirt was soaked through with sweat for the entire afternoon.  I also had to filter more water at the end of my second trip. My GPS tracked this portage at about 440 meters, the shortest of the three.

When I reached Diablo Lake, I let out the loudest whoop of delight that my depleted body could muster at that time. I looked at my watch. It was 6 PM! With the delays in getting lost a few times, searching for the take-out on Pike Lake, stopping to rehydrate with cramps, triple carrying on steep bits, and going a lot slower than I normally would due to an eye injury, it had taken me just under six full hours to reach Diablo Lake from Santoy. 

Was this really better than doing the Diablo Portage? I think if I had to do it all over again, I'd much rather try Diablo and do it "one and done," so to speak. To be fair, having not done the Diablo portage, I still cannot say what the lesser of the two evils is. I also have to keep in mind that I would have done these three portages much faster if I weren't injured. All I can say is that it took a poop-ton of time in the condition I was in.

In celebration of finishing one of the most painful days of portaging that I had experienced, I snapped a photo of Diablo Lake from the put-in. 

What was left was the three-kilometre paddle to the other end of Diablo Lake to the island campsite. As far as I knew, there was only one viable campsite on Diablo Lake. I pleaded to Lord Paddlesworth to let it be vacant. Wouldn't that have been an ironic kick in the you-know-whats to get there after the day that I had, to find the only campsite on the lake occupied, especially on a trip where I hadn't encountered another single human soul thus far. 

There was a bit of wind coming at me when I crossed the wider northern bay of Diablo Lake. It wasn't enough to slow me down too much, but after a lengthy afternoon of portaging, it was a little irksome. The wind blowing into my eye increased the pain, as did the brightness on the wide expanse of the lake. All the sweat of the day dripping into it certainly made it become irritated, and it was not feeling great. I was coming around to the fact that I had injured my eye more seriously than I thought.

I made it through the narrows in the centre of the lake and turned to the southeast toward the Diablo portage. The island campsite, a nice one, was very near the infamous portage's take-out -- another reason to take Diablo Portage rather than the route I took; when you are done with the nasty portage, the campsite is right there. 

I passed a small cabin on the western shore. It appeared to be empty at the time, and I thought that if the island campsite was occupied, then perhaps I could use the cabin area as a possible place to hang my hammock for the night. 

Shortly after passing that, I arrived at the island. It was a nice site and seemed so familiar from all the times I had seen it in the posted YouTube trip reports of this loop. It seems to be the one site that everyone goes to after tackling Diablo. Best of all, however, was that it was vacant.

The first thing I did upon arrival and after hauling everything ashore was to jump into the water off the rocks in front of the firepit facing the Diablo Portage. My clothes were ripe with all of the sweat of the day, and I was fairly ripe after all of the portaging.. It was aching a lot by that time. I also wanted to give my eye another rinse, but now, in retrospect, it was probably the worst thing I could have done. It would be a good way to contribute to an eye infection. 

The rinse did the rest of me good, however, and I felt a lot better. I set to work setting up my hammock and the bug shelter. By the time all that was done, it was after 8:30 PM. 

I rehydrated another fantastic pasta dish and ate it in the bug shelter to keep away from the bugs. I had a couple of sniffs of whiskey to dull the pain of my throbbing eye. I wanted to see what a night of rest and sleep would do for my eye. I really wanted it to show signs of improvement by morning, but I was getting doubtful; it felt worse than it had earlier in the day. 

As the sun got low in the sky, the lake was beautiful, and I revelled in the fact that I had it all to myself. I was desperately trying to enjoy my surroundings, but I was getting worried. I was worried that I had done serious damage to my eye, and I was thinking about how to get myself out of there if my injury was more serious than I first anticipated. I did have an emergency satellite device with an SOS button, but that is always, ALWAYS, a last resort.