2020 - Whiteshell / Lake of the Woods
Monday, 2020-08-10 – Winnipeg to Falcon Lake (25C – 48 km/h wind)
This is our first staycation/vacation without travelling very far. For the past decade, every vacation has been a flying vacation (except an NFL game here and there). It’s nice to get up, loll around, pack and leisurely get in the car to go. We often plan early flights thinking we would like dinner at our destination. Yes, supping outside in the tropical sun compares favourably to any Winnipeg winter. We never think about the 4 am get-up when we plan these flights.
Because of COVID travel restrictions, many people share our idea of packing it in or near the province. We didn’t book late, but latish, late enough where cabin availabilities ran low. VRBO took us to our accommodations at the Cedar Creek Resort. I used “cabin” as a search criterion and it turned up Cedar Creek. Looking at their website now, they indeed have cabins, but they booked us into the motel. Andrea describes it as The Rosebud Motel, famed from the acclaimed comedy Schitt’s Creek. I wish I could say that her description is off.
It’s not bad; I shouldn’t disparage it too much. However, since Andrea and I started taking vacations together, our standards have grown steadily—to the point now where we search for no fewer than four-star hotels (Sheratons, Fairmonts, Westins will be fine, thank you). I don’t see any Department of Tourism star graders giving the Schitt’s Creek Motel many stars, and neither will they award many to Cedar Creek. Still, somehow they rate 4.7 on VRBO; VRBO stars aren’t exactly Michelin stars and I’ll certainly keep that in mind for next time.
Again, it’s not terrible. The deck’s not finished and we hoped to be able to sit outside under the stars with beverages and The Turd. It is a nice view before the artificial lake, even if we can’t get out there from our patio door.
The internet’s spotty and since the only signal we get is Netflix, blotchy streaming equals terrible TV. The only service that worked reliably came from Sky News—and thanks to seeing dozens of their reports on COVID, I decided that I don’t want to catch it.
Dropping off our bags, we head out to Falcon Lake for dinner. This is my first time stopping at Falcon Lake and I am surprised at how clear the water looks. I always knew the waters in Lake of the Woods appear clean, but I guess I just assumed that everything in Manitoba looks and smells like festering, fetid, flotsam, thanks to my experiences with Winnipeg’s rivers.
Donna told us about a dog beach in Falcon and we want to get Turd in a for a swim. After asking several locals, no one has any knowledge of it, and they all suggest getting away from the beach and letting him loose at a shore. We drive around the south shore and let him go.
We return to the main beach and take a stroll on the boardwalk. It takes us to a grand pier, bustling with people but no boats in sight. It’s a beautiful place to hang out for a while. We look to continue on the trail, but the boardwalk ends here; I guess the remainder of the north shore trail runs through grass.
The dinner bell takes us back to the
shopping centre and a place that seems to operate jointly under Gondola Pizza
and Scotty’s Drive In.
The day starts with a short drive to McGillivray Falls. In all my research, every return pronounces it mik – gil – uh – vray. Is it the Winnipeg accent that says it mik – gil- ver – ee? Mik – gil – uh – vray Falls formed about 12 000 years ago with the recession of the Ice Age glaciers. The glacier cut the trench which ends up being a natural drainage system. I wonder how many sabre-toothed cats, giant ground sloths and woolly mammoths roamed the area.
I assume that the time of year and paucity of rain for a while leaves the tract less of a falls and more of a trickle. There’s as much water as if you left your tap slightly open—just enough water for the Turd to stomp in and get his paws filthy and muddy. Fortunately, we have a long way to go and plenty of opportunity for him to clean himself off.
The trail follows the “falls” until we reach the peak of the cliff, providing a beautiful panorama of the basin and McGillivray Lake.
We come to a fork in the trail with one tine returning to the start, and the other continuing to the shores of McGillivray Lake. The Cupcakes warned us the Long Loop doesn’t have much to offer except a view of the Lake at the end. Not worth the extra 1.7 kilometres, we cross the little bridge spanning the falls.
As you can see by the photo, the narrow bridge makes crossing difficult for both fearful Turds and extra-wide people. I’m one of those people, with a professional-sized camera slug over each shoulder. Turning sideways doesn’t help my cause much either as my backpack distends considerably out my back.
