*** Note: All maps shown on this page are provided courtesy of Toporama which contains information licensed under the Open Government Licence – Canada. I have made additional markings to show route information.*** 

Finally, after a couple of years of lockdowns and a bad year (2021) of forest fires in Northwest Ontario, Dad and I made it to Wabakimi Provincial Park, Ontario's second largest, in the summer of 2022. It did not disappoint. It was a fabulous trip that threw a little bit of everything at us. 

We decided to enter and exit the park by train from Southern Ontario. With this decision, there were a few things to consider about this method of entering the park:

Pros:

• It was way more economical to take the train rather than drive up from Southern Ontario due to the price of gas. Gas got incredibly expensive in the spring/summer of 2022.

• It was obviously much cheaper than a fly-in and paddle-back trip.

• It was way more relaxing than driving. We could both sleep on the train (ideally!) and not arrive at the put-in exhausted after a 20-hour drive.

• We could use the train to complete a circuit route without having to retrace any part.  The alternative would be to paddle to and from Armstrong (2 days of travelling each way from Little Caribou Lake to Smoothrock Lake).

• One has to admit; it is pretty cool to have the train drop one off in the middle of nowhere with a canoe and slowly pull away leaving one to their own devices in the bush. 

Cons:

• The cross-Canada VIA train (aka The Canadian) is notoriously late on a regular basis, typically anywhere from 2 to 24 hours late.  We were at the mercy of VIA Rail in terms of timing.

• The train stops regularly with people embarking and disembarking continuously. Getting any sleep at all might be wishful thinking. 

• We would be without a vehicle once back in Armstrong after the trip, our take-out location while waiting for the train home. 

Given the fact that we weren't bound to a tight schedule in our work and personal lives immediately after the trip, we decided we'd try the train. If it were going to be late, so be it. One minor concern that we did have was that if it were drastically late on the way to the put-in, we'd be rushing through the trip to catch it home. This wasn't a big issue, however; I had planned a trip that I estimated would take nine or ten days to complete if we averaged 5 hours each day. Our window between trains in and out was 11 days, so barring some very nasty weather events, it was not too much of a worry. As long as we weren't windbound for more than 2 full days, we should be fine.

We arranged to get picked up at Little Caribou Lake, our take-out location by Wabakimi Clem. Clem is the Postmaster of Armstrong and is the nicest guy. I cannot recommend his services enough. He was extremely reliable picking us up, and even let us camp in his backyard while we were waiting for the train since we came out of the bush one day earlier than expected.  He is a wealth of information on the Armstrong/Wabakimi Area and has been helping people with their trips for many years. To contact Clem, phone or text: (807) 372-1346. E-mail: wabakimiclemq@outlook.com 

The Train - Sudbury Junction to Schultz's Trail 

The scheduled departure time to leave Sudbury Junction was 4:57 PM. The train did not arrive at the station until 7:30 PM and didn't depart until nearly 8 PM. It was already 3 hours late in the early stages of its journey. Yikes! 

Interestingly, we had our first wildlife encounter while we were waiting at the station before the trip even really began.  The fellow in the video below brazenly sauntered across the tracks near a VIA worker and platform loaded with passengers in a Sudbury suburb with barely a nod of the head to all the humans around him. 

We interpreted that incident as a good omen for the trip. 

When the train finally arrived, we helped the VIA staff load our gear and we were on our way. We taped our names and mileage marker on our possessions and stored the paddles, PFDs, barrel and bags right inside the canoe once it was up and inside the cargo car. 

The train was busier than we had expected, however; we were lucky enough to snag a group of four seats facing one another and were able to stretch out for the duration of the trip. We purchased dinner from the dining car and enjoyed a beer or two as the train worked its way northwest across the province. We managed to get some sleep over the night, but I wouldn't say it was a restful sleep. The train kept its bright interior lights on throughout the night and stopped quite regularly. I combatted the disturbances with earphones and a Covid mask over my eyes. 

We awoke to less than stellar weather. It rained hard all morning as we approached our stop. 

VIA passenger trains have the lowest priority on the single track across the country and often have to wait on sidings as the freight trains speed past. Luckily for us, over the night, the train did not get further behind. I guess it was a slow freight night. 

We arrived at Armstrong Station at a quarter past noon, and a bunch of Wabakimi canoe trippers got on the train with their canoes and gear. Many people drive to Armstrong, get on the train and ride the short distance to their put-in points, then paddle back to Armstrong. There were at least 7 groups getting on that day and it took quite some time to get everyone loaded. 

