Easy Nav
- Trip Info
- Background
- Day 1 – Canoe Lake to Burnt Island Lake
- Day 2 – Burnt Island Lake to Otterslide Lake
- Day 3 – A Rest Day on Otterslide Lake
- Day 4 – Otterslide Lake to Big Trout Lake
- Day 5 – A Rest Day on Big Trout Lake
- Day 6 – A Rest Day on Big Trout Lake
- Day 7 – Big Trout Lake to White Trout Lake
- Day 8 – White Trout Lake to McIntosh Lake
- Day 9 – A Rest Day on McIntosh Lake
- Day 10 – McIntosh Lake to Canoe Lake
- The Aftermath
- Campsites
Trip Info
Date: September 2nd – 11th, 2025
Route: Canoe Lake > Burnt Island Lake > Otterslide Lake x2 > Big Trout Lake x3 > White Trout Lake > McIntosh Lake x2 > Canoe Lake
Total Number of Portages: 13
Avg. Number of Portages Per Travel Day: 2.2
Total Length of Portages: 21,510m
Avg. Length of Portages Per Travel Day: 3,585m
Total Travel Time: 25.5hrs
Avg. Travel Time Per Travel Day: 4.25hrs
Total Distance Covered: 75km
Avg. Distance Covered Per Travel Day: 12.5km
*The numbers above are based on double-carrying portages, since this is how I travelled. If you plan on single-carrying portages, you’ll want to divide the Portage Length numbers by 3, and subtract the estimated time saved from the Travel Time numbers.
Background
10 days alone in Algonquin Park. That’s a long time. I’ve always wanted to do a 10-day trip; 10 days has such a nice ring to it. I would stare at the map, look at different routes, and plan out the trip. But then something would come up… work, weather, something would always get in the way. This year I told myself I was doing 10 days, no matter what.
Life was hectic and I didn’t have time to research and plan a route in unfamiliar territory, so I decided to do a trip in an area of Algonquin Park that I know extremely well. The Big Trout loop. Most people do this loop in 5ish days. Stretching it to 10 days was going to make this a pretty easy trip. But the goal of this trip wasn’t to push myself in distance or physical exertion. The goal of this trip was to spend 10 days in the backcountry. I still wanted to cover some decent ground though, I didn’t want the trip to be too easy!
I booked my nights for Burnt Island, Otterslide, Big Trout, White Trout, and McIntosh. I know these lakes well. I like these lakes a lot. The route itself is fantastic. The weather forecast looked a bit questionable, but like I said… 10 days, no matter what.
Day 1 — Canoe Lake to Burnt Island Lake
I got on the water a little later than planned, at around 9:45 AM. Thankfully, there was no wind on Canoe Lake. The air was extremely thick and humid, and the fall colours were just starting to barely make their appearance on the shorelines.
The infamous “highway” portage out of Canoe Lake wasn’t all that bad. If you’re not familiar with the portage, no, it doesn’t literally go across the highway, but it’s so busy. It’s easily the most trafficked portage in the park.
Next was the paddle across Joe Lake. On one hand, it’s a pretty lake with lots of really beautiful campsites. But on the other hand, it’s an extremely busy lake and has cottages on it. Technically it’s a backcountry lake, but it sure doesn’t feel like it. Anytime I paddle through the lake I think to myself “this campsite looks nice… but I’ll probably never camp here”.
After paddling across Joe Lake there’s a stretch of portages that need to be tackled before arriving to Burnt Island Lake, my destination for the evening. Most of those portages can be skipped, depending on water levels. And depending on how adventurous you want to be. I did skip the first portage, which can and should always be skipped.
The second portage is one of the adventurous skips. On the “How Adventurous Are You Feeling Today?” scale, skipping this portage would be a “Moderately High”. I was only at “Moderate”. I wasn’t in the mood to get my feet wet and my canoe dirty at the very start of a 10-day trip. Maybe next time. There were two separate groups at the start of the portage, debating whether it could be skipped. I told them it was indeed skippable, as long as they were up for the adventure.
After finishing the portage, I stopped for a short snack break. I saw one of the groups paddling in front of me. They clearly had success skipping the portage. The other group approached from behind me, on the trail. They clearly did not have success skipping the portage. They were still debating the adventure, and I assured them it was possible, pointing to the group on the water ahead that just did it. One of the gentlemen said “you’re like that wise person you meet on the trail with all the knowledge”. I pointed to my pup Elo and said “I get all my intel from her”.
I took the third and final portage as well. This one is at the very top of the “How Adventurous Are You Feeling Today?” scale, requiring the “Extremely High” option. It’s skippable for most of the way, but then you encounter a large dam, which would require traversing around. The portage itself is very flat and easy, and walking the portage is guaranteed to be the lesser of two evils, by a long shot.
Finally, I arrived to Burnt Island Lake. There was a gentle wind accompanying the scorching sun in the sky. I made my way over to Campsite #28, which is a beautiful campsite on a lake that doesn’t have too many beautiful campsites.
I stayed at this same campsite last year, so I thought I knew what to expect. But things were a little different this year. First, the thunder box. The thunder box is far away from the main area of the campsite, and was very difficult to locate last year. Now, the park installed not one, not two, but three thunder box signs to help you find it. Next, on a related poop note… there was the moose poop. I saw one pile of poop and thought to myself “oh cool, a moose was at this site”. Then I saw another pile. And another pile. I walked around the campsite and there was literally moose poop everywhere. None of it was too fresh though. My guess was that a moose made this campsite its home shortly after the snow melted, left behind 473 piles of poop, and then moved on with its life. This campsite was my home now, and at least I had the courtesy of leaving my poop in the thunder box.
