Long Lake, Ontario

There must be millions of 'long lakes' out there and this one near Sharbot Lake, Ontario is another one. Given it's about 6 kms long it probably falls into the 'little' long lake category, but nonetheless it made for a cheery paddle on an otherwise dull, overcast and chilly day.

There is a great launch area right off the main road although there are signs posting No Parking which naturally I failed to see until exiting at the end of the day. I have no idea where one is supposed to park. Surely not on the road above...

The lake is dark and clear at this time of year. Not a soul to be seen other than a few workmen cutting trees or closing in houses for the winter.




I paddled to the far end and got out on a lovely granite outcrop amid tall pines. The perfect lunch spot. All was quiet, no birds, no bugs not even a squirrel.





I returned following the opposite shore. Once again a mix of closed cottages and wilderness. The only other visitor on the lake was a distant loon. It was a pleasant day on the water for both of us.

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Mene or Minik was a seven year old Greenlander when arctic explorer Robert Peary brought him and five other Inuit to the United States in 1897. None of the group realised why Peary had brought them to America, but on arrival it was clear they were part of an exhibition of things Greenlandic. In a short period of time, Minik's father and the other adult Greenlanders fell ill with tuberculosis and died before they were able to return to their homes in northern Greenland. Minik was adopted, in a fashion, by Wallace, one of the curators at the American Museum of Natural History. He eventually returned home to Greenland, but by this time he had forgotten much of his language and was unable to hunt to survive. He was forced to return to the United States where he worked in several jobs. He ended up working in a lumber camp in northern New Hampshire where he died along with many others from an influenza outbreak in 1918.

In 1993, the bones of Minik's father and the other adults were taken out of storage at the Museum finally returned to Qaanaaq in northern Greenland where they were properly buried. Only Minik remained in the United States. As the photos tell, he is buried in a beautiful setting among the hills in the Tabor Cemetary just south of Pittsburg, New Hampshire. I was happy to see that I was not alone visiting his grave. Someone has placed a small carving, a seashell and a bead necklace on his grave marker. He may be a long way from his home, but happily, he is not forgotten.

Camping Arrangements

When out paddling on an over-nighter, finding that perfect campsite is all important and often leads to extending one's paddle further than expected. Once the site has been chosen then it's a matter of setting up your accommodations and getting some good prepared.

One modification I've been using recently is the 'bivi-sac' seen in the photo above. It stores nicely up in the bow of the kayak even with my sleeping bag and air-mattress inside. Setting up is a simple matter of pulling it out and rolling it out. A few puffs of air in the mattress and I'm ready to start cooking. Quick and easy!

If it looks like rain overnight I set a light rain fly over the entrance using my paddles if no trees are handy. So far I've stayed warm and dry. In fact, with so little inside space to warm up, I've found the bivi warmer than my tent, especially as we get into the cooler fall weather!

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Lake Memphremagog is an international lake straddling the Canada/USA border between Quebec and Vermont. A small part of the lake just north of the border is part of the Northern Forest Canoe Trail. This interesting water path makes its way from the central Adirondacks in New York state all the way to the New Brunswick border in northern Maine following a series of lakes and rivers. Visit their site to see the exact route and other details.

In the photo above, one can almost see where the trail enters Lake Memphremagog on the western shore near the center of the shot. From there one paddles southward to the border.

This photo was taken at the Canadian border check-in wharf. Paddlers working their way south need not stop at this point and will clear American customs at the town of Newport at the head of the lake. However those entering Canada must stop and call in their information.

We thought we would try the system, but found it not very well suited to paddlers! The phone at the end of the red suspension system was out of reach. Only by waiting for a wave high enough to pass under our hulls were we able to grab the handset cord and pull. Not the best of methods and sure to eventually wreck the phone. Once we made the call, all we heard was static and various ringing sounds, but no one answered...

We paddled on and enjoyed exploring the trail. Highly recommended!

I recently made a day paddle on Eagle Lake near the town of Sharbot Lake, Ontario. This whole area is riddled with small lakes, many of them interconnected. If one wished, it's possible to paddle from one to another and camp on 'crown land', places which are still in the public domain and available to all. The photo above is one such parcel of land and was actually a designated camp site at some point in the past complete with a 'human waste management device' locally known as a 'thunderbox'.

While the lovely campsite still remains, the 'device' has sadly rotted away. It's a pity as the lake made for a delightful paddling venue complete with intriguing bays and mysterious islands. While it's cottage country, we found the natives friendly and twice we were asked in for a coffee!

