Canoeing in Algonquin National Park, Ontario, Canada, July 2003

	Note
	thumbnail images are clickable links.

This is a story about a pleasant 3 day canoe trip.

For several years now, in the summer, I've attended the Ottawa Linux Symposium (OLS). I enjoy the town, the conference and Canada. I spend most of my time at the conference hanging out with Roberto Nibali (Ratz) and other members of the Linux Virtual Server (LVS) Project testing the Canadian beer and discussing esoteric points of programming. Here are my LVS pages including links to OLS.

One of my other interests in life is hiking and spending time outdoors. I put some effort into finding places to go and arranging time to go there. Perhaps because my trips to Ottawa are work sponsored, and I'm only allowed 5days away, it never occured to me to take vacation and do a trip in Canada while I was at OLS. The 18,000km Trans Canada Trail goes through Ottawa and when I needed a break from sitting in the conference, I had walked along parts of it. I looked admiringly at the route on the displays set out along the path, but even as you slowed down to read them, the Ottawa mosquitoes descended, sucking your life blood and I realised that the Trans Canada Trail was only for tougher men than I. I hadn't thought again about the Canadian outdoors in summer.

For OLS 2003, Ratz phoned from Switzerland to see if, while in Ottawa, we could do a trip. I slapped my forehead, for not having thought of it myself, and said I'd see what I could do. We'd want a trip where we could step straight off a plane and not get into too much trouble through ignorance.

Previously I had considered go in the spring to Manitoba for a birding trip, but it was too expensive and I had already shelved plans for it.

Hiking was out, as I didn't know anyone to recommend places. I would either wind up on a trivial trip or one beyond our capabilities without knowing what we were in for, till we were committed. Another problem was that anywhere within driving distance of Ottawa seemed fairly flat.

Canoeing came up soon enough after a few web searches. The canoes used were what were called "canadians" where I grew up. Where to go? There were many possibilities and many webpages described trips. One described near-death by mosquitoes, and another a week of rain in a canoe. This was just the thing. Soon enough my search converged on Algonquin Park. I already had some affinity for the place from doing moonbounce with the ham radio station VE3ONT located near the park. Algonquin Park was large (visible on maps) and well known. Although it probably wouldn't be a peak wilderness experience, I'd be on well travelled routes and for a person who didn't know anything about the area, I could expect a good time.

There were several interlocking problems I had to work out at this stage. I had to get a car, find a trip route in the park, which fitted our schedule, rent canoes, and get the camping permits. I started phoning in March for a trip in July.

The canoe rental places didn't even answer the phones. As I found out when eventually one of them did answer just by luck, they were buried in 2m of snow and weren't thinking about the summer tourists yet. (Some of us tourists need a few months lead time, even if our summer destination is covered in snow.)

I was initially connected with a canoe rental place at the opposite end of the Park to where I'd be entering. When they'd dug themselves out of the snow, they figured out what had happened and kindly referred me to their competition at the end of the park, where I'd be arriving. Otherwise I would have spent the rest of my daylight time on the arrival day driving the length of the park.

Information about the park was difficult to find. The Ontario Govt (the Park, in getting initial information and later the agency which booked my trip into the Park) were obtuse. To find anything about the park, like where to canoe, you didn't talk to the park ranger (as you do in USA). Surprisingly you call the Friends of Algonquin Park (http://www.algonquin.on.ca/friends.html). The Friends didn't answer the phone much and when I got onto them, seemed to be bothered that I'd called them at all (at least for the first few phone calls). When I did get onto them, they gave me all the right information, so I'm not complaining a whole lot.

I explained that it was my first trip to the Park, that I didn't particularly care where I went and I just wanted to paddle around, camping out 2 nights and see some wildlife and enjoy being outdoors. So that I'd understand their suggestions, they sent me a map of the Park with the campsites and canoe routes and length of portages. When it arrived, the map didn't mean a whole lot to me, and as suggested I called them back for a rundown of the park. I was given two suggestions for trips, both of which sounded fine to me. It appeared that these were the two standard trips for people who didn't know the place (these turned out well).