It felt good to be home. I walked over to the adjacent Campsite #27 to find it unoccupied (yay) and then tested out their thunder box. The thunder box for Campsite #27 might actually be closer to my campsite than my own thunder box!
I feel like this is too much poop talk for one trip report. Let’s move on.
I pitched my tent and took a short nap with Elo, and then spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around the campsite, collecting firewood, and making myself dinner. My food barrel was packed TIGHT! I somehow managed to fit ten days of food, for both me and Elo, inside of my 20L barrel. I have no idea how I did it, especially considering Elo’s food takes up so much space.
I went for an evening paddle and watched the incredibly bright pink sunset colours encompass a massive rain cloud. It was super cool and exceptionally pretty. You know what wasn’t super cool though? The jerk occupying the small island with a very clear sign that indicates no camping allowed. He was solo, with a tent pitched and a big fire going. I was going to say something, but he clearly knew that he was breaking the rules. He also went and hid inside of his tent as I paddled closer.
I paddled back to my own campsite under the shimmering moonlight on the water, long after the sun had crossed the shoreline. I sat by an evening fire for a few hours and then went to stargaze. The big dipper was large and prominently on display in front of me. I quickly grabbed my camera to do some astrophotography. The clouds were quickly rolling in, so I only snapped a few photos before calling it a night and getting into my tent at 10:30 PM.
Day 2 — Burnt Island Lake to Otterslide Lake
I took my time packing up camp during a lovely morning on Burnt Island Lake. The temperature was perfect and the morning light was shining in all the right spots to accentuate the beauty of the campsite. It was a really calm and relaxing morning.
I was on the water shortly after 8:00 AM. It was super humid outside and the sun was already scorching. I savoured the few breezy moments that offered relief from the mugginess. I was the only canoe on the water.
I arrived to my one and only portage for the day, the 780m into Little Otterslide Lake. There’s reliable cell service at the Burnt Island side of the portage landing, so I pulled an updated weather forecast and then put my phone back on airplane mode. I moved through the portage quickly and set out onto Little Otterslide Lake with a decently strong tailwind at my back. There were a few groups coming in the opposite direction, but no one heading the same way as me.
This is the obligatory part of the trip report where I write about how beautiful the paddle is between Little Otterslide Lake and Otterslide Lake. Every time I paddle through those narrows, I’m struck by the beautiful landscape in front of me. Today was no exception.
The tailwind got even stronger when I arrived on Otterslide Lake. It was almost to the point of concern, but not quite yet. But hey, I was feeling “Moderately High” on the adventurous scale today, so I kept cruising along.
I was aiming for Campsite #6 and I was surprised to find it available. By the time I arrived, the wind was definitely too strong even for my “Moderately High” adventure levels. There were large white caps and I was thankful to be safe on shore. The campsite was exposed to the wind, but there was enough shelter throughout the site to keep me comfortable. The campsite itself was stunning, with rocky shorelines facing in several directions, tons of forest exploration behind the campsite, endless firewood, a relatively new thunder box, and a well-built fire pit with tons of seating. The tent spots weren’t ideal, but everything else was pretty darn good.
Remember that weather forecast I pulled earlier, at the portage landing? I didn’t really give it a proper look until now. And when I did, my eyes opened wide. Like the type of overly dramatic expression you’d see in a cartoon. I had two nights booked on Otterslide Lake, and the wind forecast was the following: 44km today, 44km tomorrow, and then 66km on the day I was supposed to leave. It had one of those “Severe Weather Statement” warnings due to strong winds and the potential for it to cause damage. I wasn’t sure if I should stick to my permit and leave during the 66km day, or make an adjustment and camp off-permit for safety’s sake.
It was also calling for a significant amount of rainfall, but I was less concerned about the rain. My tent is waterproofed, of course, but I also built a fortress of pine needles along the perimeter of my tent to control the flow of water and create drainage channels away from my tent. I wasn’t sure if the pine-needle-fortress would work as intended, and since I’ll probably forget to give you an update later in the trip report, I’ll just give you the spoilers now… it did work, marvellously.
The wind was vicious the entire afternoon, but thankfully I didn’t need to leave the campsite to go anywhere. I collected firewood, pitched my tarp, and weather-proofed my campsite as best as possible.
With heavy rain and wind in the forecast, I decided to make myself a Cheesy Chicken Casserole dinner from Flat Out Feasts. It’s my favourite freeze-dried meal. I needed a morale booster! Afterwards, it was still too windy to go for my usual evening paddle, so instead I went to the west-facing shoreline and listened to the extremely loud cormorants and playful loons in the distance.
I put my firewood to use while the moon began rising directly in front of my campsite. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening. Other than the wind… it was still so windy out, and the smoke from the fire was magically blowing straight into my face no matter where I moved my chair. It was taunting me.
Elo wasn’t bothered by the smoke, probably because she’s much lower to the ground. But then again, Elo is just overall super chill. She was chill all day. Chill on the portage. Chill during the windy paddle. And then chill at the campsite.
I put out the fire and got into my tent at 11:00 PM. The wind was still howling. The rain hadn’t started yet, but I knew it was coming.
Day 3 — A Rest Day on Otterslide Lake
My inability to get a proper sleep in the backcountry meant I was waking up every 30 minutes, constantly expecting to hear rain, but pleasantly surprised when I didn’t. There was barely any rainfall throughout the night. Until 6:00 AM. That’s when the downpour began. Elo and I ran from the tent to the tarp, and in less than ten seconds, we still got soaking wet.
The tarp was doing its job and not letting any rain get through, but the cumulation of water running off the sides of the tarp made the entire ground underneath the tarp soaking wet. I went to get my barrel that was hung in the trees overnight, and I got even more soaked during that brief adventure. It wasn’t even 6:30 AM, and everything was drenched.