There are two geocaches within easy reach for paddlers so inclined to look for. What's not to like on Eagle Lake?

Paddling Variations

While visiting Gloucester, MA recently I was treated to how varied even a simple kayak outing can be. I visited Milk Island, a bird rookery. It's really more of a pebble and small stone bar reaching perhaps an elevation of 25 meters or so. It's clear that storms frequently rearrange the place on a regular basis. Even the highest parts of the island had mangled lobster traps strewn about. Vegetation was minimal at best.

Along the way, following the shore, I passed several sandy beaches, some over a mile in length. Other nearby beaches were composed of small pebbles. Why they didn't share the same sand as adjacent beaches was a mystery to me. Between the beaches were rocky outcrops which you can see in the photos above and below (Both taken by Katherine Richmond).

The photo below is Good Harbor Beach, a favourite sandy stretch perfect for families wishing the spend the day at the beach doing all the normal things families do at the beach. I was happy to try my beginner surf skills once again in the mild surf, something I don't ever get to do in my home waters...

I love paddling out of Gloucester, Massachusetts. There is the working harbour with all it's fishing boats, old time schooners and fancy yachts. There are tidal marshes and gushing channels where the tide streams in and out. There are glorious sandy beaches where you can work on your surf launches and landings. There are sea cliffs where waves have been known to knock down houses perched high above the water.

A few days ago, I tried something else just out of Gloucester. I paddled a nearly calm sea out to Milk Island to see the birds. I had a lunch, admired the lighthouses on another island and then paddled back. It was a wonderful day on the water in a wonderful town of the east coast. For dinner that evening I visited a retired lobsterman and his family, who regaled us with past stories. We then chose seven frisky ones from his homeside tank to take home for supper. Delicious!
Thank you, Gloucester!

Recently paddled out to Gordon Island in Ontario's 1000 Island Park with some friends. The island has until recently been off limits due to an infestation of insects which hollowed out the numerous large oak trees on the island leaving them in danger of suddenly falling on visitors. The trees were mostly cut down and burned and then the island left to regenerate. The winds were up on the crossing making the paddle rather interesting...

Recently the island has been opened to visitors again, docks for power-boaters put in and a new composting toilet installed. At first glance it all seemed quite fancy, especially when one came across relics like the 1907 gazebo above while walking the trail around the island. One got the impression that no expense was spared back then when it came to the care and comfort of water travelers.

Much has changed however. While the island was clean, the campsites were in need of attention. With the near total defunding of Canada's national park system, I fear Gordon Island and many others will be open to vandals and others with little better to do than ruin our beautiful parks.

Another sad feature much in evidence was the effects of the long drought in the area. Grass was beginning to turn brown here and there and many plants were limp and drooping over. Hopefully rain fell after we left this gorgeous area...

As many are now aware, Canada has become the victim of election fraud. An illegitimate government now sits in Ottawa. If this wasn't tragic enough, this government is now proceeding to undo years of careful nation building, environmental protection and the creation of a caring society. Many Canadians are now working hard to return to the Canada we all love and want to return to.

Today marked the first day since installing the new larger rudder on the Hobie Rev 11 that I got out with all three methods of propulsion installed and ready to go. I left the dock under peddle power, then once out in the fairway, the sail took over. When the wind died or slackened too much for my liking, I peddled in the desired direction until the wind took over again.

This went on for the remainder of my two hour outing. Very pleasant way to pass the time and get a bit of exercise as well. The wind got rather gusty towards the end of the day and several times I had to sharply round up into the wind to avoid spilling into the water. I suspect she doesn't roll all that well with the sail up...! The new rudder provides that extra control needed to avoid sudden swims, which I don't really need as the water is still chilly in places.

I didn't use the paddle at all in the end. It was more of a security backup than a means of propulsion today. Besides, I have 'real' kayaks for paddling. Which reminds me I'd better get back into them before I lose my skills! But this Hobie is just too much fun...

I took the Hobie Revolution 11 out for a spin on my local lake yesterday with the hopes of sailing her now that I have the optional larger rudder. The original equipment rudder is too small to prevent the kayak from rounding into the wind each time a puff of wind hits the sail. Downwind, control pretty much disappears and she tends to broach risking a knock-down. Not pleasant...!

There was lots of wind on the lake yesterday, but I decided it was more than I needed and far too gusty to experiment properly. So as the above photo reveals, I went for a peddle! This is the kayak's strong point. She responds well and moves eagerly through the water, even facing the wind. As well the peddle action is comfortable and leaves the hands free to film, sip water, eat lunch, whatever.

