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Woodland Caribou
Provincial Park - Good Land for Canoe Travelers
The Story of a Solo Canoe Trip Through
Ontario's Woodland Caribou Provincial Park
By James
Hegyi
CHAPTER 1
Drinking It All In
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On my first trip to the
northern half of Woodland Caribou Park, I traveled down
the Bloodvein River to the historic pictograph site on
Artery Lake. Now I'm returning, my maps plotted with a
route through the southern lakes. I drove about five
hundred and fifty miles today, and I'm parked at the
Hilltop Motel in International Falls. It's quiet now and
I'm tired. There's a gravel road adventure waiting for me
tomorrow, but I don't know about that yet. With any luck,
this will be my last night in a bed for the next two
weeks.
I was up early
this morning. It's Friday and the big crowd at the border
isn't due for another day, so I breeze through Canadian
customs and a deserted Fort Francis. Now it's five-thirty
and I'm headed north on highway 502. It only takes a few
minutes before I realize that I'm drinking it all in.
There's a layer of mist riding just over the trees. The
road climbs to the crest of a hill, and I rise above the
mist and look at the panorama of endless forest.
By noon I reach Red Lake and the end of
Highway 105. I turn left onto Highway 618 (Howey Street)
and pull into the parking lot of the Ontario Government
Building a few minutes later. I want to talk to
Claire Quewenzence, the assistant park superintendent,
about my route. Claire shows me into the new park
office on the second floor where she keeps a detailed
map. The map shows private properties and fly-in
camps within the park. Woodland Caribou is a new
park, and has a few camps and cabins within the
boundaries. Most of these are on the larger lakes,
and most are on the northern side of the park. I'm
interested in avoiding these developments, but I also
mark down a few that are near to my route, in case I'm
extremely unlucky in my travels.
I have an alternate route in my map
case that might take me to Sylvia Lake. A
good part of this route is through small channels and
swampland, and I get reassurance from Claire that
there's enough water to get through. I also ask
about the gravel road from Red Lake to the Mile 51 access
road. There's a concern with ground clearance,
especially since I'm driving my son's Toyota
Tercel. I'll find out later that the road is fine
this year, but now I decide to take the "sure
thing" by going south to Ear Falls and then west to
Mile 51 road.
Manitou Falls
Road (highway 804) is just south of Ear Falls and is the
beginning of my route to the Leano Lake entry
point. Although paved, it's still settling and can
surprise you with sudden dips, hills and holes.
"Natural speed bumps" would be a good term for
this terrain. After about seventeen kilometers (ten
and a half miles) there's a fork in the road. This
is the beginning of Longlegged Road and the beginning of
the 51 miles of gravel to 51 mile road. The
gravel is rough in the beginning, then smoother for a
while. The road turns south just below Longlegged
Lake and there's another fork. I keep right,
following the road that goes west toward Iriam
Road. Now the gravel gets rougher, and then my
odometer tells me I'm fifty one miles from the
pavement. A one lane road, or more correctly,
"trail" appears. I go on ahead a few
kilometers, then turn back. I start to think that
the trail must be the mile 51 road. In retrospect,
I have to admit that the monotony of the trip has perhaps
stopped all thinking for a while. I turn down the
trail and two harrowing miles later find myself at a dead
end by a narrow channel. This definitely is not the
place for a Toyota Tercel!
I get the car
turned around and negotiate ruts and washouts back to
Longlegged Road. After a brief celebration of my
escape, I head north again and soon find the well marked
turnoff to Mile 51. Mile 51 road might have some
adventures in it, depending on the weather. At one
point, a beaver seems to have incorporated the road bed
into his dam. I have no more adventures today, and
before long I'm camped on a point of land in Leano
Lake. A little rain comes, and hanging the food
pack is my final frustration. It's good to be in
the sack. I'm hoping that things can only get
better, and I can only get smarter.
Copyright
2000 by James A. Hegyi http://www.canoestories.com/wcp20.htm
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