My Ontario Outdoor Adventures: CAMPING IN ARROWHEAD PROVINCIAL PARK, ONTARIO. JULY 20-24, 2023

Google satellite map of Arrowhead Park. It shows the Big East River and plenty of oxbow lakes, formed after meanders in the river have been breached. Over time, an oxbow lake gradually fills with sediment and organic material, eventually transforming into a swamp or bog, and finally drying up into a meander scar on the landscape. This process occurs because the lake is cut off from the main river's flow and loses its water source to evaporation, while also collecting sediment and plant debris. It is possible to see such meander scars on the map as well. The red dot marks our campsite.

THIS IS AN INTERACTIVE GOOGLE MAP OF OUR TRIP

I should have brought my canoe and fishing equipment-we could have canoed and fished just at our campsite!

After the rather disappointing trip to the French River, we were eager for a change of pace. This time, we wanted a “regular” camping experience—easily accessible by car, with fewer uncertainties and more predictable conditions. Arrowhead Provincial Park seemed perfect. Months earlier, I had reserved our campsite, number 337 (45°22'47.2"N 79°12'25.7"W), the very same spot I had stayed at before. The fire ban had finally been lifted, and the weather forecast looked promising—at least, relatively normal for midsummer—so we could anticipate the simple pleasure of an evening campfire, long missed on our previous adventure.

Our campsite #337. Fortunately, water did not collect on the campsite, just in the "driveway" only

Interestingly, for the first time, no printed permit was required. The park sign clearly stated that if you had a reserved site, you could drive straight there. I silently congratulated modern bureaucracy for once being convenient instead of the usual headache.

The tarp turned out to be very useful. Somehow we did not mind the rain-it was gone very quickly

When we arrived at our site, we found it dotted with large puddles from recent rains. Anticipating the showers forecasted, we immediately set about pitching our tents and tarp. It was a wise decision—by the time we finished, the sky opened, and heavy rain poured down. We took shelter in the car for a while, listening to the rhythm of water falling on the roof, waiting for it to ease. Once it subsided, we assessed the site: the puddles had grown even larger, reminding me that a canoe could have been very useful, and that fishing right at our campsite might have been possible. Still, the wood I had hidden under the tarp remained perfectly dry. Soon, we were seated around a warm campfire, enjoying glasses of red wine, reveling in the quiet, soothing sounds of the forest around us. Later in the afternoon, we drove into Huntsville, a charming city nearby (45°19'35.0"N 79°13'06.2"W). We wandered a bit, picking up some supplies and enjoying the town’s relaxed pace.

This is the park's major attraction, the Big Bend Lookout

While in the park, we decided to explore a bit. Our first stop was the Big Bend Lookout, a short hike offering a panoramic view of the meandering Big East River (45°23'18.4"N 79°11'30.0"W / 45.388444, -79.191667). The river carved its way through the lush Muskoka terrain, the sunlight glinting off gentle curves of water. The surrounding forests were alive with bird songs, the occasional rustle of small mammals moving through the underbrush, and the rich earthy scent that only a post-rain forest can deliver.

Robinson's General Store in Dorset

Afterwards, we headed toward Dorset, a tiny community perched between Big and Little Trading Bay on Lake of Bays. The Dorset Channel connects the two bays, and the water gleamed under the afternoon sun. The famous Robinson’s General Store (45°14'41.0"N 78°53'38.0"W) was our first stop. The store, operating under the same family ownership from 1921 until 2023, retained its classic charm It had all the charm of a bygone era: wooden shelves stacked with preserves, handmade goods, and trinkets that made you consider, briefly, that your urban life was missing something. Catherine had always loved visiting here during our trips, enjoying ice cream. This time, Chris and I indulged in ice cream, sitting outside near the narrow channel while watching boats glide past in the narrows. Lake of Bays clearly catered to an upscale crowd; the cottages scattered along the shore spoke of wealth and taste, and even groceries were priced accordingly—steaks selling for nearly $200 per kilogram was a stark reminder.

Dorset, the channel

In 2017 a plaque ( in the English and the Ojibwe language) was unveiled there, commemorating the Anishinaabeg at Lake of Bays:

THE ANISHINAABEG AT LAKE OF BAYS

A water-based people, the Anishinaabeg – the original people of this region – were a hunter-gatherer society that often travelled here to the narrows at Trading Bay (Lake of Bays). The area that is now Dorset was a special, spiritual place abundant in natural resources. For thousands of years the Anishinaabeg set up small camps here harvesting maple syrup and birch bark, fishing and trading in the spring and summer, and hunting and trapping during the fall and winter. Eventually, the Anishinaabeg realized that their hunting and harvesting rights and territory had been lost through a series of treaties. They continued to travel to the region to work as fishing and hunting guides and trading with seasonal tourists and cottagers. The descendants of the Anishinaabeg are members of the seven First Nations of the Williams Treaties (1923), the nearest of which is the Chippewas of Rama First Nation. The legacy of the original inhabitants lives on through the many landmarks, rivers, lakes, and islands that bear Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe) place names.

Welcome to Dorset!

Later I revisited the Herb Lake put-in point (45°14'44.8"N 78°47'39.1"W), where Catherine and I had spent a week canoeingin 2016 (https://ontario-nature.blogspot.com/2017/08/haliburton-highlands-herb-lake-ontario.html). The memories came rushing back: mist hovering over the water, quiet paddle strokes, loons calling in the distance. Even without the canoe, it felt as though the lake was whispering, “Welcome back, old friend.”

Mr. Albert Maw, the legendary canoe maker

A real highlight was visiting Mr. Albert Maw, the legendary local canoe maker behind Northland Canoes (45°27'22.5"N 79°13'15.1"W). I wrote about Mr. Maw in my other blog, https://ontario-nature.blogspot.com/2023/05/arrowhead-provincial-park-ontario.html. I thought he wasn’t home, as there were eggs for sale and no one in sight—perfect opportunity to leave money in an envelope, Canadian-style (although this system of trust would rarely work in Toronto). But suddenly, Mr. Maw appeared. At 89, he was remarkably spry, full of stories and sharp wit. He shared accounts of accidents he had endured over the years, even showing me some disfigured bones, yet despite the physical toll, he seemed vibrant and energetic. We then walked to his workshop, where he was repairing an old canoe, replacing ribs and attending to decades-old wood. He mentioned this would be the last canoe he worked on, having decided to retire—but I’m convinced he’ll find a thousand other ways to keep busy, active and creative. Watching him work was inspiring; his focus and dedication were a testament to a life lived fully in harmony with craft and nature.

Mr. Maw was working on this canoe and he said it was his last!

Packing up, we took one last walk around the campsite. The trees, the river, and the open skies had provided a welcome contrast to the French River experience. By 8:30 am on July 24, 2025, our tents were packed, the tarp folded, and the campsite returned to its natural state. Arrowhead had given us exactly what we needed: a manageable adventure, a touch of nostalgia, and a quiet connection to the natural world—reminding me that camping, whether canoeing through remote rivers or driving to a car-accessible park, always has the power to recharge the spirit. As we drove away, I felt a profound gratitude for the simple pleasures of camping: fire, forest, water, and the quiet joy of shared moments in nature.