We finally arrived at Shultz's Trail, 24.7 miles (not kilometers) past Armstrong Station, our train departure point. It was 1:30 PM, four hours after our scheduled arrival time. One of the groups that got on at Armstrong was also putting in at Schultz's Trail. Wabakimi Outfitters had helped them plan their trip and they were told to get off at the 24.3 mile marker, not 24.7. The conductor didn't want to stop twice, so there was a bit of a discussion as to which location was the best. The train workers seemed to know where the usual stop was and we were glad it was the 24.7 one. Though 60 meters longer to reach the water, it was a gentle trail down to a fishing lodge on Onamakawash Lake, rather than the shorter, but incredibly steep descent to the portage between Onamakawash and Shawanabis Lake at the 24.3 location. We had passed it while the train was slowing, and with all the rain that had fallen that morning, it looked like it might have been treacherous. 

We watched the train pull away as we were left in the bush next to the tracks.

Day 1 - Schultz's Trail to Lookout River (9 km)

Thankfully, the rain had stopped, and transitioning from train passengers to canoe trippers was easy. There was a yellow sign saying 'Shultz's Trail' to demark the trail to the lake and we made a couple of trips down with all of our gear. The first thing we noticed on the trail were the blueberries...so many wonderful blueberries. We would enjoy them throughout the trip. The trail was well-worn and easy to use. In fact, with the exception of two portages between Whitewater and McKinley Lakes, we found all of the portages on the trip very well-maintained. Many thanks to both the Friends of Wabakimi and Ontario Parks for their consistent and vigilant efforts on trail maintenance. 

It didn't take us long to load and get on the water. We said our goodbyes to the other group and wished them well as we paddled away. Blue skies were beginning to poke through the gloom, but the wind was also coming up from the northwest. We felt it more as we got out into the larger part of the lake, so we kept to the northern shore and tried to hide behind points when we could to make the paddle a little easier.

We entered the bay at the northwest part of the lake and had to get out of the canoe for a minute to wade over rocks near the outlet of the Lookout River. This allowed us to skip paddling around the island. 

We saw our first rapid of the Lookout River just after that and it looked easy to run, at least the top part did. We ran it and eddied out at the bottom only to discover that the final rapid had a newly fallen cedar sweeper across the bottom of it, stretching pretty much across the entirety of the river. We couldn't see it from the top. Knowing that we should have walked the portage on the left to get a look at the entire run, we quickly learned to not take things for granted in Wabakimi. We were able to line the canoe down the right side but had to cross the bottom of the rapid in front of the sweeper while hanging on to it. Luckily, there wasn't too much push, but there was still enough to get a head full of cedar leaves and to carpet the bottom of the boat. It was a little comical actually. 

We paddled northeast across a bay and arrived at the next obstacle, a Class 3 drop in the river between two bays. There was a 64m portage on the left, very close to the drop, and a nice looking campsite there, as well. It was 4:30 PM by that time and we decided to call it a day even though we'd only been on the water for a couple of hours. We both like to sleep with the sound of running water nearby and in this case, we got that in spades. Besides, the sky was beginning to cloud over again in a hurry, so we wanted to hunker down before any rain came and we were very tired having only slept a few hours the previous night on the train. 

We made camp, got a fire going, and gathered some firewood to dry out around the fire; the ground was still very wet from all the rain earlier in the day. About that time, we said hi again to the group that got off the train with us after they portaged through and made their way down the Lookout River. For the rest of the evening, we were in complete solitude.  It was wonderful.

Almost immediately after putting in, we were faced with more whitewater. We debated over this one for a bit. From the top, we could spot a nice line on the left side, but again, we couldn't see the end of the run as it curved to the right. The terrain on the left side of the river made it difficult to scout. The river there also had a bit more push to it and there wasn't really a spot to eddy out that we could spot from where we were. Again, we erred on the side of caution and chose to take the short 38m portage on river right, which had an awkward rocky take-out to negotiate. That set of rapids was very pretty, though! 

Within a matter of minutes of paddling downriver, we were scouting yet again; this time standing up from the boat. It was a straightforward C1 that we easily ran. As we emerged from that one, we caught up to the group that got off the train with us. We paddled next to them for a bit until we came to the final obstacle before Spring Lake. For that one, we lined over a shallow, rocky ledge at the top and then had to choose one of a few options to take as the river maneuvered around a series of small islands. We ran the swifts there and then had to descend a final Class 2 drop over a ledge into Spring Lake. Dad got a little moist in the bow seat after hitting the standing wave below the ledge. 