To help give people the feeling of being alone in the wilderness, everyone has exclusive use of their campsite. This requires you to stick to your travel plans, so that two parties aren't at the same campsite on a particular night. I picked a trip where we could camp at the same site on both nights, leaving our gear at the camp to paddle around for as far (or little) as we were inclined on the day in between. The campsite was about 3hrs paddling from the put-in place, allowing us to drive up from Ottawa starting in the morning and still be able to get to the campsite before dark (I hate setting up and cooking in the dark).

Who the Friends of Algonquin Park are, I never found out. Their website doesn't tell you if they're volunteers or some non-governmental agency. I don't know how they're supported ($) - certainly the money they made on the map I bought didn't pay for the time the Friends spent with me explaining the different trips I could take.

I then went to book my camping permits for the trip with the Ontario Govt. The webpage to book the campsite was unnavigable and somehow I found a phone number to call instead. There, before I was allowed to pay my money, I endured a pitch on the wonderful website that they had gone to so much trouble to setup for my convenience and which I should have used instead.

One problem was finding out how far the park was from Ottawa. I didn't want a long drive to arrive at nightfall and have to paddle 3 hours in the dark in an unfamiliar place to get to my campsite. Someone (one of the Friends or one of the canoe people) told me it was about 5hrs driving (which turned out to be correct), but I was hoping for a confirmation from another person (which I didn't get)

Renting a car was difficult. Trying to book through the car company in USA just didn't work. One US company insisted on renting me a car in Ontario, CA, rather than Ottawa, Ontario, Ca. Renting from a Canadian company had other problems.

It certainly wasn't the service oriented trip booking I expect from living south of the border.

Both of us would be arriving on Saturday evening, Ratz from Switzerland after 24hrs on various forms of transport, while I would be arriving by a much easier trip of a few hours, from North Carolina. Not knowing where to buy food or having any time to, I brought camping type food for both of us. Since I couldn't bring fuel for the stove on a plane, I planned to buy camping fuel on arrival.

I expected the weather to be on the cool but pleasant side, and I looked at the weather maps of Ontario in the weeks before I left for confirmation. It's difficult, when you're living in strong sun and temps in the high 30's, to pack for a trip with temps in the 15-20° range - you just can't imagine being cold. About 2 weeks before the trip, I called the canoe rental place Opeongo Outfitters to ask them about the weather and temperatures. The guy who answered wouldn't tell me (said he didn't know). Since he was (as I found out on arrival) in an uninsulated wooden building, filled with canoes and outdoor paraphenalia, with open doors, I found this hard to believe. On pressing him for a temperature, he told me "30°". I couldn't believe this either, as it rarely get out of the low 20's in Ottawa in summer.

Ratz and I found each other at the Youth Hostel on saturday night and were picked up the next morning by the Budget Car Rental person and we headed off west, still with not much idea of what time we'd arrive at the Lake (or at our campsite).

Figure 1. Ratz outside Youth Hostel in Ottawa waiting for rental car.

For quite a way out of Ottawa, the geology was the same horizontal limestone strata (obvious in roadside cuts) seen everywhere in Ottawa. I was expecting the fabled Canadian shield, the oldest rocks on the surface of the earth. With unending vistas of limestone, I wondered if I'd made some mistake. About half way out I was relieved to see the end of the limestone, and the start of scenery like the photos I'd seen of Algonguin.

The weather was not particularly clement on the way out, and although mid-summer, we had grey skies, cool temps (low 20s) and intermittant bursts of rain. We stopped at a SubWay sandwich place for lunch and sat next to the window where we looked incredulously out onto a gas station opposite, displaying a sign exhorting passers by, to come in for their annual summer car air conditioner checkup (presumably before the snow returned and you decided you didn't really need your A/C checked). I can't imagine anyone in Canada having a car air conditioner. Where do the technicians learn to service them?

