Six
Mile Lake Provincial Park may not rank among Ontario’s top
destinations, and it does have its drawbacks—many visitors complain
about traffic noise from Highway 400. Yet its proximity to Toronto
(169 km), along with its lakes, forests, beaver ponds, beaches, and
scenic trails, makes it a wonderful place to visit.
Park Road
My
first visit to this park took place in July 1993, just a month after
I had purchased a brand-new Toyota Corolla, with Tadeusz Pasek,
a well-known Polish yoga instructor, and his son Chris. The next day,
we rented a motorboat and spent the entire day—from sunrise to
sunset—on Georgian Bay, fishing. I remember that we caught plenty
of fish. On
the adjacent campsite a gentleman of Japanese origin and his family
was camping. It turned out that his name was Fujimoto and he was
professor of physics. Not only that—he knew quite well Chris’
university friend as well! Isn't the world a small place? Since
then
I
have visited the
park
over 20 times.
After
a few days of solo camping in 2024, my friend Guy joined me.
Although the park was packed over that popular weekend, we only saw a
handful of occupied sites around the beaver pond. Otherwise, we
barely noticed the crowds, as we spent our time in long, engaging
conversations, sharing stories from our lives and camping adventures.
Back
in 2009,
Guy had founded and led a www.meetup.comgroup
called “Toronto
Weekend Adventurers”,
which quickly grew to thousands of members and organized countless
events. Although he had
not
been active in the group for years, he still had
a wealth of fascinating stories to tell!
**********
If
you’ve read my other blogs, you’ve probably come across more than
one instance of my favorite theme: the
world is a small place.
These moments usually come with a story attached—and, as I
mentioned Guy earlier, this seems like the perfect opportunity to
share yet another one.
Guy brought a huge Bluetti Power Station as well as 400 W Solar Panels, which very quickly recharged the power station. In addition, he brought a plug-in 12 V fridge. The fridge, of course made in China, had the following label attached:
Guy’s
father was a Belgian official who served in the Belgian
Congo during the 1950s and 1960s. Although Guy
himself was born in Belgium, he spent several formative years living
in the Congo. The country became independent on June 30, 1960,
with Patrice Lumumba assuming office as its first head of
government.
The apartment building on the left--44 Syreny Street--even my balcony on the 6th floor is visible! The other similar buildings behind it were located on Lumumby Street (now Płocka Street). This photo was part of a documentary, made in 1969
Before
continuing, allow me a short personal detour—because this is, after
all, a story within a story within yet another story. As a child,
from 1963 to 1969, I lived on Syreny Street in Warsaw,
Poland. Not far from our home was a street named after Patrice
Lumumba. As a result, I became familiar with that name at a very
young age, long before I had any real understanding of who he was.
Later, driven by curiosity, I looked him up and learned more about
him. On more than one occasion in adult life, I managed to impress my
conversation partners by correctly pronouncing his name and casually
explaining who he was and why he mattered. As for Lumumba Street
itself, it existed under that name from 1961 until 1993,
when—following the fall of communism—it reverted to its original
historical name, Płocka Street.
But
back to the Congo. Only a week after independence, a violent
rebellion broke out, and in many regions Europeans became direct
targets. Within weeks, the Belgian military—followed by a United
Nations intervention force—began evacuating the vast majority of
the more than 80,000 Belgians who were still living and working in
the country. Among those evacuated were Guy and his family, who
eventually returned safely to Belgium, where they were welcomed by
Queen Elisabeth of Bavaria(Elisabeth Gabriele Valérie
Marie), the Queen Dowager.
After
his Congo assignment, Guy’s father continued his diplomatic career,
becoming a Belgian consular official (and for a time a consul) first
in New York City and later in Toronto—where he lived
along with his family, of course. Although I met both Guy and his
father only in 2007, it’s quite possible that our paths had
crossed many times long before that. The Belgian Consulate in
Toronto was located on the 19th floor of the Royal Bank
Building at 8 King Street East—a building that, when completed in
1915, was the tallest in the British Empire.
In front of 8 King Street East in Toronto, with my friend and co-worker. This photo was taken on August 03, 1985-over 40 years ago!
Nota
bene, almost directly vis-à-vis that office building
stood the famous King Edward Hotel, where in May 1969John Lennon and Yoko Ono stayed in the same Royal Suite
in which the Beatles had lived in 1964. During that visit,
they held press conferences promoting their “bed-in for peace”
campaign and met with fans and the media just a few days before their
famous Montreal bed-in.
King Edward Hotel in Toronto. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:King_Edward_Hotel_2025.jpg
Also,
during her stay in Toronto in 1988 for the G7
Summit, British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher stayed at
the King Edward Hotel. That day I was, for
the first time, late for work, having waited in front of it
for half an hour before she finally appeared and waved in our
direction.