We paddled north against the cool north wind on Spring Lake which was pretty in the rocky areas in the south, but a little swampy at its north end. We were alone again since the group we were paddling beside took the portage at the last rapids. We wouldn't see them again for the rest of the trip.  There was supposed to be a lodge on the western shore of Spring Lake somewhere, but we couldn't locate it as we paddled past. 

We had a little trouble finding the start of the 1083-meter Fantasia portage at first, but eventually spotted a boat cache behind some reeds on the right before the first set of the swifts out of the lake. It was a mucky take-out.

The Fantasia Portage is named as such because it is supposedly the most scenic portage in the north. I'm not sure I'd go that far, but it really was a nice walk. It travelled through a spacious forest of pine and spruce, and through a seemingly endless patch of blueberries and bunchberries. It really was pretty and we had our share of blueberries on the return walk for our second load. It felt to me that a forest fire some time ago helped contribute to the spaciousness of the forest there, but I didn't see direct evidence of a burn.  

This would be the longest portage of the trip. We couldn't help but notice how much deadfall existed up in the boreal forest compared to the mixed forests further south.

On the portage, we met a second group from the same camp that had portaged through our site that morning. A couple of the girls looked like they were having a tough time carrying a 70lb plastic canoe up the hill from Smoothrock Lake. They were grinding it out, though! 

The portage ended at a nice campsite overlooking the bay that received the water from the Lookout River. It was just after 3 PM and we hadn't really had any lunch yet, so we whipped up a couple of peanut butter and honey wraps there. 

Most of the clouds were gone by sunset, which ended up being stunningly beautiful. There were some that remained and they had very interesting shapes. Dad and I often play the "What does that cloud look like?" game at sunsets. On some occasions, perhaps that game should not be played.

There was a stiff wind from the southwest which was a helpful tailwind when the lake narrowed. However, when we had to make the crossings across the larger bays, the wind came at us sideways and the waves hit us broadside. This forced us to tack into the wind at these locations and prolong our progress north. We didn't mind all that much; the forest on either side of the lake was thick and the polished rocky outcrops made for a scenic paddle. 

We passed a couple of fellow canoe trippers heading south. They were on Day 6 of their trip and were working their way back to Armstrong from western areas of the park. They, too, were American. It seemed the park was more popular with Americans than Canadians, understandable given the proximity to Minnesota. 

The temperature was high, and by the time we approached the large northwestern bay where we had to veer to the northeast to get to Outlet Bay, we needed a break to swim and eat. There was a fairly recent burn on the large island and western shore at the southern part of that bay. 

Surprisingly, the wind wasn't too nasty out in the big bay, and we finally found a great little spot on an island in the middle of the bay to eat a couple of wraps and cool ourselves off with a swim. 

The portage emerged at the base of the last bit of moving water that we avoided on the turn and had a strong current there. We fished for a while but didn't have any luck at that spot. We moved downriver toward the next rapid. 

The river widened and the terrain on the banks got a little swampier. The rain really started pouring and we thought it would be a great time to take a break, get a bite to eat, and clean the fish we had caught. There was a campsite on the east side of the river in a grove of black spruce. We paddled up to the muddy beach there and quickly took notice of the plethora of leeches wriggling in the shallow water.  My trip research denoted that this was supposed to be a nice beach site, but the high water levels seemed to reduce the beach to a muddy river bank. We took cover from the rain amongst the trees until it subsided somewhat. 

After we finished eating our lunch and processing the fish, we stored the fillets in a zip lock, bailed the rain out of the canoe, and moved on down the river. 

Despite being cold, we didn't bother with a fire; the world was absolutely soaked and we just wanted to eat. We fired up our stove for the first time on the trip. I normally try to avoid using gas canisters as much as possible, but this was one of those times I indulged.  The pickerel fillets tasted good and improved our spirits. 

The rain seemed to come and go in waves for the rest of the night. We got into the tents much earlier than normal and called it a day. Dad, a fairly stoic fellow who wouldn't have mentioned it at the time, told me the following day that he was shivering when he climbed into his tent. Shivering is the first stage of hypothermia and it just goes to show that even in the middle of summer and being prepared with tarps, good tents, proper rain gear, dry bags, etc., the elements can get to you in the north. It's important to listen to what one's body is communicating and to stay warm. I have been at that stage of shivering on past trips and it isn't fun.

We both stayed dry in our respective tents for the rest of the night, despite the continuing rain. Dad said he warmed up once he was in his sleeping bag and got a good night's rest in the end. 