I spent the next few hours bouncing between my tent and my tarp, waiting for the rain to stop. It was literally a straight downpour for several hours straight. Everything was wet. The ground was full of puddles. I was wearing all of my layers and I was still freezing. I was debating putting on my dry nighttime clothes, but I didn’t want to risk bringing those clothes outside of the tent. If those clothes got wet, I’d have nothing dry left to wear, and that could turn into a dangerous situation.
It was only Day 3 of the trip, and I was already being mentally tested by the elements. Rain and wind aren’t nearly as bad when I’m with other people. But when I’m travelling solo, being confined underneath my tarp, with nothing to do, and no one to talk to, is arguably harder than long hours of portaging and paddling! I’m no stranger to these situations though, so I was fine. I welcome the quiet solitude. Elo was holding up ok too. Well, so far… I knew I could only keep her cattle dog energy contained for so long.
The rain started to taper shortly after noon. I spent more than 6 hours in the same exact spot, confined to my tarp, staring at the open shoreline and listening to the pouring rain and howling wind. The sun finally decided to make an appearance at 2:00 PM, but only in small patches between the otherwise cloudy skies.
I spent the entire afternoon cleaning and organizing my wet gear. Constantly shuffling things around to get exposure to the patches of sunshine. Hanging things on a clothesline, laying them out to dry on the rocks. When the sun was out, I made sure I was enjoying every minute of it from the shoreline of my campsite.
The small display of fall colours on the eastern shoreline, and the two loons directly in front of my campsite were both a small mood boost during an otherwise gloomy day. Dinner for Day 3 was a Happy Yak Pad Thai… 920 calories and 1,500mg of sodium sure is a lot for doing absolutely nothing all day.
I skipped my evening paddle once again and went to the west shoreline to watch the sunset with Elo. The vicious winds started to die down. The loons weren’t out this evening, but the cormorants were just as loud as the previous night. It was only 11 degrees Celsius, but I was comfortable enough with my now-dry layers.
I followed the same post-sunset routine and made a big fire. The temperature was quickly dropping, but I had tons of firewood to help keep me warm. The moon was once again rising directly in front of my campsite. It was almost a full moon so it was shining extra bright with a deep blue sky behind it. It was such a breathtaking landscape. I couldn’t have asked for a better evening after such an ugly morning. Even the campfire smoke wasn’t blowing in my face this time!
This was my second night on Otterslide Lake, and I hadn’t seen a single canoe since I arrived on the lake. I love this feeling. I especially love this feeling when it happens in an area of the park that’s typically very busy. I ended the evening by sitting beside the fire, listening to the Into The Wild soundtrack by Eddie Vedder. That’s super cliché, I know. But it was perfect in that moment.
Day 4 — Otterslide Lake to Big Trout Lake
I hope you’re buckled in, because Day 4 was one heck of a day.
Remember that “Severe Weather Statement” warning for the 66km winds? I’m a big advocate for following the rules, however, this would have been one of those rare situations where staying on Otterslide Lake and camping off-permit would have been the wise choice, for safety’s sake. But against my better judgement, I decided to stick with my original permit and keep moving. I was feeling “Extremely High” on the “How Adventurous Are You Feeling Today?” scale.
I quickly packed up camp and got on the water at 8:00 AM, in an attempt to beat the worst of the wind and the rain. Before I even made it to the start of Otterslide Creek, the wind was crazy strong and there were already huge whitecaps on the water. Uh oh. Things weren’t off to a good start.
The first portage along the creek is an easy one. The canoe landing isn’t very good on the Otterslide Lake side, but otherwise the portage is fine. The second and third portages kind of blurred together in my hustle to move through the creek as fast as possible. I remember one being slightly more uphill, along with some more rocky canoe landings.
Paddling along the creek wasn’t too bad. For the first half of the creek, there were no obstructions or low water issues. It was quite beautiful actually, despite the heavy overcast. There was only a gentle breeze in the middle of the sheltered narrow creek, but I was able to audibly hear the wind howling overhead. Paddling became more annoying during the long stretch of creek before the 710m portage; there were plenty of rocks hiding just beneath the waterline, ready to scrape the bottom of my canoe if I wasn’t being careful.
I did see an otter on Otterslide Creek, which was a nice surprise! I’ve seen wildlife on this creek before, but never an otter. It felt very fitting. I was too slow with my camera to get a photo, and I had no time to waste sticking around in hopes of it returning. I was in hustle mode. I needed to keep moving.
The 710m portage had bad terrain, but it was still pretty easy overall. The end of the portage has a muddy beach landing, which was a welcomed site after some of the earlier rocky landings. It began drizzling outside when I finished that portage, which was my cue to keep my butt moving because I still had another short paddle and portage before I’d even arrive to Big Trout Lake. The final portage is a short one, but it’s steep downhill with rough terrain.
After more than four hours of travel and 1.6km of portaging that I double-carried (so, closer to 5km total), I finally arrived to Big Trout Lake… just as the rain started coming down harder. I put on my rain jacket, my PDF, Elo’s life jacket, had a quick snack refuel, and was ready to launch. But then something amazing happened. I saw two moose in the distance! A cow and a calf. I was all alone, in the middle of Algonquin, during a treacherous day, just finishing a long stretch of river travel, when the Algonquin wildlife gods rewarded me. It couldn’t have come at a better time either; I was about to enter Big Trout Lake and feel the full wrath of the wind. This moose sighting happened at the very final moment before that. I’ve seen countless moose over the years, but this encounter felt particularly special.
Despite the rain, I quickly got my camera for a few photos. I paddled very slowly and quietly towards the moose. I was able to watch them feeding for a few minutes before they eventually got spooked and went inland. I was SO happy with this encounter.
