Somehow—almost magically—everything fit into the canoe. Even more astonishingly, there was still room left for us. It was a little windy. The waves themselves did not worry us, but the headwind did not make paddling particularly pleasant. Still, we pressed on and reached the campsite in about 45 minutes.
Unfortunately, docking and unloading the canoe was far from easy. The lake was very shallow near the shore, yet the shoreline itself, although only about half a meter high, was steep enough to prevent simply sliding or pushing the canoe onto land. To make matters worse, the water along the shore was filled with sharp, slippery rocks. With the wind and waves constantly pushing the canoe around, standing in the water while trying to stabilize it and unload gear was awkward, tiring, and mildly nerve-racking. It took quite a while to get everything out, and only when the canoe was nearly empty were we able to pull it onto shore. Interestingly, during our entire stay, every single time we launched or landed the canoe, it was windy. Perhaps Stormy Lake earned its name honestly.
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| Bear-proof container |
Once this ordeal was over, I began scanning the area for suitable tree branches to hang our food—always one of the least enjoyable but most necessary tasks in bear country. Then, suddenly, I noticed a large object not far from the water, and our mood instantly improved. It was a bear-proof steel food container. Not only could we store all our food there, but the entire cooler fit inside as well, along with anything else that might interest wildlife. Whoever decided to install these containers deserves sincere applause. They eliminate the tedious routine of hoisting food bags up and down multiple times a day and save an enormous amount of effort and frustration. This was only the second Ontario provincial park where I had encountered such a luxury, the other being the Massasauga Provincial Park.
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| The "thunder box", a.k.a. toilet. Excellent ventilation and view! |
A few meters farther stood the thunder-box, also known as a primitive toilet. I installed a red flashing light nearby so it would be easy to find at night, and another white flashing light closer to our tents so we could locate them without wandering off into the forest. This may sound amusing, but on previous camping trips I had witnessed people get lost at night despite being very close to their tents—simply because they walked confidently in the wrong direction.
We pitched our tents close to each other, secured all food in the container, and finally relaxed. Due to the strong wind, we decided against having a campfire that first evening. The wind, however, had a major advantage: it kept mosquitoes at bay and significantly reduced the number of horse flies and deer flies, which were otherwise quite active. As on previous trips, we attached sticky patches to the tops of our hats. The results were immediate and satisfying—flies love hovering around heads, and within no time the patches were impressively populated, contributing noticeably to the local insect population decline.
Overall, mosquitoes were not too bad. They usually appeared in the evening and disappeared after about an hour. I believe there were some black flies as well, judging by a single unpleasant bite. At night, when I read with my headlamp on, tiny flying insects occasionally swarmed me, sometimes forcing a tactical retreat into the tent. There were also mayflies, though thankfully they did not seem overly interested in us.
Naturally, we had a campfire the next evening—and every evening after that. There was plenty of firewood everywhere. Numerous birch trees had fallen and were slowly rotting. While birch is not the easiest wood to burn when damp, once it dried sufficiently, it burned just fine and kept us warm and entertained.
From our campsite we could see motorboats speeding by, anglers trolling or casting, as well as kayakers and canoeists. Some were out for a leisurely day paddle, others were heading to or returning from their campsites. We chatted with several fishermen, all of whom reported that fishing was not particularly good. We tried ourselves, hoping at least for one fish for lunch or dinner, but without success. Fishing directly from the campsite was also challenging due to trees along the shore that interfered with casting, and rocks that eagerly grabbed our lures. Before long, our enthusiasm faded. Over the last two years, despite genuine effort, we had caught exactly three fish per year. The only comfort was that many other anglers—with far more expensive and sophisticated equipment—were doing no better. At least we were failing in good company.
Wildlife sightings were limited. We saw a chipmunk, a squirrel, a water snake swimming along the shore, and a snapping turtle. In the mornings we heard birds, and occasionally the distinctive drumming of woodpeckers echoed through the forest. At night, the lake came alive with the unforgettable calls of loons—yodeling and wailing—accompanied by barred owls whose voices carried far across the water. I was fairly confident that no larger animals—deer, raccoons, moose, or bears—visited our campsite.
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| Loon (source: Wikipedia) |
Because our site was relatively close to the parking lot, on two occasions we paddled back to the dock, “parked” the canoe (and, for added peace of mind, chained and locked it to a tree), and drove to the nearby community of
Restoule. There we visited
Gerry’s General Store (46°01'37.0"N 79°43'05.6"W / 46.026944, -79.718222), an old-fashioned general store that also sells gas and hard liquor, complete with a small LCBO outlet. We enjoyed good coffee, tasty pastries, and pleasant conversations with the friendly ladies working there. Nearby was a meat store offering excellent steaks—always a welcome discovery.