I manage to creep across before we come to another fork in the trail—Andrea thinks it’s a fork but to me, it’s too narrow and steep to be an option for this trail. We continue forward.
So far, this trail showed us good markings and numerous interpretations signs. As well, the terrain has been treed but rocky. As we progress, the rock surfaces disappear, giving way to heavily treed, flat terrain. After 30 minutes of travel, Andrea expresses concern about not having seen a sign in a long time. If we knew for a fact this option takes us back to the parking lot, we’d be fine continuing. Not knowing means that we could end up many kilometres from our car and have to hoof it the entire way back. The last thing we want to do is wander through the Minotaur’s Maze, depleting our water as we find no way out. Eventually we’d need to eat and there’s nothing around. We have bear repellent but that’s not going to enable us to poach a bear. There’s always The Turd…
We decide to turn around. Coming back to the narrow, steep offshoot, we climb and pass one bend before we see an arrow indicating we’re on the right track.
NOW WHY THE HECK WOULD THEY NOT PUT AN
ARROW AT THE ACTUAL JUNCTION?! An arrow
does us no damn good when there’s only one way to go. We saw a tiny, blue poop bag that someone
tied on one of the trees but that’s by no means an indicator. If we wanted to add an hour to our trek, we
would have taken the long loop to the Lake’s edge instead of aimlessly into the
forest. Eventually, we get back to where
we started. If you look carefully at the
top of this photo, you can see a car in the parking lot, indicating the
trailhead (trailtail?).
Lunch brings us to Kenora’s waterfront. We used to love sitting on the patio at Happ’s, dog tied to the fence, beer in hand, and staring out into the lake. It was very sad to see Happ’s go. Now it’s taken over by Bob’s Burger Bar. The restaurant sits at the south end of the strip, but they put a grill into the unused space and claimed it as theirs.
A girl (about 10 years old) comes over
and we assume that she wants to pet The Turd.
Instead, she asks what we want, or more specifically,
“What would you like?”
“What do you have?” I reply.
“Burgers and hotdogs.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Yes, but I don’t know what.”
“Oh.”
“Would you like a drink?” she redirects.
“Sure, what do you have?”
“We have water and iced tea.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t know—you’ll have to ask her,” she points at an indiscriminate mass of
people at the large table. Just as she
finishes speaking, the patio umbrella collapses and bonks her on the head. She seems okay but being a server hasn’t
treated her very well here.
The real server gets us a different umbrella, big beautiful and sturdy. She carefully angles it so that it blocks out the sun entirely for us. She then takes our order. Finally relaxing to a beer, a gust of wind lifts the umbrella and our table up. Thanks to the perfect angle, it catches the wind full-on and lifts the table like a hot air balloon lifting its basket. I manage to grab the umbrella but not until it already tipped the table. I abandon the umbrella and quickly grab both my cameras before they tumble to the ground. I save them from the fall but they both take a nice bath in beer.
Many paper towels later we settle in again, now in the blaring sun since umbrellas seem to work against us today. Both my smokie and burger taste delicious, making up for the ordeal before.
Thanks to everything being somewhat delayed, we don’t finish our lunch until close to 3 pm. We have a date with our friends Dangling Chad and HAG to meet for dinner at 5:30 pm. Hmm. I hope we digest fast.
After our first real hike and a considerable amount of sun, both during the hike and at lunch, I’m beat and I need a nap. Isn’t that the best way to burn off food?
HAG sends a text that they’re a bit late, which works perfectly for me as I try to shake the sleep out of my head. The text also says that the boys aren’t coming because they spent the morning “punching each other in the dink.” Sometimes I’m very glad I’m an only child.
We meet our friends at the Nite Hawk
Café in West Hawk Lake.
West Hawk Lake was form by the impact of a meteorite. Consequently, West Hawk Lake is Manitoba’s deepest lake at 115 metres of depth. Locals propound the lake as having cold water because of the depth. I’m not sure if that’s true or just an urban (rural) myth.
I stick my foot into the water and it certainly isn’t the Caribbean, that’s for sure—but is it colder than other lakes in the area? I don’t know. I haven’t stuck my toes in any water other than tropical ocean water for a long, long time.