8 King Street East, Toronto-The Royal Bank Building. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Royal_Bank_Building_Toronto_1.jpg
As
it happens, at the end of 1982 I landed my very first job in
Canada in that same building, 8 King Street East, also on the 19th floor, in
a small investmentbrokerage
firm. From time to time, I would run
into employees of the Belgian Consulate—quite possibly including
Guy’s father—without having the slightest idea of how our lives
would later intersect.
**********
In September, 2025, I invited Guy again along with two other friends, but
the forecast called for days of rain, so no one came. I decided to go
anyway and left home early morning. I stopped at Tim Hortons jus off Highways 400 in King City, my de rigueur stop for decades (43°53'42.1"N 79°33'28.6"W / 43.895030, -79.557930).
I noticed a big sign: "Pumpkin is Here" (Starbucks advertising Pumpkin Cream Cold Brew and Pumpkin Spice Latter). I immediately took a photo and sent it to Catherine with the following message: "It says that you are here, but I can't find you!" Just to clarify: I often call Catherine "Pumpkin"!
Later I stopped in another Tim Hortons in Port Severn, arriving on Tuesday, September 23, 2025. It was cloudy, hot, and humid; the rain held off until
late evening. I camped on the same campsite
Guy and I had camped in 2024.Thanks to my tarp, I was able to sit outside comfortably while
it poured through the night and early morning.
In September, 2025, I pitched the tent on the same spot
The
gentle sound of rain on the tent was so soothing that, after waking
around 8 a.m., I drifted back to sleep and finally got up at 11 a.m.,
just as the rain stopped. From Friday through Monday the weather
turned sunny and dry, and I was very glad I hadn’t canceled the
trip.
The view from my campsite was just awesome!
For
the first four nights, I seemed to be the only camper in my area—pure
serenity! The park filled up for the weekend, but by Sunday evening
it was quiet again, most sites already vacant.
During
both trips, I pitched my tent in the same spot—about 2 meters from
the beaver pond and 7 meters from the beaver lodge. It’s one of the
most beautiful places in the park, in my opinion. I spent hours
watching the beavers, who were especially active in September
2025. At almost any time, one or more could be seen swimming,
dragging branches, eating, grooming, or waddling awkwardly on land
near my site. Sometimes I saw as many as four at once!
Even very hardworking beavers sometimes decide to give up their "project"!
They
weren’t exactly tame, but as long as I simply observed or took
photos, they ignored my presence. Watching them was endlessly
entertaining. At night, as I drifted off to sleep, I’d hear their
loud tail slaps echoing across the pond.
The beaver pond and (on the right) the beaver dam, without which it would become a muddy, shallow swamp
In
previous years, I’d often seen a greatblue heron at
the beaver pond, but none appeared during these trips. A warden later
told me that herons had still been sighted recently, so perhaps it
was just temporary. Most migrate south by mid-September, so I
probably missed them.
Chipmunks were always chasing one another and collected acorns
The
only other animals I saw regularly were chipmunks, scurrying
back and forth collecting acorns. Being territorial, they frequently
chased one another away. Surprisingly, they were not very friendly
and never approached me—unlike in many parks, where chipmunks
quickly associate people with food.
View from my campsite
Black
bears are rare here, and staff confirmed there had been no
sightings for months. Raccoons, though often active at night,
didn’t appear during either of my visits. Although rattlesnakes
were in the area (I encountered one in 2022), there were none
in the park due to the tens of thousands of tourists visiting the
park every year.
View of my tent from a campsite on the opposite end of the beaver pond
When
camping with Guy, we had a campfire each night and stayed up past
midnight talking. He brought along a new Bluetti Power Station
and four solar panels, which he charged under the sunny skies. In
2025, I brought a smaller Bluetti Power Station of my
own—enough for my modest needs. Since the weather was cloudy, I
skipped the solar panel and instead charged it at the park’s
comfort station. Using the “turbo charge” mode, it reached almost
full power in under an hour, while I relaxed in the car with a book
or took a refreshing shower in the new facilities.
I
didn’t bother with campfires in 2025—I don’t
particularly enjoy sitting by one alone. For breakfast I had fiber
cereal along with six lemons and two oranges, which I squeezed into a
large glass of fresh juice each morning. One day I drove to Port
Severn’s Tim Hortons
(44°53'53.7"N 79°45'22.7"W / 44.898250, -79.756306)for coffee and a muffin.
Do not laugh, but this was my daily breakfast!