Unfortunately, our celebration was short-lived. In fact, what followed could have ended badly. 

We rounded the point that you can see in the photo above. It separated the two mouths of the Ogoki, and we found the wind that was whipping in from the northeast had Whitewater Lake foaming and frothing. There was no way that we were going anywhere on Whitewater Lake soon. We saw the lovely beach adjacent to the fly-in fishing lodge, Whitewater Lodge, approximately 500m away across the bay and thought that might be a good place to hunker down until the wind died. Whitewater Lake is massive and we had a long open body of water to cross. We had checked the weather on my satellite device earlier and the wind was supposed to shift directions and subside early in the afternoon.  

We knew that crossing over to the beach would be a little dicey, but we had done worse in the past; we thought we could easily make it. So, we started making a beeline for the beach. What we didn't take into consideration, and what we couldn't really notice from the outset, was that the strong winds were pushing the waves directly against and into the flow of the current from the Ogoki River. The river flow was meeting the waves head-on. This created quite a washing-machine effect. It was far enough away from the mouth of the Ogoki that we didn't think it would be an issue, but we were wrong. When we attempted to paddle through it, still at least 300 meters from shore, the canoe began bobbing and tilting randomly in all directions. Some waves were coming up over the gunnels. At one moment, a particularly large wave started pushing us over, but luckily it was to the side that I was paddling on; I managed a low brace while Dad leaned to the high side in the bow seat. Thankfully, we were able to keep the open end of the canoe facing upward. 

Had we moved further away from the river a couple of hundred meters, we wouldn't have found ourselves in that situation. We made it to the beach no worse for wear, but with a valuable lesson learned. 

We stayed for a moment at the beach, but we were still wet from wading down the Ogoki and the cold wind was strong; we were beginning to get chilled again. We thought of lighting a fire to warm up but didn't think the good people at the lodge would appreciate a couple of canoe trippers sullying their beautiful beach with a bonfire. We could see one person moving about at the lodge, obviously an employee, burning deadfall in a bonfire of his own, but other than that, the lodge appeared to be vacant. There didn't seem to be any guests that we could see, so we thought we'd stroll over and ask if we could warm up by their fire. 

A woman named Debra (Deborah?) opened the door to the lodge and invited us inside. She couldn't have been more welcoming and friendly. At the time, the lodge was closed to guests while they were undergoing some renovations, so we accepted the invitation, knowing we weren't intruding on anyone paying to stay at the lodge. Debra and the young man were the only ones there working on the property. 

She made us a pot of hot coffee and a fresh salad. Yep, you read that correctly -- a fresh salad on Day 5 of a canoe trip! We warmed up considerably and started to feel a lot better. It turned out that Debra's brother is the owner of both Whitewater Lodge and Ogoki Lodge, and Debra was acting as the caretaker at Whitewater. We chatted for a while and talked a lot about the lake, Wabakimi, and Wendell Beckwith. We learned a number of interesting things about the area and its recent history from her. 

The wind blew away the nasty clouds and the sun finally emerged. Debra let us spread out some of our wet gear on the deck to dry up while we were waiting for the wind to abate. Our spirits and mood improved dramatically. Debra, if you are reading this trip report, please know that your act of kindness comforted a couple of wet and cold canoe trippers substantially. Thank you. If any readers are thinking of booking a lodge in the area, I can say that Whitewater Lodge was clean, maintained, and in a beautiful location; Debra, the caretaker, was kind and generous. 

By 2 PM the wind was relenting. There was still the odd whitecap out in the centre of the bay, but the headwind we would be up against looked manageable. We thanked Debra profusely and paddled northeast out onto Whitewater Lake. 

We remained relatively close to the eastern shore and ducked in behind headlands and islands when we could. After about an hour, the wind pretty much died down, and by 3:30, it was all but gone. The sun was strong and we had ploughed through all of our water working hard against the wind. We stopped at an island to filter some more. It bewildered us somewhat to think that just a few hours earlier we had been cold and needed a hot drink to warm up. Now, we were hot, taking off layers, and couldn't get hydrated -- that's Wabakimi for you, four seasons in a day! 

Continuing east on Whitewater Lake, we were enjoying the better conditions and beauty of the lake. The water was incredibly clear and the many islands and rocky outcrops along the shore made for beautiful scenery. It truly is among the most beautiful lakes that I have had the pleasure of paddling.