To me, the sun warms the water to a certain depth, and that’s true of all lakes; the depth shouldn’t matter. In terms of input and drainage, water usually enters a lake through rivers, and leaves the lake in the same way. Manitoba’s rivers are not deep; when they enter the lake, they only arouse the water to the depth of the river. Unless there’s an underwater river feeding the bottom of the lake, that water should stay where it is. Near the equator, the ocean waters off Guam are tropical-warm. Dive to the bottom of the Mariana Trench and I guarantee the water to be not tropical in temperature. Next time, I’ll bring a thermometer.
Thanks again to Dangling Chad and HAG
for spending the evening with us and sharing some good times.
Speaking of meteors, tonight happens to be the peak shower activity of the Perseids. Being outside of the influence of Winnipeg’s light pollution gives me the perfect opportunity to take some astrophotos and hopefully catch a few meteors (shooting stars). Unfortunately, my photos all turn out like crap—see for yourself:
I admit it—I’m too lazy to use my phone to trigger the shutter release, even though I already got the app and synched it to my cameras. Why? For long exposure shots, I always use the two-second delay and that works fine. Sometimes, I can get away with gently tapping the LED screen to take the shot, rather than use the release button.
Here I am with tripod, anxiously greeting the meteor shower. Sadly, the timer delay doesn't do squat because the delay is enough where the meteor's already extinguished. Screen tap it is.
I don't chimp often, but I did here. Only on my 3" camera display, everything looks good—I even see the meteor streaks. Seeing the photos on my 32" monitors, I see that the shot is garbage.
- Part 1 of failure: not using the tech at my disposal
- Part 2 of failure: forgetting to bring a card reader or dedicated cable so I couldn't download onto my laptop and view. I could have easily gone back out and took more shots, seeing as I was already bathing in mosquito repellent.
The morning starts by rendezvousing with the Cupcakes, who bring us to the Falcon Creek Trail. This well-marked trail runs 1.9 km and has minimal elevation change, making it quite accessible for most hikers. This proves to be our most informational hike, thanks to the wealth of information shared by the Cupcakes. Among other things we learn, we find out that the little blue berries along the path are not blueberries, and we shouldn’t eat them. The next time we get lost on a hike and we get hungry, we’ll just avoid berries altogether—the mushrooms look quite tasty tough…
The trail leads to a massive boulder, dragged
here and deposited by a glacier during the ice age.
We complete the trail in less than 50 minutes, which is blazing speed for trail hiking. Still a bit early for lunch, we head to the Falcon Lake mini-golf. Even though dogs are not permitted, Cupcake somehow manages to convince the staff that the Turd is well-behaved enough to let on the course—yes, the Turd. Fortunately, he did not go into Turd-mode and embarrass us all, or have us kicked out. We play for ice cream where the winner pays. The Cupcakes tie for the win, each shooting 47s, with Andrea close behind at 52 (taking a six on the last hole) and me sucking at golf like usual, trailing the pack at 54.
Someone recently told us that Falcon Lake Mini-golf is one of the top-rated mini-golf courses in the world. I really enjoyed the round and it’s a lovely course, but I wouldn’t say it’s world class. I’ve mini-golfed truly spectacular courses in Niagara Falls, Wisconsin Dells and there’s even a renown course near Minneapolis. It’s a lot of fun but it doesn’t compare to playing under waterfalls or through rocky caves.
Lunch takes us to the Beach House, located on the beach of Falcon Lake. It’s a lovely atmosphere, sitting in open air with the water in the background, a cool breeze and lovely company. The food? Not as good. As Adrian put it, “you’re paying for the location.” Adrian ordered the burger and Lisa ordered the veggie burger. Upon arrival, Adrian looks at his and asks,
“Did they mix up our orders?”
Lisa peels her bun back and said, “I don’t think so; this doesn’t look like meat.” Adrian looks at his and replies,
“This looks meat-ish, I guess.” They put them side-by-side before concluding, “No, they didn’t switch the orders. Yours looks less like meat than mine.”