Going downwind, I was hoping she would surf the waves, but try as I might it was difficult to grab a crest and ride. She just isn't fast enough, although it's also likely the fin drive provides too much underwater drag. I'll have to try it next time with the fins removed and the hole plug installed.

Finally, I used my Greenland style paddle yesterday instead of the Hobie one. I'm much more accustomed to the Greenland stick and found it much easier paddling. Oddly, the Hobie paddle felt 'sticky' in the water, especially when releasing it. Strange feeling, but true. Other's will probably not have the same experience.

I'm still waiting to try the sail rig. Hopefully the winds will be in my favour soon!

Capt Nemo's Residence...

Paddling the inner harbour of Cape May produced a surprise the other day. The high winds and extreme tidal currents in the area kept me off the open water for the day, so harbour exploration became the route of the day. Passing the lines of docked yachts and their adjoining condos, I suddenly found this surprise...

Surely an innovative house like this one, nearly all of glass panels some opaque, some not, with large doors permitting the entrance of one's submarine, a wind-mill for self-sufficiency and a cheeky little yellow submarine hanging in plain view from the rafters, has to belong to Capt Nemo or his alter ego!

Not all kayaking thrills are found in the tide rips!

On a recent paddling trip to southern climes, I was again reminded of how birds can make our paddling outings more varied and interesting, just by their very presence. In the above shot, an Osprey enjoys a recently caught fish all the while keep an eye on me as I paddle past.

This Brown Pelican seemed to have other things on its mind than me paddling by. Was it an itch, a parasite, or just a feather or two out of place?

While taking a little break from paddling I came across this Great Blue heron strolling along in the surf looking for something to eat. The bird was totally unconcerned that people were sharing its beach. Instead, it gamely walked along, pausing now and then when a food item could be seen rolling in the surf.
So, watch the birds as you paddle. They have lots to say!

Changing Times

While on a trip to Florida recently, I happened to put-in at a outfitter who sold Hobie Cat boats. One was a kayak called a Revolution 11. What attracted my attention was the interesting combination of propulsion options available using this craft. It could be paddled, sailed and peddled!

I took a demo ride and was instantly hooked. Since bringing it home I been able to paddle, peddle and sail this fun little kayak. I love it!

That said, I won't be selling any of my other kayaks anytime soon. They are still my true loves, but times are a'changing and I'm happy to see where they take me...

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Ilinniarnaqsivuq!

I've been waiting for an 'app' in Inuktitut, the language of the Inuit of northern Canada. It's taken a while, but this spring children, and grown-ups as well, will be able to quickly learn to use the syllablic symbols used in Canada's eastern Arctic to write in Inuktitut.

For those wishing to learn a bit more about how this 'app' came into being, there's a news item online to read. For people dying to try the 'app' for themselves, there's a demo as well. I couldn't get the demo to work completely, but the image above comes from it and gives an idea of what it will be like. Perhaps you'll have better luck with the demo! Soon everyone paddling in the arctic will be able to read and write in the local language when dropping into the local hunting or fishing camp!

Update! Update!

'Tusaalanga' the new Inuktitut app is now available on iTunes. Check it out here!

My Christmas Story - 2011

It had been the best fall ever for Siasi Putayuq. He had found a job working on the communities water delivery system. Best of all he was driving the truck and not working the hoses at the back. It doesn't get better than that, especially when winter temperatures dropped to -30°C and lower.

With some money coming in at last he put in an order for a brand new skidoo, one of the top models. No longer would he have to drive a fixer-upper and spend most of his weekends working in his tiny shed repairing one thing or another.

By late November the river finally froze over, late again this year… Siasi was anxious to cross the river and head off to Tassuiyuq and do some fishing. Most of the nearby lakes and streams on the town side of the river were pretty well fished out. There were just too many people to feed with the town growing the way it had been for the last few years. Anyway, the big weekend came and all week long people were testing the ice to see if it was safe to cross. The word was that by the weekend, the first party of fishermen would head off and Siasi was going to be with them.

About ten snow machines were ahead of him, but he didn't care as they left the shore and ventured out on the ice. Snow covered for the most part, but a few ice patches were scary. Still no one slowed down, they just kept on the throttle all the way across and only the tidal ice gave them any difficulties. The jumbled blocks of snow and ice caused where the tide rose and fell was always a problem until the worn track was created. This year was no different, but finally all the machines were up on the land and heading for the lake.