We continued paddling east until we came to the bay  just north of the channel leading southward to Ogoki Lodge. Our original plan was to paddle the length of Whitewater Lake to the north and back down to Best Island through the islands and channels, but after speaking with Debra, we were intrigued about Ogoki Lodge and wanted to check it out.  As we rounded the point and began turning south, we spotted a black bear on the southern tip of an island just east of us. It was too far to get a clear photo. 

The lodge was built sometime in the late 70s according to some very limited Internet research done on my part. Apparently, Wendell Beckwith (see Day 6 of this trip report) had some input or inspiration in the lodge's design; it was built in the likeness of a teepee, however, an architect from Toronto seemed to be the principal designer. Most likely due to a lack of funds to sustain proper maintenance, or perhaps due to a lack of attending guests, the lodge fell into a degree of disrepair and was all but abandoned by the early 2010s. 

As Dad and I paddled the channel toward it, we spotted the top of it from a distance away. It appeared as a tower rising above the trees in a wild and natural landscape. It was quite a sight in such a remote location. 

As we approached closer, we noticed the large warning signs telling people that access to the area was prohibited. Because of that, Dad and I paddled to the beach to take a couple of photos only and moved on. The mosquitos were horrendous there, anyway. It really is an interesting architectural achievement, and hopefully, it will be restored and returned to its former glory. 

The humidity of the day was building. We were learning the hard way how dynamic Wabakimi's weather is. One really gets four seasons in a day there. We had just had 24 hours of rentless cold rain and chilly north winds, only to be replaced immediately with humid and heavy air coming from the southwest. This seemed to bring out the mosquitoes in droves, so we pressed on in search of a site on a nice breezy point or island. 

Continuing moving south of the lodge on the channel, the route came to an impasse in a swampy narrows. There, we found the 111m portage into a back bay of the lake. The trail seemed less used than the others we had used thus far, but was still easy to find and follow despite being unmarked. We made quick work of it in an effort not to lose much blood from the swarming hordes of buzzing pests. 

Back on the water,  we needed to head east through a rugged, but pretty, channel to enter the large eastern section of Whitewater Lake. Our goal was to find a site near Best Island to see the Beckwith cabins the following day. The channel got very shallow and narrow in a couple of spots and we had to lift the canoe and gear over a rocky ledge as we entered the lake again. 

It threatened to rain again around 6 PM. We were discovering that rain was nearly a daily occurrence in Wabakimi between 4 and 7 o'clock each evening. Luckily, it held off. 

It took the better part of two hours to get from Okogi Lodge to the bay next to Best Island. We marvelled at both the wide expanses of water looking east across Whitewater Lake and the plethora of gorgeous, rocky islands and points along the western shore. We passed a red canoe beached on an island where a couple of canoeists were setting up camp, the first fellow travellers we had seen since paddling up Smoothrock Lake three days earlier. We waved as we paddled past. We found a little-used site on a tiny island in the bay next to Best Island, just a short paddle from Beckwith's beach, and made camp around 7:30 PM. 

We set up our tents, rebuilt the fire pit, and enjoyed our rehydrated pasta dish as the sun went down. We didn't linger too long that night as the mosquitoes were active and ready to play. 

Day 6 - Whitewater Lake to McKinley Lake (10 km)

I woke a little earlier than normal with the sun beating down on my tent. I was happy though! After the previous two days that had given us a lot of nastiness, the sun was more than welcome. Unfortunately, a quick weather check on my satellite device predicted more ugly weather later in the day. 

I got up and lit a fire to make some coffee. I couldn't sit and really enjoy it, however. The mosquitoes emerged with the heat of the sun, and boy, did they come out to play! I took my coffee over to a rocky point on the northern side of the island where there was a little more breeze to blow the little b@$t@rds away. 

I saw the red canoe of the canoeists we saw the previous night heading toward us from the north. When they got closer to our island, they noticed me sitting on the point and paddled over for a chat. They were childhood friends and had been going on canoe trips together for 40 years!  They were on the way to visit the Beckwith Cabins and working their way back to Smoothwater Lake. We chatted for a bit, sharing our experiences and thoughts of our time in Wabakim thus far. 

After they departed, I heard my dad up and about and walked back over to our site. The mosquitoes seemed to be getting worse as the day got warmer. We both put on our bug shirts as we ate our breakfast and broke camp. There were relentless clouds of them. It was August 2nd and that morning was the worst for bugs I had experienced all summer! 

We were happy to get out on the water and into the breeze of the lake. I took a departing shot of our beautiful, buggy island site as we paddled away. 

In addition to the amazing beauty and fishing that exists in Wabakimi Provincial Park, another reason Dad and I chose the route was to visit the Beckwith Cabins. 