That’s not a great endorsement—for more
info, read my review here:
Unfortunately, the Cupcakes need to depart to fulfill other obligations, but it was great to share their company for the morning and afternoon. After they leave, we decide to stay in the area head back to the beach. We still can’t find the dog beach Donna referenced. We look at her directions and her photos over-and-over again, and we can find nothing like it. The directions don’t make sense to me. She offers three reference points but doesn’t triangulate them to pinpoint a site; the description seems to place the beach at either of two vertices. If that’s true, why use a third reference? I’d use a singled reference and direction from there. This doesn’t make sense.
We set off on the Falcon Lake Marsh
Trail, knowing it leads to the south shore where we can let Turd in for another
swim. True to its name, the trail cuts
through a marsh:
Eventually, the blazing sun and scorching heat cause me to sweat enough where the deet runs off my head, leaving my scalp exposed for a bug smorgasbord. With all the bugs swarming my head, I look like a have a full afro. Poor Turd looks like he’s wearing a coat, but it’s a coat of mosquitoes that we continuously brush off him.
We arrive at the south shore again and let the Turd in for a bath. After he’s done, there’s no messing around as we quick-march back through mosquito alley to return to the main beach.
We opine again where the dog beach could be. There’s only so much area, and we covered everything, thrice. Andrea pointed and asked if it could be to the right, where people moored their boats. It doesn’t seem likely, but I walk over to check the sign in the distance. Sure enough, it points to the dog beach area, off to the right. It tells you how much people respect the dog area since they all park their boats where the beach is supposed to be.
It’s so simple to get here. Why wouldn’t Donna just tell us it’s off the main beach to the right? Andrea looks at her phone again and says,
“She did.” Through all our searching, Andrea read Donna’s second, third and fourth emails, but not the first one that just says “look right.”
:<
Now at the beach, The Turd dives in
headfirst and plunges into the water.
Wondering if it’s any warmer than West Hawk, I stick my foot in. I can’t tell—seems the same to me. I wade in after the Turd. It looks like I’m holding my shorts up but
I’m actually pissing into the lake.
While I’m at it, I give the Turd a shot too. After all our possessions he’s pissed on, a
bit of turnabout isn’t out of reason.
There isn’t. They call themselves a brewpub but the only beer they sell is the mass-produced crud. This is the just the beginning of the tale of the worst dining experience we’ve ever had. For all the gruesome details, check out my review at:
If you don't read my review, that's okay. I'll summarise it for you:
Whiteshell Brewpub serves shitty food - absolute shit. The place is a f__kin' shithole.
Thursday, Aug 13 – Rushing River / Kenora (27C – 55 km/h wind)
Today, we plough into the Lake of the Woods and head to Rushing River. Prior to this vacation, I purchased a season’s pass to Manitoba’s Provincial Parks. A day pass costs $9.50 and the annual pass costs $44.50. Since we’re now in Ontario, I need to purchase a day pass. An Ontario day pass costs $21.00 and an annual pass costs $175.00.
Why?
We always boast about how beautiful our parks are and how our parks stack up to any other province’s parks. Why does an Ontario pass cost four-fold what a Manitoba pass costs? Manitoba is a poor province; we’ve always been a have-not province with little industry and nary a natural resource. As one of our few money-makers, why do we not make the more use of it? Our parks should demand the same access prices as Ontario’s. We’re sukkas.
We’re not big campers; in fact, we’re the opposite of campers. Have I already mentioned something about an affinity for five-star hotels? Rushing River has a certain attraction that—should we be interested in camping—this would be the kind of place we’d want to be. Each site sits nicely isolated and physically separated from the next site, giving the illusion of solitude despite having hundreds of others in the park.
Unfortunately, we did not pick up a map from the entry station (since you can pay for your pass at a machine). Navigating the camp sites feels like groping through the mirrors of a funhouse. By fortune, we catch a glimpse of a sign which happens to be a trailhead taking us to the Beaver Pond Trail (and the Granite Knoll Trail). There isn’t parking around so we drive a bit before finding a public parking lot. From the car, we hoof through two considerable inclines and a decline before getting to the trailhead. By the time we reach the trailhead, I hear someone mumble that she’s already pooped.