I still didn’t know how bad the wind was going to be on Big Trout Lake, since I was still in the narrow entrance before it opens up wide. What I did know, was that the gentle rain quickly turned into a downpour and I was able to see white caps in the distance.
I entered the main body of Big Trout Lake with huge swells coming from behind me. Since the wind was at my back, it was only going to get worse as I paddled further into the lake. By the time I was in the middle of open water, things got crazy. The white caps were massive. The swells were scary. I was witnessing first-hand the “Severe” part of the “Severe Weather Statement”. I’ve paddled in some tough conditions before, and this was definitely up there as one of the worst.
Elo was as cool as a cucumber in the front of the boat. The crazy wind and heavy rain didn’t seem to bother her. She was calm. She had things under control. She was being a good captain of the boat. Further back in the canoe, I was paddling hard, not missing a single stroke while my canoe raised and lowered as it rode each wave.
I finally made it to Campsite #11, one of the small islands in the middle of the lake. It was the campsite I wanted, and thank god it was available. Islands typically aren’t good during inclement weather, but the elevation profile of this island mixed with its protected shorelines and position on the lake (adjacent to the larger island), meant it was actually sheltered from the elements. The campsite is also on the east side of the island, meaning it’s protected from the predominant westerly winds.
Side note: I tend not to take too many photos when the weather is really bad, so trust me when I say the photos you’re seeing in this report are when conditions were at their best!
There was a short break in the rainfall so I quickly set up camp. I pitched my tent. Hung a tarp. Collected some firewood. It took me two hours until everything was set up, cleaned, and organized. I had a few more minutes to explore the island with Elo before the weather got nasty again.
Then the thunder and lightning started. The rumbling got louder and louder with each passing minute. The rain started again, and it was coming down HARD. I could barely see five feet in front of me. I couldn’t believe how much rain came down so quickly. The tinnitus-inducing thunder was still happening during this insane burst of rainfall. Elo was nervous, but she was ok. I had her tethered to my waist and she was lying down at my feet.
When the rain finally stopped, I saw something even more beautiful than the two moose from earlier. A rainbow. But not just any rainbow, it was the brightest and most vivid rainbow I had ever seen. Plus, it was the END of the rainbow! Guys, the rainbow literally ends on Big Trout Lake, right in front of Campsite #11. It was the most beautiful thing ever.
I actually laughed out loud when I saw the rainbow. I thought to myself “what the heck is even happening today!?”. I tackled Otterslide Creek, I saw an otter, I saw two moose, I did one of the scariest paddles of my life, I survived the violent downpour and brutal thunderstorm, and then this rainbow appeared out of nowhere. And then a few minutes later, a separate, second rainbow appeared just a few feet further away from the first one. If it wasn’t for photographic proof, I’d think I dreamed the whole thing. It was all just so surreal.
This moment was proof that adventure pays off. You don’t get these experiences by looking at the forecast and cancelling a trip. I wouldn’t have had this crazy day if I decided to stay at my campsite on Otterslide Lake. These types of experiences create the best memories, and today was full of memories that will stay with me forever. As terrible as the weather was, in that very moment, I couldn’t have been happier.
The rest of the afternoon had more rainfall, more thunderstorms, and more scary skies constantly appearing upon the horizon. It was also extremely cold from the severe wind and lack of sunshine.
I walked to the back of the island to watch the sunset. The back of the island is a big reason why I love this campsite. It has a huge rocky shoreline with a breathtaking western view across Big Trout Lake. It’s one of my personal favourite views in the park. But since it was west-facing, that meant it was totally exposed to the strong wind. The sky was so pretty, but it was way too cold to stay and watch. I lasted about one minute before I needed to take shelter and return to my campsite on the other side of the island.
At least on my side of the island I was able to watch the moonrise. It was almost a full moon, and it was gorgeous. It was rising directly in front of my campsite and its strong shimmer reflected perfectly on the water. All of my firewood was way too wet to even attempt to make a fire, so I sat at my cold campsite beside a fireless fire pit, watching the moose rise through the trees.
Ok, you can unbuckle now.
Day 5 — A Rest Day on Big Trout Lake
I woke up at 6:30 AM and it wasn’t raining. What a weird feeling… But I wasn’t getting excited just yet. I pulled a weather forecast from my InReach and it said 70% chance of rain throughout the day. I quickly made myself breakfast and did my morning routine.
And then the rain started.
It was on-and-off raining all day. I sat under my tarp for the majority of the day, doing quite literally nothing at all. Whenever there was a short break in the rain, I’d get some steps in and walk to the back of the island with Elo, enjoy the view for a few minutes, and then go back underneath my tarp. Wait for it to stop raining. Go to the back of the island. Back to my tarp. Rinse and repeat for basically 12 hours (no pun intended).
The rain only got heavier as the day went on. It cycled between gentle drizzle and heavy downpour, with some sort of precipitation happening the entire day. I used the time to relax, catch up on sleep, and charge my electronics like my iPhone, my camera batteries, etc.
I only saw two or three canoes paddling on Big Trout Lake, but none of the several campsites within view from both sides of my island were occupied. It was a nice feeling being alone on Big Trout Lake. Well, alone as far as I could tell, but I’m sure there were a few groups somewhere in the distance.
Every time the rain would stop for two minutes I would think “ok that’s it, there’s no way it can rain any more than this, I don’t even know how the atmosphere is physically capable of holding more rain than this”, and then of course, it would start raining again. I thought Day 3 on Otterslide Lake was bad, but this was by far the most depressing day of the trip. There was non-stop rain from morning to night. And yet, somehow, it was calling for even more rain tomorrow.
