Thurs. Sept 13^th. – 9C - At 5 am we awoke to steady northerly winds and we tried not to have this deter us from getting a few extra winks before decamping. We would face headwinds and waves, but looked forward to paddling more and encountering only two short portages before reaching our next campsite on Helen Lake early in the afternoon.

By 8:30 am, our canoes were packed and we were eager for departure. Carefully following our map with McGregor Island to our left, we arrived at the end of East Channel without any indication of a passage to the next lake. Backtracking a short distance, we noticed a small inlet wide enough to allow a canoe to pass through and, upon inspection, it turned at a right angle to our intended lake – thus, the difficulty in locating it the first time. If the water level had been higher, we would have paddled through; since this was not the case, the four of us carried each canoe, with equipment still inside, over the shallow water and its protruding rocks to the other side. With light headwinds, we easily crossed the lake and passed a few small, rocky islands and some cottages on the mainland. Upon entering North Channel, five turkey vultures were observed soaring high in the sky’s wind currents resembling gliders – so serene and captivating.

A short portage (27P19) put us into a bog, a no-man’s land that displayed the largest lily pads any of us have ever seen in such density. We paddled by a large beaver house, then veered to the left and followed a waterway towards some bull rushes where we suspected other canoeists had converged. Once inside, we came to a dead end and had to back our canoes out into the openness of this mysterious pond. We researched our map, dodged floating and submerged logs and headed towards the top center of the pond where the wetland grasses and bushes intertwined – we were hoping that a stream would successfully lead us to Low Lake. There was no indication on the map or along the shoreline that a portage existed. In one particular area, we thought that we had located the passage when broken marsh grass and twigs alongside a beaver channel became evident. As we pushed and strained into the narrow passage, our canoes finally became wedged, requiring us to push the heavy laden load with our hands holding onto the gunwales, one foot in the canoe and the other stepping on the sinking marsh grasses, causing us occasionally to slip into the putrid water and muck.

We eventually reached the left side of the ridge and searched for a portage, but again without success. We noticed another small channel intertwining towards the other side. All indications were that beaver and moose occupied this waterway - no other canoeists had ventured into this area all summer. By now, desperate to reach Low Lake, we continued to push forward, but despite our struggling efforts, we reached another dead end. The best way to stay alive and well and away from adversity in the wilderness was to be aware of what could go wrong and make sure it did not. At this point, Wayne and Norm R. climbed a tree on a ridge to get a better sense of the lay of the passage to Low Lake – it would be simply impossible to haul our canoes through this one-kilometer long valley. With this new information, we decided to return to the portage and determine a new strategy. Backing out our canoes in waist deep water and muck was not as difficult as originally trying to enter this waterway – we no longer cared, as we were already drenched from the waist down. From a comical point of view, Norm R., who is extremely strong, was attempting to navigate out and was pulling the canoe forward with such force that John, who was balancing on the floating marsh grass, would try to grasp the canoe, would miss it and fall into the water up to his waist. After three attempts and seeing John’s frustration, Wayne and Norm H. yelled for big Norm, who had no idea this was happening, to stop – even John had to laugh at the misadventure afterwards.

We were disappointed that we were unable to pass through the vale to Low Lake, but more annoyed with the park officials as we were informed three days prior to our departure that all passages were unobstructed. KPP should have had knowledge of the conditions of this impassible route as the terrain indicated that no one had passed through this area to Low Lake all summer – apparently, a similar complaint had also been registered the previous year. We were placed in a potentially dangerous situation that could have resulted in a serious injury if we had pursued any further. Fortunately for us, we were all in excellent physical condition and had enough training and presence of mind not to undertake any unnecessary risks (see Bog Follow up). After providing medical attention to our cuts and a careful examination of our map, we determined that two options were open to us – retrace our four-day route with two days of rations, which was impractical, or paddle for three hours through North Channel and into Iroquois Bay where we might be able to portage over private property, cross a small pond and onward through Ishmael Lake and finally to Helen Lake, our original destination. The latter was the optimal solution and a chance we would have to take, providing that the owners would allow us to traverse their private property.

Entering North Channel, a fisherman from Pennsylvania informed us in greater detail of the catastrophic attack on the United States on Tuesday. Our hardships out in the bog were soon forgotten and we were back to reality.

Reaching Iroquois Bay and the private wharf, Wayne noted that the cottage was unoccupied – under the circumstances, we had no other choice but to climb the long staircase, pass over the veranda and to their dock. It was clear paddling through Ishmael Lake and over an easy portage (28P70). Entering Helen Lake, we hauled our canoes over a rock reef using several tree limbs as rollers. We heard the familiar welcome of a lone loon as we paddled towards our intended campsite (5 Site 173) - the first item on the agenda was to remove and wash our putrid smelling clothes and take a cold, but refreshing swim in the lake.

The sunset was not spectacular, but the evening sky made up for it with a full galaxy of stars - even a satellite was seen flashing across the horizon. Sitting around the campfire and sharing stories about our careers, we took note of the lake’s calmness and the clarity of its surroundings before going to bed. The echoing sound of loons in the distance would help lull us to sleep this evening. During a call to nature in the middle of the night, Norm H. and Wayne stumbled out of the tent only to marvel at the constellation of stars and a quarter moon reflecting brightly on the still lake – what a spectacle of peace in this troubled time!