The Trail starts at the base of some camp sites, descending via at wooden staircase. The narrow boardwalk winds through some woods but quickly takes us to a cliff overlooking a Dogtooth Lake bay. Before we can consider the dangers of the Turd diving over the cliff, he’s gone, scampering down the 80-degree incline like flatland. We looked at each other, hoping heartfully that he’ll be able to make it back up. If Calamari could be here, he’d follow Turd down. Then he’d be stuck in the water crying because he can’t come back up. We’d have to go get him and we’d both be soaked, if we didn’t slip on the cliff and tumble to our demises.
Before you know it, Turd climbs the wall
like he has pitons for paws, so effortlessly, Spiderman would be proud. Would he be SpiderTurd?
:<
We decide to turn back; my sandals are good, with great flexibility and knobby treads, but I don’t know if they’re good enough for terrain rated “difficult.” We continue on the trail that brings us back.
Back at the car, we circle through the park, unable to locate the Lower Rapids Trail. We lucked into the trailhead for the Beaver Pond, we have no such luck here so we pull into the info centre for directions. They provide a map and instructions—the trailhead sits outside the actual park, adjacent to the highway. We could search all day and night and we would never be able to find this trail without help.
The trail used to be an old portage
around the rapids. This wear and tear
made this trail quite accessible already, and whatever isn't to navigate,
boardwalks now span, making this an easy adventure for all hikers. The trail starts at the south side of the
river, heading upstream until we hit the rapids. Stairs and bridges take us over the falls and
to an outlook where you can get up close to the moving water.
After a few minutes on foot, we passed the chaos of the rapids and back into the tranquility of the river, silent save the occasional goose honk (and vehicle horn from the distant highway).
A few years ago, we met with Chad, HAG and the kids. At the age of four, Reid sat counting his money, knowing exactly what each coin was worth, and knowing exactly how to give correct change. Now at the age of seven, he’s been running his lemonade stand for the summer and at last count, he has made $900. With his money, he wanted to buy a Lego© Imperial Star Destroyer kit, priced at $850.
Are you kidding me?!
- That this kid is like a real-life Alex P. Keaton
- That kids’ toy blocks costs almost a thousand dollars?!
Really, does anyone buy a kid's toy for almost $1000? Toys from my generation cost $5 and we were appalled that the next generation’s toys cost over $100. Is $1000 the new standard now? Should one kid’s toy cost more than their computer? It’s a good thing I don’t have kids; instead of cognac, I’d have to drink Schlitz Beer.
Even though we couldn’t catch Reid this
time, we still went to Chad’s shop for a late lunch. For a lunch counter, he offers a wide
selection of much more than just typical take-out type foods—and everything
I’ve ever eaten from his services tastes fantastic.
Caveat: I pride myself on providing non-biased, non-influenced restaurant and food reviews. I must disqualify myself from a formal review since Chad is a personal friend of mine. Instead, I'll just insert a couple of photos from Chad's shop:
Hand-breaded Chicken Strips
After lunch, we contemplate what’s next on the agenda. To date, every hike left me dripping sweat. Despite the high winds, once we descend into the deep forests, there is no breeze to feel. From almost the moment we hit the trails, I glow with the sheen of an emulsion of sweat and bug repellent. Sticky, hot and drippy: a great combination for feeling on top of the world. Understandably, once the hikes are done for the day, we jump enthusiastically into the shower to clean up.
Even The Turd, whom we’ve known for his entire life to have a tank full of Turd fuel that is almost impossible to exhaust, is happy to return and relax. We’ve never seen The Turd as depleted of Turd fuel as we have this past week. He is almost un-Turd-like, lying in a crumpled heap, exhausted from the day’s activities.
Having a late lunch means that we’re not ready for dinner after washing up. We return to Falcon Lake for a stroll along the beach. It takes some effort to coax The Turd to come, and further effort to get him to enter the car. We can almost hear him pleading,
“Please, please don’t make me go out again.” Too bad Turd—you're coming with us.
It’s another perfect evening at the beach, and it’s another evening where the beach is almost deserted. I don’t get it. Temperatures hover in the high 20s; there isn’t a cloud in the sky; it’s mid-August, meaning a lot of people are on holidays. Why are there so few people on the beach?