On
Saturday, September
27, 2025,
I drove to the Canadian
Martyrs’ Shrine
in Midland
(44°44'11.8"N 79°50'32.2"W / 44.736611, -79.842278) to
attend an evening healing Mass celebrated by Fr.
John O’Brien, S.J.,
whom I had first met in Midland
on
August
7,
2022
and
who also directed retreats at the Manresa
Jesuit Retreat Center
in Pickering,
Ontario, which I had attended annually since 1994. After
the Mass, I stopped by Walmart to buy a fresh salad—after several
days without greens, my body was craving them!
The Martyrs' Shrine in Midland, Ontario
Just
a few meters from the beaver pond, beside my tent, I found a rock
formation shaped like a “chair,” where I could sit fairly
comfortably. I set up my phone on a tripod and used it to talk with
people worldwide through an English-practice app. Because the
background included the pond, trees, and beaver lodge, some of my
conversation partners thought I was using a virtual background—until
they saw a real beaver swim by, at which point they were in awe of
Canadian nature!
My favourite spot next to my tent, where I read books, watched the beavers or chatted on cam
Along
with my Chromebook, I brought several books, though I spent little
time reading—I much preferred soaking in the natural surroundings.
I did, however, finish Life
on the Color Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who Discovered He
Was Black
by Gregory Howard Williams, a fascinating memoir. Williams grew up in
1950s Virginia believing he was White—his
dark-skinned father passed as Italian-American—but after moving to
Muncie,
Indiana,
he learned the truth about his heritage and began living, along
with his brother,
as Black. Despite poverty and hardship, he earned multiple degrees
and eventually became president of the University of Cincinnati and
later of the City College of New York.
The
author was brutally honest, describing his life. When he moved with
his father to Indiana and started living as Black, his mother left
him, his brother and his father and lived far from them. One day his
father said to him that he saw his mother, who lived in Washington
“with that black bastard she ran off with” and “asked how you
boys were doing”. When the author’s brother asked his father what
he told her, his father said, “I told her you were in Muncie,
learning how to be niggers!”
Gregory Howard Williams
After
finishing the book, I wanted to write him a note of appreciation,
only to learn that he had passed away just a month earlier, on August
12, 2025, at age 81.
Morning exercises as well as listening to an audiobook
Several
times I stopped by the park store for coffee ($2.15 per cup) and
enjoyed chatting with a friendly warden who shared a few stories
about the park and his work.
One of the better campsites in the park, on which I used to camp numerous times with Catherine, Chris, Patrizia, Guy and Zoran
I
left the park on September 29, 2025, fairly early. Traffic was light, but
approaching Toronto, I decided to make life easier by taking the toll
highway 407 and avoiding possible congestion on Highway 401.
One more photograph showing the view from my campsite!
Both
outings were easy, peaceful, and thoroughly enjoyable. And while I
love camping in more remote locations, I’d gladly return to Six
Mile Lake Provincial Park anytime—even for just a few days!
VIDEO FROM THIS TRIP IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS BLOG OR YOU CAN WATCH IT HERE
INTRODUCTION:
RETURNING TO THE FRENCH RIVER—A SUMMER OF BLUEBERRIES, RAINS, AND
MEMORIES
For
decades, the French River has been a magical
destination for canoeists, campers, and nature lovers. Known for its
pristine waters, rugged islands, and historical significance as a fur
trade route, it has inspired countless adventures, including mine.
July 2024 offered another chance to reconnect with
this iconic river—this time, with Chris,
our canoe, and an appetite for blueberries (and, admittedly, just a
tiny hope for decent fishing).
The map of the area we were camping. Our campsite is in red
We
set out from Mississauga, navigating post-storm
flooding(120 mm of rain
in just one hour),highway detours,
and unexpected downpours, only to discover once again that the French
River rewards patience and curiosity. From hidden peninsulas and
quiet bays to encounters with fellow campers, buzzing deer flies, and
a few mysterious sounds from the rapids, the river reminded us why it
has captivated adventurers for centuries. Along the way, we
discovered that the world is indeed a small place, with paths
crossing in the most unexpected ways—sometimes through a blog,
sometimes through shared memories of a campsite decades old.
The map of the area we were camping. Our campsite is in red
Whether
revisiting old haunts like Boomerang/Banana
Island,
meeting the friendly and remarkable Alex Strachan at
the Lodge at Pine Cove, or just losing ourselves in blueberry
bushes, this trip combined the joys of wilderness, nostalgia, and
gentle surprises that only a river like the French can provide.
Satellite map of our campsite #313 (#322)
LEAVING
VERY RAINY MISSISSAUGA, CAMPING TWO NIGHTS IN GRUNDY LAKE PROVINCIAL
PARK AND SURVIVING A DOWNPOUR
We
left Toronto on July 16, 2024,
right after the huge rainstorm (120
mm in just a few hours)
that caused widespread flooding across the GTA
(Greater Toronto
Area).
