Temagami

We arrived in Temagami and spent a night at Finlayson Point Provincial Park to sort through our gear and food for the next “segment” of our journey, 10 days through the wilderness of the Temagami Region, which has always held a special place in our hearts. I first paddled here when I was 15, falling in love with the landscape and continued to lead trips into my 20s. Christy too spent many summers guiding in Temagami, culminating with a 50 day adventure through these waters and down to Algonquin Park.

We began our trip in the Town of Temagami, where good friends Erik and Karen of Temagami Outfitting, greeted us warmly and helped top up the last bits of forgotten items before setting off. We loaded into the shuttle van for the hour long drive up to Mowat Landing.

Lady Evelyn Lake was altered by a dam in 1925 and as a result the lake has many dead trees poking out of the water at odd angles along the shoreline. Our first campsite was on a small island where a particularly tenacious mouse managed to gnaw through a food pack and nibble on one of our bags of rice.

All along Lady Evelyn the rise of Chee-bay-jing dominates the western horizon. Knowing that it was our destination made it exciting to round a point and be given a fresh perspective. We arrived on Hobart Lake on day 3, finding a fantastic campsite providing a excellent view of the sunset behind the rise of Chee-bay-jing, “the place where the soul spirit goes after the body dies.” Chee-bay-jing is an impressive mountain, rising over 350 meters from the surrounding landscape. The sacredness of this place has been ignored over the years with threats of logging and development proposals; even a ski resort on its slopes was seriously considered, a development that luckily never came to fruition. I am always trying to be aware when I visit these places, like Chee-bay-jing, to learn from them and be as respectful and full of heart as I can.

On day 4 we took a rest day to hike up Chee-bay-jing. While paddling through the creek between Hobart and Tupper, a large Blue Heron rose from the grasses and flew over our canoe to our wide eyed amazement, and if on cue an equally large bald eagle flew down the creek path eliciting gasps of astonishment from all of us. The day was starting out with some pretty special messages. We found the path up Chee-bay-jing with little trouble. The first section was muddy, but the boardwalks helped keep our feet dry. Soon the path began to rise, and we treked on, stopping regularly for water, snacks, and most importantly candy. We knew that our destination was close when the path began to rise up at a extremely steep pitch. The sheer rock cliffs of the top began to get closer, and each glance back proved that we indeed were getting pretty high up. The last push to the top required an old metal ladder and some scrambling along some steep rocks, then we were there, out onto the bare plateau of the summit. We made it, looking over the vast landscape visible from the top, we stood in awe of how beautiful and humbling this land is, rich green rolling hills spattered with blue waters fading into blue horizons as far as we could see in any direction.

From the top, the impact of the 2018 fires is striking. I knew the extent of the fires, with several friends being up here working at the time, but seeing it firsthand is shocking. I know that fires are a vital part of the forest ecosystem, but this seemed more….

The hike back down was slightly easier, maybe on the lungs, but definitely not on the knees. The rain started as we exited the creek and we battled a headwind back to our campsite. Several other trips rolled into the lake while we were hiking, the campsites we could see were now occupied. Luckily our site was set up, and we could settle under our tarp and enjoy some hot drinks under it while the rain pelted down. In our comfort, we watched a lone canoe roll past our site looking wet and tired in the miserable weather. Having been in that situation numerous times in my paddling career, we flagged them down and invited them to at least get out of the rain under the tarp and enjoy a warm drink. We welcomed Tom, Candice and Willow the dog into our somewhat dry site and got them a tea from our Kelly Kettle. Meeting people in the backcountry is often a fleeting event, a brief nod mid portage or a wave while passing on a lake, not often (especially in the age of Covid) are new acquaintances made while on trip. Conversation flowed with trip stories both past and present. With a massive campsite and only one tent, we invited them to setup and share the site. The weather blowed through an impressive display of cloud formations, with the view of Chee-bay-jing changing by the minute.

The constant on this canoe trip was wind. It blew almost constantly, never really diminishing at night or in the morning, nor did it pick a direction. We set off from Hobart Lake, heading south towards Willow Island Lake through Sucker-Gut (nomination for best lake name ever) and back onto the lower section of Lady Eveyln. We were able to hug the shore and stay out of the wind, making it much further than we had expected. The sun and the rain battled throughout the day, at times it felt as though those at the front of the boat needed sunscreen and those at the back bundled in raingear. Sometimes the wind was at our backs, mostly in our faces, and often coming from the side; around every corner and behind every cloud we adapted to what the sky delivered. Our pace allowed us to push onto Lady Evelyn Falls, but our arrival at the underwhelming drop and inferior campsites left us with the energy to push onto Diamond Lake, with a quick visit to the pictographs on the northern section of Diamond. Pictograph sites always amaze and inspire. The visible connection to the history of the land is important for the kids to understand the long history of people in this area. Seeing the pictographs, though their meaning lost to us, allows us to feel a sense of depth and richness to our participation in these waters.