The fishing was everything they expected. With no one there fishing for several months, the fish were hungry to be caught. By Sunday evening most people had filled a bag or two full of fresh, frozen trout tied on their kamotiks made the long trek home. Siasi and a couple of friends couldn't tear themselves away. It had been so long since they'd been out on the land, they wanted to squeeze every last second out of it. Finally, the brief sunlight already gone, they loaded up and followed in the tracks of those already departed. They made a stop for tea about half way to the river and then another to tighten the sealskin lines holding the sacks of fish on the kamotiks. As they swept over the last hills before the river banks itself, they suddenly halted. The ice had broken up leaving large stretches of open water between them and the village on the opposite shore…


The ice must have broken up with the last tide as the snow-machine tracks headed right down the tide ice and out onto the last remaining ice. No tracks led either up or down the river. Just as they were about to head up river to see if they could cross further up, lights could be seen coming down to the river on the opposite shore. As they watch, it seemed that someone was launching a boat to come across for them. Siasi breathed a sign of relief! His job would be there in the morning. He didn't want to lose it so soon after he started and his precious skidoo was only partly paid for!

When the boat approached the edge of the ice, Siasi was shocked to see it was a member of the village Qajaq Club in his qajaq! After learning that it was the only craft available, the larger boats having been hauled away from the water weeks ago, Siasi managed to lay down on the rear deck and hang on as the qajaq carefully made its way to the far shore. Other than getting his mitts wet, he managed the trip remarkably well. Within a short period, all the stranded men were safely back on the village side of the river.

I wasn't long before the boat was across the river and Siasi and his friends had grabbed the bow line as it was thrown to them. What became clear as well, as that while they had been rescued, they would have to leave their snow-machines behind. The boat couldn't take them. Still, Siasi reasoned, in a few days the river would freeze over again and probably by next weekend he'd be riding once again!

However, the river ice and the tides had other plans. As it dragged into December and came closer and closer to Christmas, the river would freeze and then break-up, freeze again and break-up again. One weekend, Siasi and his brother went far upriver looking for a crossing place, but found nothing they considered safe. Things were getting more and more depressing. It was especially frustrating when he made his monthly payment on a machine he could even see, let alone use!

The week before Christmas a poster was put up in the Coop store advertising that the new helicopter company in town was going to raffle off a Free Christmas Helicopter Ride. A $2.00 ticket would raise money to win the ride and the money raised would go to building a new Fire Door on the community hall where weekly movies for the children were held. Siasi bought a ticket. He couldn't afford to pay for a helicopter to fly over and pick up his skidoo, but if he won, he'd use his Christmas ride to pick it up and his friends' machines as well.

At the end of the week, on the day before Christmas, everyone crowded into the Community Hall to see the winning ticket being drawn. The mayor reached into the pot and handed the ticket to the manager of the helicopter company. He read out the name. He didn't hear the name very clearly, but it wasn't Siasi, that much he did know. Oh well, he thought, the river will have to freeze sooner or later. He'd just have to be patient. He looked over that one of his friends who also had his machine stuck across the river. He looked back and shrugged then walked out of the Hall.

Christmas day arrived and still the river ice wasn't safe to travel. Around one o'clock in the afternoon, Siasi heard the helicopter taking off. That must be the free ride people getting their free ride, he thought. He turned up the TV to block out the noise. It didn't really matter, helicopters, especially ones that you really wanted to be on, have a way of intruding into your head whether you want them there or not. He could hear it on one side of the house, then it would disappear for a minute or two, only to return again on the other side of the house and again disappear this time for a bit longer.

Just as he was about to get up and turn down the TV, the noise returned and this time it seemed to be right over the house! Was it going to crash on top of him? That's all he needed! The noise was deafening and forced him out of the house to see what was going on. As soon as he stepped out he was caught in the downwash from the rotors, Siasi scrambled away from the house, practical on his knees and then turn and looked up at the crazy helicopter hovering over his house. There, in a sling under the skids hung his skidoo! The chopper moved slightly sideways and lowered the machine gently to the ground, placing it a few feet from his shed.

Siasi rushed over and untied the sling allowing the helicopter to lift up and head back to the river on its way to pick up the next snow-machine. As Siasi turned around one of his friends came around the corner of the house, a big smile on his face. "Merry Christmas, Siasi" That was my uncle who won the helicopter ride. Pretty neat, eh? But…

I know, said the friend, he said he was too old to fly around in a helicopter, but not too old to help young people go fishing!