Having just stepped off a plane the night before, we still had supplies to consider. We pulled up at a long warehouse, standing behind bright signs advertising beer. Where I come from, you walk amongst the cases of beer and pick out the one you want. The room we entered was like a receiving dock at the end of the building, with no products in sight. Thinking I'd walked into the wrong building, I walked out again, checking the signs. Other people were milling about as if nothing was wrong and cases of beer were ocassionally emerging on a roller track, from a rectangular aperture in the wall, where they were picked up by the man behind the counter. OK they were selling beer, but was this wholesale or retail? This was a new one on me. I used to live in Vancouver BC - I thought I knew something about the place. As my mum says, travel broadens you. I realised that you looked at the pictures high on the wall to decide what you wanted (could the locals not read?). Trying to look cool (I didn't want them to think I was a gringo) I ordered a case of Sleeman's Honey Brown (my favourite). Although there was a whole warehouse of beer behind the wall, they didn't have a drop of it. Instead I took a case of a wheat beer (which turned out to be acceptable).

Ratz hadn't brought a jacket, so we stopped at a mall to pick up some clothes. The free trade agreements that are in effect in N.A. and which have displaced the jobs of a whole textile industry in USA (and many other manufacturing industries before that), haven't taken place in Europe. The Europeans in their dotty old-world ways, have decided that it's more important for people to have jobs and that businesses only have to make enough money, not the obscene amounts they make here, and they've decided to keep their job creating industries right where they are now, in Europe. Ratz was amazed at the low prices of clothes. It's true, all our clothes are made in China now, at a fraction of the cost of 10yrs ago. Every cheap sneaker or pair of jeans represents jobs lost forever from NA. Of course it's not all bad news. Some of the people who lost their jobs have found news ones, selling sneakers at WalMart.

We arrived in mid-afternoon at the canoe rental place, Opeongo Outfitters. The building was a nice new varnished two storey building - looked quite smart. I presented my canoe rental information like I was checking in at an Airline counter. They eventually figured out who I was, but I could have just as easily appeared out of the blue and picked up the canoes. The middle of summer was not nearly as busy as I had expected. They had enough canoes on hand to outfit a few 747 loads of people. I would have thought they'd need hordes of people renting to cover the R.O.I. Having done most of my canoeing on white water, I asked for an extra paddle, which raised eyebrows, but I was adamant - I wasn't going to be stuck 2days out, with one paddle short.

I also needed fuel for my stove. I had standard Coleman fittings, which had covered me well in USA, but there was no Coleman propane tanks here. The only equipment came from east Europe with incompatible fittings. I would have to buy the whole stove and there would be no hope of ever using it again. I spent sometime thinking about this and decided I could do without coffee, and cooked dehydrated dinners and we'd have a cold trip on the dried fruit and nuts I'd brought. If I do this again, I'll have some propane tanks ground shipped to the Youth Hostel in Ottawa.

The outfitters had a canoe delivery service and not having a clue where we'd be, I'd originally asked them if they could drop off the canoes for us. As it turns out, the put-in spot was just up the road, at a standard boat ramp and the outfitters had all the usual rubber padding. They tied the canoe onto the car roof and we were off.

I'd brought a pair of cyclists gloves for paddling, since my hands were soft from using a kbd. Ratz who rockclimbs regularly, eschews such things. His hands were tough.

From living in from USA, I expected that alcohol wouldn't be allowed at all. USA still is hungover from prohibition, and you can be put in jail for giving your kids wine with dinner ("endangering the welfare of a minor").

Ratz, coming from a civilized part of the world, where kids grow up thinking that alcohol is a normal part of life, courteously asked what we should and shouldn't do. Since culturally Canada is closer to USA than Switzerland, I was operating on the "don't ask, don't tell" principle and would have kicked Ratz under the table, if we'd been sitting at one.

The ranger gave some convoluted story about what we could and couldn't do with alcohol in the Park. I didn't get it, even after a duplicate explanation. Ratz signalled with his eyebrows to stop being so dense. Outside the ranger station, Ratz straightened me out:

R: "You can bring beer into the park, as long as it's in plastic bottles. You can't bring in beer in aluminium cans or glass bottles, as the Park doesn't want campsites littered. It's very simple really."

J: "I'm supposed to pour my beer into a plastic bottle? It will be flat?!"