I don’t visit Manitoba’s beaches much. We took in Winnipeg Beach somewhat regularly as kids, and I remember it always being packed. Then my independent teen years brought me to Grand Beach, where it was always a buffet for Jaws. Is this a normal crowd for Falcon Lake? Are the waters too clear for Manitoban’s tastes? I don’t get it.
Not having much fuel left in our own tanks, we stay at Falcon Lake for dinner, with a repeat visit to the Nest for takeout. Their photo of the Nest Burger in the window looks delicious and I am eager to try it. For details, if you haven't already, refer my review on The Nest (same link as earlier):
Some of these outlooks bring us to the
top of a cliff, with an expansive overview of everything around.
Then the Trail descends, bringing us to sea level and a different vantage point from sea level.
According to legend, if you touch the tree with both hands and look skyward, you align with the spirits and tap into their healing powers. Can’t hurt to try, right? I don’t feel healed but I don’t feel ill in any way.
As we depart, I trip over a stump and crash my shin into a log and start to bleed. I wonder if bears can smell blood like sharks? Andrea tells me to quickly touch The Spirit Tree again. Sorry but that didn’t heal my wound.
Leaving The Spirit Tree, the Trail continues to ascend quickly into the heart of the island. After climbing a 60-degree sheer rock face, we stand atop and The Turd makes friends with another dog. They play for a bit before its owner calls it away. We slow down and let them put some distance between us before we continue. We certainly don’t want The Turd to pester them for the entire return trip.
We wind through the forest for a while and begin to descend again. It’s amazing how influential the microclimates are to the lifeforms. Just a small change in elevation alters the entire makeup of plant life in the area. As a hiker, I would just walk through and wait for the next scenic lookout. As a photographer, the eyes continuously search for interesting subjects and variety of forest before us life looks fascinating.
After 20 minutes, we hit another intersection; we peer at the sign and see that it’s the familiar Bisson A Trail. Crap, that’s no good; we’re lost again. Andrea asks which way we should go and I have a suspicion about what happened. I suggest we turn right and we try to make up for another blunder.
This time, the path narrows quickly, sometimes to less than 20 cm in width, precariously dangling us over the sides of cliffs. We hug the wall side like an insecure babe to its woobie; meanwhile Turd negotiates the cliffs with the skill of a mountain goat. Up and down the terrain we follow, until a while later, we come to a familiar intersection: the original cross between Bisson A and Voyageur.
:<
Back up Voyageur we go. We greet our old friend The Spirit Tree again and we’re very happy about climbing the 60-degree rockface once more. We return to the area where Turd met his friend. Andrea suggests a route that does not follow where they went.
Bonus of a photographer’s eye: I see details that other people do not see—little mosses that might make handsome photos. Downside of a photographer’s eye: I miss the big picture, liking missing the forest due to the trees. I have no clue which path we took last time and if it was up to me, the chances are 50-50 I’d take the same wrong turn and end up at The Spirit Tree again! Happily, Andrea has the better sense of direction (I can’t even believe I’m writing this) and we take the other turn.
Before long, we hit the Bisson intersection again, but this time at the southern confluence, meaning we’ve returned to the entrance trail. Back to the car and we find the lot considerably busier than when we arrived. I guess this is a popular activity for after lunch.
We go back to downtown Kenora for lunch, aiming for the patio of one of my favourite area restaurants, The Cornerstone. We manage one of the tables adjacent to the sidewalk, enabling us to leash The Turd to the outside of the dining area.
Enjoying a beverage, the server comes and warns that the clouds look somewhat ominous. They have a few seats inside, in case we want to relocate inside now. Sadly, they don’t take dogs inside so poor Turd would be left by himself if we go. She also warns that if the rain starts, we’d be out of luck and have no choice but to endure it if we stay outside. We have an umbrella and I’m still smoking hot from the hike—getting wet wouldn’t be the end of the world.
We planned on shopping Kenora after lunch. We’re sad that The Blue Heron closed. A couple ran the store, each working full time jobs as well. The Blue Heron used to be THE touristy shop and a must-stop in Kenora. It’s incredible that the couple ran it as a side business. Eventually, it overwhelmed them and they put the site up for sale. Chad suggested Abundance as a good souvenir store. I also want to look for swimwear at Island Girl, with a stop at Lake of the Wood Brewery for some beer and merch. Almost immediately after lunch, the rain starts and that settles it for us; we just return to our room.