With the relentless blowing of wind, we decided to take the Bob Lake route into Obabika, a route that has always intrigued us but we have never taken due to the relative ease of the Wakimika route. The kilometer long portage from Diamond into Bob Lake was a breeze, easily traversed by all. On the other hand, the portage from Mud Lake into Chee-skon was a challenge that tested us all. Enduring the muddy and rocky beginning, balancing and hopping from one rock to another (with packs and a boat), slippery logs and wet feet brought us to Chee-skon-abikon sakaigan “place of the huge rock lake”, a spiritual site of the Teme-Augama Anishinabe. It is apparent, in feel and sight, that this is a special place. The rock cliff rises from the lake over a 100 feet, with a pilar of rock - the spirit rock - stoically standing on its own in defiance of gravity and the thousands of other rocks tumbled below. There is only one site on Chee-skon and luckily it was vacant on our arrival, both Christy and myself had always imagined camping here.

Awaking on Chee-skon was a magical thing. The rock face seemed to change by the minute as we sat and enjoyed our morning coffee and tea. We were going to spend two nights here, so watching the shifting patterns of light on rocks was time well spent. From a path at the back of the site, we accessed the Obabika Lake old growth trails. This network of trails took us through old growth stands of Red and White Pine and outlooks over Chee-skon and Obabika. Along the hike we stopped at the fabled Three-Sisters, a stand of two white pines and a red pine growing from the same ground. Being at these trees brings another feeling of connection to the history of this land, the smell of the forest is different in an old growth stand, the air is thicker, the fungus wackier, and the energy palpable. We wandered along the trails, often in silence, taking in the richness of this place for the afternoon.

On our second morning waking on Chee-skon we got up early hoping that we could beat the winds on Obabika. We portaged off Chee-skon and arrived on Obabika at 8:30 am to howling wind, churning Obabika into a frothing sea of whitecaps. We were not moving anywhere. We set up a vertical tarp to hide behind and began to pass the time in hopes of the wind dying down. We collected dam-making materials of rocks, bark, and sand to divert the small creek that poured across the beach. Since paddling through waters impacted by dams, the kids wanted to build their own village and strategically flood it, fun but eerily sad. We hiked a section of the trails we missed the day before, and read our books while sipping on hot chocolate. Around 4 pm the wind died down, not completely, but enough to feel safe to cross to the leeward side for some protection heading down the lake. We worked our way to the western shore and proceeded down towards the middle of Obabika, close to the portage into Obabika Inlet for the morning. We paddled from island to island looking for a spot big enough for our 4-person tent and a treasure box. This felt like a familiar process, and that is because 4 years ago, we did exactly the same search for a site near the Obabika Inlet Portage. In fact, the site we landed on was exactly the site we landed on when the kids were tinier. We heated up our rehydrating Mango Chicken and rice, enjoyed the flavours, then rolled into our sleeping bags, tired and sore, but happy to have the big lake behind us and no wind to be heard.

In the morning we awoke to a still and calm Lake Obabika, surreal after the last 8 days of seemingly constant tormenting wind. We packed up and set off to the last portage of our trip to Obabika Inlet. Close to the end of the portage we took a rest and Con declared that he wanted to carry the canoe, and with 150 meters he lugged our 17 ½ foot Souris River “Tiger Rose,” onto Lake Temagami. I am so proud of him, watching him develop of love of this way of travel and slow experience of the land. On Lake Temagami we navigated though the myriad of islands, wanting to get into the Northeast Arm and striking distance of the Town of Temagami. Working our way up the shore we passed campsite after campsite, either completely covered in garbage and toilet paper, or much too small or slopey to comfortably set up. We pushed on, fueled by candy, jerky, gorp and granola bars until we found a suitable site. In a hilarious twist of fate, the site was neighboured by a cottage which when its occupants arrived, turned out to be our friends Erik and Karen from Temagami Outfitting. Producing Kai’s favourite back and forth of the trip:

Ben - “Hey Erik - is that you?”

Erik - “Hey Ben - is that you… come on over for a cold beer!”

Don’t mind if I do.

The last day, again rainy with a headwind, we paddled the remaining 15 kilometers into town. The boys wanting nothing more than a motor on the back of the boat to get us there sooner. 20 days of trip this summer, and they did amazing. I don’t blame them for wanting a bit of parent free time. We paddled into town, ordered french fries from Burger Plus at the Petro Canada station, unpacked our gear and settled into a night of good conversation at the outfitters.

We rented a cottage on Lake Temagami for a week, not really wanting to leave the area so soon. Con and Kai have made fast friends with Karen and Erik’s sons Soren and Willem. It was always a concern of ours of how our extremely social children would be able to have their own experiences and quality time with other kids. This week they have found that and then some. Our good friends Anna and Julia have come up from Guelph to visit as well providing us some much needed familiarity with home. We are currently bundled into the cabin with a warm fire in the woodstove, while the rain pelts down outside. I love trip, but right now, I’m glad to be on a comfy couch watching the rain hit the wavy waters.