It took us almost 2 hours
to drive from Mississauga to King
City, as the 410
was closed and the 401
resembled a parking lot. After over
5 hours
and 316 km,
we arrived at Grundy Lake Provincial Park, where we
spent2 nights on campsite #118
(45°55'44.8"N
80°33'02.3"W / 45.929111, -80.550639),
waiting for the weather to improve—and I’m glad we did, as we
experienced extremely heavy
rains the next day.
While
staying in the park, we drove to the Hungry Bear Restaurant,
the Trading Post, the French River Visitors’
Center, and the town of Noëlville. On our
drive back to the park viaHighway
400, we were hit by
a wave of such intense rain that visibility dropped to just a few
meters. I had no choice but to pull over and wait it out. By the time
we returned to the park, there were huge puddles everywhere—but
our Eureka El Capitan 3 tents did not leak.
Grundy Lake Provincial Park, Ontario-our campsite #118
The
campsite itself was quite nice. There was a canoe launch just across
from our spot, and I noticed a beautiful wooden canoe. Its owner was
staying on the adjacent campsite, and we spent some time chatting
about canoes and canoeing in general. It turned out he was also from
Mississauga, so we were practically neighbors!
Grundy Lake Provincial Park, Ontario-in front of our campsite #118, after a huge downpour
CROSSING
PATHS WITH CAMPER CHRISTINA
I
often say that the world is a small place. It may sound like a
cliché, but it’s true! In February, 2025, I went
to the annual Outdoor Adventure Show in Mississauga,
where I met Camper Christina, creator of the popular
YouTubechannel as well as her blog,
which I had been following for about2 years.
She
has completed numerous canoe and camping trips, many in the winter
(and she still sleeps in a tent heated with a wood stove), and posts
very detailed videos documenting her adventures. While watching her
videos or reading her blog, I often spotted familiar
areaswhere
I had paddled and camped in the past—sometimes even recognizing
specific campsites I had stayed on!
Campsite #118 in Grundy Lake Provincial Park, Ontario
Recently,
while reading her blog, I realized our paths had crossed again: in
2015, she had camped at this
very campsite (#118) in
Grundy Lake Provincial Park, and she mentioned it here.
GRUNDY
LAKE SUPPLY POST AND THE LODGE AT PINE COVE ON WOLSELEY BAY
On
July 18, 2024, we packed up and drove to Grundy
Lake Supply Post (45°54'45.2"N
80°33'34.2"W / 45.912556, -80.559500)
to get gas. It used to be located at the intersection of Highways
69 & 522, and
in 2010,
Catherine and I
bought our canoe there. Because of the construction of the new
Highway 400
(which, according to the owner, “was going to pass through my
kitchen”), the Supply Post relocated one
kilometer east,
just across from the entrance to Grundy Lake
Provincial Park. Lo and behold, it was the same owner
dispensing gas! He recognized me and even remembered selling us the
canoe 14 years ago.
The Lodge at Pine Cover, our put-in point. We had to carry our equipment and the canoe on these stairs
After
getting our camping permits
from the French River Visitor Center, we paid
a quick visit to Noëlville again and then drove to
The Lodge at Pine Cove on Wolseley Bay (46°05'39.3"N
80°13'45.2"W / 46.094250, -80.229222).
It was a very nice place, though we couldn’t access the water
directly—we had to use stairs to carry the canoe and our gear.
Parking was also a few hundred meters from the put-in point. After
just over an hour, we were finally on the water, commencing our
search for a campsite.
CHANGES
IN FRENCH RIVER PROVINCIAL PARK OVER THE PAST 30 YEARS AND LOOKING
FOR A CAMPSITE
During
my first trip to the French River in August,
1995, it was a park, but there were no official
campsites—camping was free. Several years later, a payment system
was introduced along with designated
and numbered campsites,
which in 2024
cost about $10 per
person per day
(with some discounts available). Nevertheless, it was still possible
to pick any vacant campsite on a first-come-first-serve
basis. I liked
this system—we didn’t have to worry about reservations or leaving
a campsite on a strict schedule (tricky when the wind was strong).
Well,
enjoy it while it lasts! 2024
was the last year that no
reservationwas
required. Starting in 2025, campers must book a
specific numbered campsite for a set period.
Of
course, we wanted to camp on “Boomerang,”
aka “Banana Island”, our favourite campsite,
which I had described in my blogs in 2011
and 2013.
By the way, a few years ago, bureaucrats decided to renumber
all campsites in
the park—so I list the old
number first, then the new number in brackets.