All of my gear was dry but everything was so cold. It was only 10 degree and there was zero sunshine. I was wearing all of my layers and I was still chilly. It was another super windy day too. I could see the huge white caps out on the water and I could hear the wind howling, but thankfully my campsite offered enough shelter.
I was on Day 5 of this trip and I had only done one evening paddle. It was a weird feeling for me. It was also a weird feeling for Elo since our evening adventures are a great way to let her burn off some energy. With all of this rain, she has been confined to the tarp just like I was, with no way to let out energy. She had been SO amazing and tolerating of the weather, but I worried she would become agitated soon.
There was no sunset with all of the clouds in the sky. No moonrise either. Just more rain. Heavy rain. I was listening to Jack Johnson underneath my tarp, when he sang “Can’t you see that it’s just raining, ain’t no need to go outside”. Yeah, you probably know that song. Screw you Jack Johnson, I’m literally living outside in the most rain I’ve ever seen!
With nothing to do, I cleaned up camp and got inside my tent at 9:30 PM.
Day 6 — A Rest Day on Big Trout Lake
Yeah, so that 9:30 PM bedtime was way too early. I woke up at 1:30 AM wide awake and full of energy. I lay in the tent, dozing in-and-out of sleep until 6:30 AM while listening to the never-ending rainfall.
The rain FINALLY stopped and the sun slowly broke through the cloudy sky. It was still very cold though, single digits and severe wind that hadn’t slowed down for the past 48 hours (yes, even overnight it was super windy). By 7:00 AM there were already white caps on the water.
I walked to the back of the island to enjoy the view, but immediately said out loud “Nope!” and walked back. It was way too windy and cold back there. I did however walk back-and-forth several times across the island just for something to do, and so I could appreciate that western view if only for a few seconds each time.
The wind continued to get worse as the day went on. Not that I had anywhere to go, but I probably couldn’t leave the campsite if I wanted to. The swells were huge. I’ve mentioned that my campsite was sheltered from the wind, but even the small amount that got through, mixed with the cold temperature, was enough to make this the coldest day of the trip. I was wearing a long sleeve shirt, a sweatshirt, my rain jacket, and my down jacket, with my toque and three hoods, and I was still cold.
The rain came back in the afternoon for a few hours; it was just enough to force me to take shelter and to saturate everything at the campsite. Relative to the previous few days, it was barely anything though, so I didn’t mind. I sat underneath my tarp, made myself dinner, and kept doing laps to the back of the island.
Elo’s boredom was finally starting to show. She hadn’t chewed on anything in one week and we hadn’t done any portages in a few days. She had tons of energy needing to be released.
I went to the back side of the island one last time, to watch the sunset. The freezing cold wind was smashing against my face, but I tolerated it for a short while because the sunset was extremely pretty. With all of the overcast the past few days, I needed a good sunset to enjoy.
After the sunset, I put all of my finally-dry firewood to good use. I didn’t make a fire during my first two nights at this campsite, so I had tons of wood aching to get used. I was also freezing cold, so it was like a match made in heaven. While making the fire, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the moon crossing the shoreline, demanding my attention. It was one of the most magnificent looking moonrises I’ve ever seen. The heavy cloud coverage was creating an eerie, mystical atmosphere surrounding the moon. It was also the full moon; it was so large and bright that it almost looked fake. It was like a lightbulb in the sky illuminating everything at my campsite.
Anndddd just as the fire was getting going, the rain started. Again. Of course. How dare I expect a few dry hours to sit beside a warm fire? I quickly grabbed my loose gear and ran under the tarp with Elo. Luckily, the rain subsided after a short while and I was able to enjoy my fire for the rest of the evening. I was really hoping this would be the last rainfall of the trip.
This was my third day at this campsite, and it was my second day without seeing a single canoe. I guess not too many people wanted to cross Big Trout Lake in these waters! There were only four other permits issued for the lake on this evening, so either they were camping in the faraway distance, or they never made it to the lake given the weather conditions.
I hung my food barrel and said my third and final goodnight to this campsite.
Day 7 — Big Trout Lake to White Trout Lake
Finally, a rain-free morning. All of my gear was still wet, since it was too cold to dry out overnight. But I’m going to celebrate the win of being able to stay dry while enjoying the morning. My itinerary for the day was an easy one; I was moving to White Trout Lake, which was only a few hours of paddling with no portages.
I packed up camp slowly and got on the water at 8:30 AM. The wind wasn’t nearly as bad as the previous days, but it was still smashing against my face. It made the 6 degrees feel much colder while paddling in the middle of open water, especially since the entire sky was overcast. It took me two hours to get to my campsite on White Trout Lake. During that time, I only saw two occupied campsites on Big Trout Lake, and zero occupied campsites on White Trout Lake. It was extremely quiet for an area of the park that’s usually very busy and popular.
I took Campsite #8 on White Trout Lake, which is hands down my favourite campsite on the lake, and ranks up there as one of my all-time favourites in the park. Well, at least it did the last time I camped here. Things had changed though. A tornado or strong weather pattern came through and took down roughly one third of the trees on the island. Certain areas were completely ravaged. Combined with the thick berry bushes, it felt like I was camping in a jungle. It didn’t have the same comfortable homeyness that it used to have. There were also tons of bees at the campsite… or maybe it was just one bee that really liked to annoy me.
The day turned into yet another windstorm. However, this island was completely exposed to the wind, so the wind was way more of a nuisance than previously on Big Trout Lake. I spent an hour deciding where I wanted to pitch my tent. One of the spots had an uprooted tree leaning over it, resting against a separate tree trunk. I looked at that spot and told myself “well, I would like to wake up alive tomorrow morning”, so I crossed that one off the list. A few of the spots were totally exposed to the wind, so I looked at those and told myself “I guess this will do”, and then a wind gust came through and I immediately changed my mind. I ended up choosing the same teeny tiny tent spot that I used the last time I camped here. The small patch of ground beside the hidden canoe landing. It wasn’t the prettiest spot, but for one night, it would do.