Note: The images were made by drawing directly on blank 35 mm slides with coloured ink by various people in Kangirsuk in 1972

Eastern Sharbot Lake Paddle

Sharbot Lake is another smallish lake in central Ontario which I visited recently. While it's mostly cottage country, with some built on islands as well, it is nonetheless an interesting paddling venue. While I prefer cottages to be old fashioned and tucked away from the water, it is of some interest to see how building tastes have changes over the years. Some reflect our growing affluance and are virtually palaces. Elaborate docks and floating rafts are all part of the cottage experience...


Of course, no sane cottager would not have an Adirondack chair or two out somewhere on the property for the comfort of out-of-season paddlers...


Warm weather for late November made the paddle pleasant, as did the calm waters. This island cottage appears to have been an old home which has been 'upgraded' with turrets and a fancy boathouse. The 1% builds, the 99% (or a part of them) paddles!

Speaking In Qajaq!

Obviously it's no secret, kayaks or qajait were invented and refined long ago by Inuit people in Canada and Greenland. Today we benefit from their skills and knowledge and use that information to produce the boats that most of us paddle in places around the world. Some of us have tried our hand at reproducing the original kayak designs by building 'skin-on-frame' (SOF) boats of various sorts. This endeavour has enabled the builders to get a bit closer to the Inuit and their way of thinking.

Now there is another way to get closer still. Learn to speak the language of the Inuit themselves: Inuktitut! The one hour audio book called Inuktitut will get you started hearing the sounds of the language and provide you with some useful phrases and vocabulary. As most SOF builders chose to build Greenland style kayaks, this audio book is particularly helpful as the dialect taught in the book is 'Greenlandic'. This dialect varies somewhat from the Inuktitut dialects spoken in arctic Canada, however there are many similarities between the various dialects (and some often amusing differences as well!). Clicking on the link above will bring you to the site at Audible.com, however it's also available from the iTunes store by searching for 'Inuktitut'.

Paddling Smaller Lakes

We all dream of paddling bigger and bigger waters, challenging ourselves with rougher seas, larger crossings, exotic locales and so forth. It's part of the thrill of seakayaking to discover that you have what it takes to take on more difficult paddles than you've done before. Yet, there are small lakes that, taken in detail, can offer up great satisfaction as well!

This past long weekend a few friends and I set up our camp on Lake Clear, Ontario and settled in for some paddling, some socializing and story-telling. The troubles of the world disappeared with each stroke of our paddles as we left the launch site. The warm, clear water and the quiet and rustic camp-site became our world for the next several days.

We explored the lake with its islands of crown land, We drifted past the quaint log cabins and the newer, monster homes. We slipped up narrow, rocky inlets and watched the turtles slide silently off their sun logs and into the water. We smiled to see the baby ducks still swimming together now their parents have left them to fend for themselves. Blue herons drifted over the water in front of our kayaks. We paddled to the far end of the lake to replenish our ice supply and then arrived back of the camp with bags of cold water and peels of laughter. We screamed at the sudden wind-storms that turned quiet ripples into white-capped waves, sending our kayaks surfing down their fronts. We felt the hairs on our necks rise when something came crashing down in the night. Was it a bear? Only in the morning did we discover it had been a tree.

At home today, I washed the camp-fire smoke off everything, my clothes, my tent, my dishes, even my water filter smelled of wood smoke. What a wonderful, sensuous memory of a long weekend hidden away from the world on Lake Clear with good friends.

Saguenay Scenery

Once again, I'm out of the water and examining the shoreline to see what there is to learn. This time I'm at the mouth of the Saquenay Fjord in Quebec on the St Lawrence river. Just a short distance down-river from the town of Tadoussac are enormous sand banks lining the shore. Locally referred to as 'dunes' they are actually the remains of a giant river delta that formed during the last glacial period. There are several levels to the 'dunes' suggesting that there were various stages of development.


Once down on the shoreline one gets a clear picture of how big these dunes are and how steep the face is. What is also clear is how much of the dune is now missing, having been washed away by both tide and river actions over the past several thousand years.


Climbing up the dune also contributes to the wearing away of the sand although I don't imagine most people would notice much change in a single lifetime. There is lots of sand to last us for some time yet! In this last photo one can see the last high tide line right against the bottom of the dune. Not a good place to find oneself on a windy day at high tide...!

I've posted a walking tour guide on EveryTrail about this area at:

Tadoussac Dunes
A walking tour of the dunes located near Tadoussac, Quebec