While paddling to our destination, we passed another lodge
We
reached the island in about 30
minutesand
eagerly looked for any camping gear—but alas, it was occupied! We
continued to campsite
#322 (#334)
(46°04'58.9"N 80°11'49.2"W / 46.083030, -80.196990)
on a nearby island. It was vacant, albeit hilly.
We realized we’d have to carry all our gear up the hill to set up
the tents. The fire pit was full of metal cans—at least no broken
glass this time! While I was willing to stay, Chris
wanted to check a different campsite.
We were surrounded by beautiful scenery
Next,
we paddled to campsite
#323 (#335) (46°04'56.6"N
80°12'04.9"W / 46.082380, -80.201370), but even
from the canoe, it didn’t look appealing. Then we moved toward a
cluster of campsites not far from the Five Finger Rapids.
We passed campsite
#316 (#328)
(46°05'18.6"N 80°10'25.1"W / 46.088500, -80.173639)—not
bad, but too close to other campsites, so we continued our search.
THE
WORLD IS A SMALL PLACE: AN EMAIL FROM LINDSAY
Now
I’d like to share an interesting story, which again
confirms that the world is a very small
place. On
May 1, 2024, less than 3
months before our trip, I got an email from Lindsay,
who had come across my blog while trying to figure out exactly where
she had camped in the past. She used to camp at sites #313
and #314 every summer with her dad, who, sadly,
passed away suddenly in 2020.
She
said that back then she didn’t care much about GPS coordinates, but
ironically, she had become a geologist
and now loved coordinates 😂! She asked if I could help her locate
the exact sites, hoping to return someday in honour of her dad.
Of
course, I sent her an email with the exact
coordinatesof the campsites and even attached
a scanned French River
Provincial Park map.
Campsite number 314 (323). Further down you can see our campsite number 313 (322)
Fast
forward to our trip: we were approaching campsites
#314 (#323) and
#313 (#322)—yes, the very ones Lindsay and her dad had
stayed on! Both faced a small bay and were vacant. Not wanting to
paddle any further, Chris
chose the second one, #313 (#322) (46°05'32.7"N
80°10'10.0"W / 46.092417, -80.169444).
It turned out to be an excellent choice!
When
Lindsay contacted me in May, 2024, I had no
idea where we would go for our vacation. Canoeing on
Wolseley Bay was just one of about seven
possible destinations,
and at the time, I thought we might end up car-camping,
since Chris wasn’t very enthusiastic about paddling far to reach a
campsite. Yet not only did we canoe on Wolseley Bay, we somehow ended
up on the exact
campsite she had mentioned!
SETTING
UP TENTS ON CAMPSITE NUMBER 313 (322), GORGING ON BLUEBERRIES AND... HIDING ELEPHANTS?
Although
there were flat spots for tents on the left and on a bare rocky hill
(covered with smaller rocks, no doubt used by previous campers to
secure tent ropes, since pegs were impossible), we set up our tents
close to the water on thesloping
rocky ground. My
tent was next to an unused fire pit—the main fire pit was closer to
the water.
Campsite #313 (322). Our tents were very close to the water
Several
days later, Chris
realized water was seeping from the rock right under his tent, so he
moved it about 25
meters to the left.
On the other side of the campsite, he enjoyed a stunning view of a
scenic bay with rocky shores—yes, our campsite sat on a small
peninsula. When I
walked north for
over 100 meters, I
could see the bay and Hall Island, which was
private and had a few buildings.
Remnants of an old structure on our campsite
Near
my tent were remnants of an old structure, perhaps a shed or shelter.
Unfortunately, despite our thorough search, there was no thunder-box
(toilet) on the campsite. Later, I managed to walk
through the dense forest to the one belonging to the adjacent
campsite, #314 (#323) (46°05'29.7"N
80°10'11.9"W / 46.091583, -80.169972).
Perhaps it was meant to be shared—but I can’t imagine navigating
that in the dark!
Blueberries were plentiful!
We
arrived at the peak of
blueberry season,
and the bushes were everywhere. I often spent 5
minutes in one spot
picking berries. I hardly touched the breakfast I brought—I
probably consumed up
to 2 liters of blueberries every day!Fortunately, we didn’t have competition from black bears; we
were told none had been sighted that year, likely because there wereplenty of
blueberries for
everyone.
I
was also reminded of a joke I once heard from a friend back in high
school, also about blueberries.
— Why
do elephants have eyes like blueberries?
— So they can hide in
blueberry bushes.
— ?
— Have you ever seen an elephant
in a blueberry bush?