R: "Yes"

J: "People who take plastic bottles don't litter, but people who take aluminium cans do?"

R: "Yes"

Ratz is smarter than I, or maybe he just comes from a more civilised part of the world. I thought the ranger was saying that you'd couldn't take beer in aluminium cans into the Park. I just had to pour the beer into an empty plastic coke bottle and screw the lid tight.

What would Bob and Doug MacKenzie think? Did they drink out of a plastic bottle? It seemed hard to imagine. Then, I'd have to drink a whole 2l. in one sitting. It's a long night in a tent with an extra 2l. aboard. I would have to start earlier in the day, rather than risking mayhem venturing into the unfamiliar night to commune with nature.

I'm a card-carrying tree-hugging greeny, and there's been many a weekend trip where I've carried out a pack of flattened aluminium beer cans and recycled them. An aluminium can is the best way to enjoy your beer in the wilderness. Here's a perfect opportunity for the Sierra Club or Greenpeace to do some public education.

On my return to North Carolina, I was blasted with the heat. For the next few days, I kept thinking I must be standing in the sun, and look around for shade, only to find that I already was in the shade.

Because of the weather in NC, it's hard to imagine anyone voluntarily settling here. However, one of the early attempts at European colonisation of North America was Manteo Is., NC (named after a native chief who befriended the new arrivals). This colony is now remembered as the Lost Colony. The colonists brought with them coats of arms, suits of armour and silver chalices, to set up a working copy of English aristocracy in North America ^[1]. They didn't bring any serfs and presumably expected to recruit them locally. I can imagine them with a grand piano, but it hadn't been invented yet. Having spent the summer tarrying in the Carribean, on a money making venture for the ship's captain, they arrived with little food, and too late in the year to plant crops for the coming winter. They didn't know how to fish with nets and didn't adopt the technique, when shown by the friendly natives. The leader of the colony realised the colony was in trouble and with the financially flush ship's captain, returned to England for more supplies.

The colony appears to have got lost under unknown circumstances shortly after the killing of what, until then, had been friendly natives. The colony was trying to kill a completely different set of natives, who had taken their silver chalices. In retrospect, killing friendly (or unfriendly) natives, when you're the new kid on the block at the onset of winter, and you can't feed yourself, probably wasn't a real smart thing to do. Subsequent European settlers didn't learn anything from this, and continued to treat both friendly and unfriendly natives in the same way.

The only knowlege we have of the Lost Colony comes from the colony leader on his return to England. As it happened, England had other things on its mind than a colony in the new world (e.g. the Spanish Armada) and it was 3 years before the relief ship returned (possibly with the grand piano). There was no trace of the colony, other than a rusted suit of armour and a carved sign saying something like "to Manteo", possibly indicating their new location. Whether the colony went native or died out or was killed, no one knows. By the time anyone thought to look for blue eyed people amongst the native american populace, too many other europeans had been in the area for too long, for anyone to know the origin of native americans with blue eyes.

In the party of colonists were two pregnant women. Rather than for its survival and diplomacy skills, the colony now is celebrated for the birth of Virginia Dare, the first white child born to English parents in North America. This was followed the next day by the birth of the 2nd child born to English parents in North America, whose name no-one remembers (along with all the other people whose lot it is to come 2nd. e.g. who was the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic from Europe to N.A.? ^[2]). In Manteo, every road, bridge and business is named after Virginia Dare, whereas "wots-iz-name" doesn't get a mention. The category of "white English child" is carefully chosen, by the good burghers of the town, to exclude the chain of children born to other Europeans in N.A. (most with native mothers), and stretching further back 500yrs to Snorri (a relative of Lief Erickson) born in Vinland, and before that, the birth of several million descendents of the people who arrived in North America by foot 10,000yrs ago, who had arguably more effect on the country than the birth of Virginia Dare. This repackaging of the Lost Colony story makes more money for the local economy, than teaching the tourists history, while serving as a reminder to the rest of us, of all the other forgotten, unacknowledged and unrecorded children born in N.A. before Virginia Dare. ^[3]