Dinner takes us to the Hi Point restaurant in West Hawk Lake. We tried to come here a few nights ago but curiously, they close at 8 pm from Sunday to Wednesday. Both the restaurant and the patio were loaded with people and they closed the restaurant. What a curious way to do business.
Review: Hi-Point Restaurant & Lounge
Saturday, Aug 15 – Kenora / West Hawk Lake (24C – 54 km/h wind)
For our final hiking day, I wanted to go somewhere that would be the highlight of our trip. I considered Sioux Narrows – Nestor Falls. Checking into the literature, I discover that the Falls lie next to the highway and you can see them by pulling over into a parking lot. The trails are nice but nothing spectacular. I like hiking and finding the “reward” at the end of the journey. My favourite hike to date has been Rushing River, but Granite Knoll is the only trail we haven’t done in that park. Cupcake suggested the trails at the Falcon Lake ski hill, with an excellent view at Top of the World.
Reviewing my brochures, I see a description of the Kenora Nordic Trails, at the Kenora ski hills:
The Kenora Nordic Trails is a series of trails which are well signed. The trails intimately wind through mixed forest and rocky ridges. The trails are designed so you can add extra loops off the main trail as your energy allows. From the top of Mount Evergreen spectacular views of the Lake of the Woods and the surrounding forest are encountered.
Ok, I think we’ll take on one of the ski areas. We already spent a lot of time at Falcon Lake, so let’s go to Kenora. I’ve only seen the ski area in winter so it’d be nice to see it in the summer. We arrive at the parking lot and it’s absolutely deserted. The hustling/bustling buildings in winter look almost boarded up and we just see a “no trespassing sign.” Aren’t you on the trail pamphlets? What do you mean no trespassing?!
Being devoid of people, we chunk up with our bear equipment and head up the main slope. Have you ever been the Kilcona Park dog park? You start by hiking up a main trail to the top of the hill and immediately you have a nice view? But then there’s nothing else interesting after that?
Well déjà vu. We have a lovely view once we reach the top.
What trail we’re entering, we have no
clue. Without that, we don’t know if
we’re taking a one kilometre or a 20 km trail.
We follow it for about a half hour.
Trees look freshly cut and the ground boasts numerous stumps. This looks like a new trail that they just
cleared, making for a new run come skiing season. I wouldn’t be surprised if this trail isn’t
even on the map. We decide it’s best to
turn back. We know how to get back to
the chalet right now; if we make a few more turns, we’re hopelessly lost. Guess who left the compass sitting in the
toolbox at home?
Note: after consulting the skiing map after we got
home, it’s likely that we were only minutes from the chalet before we turned
around!
We retrace our steps back. It’s amazing how fast you cover these trails when you’re on skis, versus on feet. I’ve skied this mountain a few times and I don’t remember any trail taking more than a couple of minutes to go from peak to base. I’m no racer; I do not take hills at 100 km/h. Now that I’m old with brittle bones, I probably don’t exceed 20 km/h. Still, 20 km/h is lightspeed compared to the 3 km/h we average over this terrain on foot. Better safe than hopefully lost I guess.
We drive back into Kenora, through downtown. Not satisfied with the Kenora ski hill, we want to take in another trail before calling it quits. Covered in bug spray and sweat, we just want a takeout place for a quick bite. We’ve seen Chad’s trucks at events at the waterfront tent often, but we don’t know where or if he deploys them if there’s no event at the tent. We drive by to look and without seeing it there, we head back to West Hawk Lake for a bite at Meteor Mike’s.
Later in the afternoon now, we don’t want to spend too much time driving so we take in a hike in the area. McGillivray is close but we don’t want to redo something we already did. Both the Cupcakes and Donna suggested Hunt Lake, so we had in that direction. Getting turned around again, we end up on the 312, en route to Chateau Cupcake (aka Chateau Fleurie). We eye trailhead signs so we pull into the parking lot. It turns out that this is the start of the Mantario Trail. Yeah, we’re not prepared for a 65 km hike right now. There’s another trailhead here and we decide to set out.