The wind was gusting like crazy the entire afternoon, but at least the sun was finally in the sky. The sun gave me a total mood boost compared to the last few days. And for the first time in several days, there was no rain. I set up camp, took a short nap, watched some birds flying around the jungled island, collected some firewood, admired a woodpecker working on a tree nearby, ran like a little girl from that annoying bee, and then made myself dinner. I also found an animal’s jawbone at the campsite (see photo below). I think it might have come from a fox, but I’m not so sure. If you know, please let me know!
I set out for a long overdue evening paddle. I couldn’t believe it was Day 6 and this was only my second evening paddle of the trip. I visited some of the campsites on the eastern shore, north of my island campsite. One of those sites has a bar of cell service in one specific spot, so I used it to call my father and wish him a one-day belated happy birthday. I pulled an updated weather forecast too. There was a frost advisory with temperatures dropping to 2 degrees overnight. Bring on the cold baby, I can handle it just fine. There was no more rain in the forecast, just hot sunny days and cool nights. If this forecast held for the last few days of the trip, I would be one happy camper.
I visited the cluster of four campsites north of my island, plus one of the campsites in the narrows earlier in the day. This trip report is already long enough so I’ll spare the details, but there are links at the bottom of this page for each individual campsite report.
The wind finally started to calm down during my evening paddle. There was a gorgeous cloudy sunset above the calm, rippling water. This is the Algonquin that I love. This is what makes every minute of bad weather worth enduring. It was made even more special by having the entirety of White Trout Lake all to myself. I knew my streak of “alone time” would come to an end tomorrow, when I moved to McIntosh Lake, which was guaranteed to have other groups.
But for now, I continued enjoying my last night of solitude. I made it back to my campsite just as the sun crossed the shoreline. The berry bushes were giving off a very sweet scent, and I joked to myself that if a bear visited my island, it probably wouldn’t even be interested in my food with all those sweet berries around.
I sat at the massive rocky shoreline at the front of the campsite and enjoyed the final minutes of colour in the sky, watching as the landscape in front of me faded to black. I was sitting perfectly still, completely silent with Elo. To my surprise, a beaver appeared in the water directly in front of my campsite. Elo and I stayed silent, watching the beaver for as long as the light let us. Then we put our large amount of firewood to use. There was a constant croaking and creaking sound coming from the wooden benches beside the fire pit. I’m guessing it was a wood-eating termite or something, but I’m not so sure. Like the animal’s jawbone, if you know what this was, please let me know!
The evening ended with one more postcard-perfect moment, as the moon rose over the far side of the island. After watching this same moon for the past few nights, it felt like an old friend coming to say hello. The loons were calling in the distance, creating a perfect nighttime lullaby.
Day 8 — White Trout Lake to McIntosh Lake
The forecasted 2 degrees overnight was accurate, but it didn’t bother me. I was more worried about Elo than myself, but every time I checked on her, she was warm and fine. I got out of the tent before the sunrise and watched the moon set in front of my campsite. It had a huge circular aura glow around it, from the thick mist on the lake. It was super cool. It was also super cool, temperature wise. The 2 degrees was a lot less annoying when I was burrito-wrapped inside my comfy sleeping bag. I can’t say the same level of comfort was had while packing up camp.
I watched the lake slowly come to life as the moon set, the sun approached the shoreline, and the mist slowly disappeared. I was on the water at 8:00 AM during the foggy sunrise, paddling alongside three loons beside my canoe. The calm reflective water was the final touch to the exceptionally pretty landscape surrounding me in all directions.
The water levels on Grassy Bay were pretty good. I didn’t see any large wildlife in the area, but I did see three otters goofing around and playing with each other. They spotted me, dipped underneath the water, and then made another appearance ten minutes later when I was a few kilometres further into Grassy Bay. Were they following me? Did they think I was cute? It was Elo, wasn’t it… they definitely thought Elo was cute.
There were a few small butt-scootch beaver dams to get across, followed by one proper lift over beaver dam, and then one massive sandbank a few metres wide. The sandbank required unloading all of my gear, carrying my canoe across, and then reloading again. It sucked. But it was the last obstacle before I arrived to the first 770m portage of the day, at 10:30 AM. Jeff’s map has this portage labelled as yellow, aka easy, but the entire thing is a gradual uphill with rough terrain (lots of rocks and roots) and two boardwalks elevated over water that require careful footing. I would personally consider this a medium-difficulty portage.
There were three more beaver dams that I needed to lift over in between the two portages. I’ve travelled this way many times, so I knew what to expect, but that still didn’t stop me from sighing with disappointment every time a beaver dam came into view. It’s tough work trying to carry my fully loaded canoe (with Elo!) across the dams. I apologize now to my 60-year-old self for my future lower back problems.
I arrived to the second portage, the 500m. It had a terrible canoe landing with a long boardwalk, almost like a mini portage before the real portage begins. The rest of the portage is easy though, and the beach landing on the McIntosh Lake side is almost as satisfying as hearing the ice cream truck coming into your neighbouring on a hot summer day.
I launched onto McIntosh Lake at exactly 12:00 PM, four hours after leaving my campsite on White Trout Lake. Four hours isn’t the longest travel day, but with the numerous beaver dams, double-carrying portages, and a couple hours of paddling under the hot sun, I was more than ready to find my home for the next few nights.