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| Gerry's General Store in Restoule |
We also drove about 45 km to
Powassan (46°04'50.4"N 79°21'38.9"W / 46.080667, -79.360806) to restock our food supplies, since fishing clearly was not going to support us. We walked around town, trying to recall coffee shops we had visited in
1999,
2000, and
2011, but all of them had long disappeared. We stopped by the library; although it was closed, the Wi-Fi was still on and the password conveniently posted on the door. This allowed us to check the weather, read emails, glance at the news, and make WhatsApp calls. Cell coverage in Restoule Park itself was very poor and almost nonexistent at our campsite—it sometimes took ages just to load a weather update.
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| Bucher's Store in Restoule |
One of the highlights of these short excursions was taking a hot shower at the “regular” drive-in campground. After several days of camping, it felt downright luxurious. Having a paddle-in campsite so close to the car turned out to be the best of both worlds: excellent privacy and a beautiful, secluded site combined with the option of quick trips to town, shopping, and proper showers.
We also drove around the park’s drive-in campgrounds. They appeared to be completely full, with no vacant sites in sight. Some offered more privacy than others, but in my opinion even the least impressive backcountry campsite surpassed the best drive-in campsite in terms of seclusion, peace, and overall wilderness experience.
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| Wow, what a brave and wonderful family! |
One day, while paddling back to our campsite, I noticed a canoe at the dock carrying two adults and four small children. Later, once we were out on Stormy Lake, we saw them again—still paddling confidently. I took a photo of this remarkable sight and spoke with them. I admired them greatly.
Over the years, I have met many people who were afraid to camp in provincial parks because they believed their children were too young—often when the kids were already 7 to 12 years old. “We’ll go when they’re older,” they would say. Ironically, when children grow older, they often no longer want to go camping with their parents at all. Even fewer parents imagine taking children canoeing, assuming it is dangerous and unsafe. Yet I have encountered loaded canoes carrying camping gear, two parents, and very young children—sometimes as young as two or three. The children wore special life jackets designed to flip them face-up if they fell into the water. One couple told me they had even practiced a canoe capsize with their kids, and the life jackets worked perfectly. They had no concerns about safety, only confidence and experience.
I should also mention that I brought along a
Bluetti Power Station AC2A (300 W) and a foldable
Allpowers Solar Panel SP12 (100 W). Charging the power station proved challenging because our campsite was heavily forested, forcing me to constantly reposition the solar panel. Since it was foldable, achieving the optimal angle toward the sun was difficult, so I mostly spread it flat on the ground. I managed to charge the battery to about 66% fairly quickly. Unfortunately, the following days were windy, rainy, and predictably cloudy. Without direct sunlight, the solar panel was essentially useless.
Of course, I brought several books with me—because no camping trip is complete without unrealistically optimistic reading plans—and managed to read two of them. The first was
Children of the Arbat by
Anatoly Rybakov, set during the Stalin era. I vividly remember when it was finally published in the Soviet Union in
1987 (even though it had been written long before). At the time, it was a major literary event—almost an explosion. Although I had owned the book for many years, only now did I finally have the time, peace, and persistence to read it properly.
It turned out to be a fascinating and powerful novel, and I immediately understood why its publication during the Perestroika era was so sensational. The book contained open criticism of the Soviet system and an unusually honest, bleak portrayal of Joseph Stalin as a paranoid, ruthless dictator—something that would have been absolutely unthinkable just a few years earlier. There were nights when it was well past midnight, tiny insects swarmed around my headlamp like devoted literary critics, and yet I kept reading, completely absorbed, ignoring both the time and the flies. Only later did I discover that
Children of the Arbat was the first book in a trilogy, which immediately went onto my “to be read” list.
The second book I read was also set in a communist country—
North Korea. It was
In Order to Live: A North Korean Girl’s Journey to Freedom by
Yeonmi Park. She fled North Korea with her mother in
2007 at the age of 13 and reached South Korea two years later after an almost unimaginable ordeal. It is an ugly, painful, and deeply shameful story—being sold together with her mother into slave marriages by Chinese brokers, enduring abuse, fear, and total uncertainty.
Initially, when trying to blend into South Korean society, she attempted to suppress and hide many of the most painful details of her experience. Eventually, she realized that telling her story openly could help and inspire others. Another powerful motivation was her sister, who had escaped earlier and disappeared somewhere in China for years. Going public was, in part, an attempt to find her. Having watched many documentaries about North Korea, I was not entirely surprised by descriptions of life inside that prison-like country. However, reading about her suffering outside North Korea—in supposedly “free” China—was shocking and profoundly sad. It made for heavy reading, but also important reading.