A couple of years earlier, through the myccr.com canoe tripping forum, we were turned on to a documentary entitled "In Search of Wendell Beckwith". It was created by Wendell's grandson, Tyler, in partnership with the Thunder Bay Historical Museum, Lakehead University, and other stakeholders. It's an amazing 96-minute piece, narrated by Tyler, that explores Wendell's journey and mindset which resulted in him existing for 19 years in one of the most incredible hermitages ever built in Canada. In the film, Wendell is depicted as an eccentric genius with some very original and unusual ideas, one of them being that Best Island is the Center of the Universe. Much has already been written and said of Wendell Beckwith, therefore I won't elaborate further on Wendell's story, creations and theories; I will let the documentary do that. I have included the link below and I encourage readers to watch it in its entirety when they have the time. It really is an amazing story. 

We beached our canoe at a rocky point on Best Island; it was a campsite that was connected to the Beckwith Cabins via a short trail. We spent some time marvelling and exploring Wendell's constructions, all in various states of dilapidation. The documentary explains why they have been left to deteriorate. 

Seeing the cabins firsthand was one of the highlights of our trip, and I recommend other paddlers see them before they have returned to the earth. While walking through the area, it felt like I was in an open-air museum, learning about the history of a man who chose to live and devote his life to something he felt was greater than himself. 

We were careful to leave things as they were and acted as temporary observers only. I hope other visitors do the same so that future paddlers can also experience the fleeting sensation of what it was like to have lived there for so long and the awe in noticing the painstaking attention to detail that Wendell employed in the cabins' creation. I have included a few photos of our experience on that day below.  

We passed a series of well-kept cottages on the west shore. My map had it listed as a First Nations community. It appeared to be vacant as we paddled past, however. 

We paddled south and through a channel into a back bay. As we got to the marshy southern tip of that bay, we noticed a large burn area to the southwest. We were looking for a 550m portage that we knew to be less used than the alternative more commonly used ones that went upriver to the east. Even though it was longer, we preferred to take one 550m portage rather than three short ones. Half of the work is just loading and unloading the boat.  

It took a little while but we eventually spotted some flagging tape and the take-out spot. 

We caught up to our friends on the portage and would see them on and off again for most of the day. The condition of the trail was much better than the two portages we did the day before. The end of the portage emerged next to a nice set of rapids west of the creek. We watched John and Ken paddle away in their red canoe. 

We paddled the length of the unnamed lake for about 15 minutes before arriving at the 72m portage that was to the right of a pretty set of rapids. 

Day 8 - Smoothrock Lake to Funger Lake (15 km)

We woke up to a very different lake. By 9 AM all the clouds had drifted away and we were left with a lovely warm, calm and sunny day. That kind of weather had been very rare up to that point of the trip, so we lingered for quite a while at breakfast and enjoyed an extra coffee or two. It was our last blueberry pancake breakfast of the trip. 

It was Day 8 and we hadn't had a rest day, so we were feeling it a bit. We discussed staying another night at the site, but in the end, we decided we would continue on. We didn't want to make it to the end only to get windbound on the Caribou Lake crossing, putting us in danger of missing our train home. We decided we would make a compromise by moving on, but not putting in a hard day; we would have no portages for the day. 

We didn't even leave the site until after midday. We paddled southeast and I snapped a photo of the site's front porch as we departed. 

The rest of our day was fairly uneventful, but we were happy about that. We took our time paddling and weren't in a hurry to push. We fished here and there as we paddled through Outlet Bay but weren't having much luck. It was tricky because the bay was quite shallow in many places and we got snagged a bit. 

As we rounded the jutting headland and went through a narrow part of the bay, we watched a massive bald eagle perched on a treetop; it was watching us watch it. It eventually vacated the scene as we stealthily tried to get closer. By this point, we were getting a bit spoiled with all of the eagle sightings. We had to have seen about 15 or so on the trip in total; and most of them were huge, as well! 

Heading east toward Funger Lake, we passed a lovely campsite on a rocky point on the south shore. 

There was supposed to be a nice site on the point opposite to the narrows that led into Funger Lake. We were hoping to stay there, but a foursome was on the site and about to set up camp. It appeared they were coming into the park and were most likely on the second day of their journey. 

This left us with only two sites that we knew of on Funger Lake to choose from. When we got to them, neither one looked great. They were both set back in the trees and were facing east. We were a little leery of another bugfest, so we moved on. 