I paddled hard against a headwind and went straight to the northern island campsite. I was shocked to find it available. I’ve camped here before, and I remember thinking “a site this nice, on a lake this busy, I may not ever camp here again”. So yeah, I was happy. I took my time setting up camp, cleaned the excessive amount of garbage left in the firepit from previous campers, and then took a short nap with Elo. Unlike most of the trip so far, where I was bundled in all my layers, today was actually hot outside. It felt really nice taking a midday nap in just my underwear. It also felt really nice taking a midday nap without the constant sound of rain hitting my tent.
I took advantage of the beautiful weather and went for a long evening paddle. I documented a handful of campsites and collected a ton of firewood. The full campsite reports are linked at the bottom of this page.
The paddle back to my campsite was probably the highlight of my day. It was the perfect temperature outside. The sun was setting in front of me. The wind had died down. And there was a family of loons swimming nearby my canoe. I made it back to my campsite just in time for me and Elo to enjoy the final colours of the sunset from the front shoreline. The water was calm. The lake was quiet. Loons were swimming in front of me. The sunlight colours were reflecting on the gentle ripples of water. The campsite had beautiful panoramic views. Life was good.
The only thing that wasn’t good, were the mosquitos. They were out in full force. But I can’t really complain since they were mostly absent the rest of the trip. A big fire helped. I roasted marshmallows and wrote some campsite reports on my phone as I sat beside the warm fire. While sipping on whiskey, of course. Elo was laying down behind me, facing the forest, in silence the whole time; presumably to protect me from whatever scary monsters lurked in the shadows. She’s the best.
Day 9 — A Rest Day on McIntosh Lake
One of the many perks of this island campsite is that you could walk to the back of the island and watch the sunrise from a small opening at the shoreline. It was a stunning sunrise, made even better by the two loons glistening in the shimmering water directly in front of me. I was planning on leaving my campsite early the following morning, so I savoured every minute of this sunrise.
After my first few hours of lazy relaxation, I left for a day trip at 10:45 AM. Once again, a loon was swimming directly beside my canoe. The McIntosh loons really seemed to like me. The sun was high in the sky and the calm water was creating perfect shoreline reflections onto the water. It was a pretty great time to be on the water.
I continued my job from the previous day of documenting campsites. Some were really pretty and aesthetic, but most would only be ideal during good weather. A few of the sites were terrible and had some of the worst canoe landings I’ve seen. Some of the sites were exceptionally buggy for some reason. A couple of the sites were all-around decent sites. And now here’s my usual plug for the full campsite reports linked at the bottom of this page.
I visited seven campsites in total before going back to my own campsite at 1:00 PM. The day turned into a scorcher and I was definitely feeling the heat of the sun by the end of the campsite tour. I took my final midday nap, once again in my underwear with the tent’s fly door open. It’s the simple things in life that really put a smile on my face.
The rest of the afternoon was pretty lazy. I hung around the campsite, processed firewood, and ate a ton of my remaining food to lighten my barrel before the long 2.4km double-carry the next day. I watched groups enter the lake in search of a campsite, with one soloist racing towards my island. I couldn’t see his face, but I could undeniably sense his disappointment once he realized there was someone (aka, me) sitting at the shoreline.
It was another gorgeous evening, but I decided not to go for an evening paddle. Ok, calm down, put the pitchforks away, let me explain! I had a major headache all day, and Day 10 was going to be long and difficult. I didn’t want to take any chances. I needed to wake up feeling as invincible as the time I found a $100 bill on the sidewalk (true story). I felt guilty staying on shore, but it was the smart choice to make.
In hindsight, I really enjoyed my decision to stay at my campsite. The sunset was by far the best of the entire trip, and I got to enjoy every minute of it beside Elo. It was a legit 10/10 sunset. I also spent a lot of time reflecting on the trip. I think it was the first time I’ve ever felt genuinely sad that a trip was coming to an end. But I’ll save the teary-eyed reflections for the Aftermath section at the end of the report.
My final night of the trip was spent beside a large fire, donating blood to the mosquitos, and listening to the loons singing as loud as their loon voices could possibly sing. And of course, there was more marshmallows and whiskey.
Day 10 — McIntosh Lake to Canoe Lake
Earlier in the trip I got to choose what I wanted on the “How Adventurous Are You Feeling Today?” scale. On Day 10, I didn’t get a choice. I was about to double-carry a 2.4km portage (7.2km total walking), plus another 240m portage (720m total walking), and roughly 5 hours of paddling. Assuming the wind cooperated, I expected the entire day to take roughly 7 hours. It was going to be one heck of an adventure, whether I liked it or not.
So, I woke up at 6:15 AM, packed up camp during an overcast morning, and got on the water at 8:00 AM. The temperature was cool, clouds were blocking the sun, and I had a gentle tailwind. It was perfect paddling weather.
This entire 10-day trip covered areas of Algonquin Park that I’ve visited many times before, except for the one tiny stretch between McIntosh Lake and Tom Thomson Lake; McIntosh Creek, Ink Lake, and the 2.4km portage. I’m glad I was able to squeeze in some new territory, even if it was just this small amount.
The paddle through McIntosh Creek had a very unique landscape and I found it to be exceptionally pretty with the barren trees reflecting onto the narrow creek water. Ink Lake was equally as pretty with its reflective shoreline. It looked like perfect moose territory, though I didn’t have the fortune of seeing one myself. The only thing I saw was the massive staircase at the start of the 2.4km portage. This portage is an infamous one, partially due to this staircase. I carried all of my gear to the top, then took a snack and water break before actually starting the portage.
The portage was full of ups and downs, had lots of varied terrain, and had many steep sloping rock sections. I imagined it would be particularly slippery and dangerous after rainfall. There were a few boardwalks too, including two long boardwalks over marshy area with lots of overgrowth brushing against me as I walked across. Elo even pooped two times on this portage! Although I’m not sure if that meant she loved the portage, or hated the portage.