— No? Exactly — see how well it was
hiding? 😄
Indeed,
I never saw an elephant—it must have been hiding quite well! The
only animals we saw were chipmunks, squirrels, mice, seagulls,
turtles, huge ravens, and some birds of prey. I heard a
woodpecker occasionally but didn’t see it. I’m pretty sure
nothing else visited at night. Once, a Whitespotted
Sawyer, a
wood-boring beetle, sat on my tent. I also spent time observing
spiders, which proved surprisingly entertaining.
VERY
DISAPPOINTING FISHING EXPERIENCE AND MODERATE BUG ACTIVITY
We
were looking forward to finally
catching and eating some fish.
On the second day, I caught a pike,
which we quickly cooked over the fire—but that was the only fish we
caught (except for two
small pikes, which
we released). We often sat on the shore watching fishermen
in motorboats,
equipped with top-of-the-line gear and fish-finders—they weren’t
catching anything either. Unfortunately, we were in very
good company this year!
Local residents and tourists confirmed that fishing had worsened on
the French River,
supposedly due to overfishing.
We were fishing from the canoe and from the shore, yet the results were the same: no fish!
Last
year (2023), we spent 16 days camping and canoeing on the French River, south of Hartley Bay, and
caught three pikes—other
anglers had similar results. 15–30
years ago, I rarely
spent more than one
hour fishing before
catching a decent-sized fish. Nowadays, fishing had become a rather
fruitless activity. And to be clear, we weren’t after a trophy pike
or musky—all we wanted was one
or two fish for dinner.
I also spent a lot of time trolling while paddling—again, in
vain.
Interestingly,
the2024
fishing regulations
introduced a new
“Waterbody Exception”
for our area: the daily catch limit for pike was decreased from 6
to 4, and size
restrictions were added. Not that it affected us—we rarely exceed
the daily catch limit… in one
year! No wonder
avid anglers travel far north or fly to remote lodges—they simply
can’t fish successfully in the more accessible parts of the
river anymore.
Enjoying a campfire on our campsite
During
our stay, we were annoyed
by pesky deer flies,
hovering over our heads, but they were manageable. Around 9:30
pm, mosquitoes
appeared. They were bothersome, but DEET
helped a lot, and after less than an hour, their numbers decreased
significantly. In 2023,
on the other hand, swarms of mosquitoes made evenings miserable, and
bug spray barely helped. That year, a fire
ban forced us
indoors by 9:00 pm. This time, the campfire
every eveningwas
a very effective mosquito deterrent. Occasional (heavy) rain didn’t
bother us as much—it helped us maintain our nightly ritual!
PASSING
WATERCRAFT, HOT AND SUNNY WEATHER, SIGNS OF RECENT FOREST FIRE AND
OUR SEARCH FOR CELL PHONE COVERAGE
Every
day, many motorboats,
including pontoons,
passed not far from our campsite, some full of people seemingly
having the time of
their lives. A few
times, they docked at campsite
#314 (#323), and both kids and adults spent hours frolicking
in the water and diving from the rocks. We saw canoes and kayaks, but
not many—and none approached us or tried to camp on the other
campsite. Twice, we spotted tents on campsite #316 (#328)
from our side. I suspect most canoeists headed to the Five
Finger Rapids and did the360-meter portage.
Besides, we often woke up late, so many canoes likely paddled by
earlier.
The
weather was hot and
sunny, and there
wasn’t much shade at our campsite. We set up a tarp,
which we only used once for rain—otherwise, it served as protection
from the sun.
We
noticed many dead or
fallen trees on our
campsite. One stump was clearly blackened
and burned—I
initially thought lightning had struck it. Some nearby trees also
appeared scorched. Later, while paddling close to our site, a man in
a pontoon boat shouted that there had been
a forest fire two
years ago. We
learned more about it on our last
day, which I’ll
mention later in the blog.
A burned stump on the campsite
One
day, we paddled to Crane’s Lochaven Wilderness Lodge
(46°04'35.8"N
80°11'18.6"W / 46.076611, -80.188500 / 45.932889, -80.547361)just south of Boomerang/Banana Island, hoping
for cell phone reception,
albeit very weak. Chris paddled around the lodge for about 15
minutes, while I
managed to send a few WhatsApp
messages and even
download the weather
forecast.
Twice we saw tents on campsite #316 (#328). We could see them from our site
The
next day, on July 24, 2024, we paddled to The
Lodge at Pine Cove, attached the canoe to the dock, and
drove to Noëlville (46°08'01.6"N
80°25'54.2"W / 46.133778, -80.431722) to
restock supplies (we had hoped fishing would provide our meals) and
visit the LCBO—the
strike had ended the day before. Prices at the local supermarket
(Foodland)
were significantly higher than in Toronto:
a 2-liter bottle of
Coke cost $4.00, beef steaks sold for $40–70/kg,
and even small prepared salads exceeded $10. (As of January
2026, a 2-liter Coke costs $2.79 in No Frills and $4.00
in Metro in Toronto, and salad kits around $7, often half-price near
expiration.)