We really didn't want to start portaging up the Caribou River, so we were looking for anything that might look good. We knew of a site at the first portage, but were reluctant to stay there with the possibility of people moving through the site. On the map, I noticed an island that was near the channel leading to the river. We paddled over to investigate; it had a rocky landing with a steep hike up to a raised area that had a clearing looking north. It seemed like a good spot for a site even though it wasn't listed on my maps as one. Indeed, when we walked up to check it out, we found a well-used fire pit  at the top and a couple of tent pads. It was a very nice site and we decided we would stay, and it wasn't even on any map in my research. 

After setting up camp and relaxing in our tents for a bit, we heard a motorboat whiz past our island. It turned out that there was a fly-in fishing lodge in Funger Lake's large northern bay. We watched them fish in the middle of the lake about 500m south of our island.  After they departed, we paddled over and gave the spot a try. There was a shoal there, and we tried fishing just off of it. We got a couple of bites but didn't stay very long. The wind was causing us to drift and we were having a little trouble keeping the boat over the hole where the pickerel were hiding. 

We fished a bit more in other parts of the lake and had another nice fire that night. We called it an early night, though; it had clouded over and we were feeling a little tired. Also, we knew the following day that we had five portages to contend with as we made our way up the Caribou River.  We retreated to the tents at dusk and slept well.

Day 9 - Funger Lake to Caribou River (11 km)

We awoke to cloudy and windy weather. Our aim for the day was to make it to into the north end of Caribou Lake, but the wind forecast was looking dicey. My satellite device was predicting some windy nastiness for the next couple of days. So far, on all of our large waterbody crossings, we had been fairly lucky with the wind. Our only windbound experience thus far was on Whitewater for a few hours on Day 5. 

We only had oatmeal left for breakfast at this point of the trip, so it didn't take long to consume it with a coffee and get going. We were paddling up the Caribou River by 9:30 and reached our first portage by 10 AM. It was a very short jaunt of 49m to the left of some rapids that were dumping into Funger Lake. Unfortunately, my only photo of the pretty rapids was quite blurry. 

The portage went through a rudimentary campsite that we would have probably had to stay at if we hadn't found the island site on Funger Lake. We were very glad we didn't have to stay there because the take-out area next to the site was absolutley littered with fish carcasses. Unsurprisingly, we spotted very fresh bear scat and pawprints on the sandy take-out spot next to the carnage. 

It never ceases to amaze me how thoughtless some people are. Whoever cleaned the 6 or 7 pickerel and left the remains to rot at the take-out right next to a campsite simply demonstrated callous disregard for anyone else who might want or need to use the area after them. Actions have consequences and the entitled attitude of doing whatever one wants without any consideration for those who follow is what causes problems. In this case, it potentially could have led to a dangerous animal encounter. In my opinion, there is no room for people like that in the backcountry; they simply have no respect. Would it have been too much to take an extra couple of minutes to dispose of the fish remains properly?

We put-in at a short pond below another set of rapids. This pond looked to be an excellent fishing spot and we spent quite some time enjoying the fishing there. 

We took the next portage, a 130m carry, this time on the right of the rapids to yet another small pond. We tried to fish this pond, as well, but found it too shallow. We did take advantage of that, however, and were able to line up the next set of rapids, skipping the 60m portage.  

The river widened somewhat after that and we could really feel the wind funnelling in from Caribou Lake. We arrived at the next obstacle, a Class III rapid that would have been quite a ride coming in from the opposite direction. We spent quite some time fishing there and had a lot of fun. In the end, we kept four pickerel that I filleted and kept in a ziplock for another lovely fish meal that evening. We did not leave the remains to rot on the portage.

We made some peanut butter and honey wraps for lunch and were just about to complete the 57m portage on the left when our old friends, John and Ken, paddled up behind us. We chatted for last time and gave them some suggestions on where to tap into some pickerel at the spots that had been lucky for us. 

It was a short paddle up to the last of our obstacles on the Caribou River, a 143m portage to the right that would take us up and over a rocky Class II rapid. We had our share of fishing by this time, so we admired the beautiful scenery and moved on. 

For the next 90 minutes or so, we enjoyed the scenery moving up the Caribou. The river began to widen and was dotted with gorgeous islands and inlets. 

We came to a large bay with an island in its center. It was nearly 4 PM at this point, and on cue for our daily rain visit, the skies in the west began to look threatening. It was weird because we were still facing a very stiff headwind from the southeast, yet the skies above were blowing in some nastiness from the northwest. The wind on the surface and the winds up in the atmosphere were blowing in entirely opposite directions. It took us a minute or two to figure it out, but when we did, we knew we would have to make a beeline for the next available site. Our maps displayed two sites across from each other at the mouth of the river near Caribou Lake, so we paddled hard for them. 