The first carry only took me 40 minutes. Not too shabby. The beach landing at the Tom Thomson end was super mucky and gross. I quickly dropped my canoe and food barrel and went back for the rest of my gear. I saw a school group coming in the same direction as me (towards Tom Thomson, so technically opposite direction while I was walking back). It was a massive group with more than ten canoes and probably thirty people.
When I arrived back at the start of the portage, I was quite upset to see that the school group moved my gear to a separate area. I intentionally left my gear way off to the side and out of the way, but for some reason they wanted to congregate where I left my gear, so they moved it to a different spot. This upset me for a few reasons. First, they put my paddle leaning against a tree. I purposefully leave my paddle flat on the ground so that it doesn’t accidentally fall over onto a rock or get over-leveraged and snap while leaning against a tree (eg. if a pack falls on it). I’ve used the same paddle for every single canoe trip since 2017 and it has tons of sentimental value to me. If anything happened to my paddle because of them, I would have been incredibly upset. Or what if they broke a strap on my pack because they didn’t lift it properly when they moved it? Were they going to portage a one-strap 40lbs pack across 2.4km for me? Also, my water jug was missing. I left my Nalgene at the Tom Thomson end of the portage, and left this water jug at the start of the portage so I could give Elo a drink before the second carry. Thankfully, part of the school group was still there and they were able to locate it among their own items. But the takeaway is this… don’t touch other people’s stuff unless it’s absolutely necessary. That’s how things get lost, stolen, or broken.
Rant over.
I hustled through my second carry, passing everyone from the school group. I finished both carries in just under two hours, with what felt like eight litres of sweat lost from my body. There were a few canoes from the school group at the Tom Thomson landing, placed directly in the water while they went back for the rest of their gear. By that point, I wasn’t surprised at the groups lack of common etiquette.
Also, I need to give a shout out to Elo. This was officially Elo’s longest portage and she did amazing. Approximately 7.2km of walking through tough terrain is no joke, even for a cattle dog. She was tethered to my waist of course, but she led the way and kept pace the entire time. She did SO good.
Despite being drenched in sweat and completely exhausted, I didn’t waste any time getting on the water. I didn’t want to still be at the landing when the school group arrived.
I launched onto Tom Thomson Lake at 11:00 AM. I really enjoyed paddling across Tom Thomson, watching other groups in the distance enjoy the calm, warm morning from the comfort of their own campsite. It was still cloudy outside, and I still had a gentle tailwind. For me, that’s perfect paddling weather.
As a soloist, getting across the large beaver dam at the end of Tom Thomson was more annoying than it looked. It was challenging finding somewhere to put my feet, as I attempted to get my fully-loaded canoe from one side of the dam to the other.
Right after the beaver dam crossing, the sun starting to shine. There was still an occasional breeze, but every time the sun would make an appearance it would scorch me. I had to pull over for a break two times before arriving at the 240m portage. During each break I spent a few minutes in the shade, gave Elo water, reapplied sunscreen, and documented the campsite I stopped at. Even my breaks were still productive!
I arrived back to civilization at 1:30 PM. No, not my car. I consider the 240m portage back in civilization. This is the same portage from Day 1, the “highway” portage. It was much busier today than it was on Day 1. I lucked out though, when I finished my double-carry, there was no one else on the trail. It was just me. I lay down and used a literal rock for a pillow and tried to get a few minutes of shuteye. I had one final paddle back to my car, but then I still needed to load my car and drive back to the city. I needed to replenish my energy.
I set out onto Canoe Lake at 2:15 PM with a gentle tailwind coming from the north. It’s not common to get northerly winds on Canoe Lake, but I guess it was the trips final gift to me.
The Aftermath
This trip was quite the adventure. It’s the longest solo trip I’ve ever done. 10 days alone in Algonquin Park. It was a total disconnect. I wasn’t checking emails. I wasn’t opening Instagram. Regular life was put on pause. It was incredibly refreshing. On the trip, everything became routine, from how I started each morning at the campsite to my evening routine getting into the tent with Elo.
Speaking of Elo, she was the absolute best. The crazy wind storms? No problem. Spending entire days under a tarp while it rained? Bring it on. In the tent, on the portages, crossing beaver dams, documenting campsites… every minute of the trip, she’s in her element. Whatever we’re doing, as long as we’re doing it together, she’s happy. I’m so lucky and fortunate to have her, and I’m appreciative of every minute I get to spend with her.
This wasn’t the most challenging trip in terms of distance covered, but it was definitely one of the most challenging trips psychologically. I had every type of weather during the 10 days, including significant amounts of rainfall, insanely strong winds, one crazy thunderstorm, and some bitter cold days. It’s especially tough riding out this type of weather when travelling solo. But I don’t regret a single second of it. Those tough moments only make the good moments all the better.
The entire 10 days was one long journey. I saw moose, beavers, otters, and had so many close encounters with loons. The wildlife alone was amazing. The back-to-back rainbows on Big Trout Lake was an all-time Algonquin memory. Day 4 in general was one of the craziest days I’ve had in the backcountry. And the perfect weather on Days 8, 9, and 10 made me feel like a new man. To top it off, I snagged every single campsite I was aiming for, and spent half of the trip in solitude without seeing a single person, which is pretty crazy for this area of the park!
This trip was special, that’s for sure. When I do long trips like this, I form a relationship with the trip. Something that’s difficult to explain and hard to put into words. The trip takes on its own entity. So much happens and it makes me feel like I have a special bond with the trip. Spending 10 days alone in the backcountry is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and I’m really happy I was finally able to do it.