While
waiting in front of The
Beer Store, I
chatted with a group of French-speaking
farmers. Of course,
they spoke English too. They said they couldn’t understand French
speakers from Quebec! I always find
it fascinating how Canadian
French has
evolved—it’s not only quite different from the French spoken in
France but has also developed regional
dialects. I,
of course, don’t speak French; in Toronto, I hear
it maybe once every two years.
VISITING
ADJACENT CAMPSITE NUMBER 314 (323), THE BOOKS I READ, MAJOR WORLD
NEWS, MYSTERIOUS SOUND AND SOMETHING TO LAUGH ABOUT
On the adjacent campsite, number 314 (323)
A
few times, we visited the adjoining
campsite #314 (#323) by canoe. It
was never occupied during our stay and had plenty
of blueberries. I
eventually walked over from our campsite just to pick them, though I
preferred our own site—I loved exploring it and watching the scenic
bay on the other
side. While walking, I kept an eye out for snakes, especially
venomous Eastern
Massasauga Rattlesnakes, which I had encountered in the
past. Thankfully, I didn’t see a single snake, not even the usual
water snakes.
On the adjacent campsite, number 314 (323)
As
always, I brought a couple ofbookswith me.
Last
Night in the OR: A Transplant Surgeon’s Odyssey,
a memoir by Dr. Bud Shaw, was fascinating. Dr. Shaw trained under
Dr. Thomas Earl Starzl in the 1980s—the famous
Dr. Starzl (1926–2017), often called “the
father of modern transplantation”.
Reading the book, I again regretted not pursuing medicine
myself.
Monday
Morningsby Sanjay Gupta, M.D., was fiction, but
likely based on real events. It follows five surgeons, navigating
life-and-death decisions and occasional mistakes that cost patients’
lives.
Raven
Stole the Moon by Garth Stein, a supernatural
thriller, tells of an ancient Native American legend in Alaska’s
wilderness, a
missing shaman son, and the legendary kushtake—soul-stealing
predators between the living and the dead. I first read it around
1999
and wanted to revisit it for nostalgia.
The adjacent campsite, number 314 (323). At least there was a thunder box (toilet) and visible signs
Of
course, we also followed the news
and weather forecasts
several times daily.
On
July 19, 2024, a faulty update from CrowdStrike
caused a massive global technology failure, grounding flights,
crippling banks, and disrupting hospitals. Not that it affected us
in semi-wilderness!
On
July 21, 2024, President Joe Biden
ended his re-election campaign, endorsing Vice-PresidentKamala Harris.
Had he not run, Democrats might have had a shot at winning. Later,
he supposedly regretted stepping down. Honestly, was he delusional? Since Trump's inauguration, Biden's name has hardly been mentioned--and when it has, usually in a negative way, even by some of his supporters.
On
July 26, 2024, the Paris
2024 Olympic Games officially opened. Neither Chris
nor I paid a single bit of attention.
Meanwhile,
intense fighting continued in Gaza,
and the Russia-Ukraine
war persisted.
Typical French River scenery
One
morning around5:30
am, I heard a
constant hum. I first thought it was a boat or plane, but it
continued for 45
minutes. A few days
later, on the opposite side of our peninsula, I heard a similar
sound—like rushing
water—coming
from Five Fingers Rapids (~800 meters away). I
concluded it was likely due to water release from one of the four
French River dams, though the sudden start and stop
remained puzzling. At the lodge, I recounted it, and everyone was
just as puzzled.
One
night, in the tent, I woke Chris and said:
“Chris,
look up at the stars—what do you see?”
“I see millions
and millions of stars.”
“And
what can you deduce from that?”
“Well, if there are millions
of stars, and even a few have planets, there might be planets like
Earth out there. And if a few planets are like Earth, there might be
life.”
“Chris, you idiot,” I said. “It means someone has
stolen our tent!”
Of
course, it’s joke which I slightly modified. In the early 2000s, it
was voted in the UKas the best joke of the year.
LEAVING
OUR CAMPSITE FOR THE LODGE AT PINE COVE AND CHATTING WITH ALEX
STRACHAN, ITS OWNER
On
June 28, 2024, we packed up and loaded everything
into the canoe—which is never an easy or particularly pleasant
task. It took aboutone
hour to
reach The Lodge at Pine Cove, and as Chris
gradually carried our gear up the stairs, I walked to the parking lot
and drove to the lodge. A young employee kindly helped us carry the
canoe and load it onto the car—awesome!
