By Ray Goodwin

Photos:
Ray Goodwin
and Caitlin Dean

My only child, Maya, was born when I was 57 years old. Over the next years we have undertaken various adventures but I was keen to get her out to Canada and to undertake a family wilderness canoe trip. I wanted her to see something of my world whilst I was still capable. Lina and I were then on the lookout for another family so Maya would have other children to share the adventure with.

On February 13th, Ray was awarded the MBE for his services to canoeing, at Buckingham Palace. Here’s Ray pictured in his finest with family, Maya and Lina.

Ray Goodwin’s paddle, portage and play:
Algonquin with kids

Caitlin and Rob had come on a course that I was running with Frontier Bushcraft, a year or two beforehand and had become firm friends. They had three kids and we had done a whole series of family holidays/weekends together. We met up in the autumn and a plan was hatched for the following summer.

So, we now had Alfie (9), Maya (7), Patrick (7) and Orla (5). Four adults and four kids. So how to choose a location? We toyed with Killarney in Ontario but although the area looked stunning, some of the portages seemed just too big with young kids so we decided on Algonquin, some four hours drive north of Toronto. With the help of Gord from Algonquin Outfitters, we settled on a ten-day route building in three layover/explore days.

We arrived at Algonquin Outfitters the day before our trip was to start. Kit was sorted, a mountain of food placed into barrels and then eat, sleep and we were ready for the off.

Gord dropped us at Magnetawan Lake (entrance three). The piles of kit and children were distributed around our four canoes and we were off. Within a few minutes we had the first of our portages of 135 metres, so a nice easy start. The next was 55 metres but there was enough water to paddle that one and then a 420-metre to really cut our teeth. The kids were managing to carry the bits and pieces but the main bulk was to be carried, obviously, by the adults.

Where possible we carried a barrel or pack along with one of our lightweight canoes. Everything was double loaded so if not a canoe two packs. On the shorter portages the kids could come back and help but once across the longer portages, someone would have to stay with the children as the other three went back for the rest of the kit. This took us through to Daisy and our first camp.

Wood fires

The fire bans were now over from earlier in the season so although we had stoves as back up, all of our cooking was on small wood fires. Saw and axe meant we could scavenge good quality dead standing that others had not touched.

The morning saw us on our way again and facing 13 km of paddling and three portages to get us through to Misty. The first portage was 135 metres and then we were on the delightful Petawawa River, narrow with only flat water. With a face telling me a great revelation was on its way, Maya turned around to me, “This is a silly name for a river,” I was informed, “it sounds like Pet a WAA WAA, which is like a baby crying.” After making this clear she turned back and continued helping me with the occasional paddle stroke.

The map gave the general location of the start of the portage trails but each was marked with a triangular yellow sign with an outline of someone portaging a canoe. We soon had a song to help in this task:

To the tune of the Muffin Man:
Who can see the yellow sign, the yellow sign, the yellow sign
Who can see the yellow sign, the yellow sign, the yellow sign
That tells us where to walk.

Repeated until tired or the sign is in sight when:
I can see the yellow sign, the yellow sign, the yellow sign
I can see the yellow sign, the yellow sign, the yellow sign
That tells us where to walk.

The second portage was 450 and we started meeting folk coming the other way, all giving us dire accounts of the rough and muddy nature of the third.

Mating dragonflies

Paddling on, a sudden scream erupted from the front of my boat and Maya leapt backwards. Two mating dragonflies had landed on her leg. Trying to contain my giggles and calm a shocked seven-year-old, I shouted to Lina. Within a minute or so Maya was good and set about telling mum about these two dragonflies trying to make babies whilst alighting on her leg.

We started unloading at the start of the third 935-metre portage, when a round of, “Mud, mud, glorious mud,” was sung by all and sundry. This was turning out to be quite a tuneful trip. Rob looked across at me quiet dolefully, “They are all so chirpy at the start of a portage, I think I am going to cry!” None of us adults were looking forward to this one – 935 metres, up and down with plenty of mud. Rob was going well so was on his way back before any of the rest of us got across. He was to do three trips to Lina and my two. Caitlin had the hard task of minding four energetic and inquisitive kids at the end of this one.

It was a tired team that paddled to an island camp on Misty.

Prolonged rain

The morning started dry but the clouds were thickening quickly and giving every indication of prolonged rain. Our plan was to travel on to Grassy Bay on White Trout Lake but five portages and 15 km stood between us. Worse still, soon after the start there were no further campsites before Grassy Bay. Not an option if the weather turned. Decision made, we hunkered down for the day.