The Whiteshell River Trail runs 2.8
kilometres. We decide that we’ll just
hike half the trail, get to the river and turn back since we already have quite
a few kilometres on our odometer today already.
The trail is not as well-used as some, and quite overgrown in many areas. A number of trees fell blocking the trail,
some of which we need to climb over, and some we need to duck under. We wind our way through and reach the river,
which offers some nice views of the physical adaptations made to enrich fish
life.
We reach the point where the trail veers away from the river. Now halfway through the course, there’s no point in turning back. We continue forward and the trail ascends quickly, gaining elevation to the top of the hill in minutes. Once at the top, we can see the sky for long distances, and we don’t like what we see.
Dark, dark clouds come our way and we see them moving, fast. Then happily, we hear the rumbling of thunder. Perhaps we should not stand at the top of a mountain when an electrical storm comes? We start to hurry to get out, just as the sprinkling starts. The rock surfaces offer great grip when they’re dry but wet, they provide as much traction as ice. Thunder claps with a flash! When I stop seeing stars, I see the shrub that it struck, singed and still smouldering.
Wait! Maybe this is a sign! I search the area and find the tallest dead tree, strip away the twigs, and hold it high, like a rod to the sky! The clouds darken quickly as another bolt of lightning strikes the tip of my staff!
From deep within the forest, a powerful woman’s voice roars:
- I am the spirit of the forest.
- Thou shalt have no other spirits before me (no spirits, no wine, no beer).
- Thou shalt not take the spirit of nature in vain.
- Come explore on the sabbath—play Black Sabbath if you wish.
- Honour thy nature, thy environment and thy ecosystem.
- Thou shalt be bear smart—do not poke the bear!
- Thou shalt not discard Tim Hortons cups or Burger King wrappers, or any other human-made shit on my grounds.
- Thou shalt stay on the trails.
- Thou shalt not shit or piss in the woods unless thy absolutely needst—bears can shit in the woods; human shit is yucky.
- Thou shalt keep your rotten phones in thy pockets, turned off. Be in nature, enjoy nature—leave home at home.
With another thunderclap, I shake my
head and find myself still standing atop the plateau; if I had hair, it would
stand straight. As is, I rub the dream
out of my eyes and look upon all that’s before me. We take in several areas of great views,
vistas and panoramas (and the necessary photographs)—then another clap reminds
me that weather is on the way. We
quickly descend from the summit.
She Climbs back up, looks at the sign, scrambles back down and said,
“There’s no doubt at all this is the right way.” We scramble down as quickly as we can. Fortunately, back in the forest now, the raindrops can’t penetrate as easily and the rock surfaces remain dry for now.
Happy to get out of the rocky section, we return to the foresty surface and continue to descend rapidly. As the storm sets in, the heavy rains force me to stick my camera into the protective backpack. Tucked away, we trek a few minutes and with relief, see our car far below us. In minutes, we come out of the trail and duck into shelter.
We drive back to our room and see the storm subsiding as we arrive. I check the forecast in the room, which says that the rain is over. That storm blew over fast. Peeking outside the window, we see the sun emerge from behind veils, with nothing but blue behind it.
We head out again, back to the dog beach for a final dip for The Turd. I join him in the water, but he never wants to be any deeper than me. I don’t get any further than waist-high in water, but at this depth, The Turd already has to swim. With the sun constantly behind The Turd, I try to get him out further than me to get a nice photo, but he would have no part of that. I end up with loads of Turd silhouette photos.
When The Turd had enough, we packed it up and returned to shore. Just as we get back on land, a new set of clouds roll in and it looks like another torrent is on the way. We grab dinner nearby at The Nest again, and the sky opens up while we wait for food. While the beach is once again deserted, there’s no shortage of people waiting for food and ice cream under the shelters and overhangs of the courtyard here.
Sunday, 2020-08-16 – Return to Winnipeg
Thus concludes our first staycation/vacation close to home. How was it? It’s not the tropics, not the mountains, not a cruise and not a five-star resort, but it was also not bad. On the contrary, it was fun. It was very enlightening to find so much that’s so beautiful and so enjoyable, yet so close to home. I will take many more trips nearby, including some day trips exclusively for a hike and a photo session.
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