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| Clip from the movie "Backcountry". The main character (Missy Peregrym) standing at the Stormy Lake parking lot, staring at the lake she and her partner are going to paddle on. Will both of them return? |
For movie fans, there is an interesting cinematic connection to
Restoule Provincial Park. In the fall of 2013, parts of the movie
Backcountry (starring
Missy Peregrym and
Jeff Roop) were filmed here. Since Catherine and I stayed in Restoule in
September 2013, filming likely took place shortly after our departure. Several scenes were shot in the park:
• The couple’s arrival at the park.
• Their brief visit to the park office (the original building has since been replaced by a larger one).
• The parking lot where the couple parked their car, as well as the scene where they depart from the dock on their backcountry trip—both filmed at the Stormy Lake parking lot. Yes, this is the very same parking lot where we parked our car and the same dock from which we departed (and, thankfully, returned in one piece—unlike the couple in the movie).
• Even more interestingly, our backcountry campsite, B-3, across the lake—t
he one we had stayed at in 2013—can be briefly seen in the film.
• The final scene of the movie was also filmed at the same parking lot.
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| If there is a will, there is a way! |
We left our campsite on July 2, 2025. Naturally, packing the canoe once again required considerable effort and a fair amount of strategic thinking. However, once we started paddling, the wind—so unhelpful upon arrival—decided to cooperate and gently pushed us toward the dock. The crossing took only about 20 minutes. We loaded everything into the car, hoisted the canoe onto the roof, and strapped it down securely. At the parking lot, I chatted with a gentleman who had just finished his fishing trip using a small kayak; he cheerfully informed me that he had caught several bass. Timing, as always, is everything.
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| Rock n' Duck Resto on Highway 124 in Whitestone, Ontario |
Before leaving the park and heading home, we were really looking forward to one final hot shower. Unfortunately, fate intervened once again: there was a power outage, and the showers were not working. We drove around
Commanda Lake instead and briefly stopped at
Commanda Lake Resort, where we had rented a cottage back in
1999. The place had changed dramatically over the years—almost unrecognizable.
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| We always like stopping at this Salvation Army Thrift Store-after all, it's very close to No Frills and Tim Hortons. I spend 90% of my time in the book section, of course! |
Rather than taking Highway 11 straight home, I decided to drive west on Highway 124 and then continue on Highway 400. It turned out to be a very pleasant and scenic drive, a fitting transition from wilderness back to everyday life.
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| In Parry Sound, under the trestle and historical plaque depicting a 1915 painting of this trestle by Tom Thomson, a famous Canadian Painter |
We stopped in
Parry Sound, where we first visited the Salvation Army Thrift Shop—always an entertaining experience—then went to No Frills to buy salad, bread, cheese, and tomatoes. After grabbing a couple of coffees at Tim Hortons, we drove to James Street, parked the car, and had lunch on the semi-abandoned dock under the trestle. This spot has been a traditional lunch location for me, Catherine, and Chris for over 15 years.
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TRESTLE AT PARRY SOUND, 1914
Tom Thomson paddled into the mouth of the Seguin River one evening in mid-July, 1914. He had come from Go Home Bay, stopping to stay in the South Channel for a few days. Seeing the new CPR trestle, the longest bridge east of the Rockies, and the Parry Sound Lumber Company aglow in the setting sun, he selected one of his 8” by 10” wooden boards, and made this evocative sketch in less than an hour.
Today Tom Thomson is acknowledged as Canada’s foremost painter. Those small wooden boards he gave to friends can be worth more than a million dollars.
What he saw in 1914: Fifty years after the lumbering began, logs, arriving down the river, are trimmed and cut into the mills. The river is dammed; both shores are lined with tramways, thousands of boards feet of lumber piled high, waiting to be loaded in ships. The lumber goes to railheads around the Great Lakes to build the cities of North America and the world. Seven years later, the last of the mills had burned to the ground, and Parry Sound had welcomed the first of the cruise ships with visitors to enjoy the natural beauty of the area |
I also took a few photos of the Golden Dragon Restaurant at 2 James Street. Back in 2008, it was a coffee shop, and after meeting Catherine for the first time just three days earlier during a camping trip in a nearby park, Catherine, her friend Jane, Guy, and I met there for coffee, pastries, and drinks on the patio.
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| Currently the Golden Dragon Restaurant; in 2008 it was a coffee shop |
Overall, I had a great time in Restoule Provincial Park. Chris, however, had a longer list of complaints: mosquitoes, deer flies, horse flies, limited space on the campsite for his daily walks, slippery and sharp rocks, and the difficulty of fishing from shore. I listened patiently and suggested that next time he rent a four- or five-star cottage—with a screened porch, an easy-access dock, and perhaps even a professional fishing guide.
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| Our awesome campsite! |
Nevertheless, despite all of that, we are planning to return to Restoule in 2026—perhaps choosing a campsite even closer to the parking lot, which is also very scenic. Some places, no matter how many times you visit them, still manage to pull you back.
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