We certainly didn't outrun the rain, because it began to come in substantially before we got to the sites, but we did manage to outrun the thunder. The site on the west side of the river was occupied, but we were happy to find the one on the east bank vacant. We climbed up its steep, rocky front porch and were happy to find a lovely site in a grove of spruce and jackpines. We brought the canoe all the way up, flipped it over, and leaned it against a tree bough. This gave us a bit of cover from the pelting rain and lightning, while we dug into our dry bags for our tarp. We erected the tarp amongst the trees and were able to arrange it over the firepit. 

The thunder and rain passed fairly quickly, however, the wind from the southwest seemed to only increase as the night wore on.  We fried up our pickerel fillets in a garlic and chives batter, and along with a side of rehydrated hash browns, we had the best fish fry of the trip. As the sun went down, casting a beautiful pink glow over the cloudy skies, we enjoyed what would be our last campfire of the trip. 

The wind just didn't want to subside, though, so we retired to the comfort of our warm sleeping bags in our tents just after nightfall. 

Day 10 - Caribou River to Little Caribou Lake Take-out (22 km)

We awoke to a sunny day, but the wind was still blowing; it had changed directions, however. It was now blowing from the southwest. A weather check on my satellite device revealed that would be facing gusts of up to 30km/hour. Yikes! We had a massive bay to cross. 

The fellows camped across the river had already packed up and departed. We guessed they were trying to beat the wind. We, on the other hand, accepted that we probably weren't going to avoid it based on earlier weather checks. We didn't dillydally, though, and departed the site by 8:30 AM, our earliest shove-off yet. As we paddled away, I took a quick pic of the lovely point that we were lucky enough to call home for a night. 

We paddled out of the Caribou River and into the expanse of Caribou Lake, and as soon as we got beyond the protection of the point to our west, the wind slammed into us like a freight train. Eyeballing the size of the waves was deceiving; from a short distance away, the whitecaps appeared to be manageable, but once in them, we quickly realized we had underestimated their size. Some were two-foot swells that crashed over the gunnels on our starboard side. We had no business being out there in those conditions. 

Aiming for a small island to our southeast, we paddled hard, carefully positioning the canoe in a way that would get us to our destination, but not take on the brunt of each wave wanting to slam into our sides. We made it, but it was a good ten minutes of clenched jaws and puckered you-know-whats. We paused on the leeward side of the island and were forced to bail out the boat. There, we had to decide whether to wait out the wind or somehow press on. Another quick weather check stated that the wind was there to stay for the day. Studying the map, we felt we could negotiate the lake by hiding behind islands to the east. It would be a much farther distance to paddle, but there looked to be enough islands to actually make it work.

In the end, it was the right decision. There were two more crossings between islands that were a little rough, but nowhere near the danger of that initial one. Beaver Island provided a lot of protection, as did the two round islands to the south of it. We stopped for a snack and a water break on the northeast side of the last island before the portage into Little Caribou Lake. 

Seemingly in a final way for Wabakimi to remind us that we were in the rugged north, the take-out for our final portage of the trip was nasty. We had to precariously balance on boulders in deep water to get our gear and canoe ashore. The portage was steep toward the end, but we were rewarded with a very pretty put-in at the north end of Little Caribou Lake. 

In fact, we found the scenery on Little Caribou Lake to be very pretty. There were a number of dramatic rocky outcrops and small cliffs interspersed with pretty little islands dotting the bays. 

By 2:30 PM, we had reached the southern part of the lake and the last campsite that was marked on my map. We coudln't find it! It didn't seem to exist.  We stopped at an island, and I took out my sat device to contact Clem to arrange to be picked up a day early. He reponded by saying he could retrieve us in a couple of hours, so we took out our stove and made a rare hot lunch with the remainder of some freeze-dried meals. We also fished for a bit and had a swim. 

We paddled to south end of the lake in time to meet Clem, only to find quite a nice site next to a huge boulder sitting in the middle of the bay. Doh! Oh well, we had already contacted Clem, and didn't want to change the plan in case it put him out, so we glanced at the site longingly and paddled on. 

We arrived at the end of the lake and saw some buildings there. We thought that was the take-out, but discovered that it was someone's private property when we wandered ashore. They were very nice people though, and pointed us in the right direction. The take out was up a creek heading south and at a bridge on Caribou Lake Road.