Within the hour the rain started but with two tarps up and a fire going we were dry and comfortable. The kids were loving the raw experience, drinking water directly off the spouts on the corners. Chanting, “Rain, Rain stay today,” digging water gardens and with great glee tipping puddles out of the sagging corners of the tarps. While Caitlin, nail polish still intact from some posh conference, was busy splitting wood, Rob helped the kids toast marshmallows to construct s’mores (cracker, chocolate and toasted marshmallow in the form of a cracker sandwich). The rain continued its deluge and our tent was in some danger, yet another adventure for the kids, as we dug a whole series of channels to divert the water.

By late afternoon the rains stopped and we started drying everything out ready for the next day.

Progress to Grassy Bay was good with six portages but with the long one at the start everything went well. The final section was through a narrow clear channel through extensive beds of water lilies and other plants. Early in the season this is a prime place for spotting moose but all had disappeared back into the forest.

Now we were on under no pressure with three days to amble our way around White and Big Trout Lakes with no portaging. We camped for a single night on Grassy Bay aiming for two nights on Big Trout Lake. The forest floor around the camp was coated in a thin layer of pine needles – a great place for the youngsters to set out great drawings and play a large sized game of noughts and crosses and a chance for parents to wash and dry a whole host of dirty socks (they were particularly muddy) and other clothes.

Constant sun

The sun was now a constant and the paddle through the Trout Lakes very scenic. The kids had the veto for campsites and we looked for one with good swimming and fishing potential. As soon as the right one was chosen the kids were reenergised; bodies that had been loudly proclaimed as exhausted were now racing around madly. With the chance to stay a couple of nights there was a chance to fish. Much to Rob’s chagrin, his seven-year-old son Patrick caught two fish to his one and Lina beat all with one big fish.

With lightweight canoes Alfie and Maya were teed up for a mini adventure. Between them they portaged a canoe, on their little shoulders, across our small island and then paddled back around together. Their pride was so evident.

Food was now in abundance and the kids could have chocolate desserts for breakfast. Orla’s favourite was Mud Pie even though I couldn’t convince her it was real mud.

Now we were about to start our journey out along Otterslide Creek. A group of six caught us up at the start of one of the portages on Otterslide Creek. They were quickly chatting to the kids and discussing where we had come from. The kids even did a rendition of the portage song. They were travelling light to complete a day circuit of various lakes so had little gear with them. Within moments they were shouldering a good share of our kit and heaving it across the portage. One carry done far more quickly and with less pain than usual.

A couple of days of paddling and portaging took us through to Burnt Island Lake. Otterslide Creek was narrow and winding with others heading towards us at the start of their own trips.

A 435-metre portage took us through to Joe Lake but even this had been gentrified with nice shallow steps at the start and finish and a gravel surface fit for a trolley or two. We passed a plush looking lodge with its road access and all the trimmings of a thriving tourist clientele. Hire kayaks were out on the water and a launch chugged past with its load of visitors. Waves were exchanged and photos taken of us. Others were passing in the other direction at the start of their expedition.

Wandering bears

Campsites were plentiful along this stretch and once out of sight of the lodge we took the first one. With plenty of space and a good view, these sites we had been warned, were often used by folk with no wilderness experience and the previous year had been troubled by a bear exploring for food. Sure enough there was titbits strewn all over the part of the site, probably scattered there for chipmunks. With the kids helping, we cleared as much away as we could find – if there was anywhere on the whole trip to be careful it was here.

With a dry warm evening we settled into our comfortable routine with tents quickly up, a tarp erected and a fire lit for a brew. On the edge of the camp a recently fallen tree provided a great recourse for the kids to burrow in and construct their own beaver lodge – of course they all had to have beaver names like chomp and splash. With no electronic toys or computers, they had to revert to using their imaginations and making up games and activities.

That evening we asked the children what they were looking forward to food wise. Patrick was after some vegetables, whilst Alfie just wanted something he could chew after more than a week on dehydrated stuff. Orla was happy to have leaves.

Once the kids were asleep, we sat around slightly pensive, a chat of what we and the little ones has achieved, looking forward to good food and wine and of course a shower. With the realisation we were going back to a ‘normal’ lifestyle, we were already talking of the next trip.

A final portage took us through to Canoe Lake, where a headwind tried us for the first time. We were amongst numerous day paddlers, motor boats and passed a very large permanent activity camp. We were heading home.

Information

• Ten days, 72 kilometres paddled, six kilometres of portage, all of which had to be carried over at least twice.
• There is a film of the trip on Ray’s YouTube channel at: https://www.youtube.com/c/RayGoodwinCanoe with a direct link at https://youtu.be/Jq4MelgjUgl
• Ray’s website is: www.RayGoodwin.coml Thank you to the wonderfully helpful Gord at www.AlgonquinOutfitters.com
• We used Kevin Callan’s Algonquin guide book for details and inspiration.