At the Lodge at Pine Cove
I
also started talking to a very nice gentleman, who turned out to be
theowner
of the Lodge, Alex
Strachan. According to an article I found online, “he
purchased the property in 1999
and transformed it from a rundown lodge into the renowned retreat it
is today, known for its rustic
elegance and deep connection to the French River.
He’s often praised for his storytelling and hosting, making guests
feel welcome in this tranquil setting.”
We heard woodpeckers and saw the results of their activity, but never managed to see them
We
ended up having a very
pleasant conversation.
Alex had been an executive
vice-president with Royal LePage in Toronto,
so leaving a corporate career for life on the French
River must have
been a huge change. Yet I’m sure it was the right
decision—I always
admire people who make such radical changes. Many of us dream of it,
few actually do.
Mr.
Strachan also shared a story related to our campsite. In September
2021, a couple camping on that site hadn’t put out their
campfire. Later, the wind blew embers around, and by noon some people
in a boat noticed the fire. Initially, they tried buckets of water,
but with no cell reception,
they decided to get help—and fortunately met Mr. Strachan halfway
between the campsite and the lodge. He brought his boat with a huge
pump (capable of
pumping 8,000 liters
of water per minute)
and put out the fire within a few hours. Thanks to him, we could
still enjoy staying on that campsite!
By
the way, we always kept a 1-gallon
bottle of lake water
near the fire pit, just in case. Before turning in each night, I
poured it over the dying fire—better
safe than sorry!
Once, a Whitespotted Sawyer, a wood-boring beetle, sat on my tent.
DRIVING
TO NOËLVILLE AND THE HUNGRY BEAR RESTAURANT, CAMPING IN GRUNDY LAKE
PARK, LUNCH UNDER THE TRESTLE IN PARRY SOUND AND ARRIVING HOME
Once
we packed the car, we drove to Noëlville, bought abottle of red wine,
corn, and sausages,
then headed to the Hungry Bear Restaurant—my
de rigueur stop since 1995—forhamburgers, French
fries, and coffee.
Afterwards, we returned to Grundy Lake Provincial
Park.
The Hungry Bear Restaurant
Although
it was Sunday
and plenty of campers were leaving, even more new campers were
arriving. Some campgrounds had no
available sites for a single night!
We got campsite
#317 (45°55'58.1"N
80°32'49.6"W / 45.932800, -80.547100). It was
okay,
though it reeked of something unpleasant—possibly human
waste.
I
also realized that two
years ago, friends
and I had camped on campsite
#318, just across from ours, where a black
bearate my breakfast and
visited us twice a day.
I spent some time observing a
squirrel performing
acrobatics on a tree
and feeding a very
tame chipmunk—no
doubt it had learned that being nice to campers paid off in plenty
of food!
Grundy Lake Provincial Park, Ontario. Campsite number 317
We
had a campfire,
grilled corn and
sausages, and
stayed up until 11:00
pm, sipping Chilean
Cabernet Sauvignon.
The famous trestle in Parry Sound. I've been stopping here and having lunch under this trestle for at least 15 years with Catherine, Chris and many other canoe & camping companions!
We
left the park on July 29, 2024, stopping in Parry
Sound at the Thrift
Shop, Tim Hortons, and No Frills,
then had lunch under
the famous train trestle,
immortalized by Tom Thomson in one of his
1914 paintings. I also spent15
minutes at “Bearly
Used Books”, one
of Canada’s most amazing second-hand bookstores.
Traditional place to enjoy lunch under the trestle in Parry Sound
The
drive home was problem-free,
though I took the 407
toll highway to
avoid traffic jams on the 401.
And just across from my lunch palce, almost under the trestle, is a Chinese Restaurant. In 2008 it used to be a coffee shop, probably called "The Blue Café." When I met Catherine for the first time, the four of use--Catherine, Jane, Guy and I--wento to that café and had coffee and deserts on the patio.
CONCLUSION:
REFLECTIONS ON A SUMMER ADVENTURE
Looking
back on July 2024, the trip was a mix of extremes:
torrential rains, scorching sun, poor fishing, and seemingly endless
blueberries: It is said that whenGod closes a
door, He opens a window. In our case, fishing was
bad (or non-existent), yet we were blessed with plenty
of blueberries—perhaps the window that God opened
for us!
It
was a reminder that not every adventure is about trophies—sometimes
it’s about the quiet moments: watching chipmunks do acrobatics,
listening to a woodpecker’s rhythm, or sharing a laugh under a
starry sky.
The
French River continues to evolve—campsites are now
numbered and reservations mandatory, fish are scarcer than in decades
past, and forest fires leave their subtle marks on the landscape.
Yet, despite these changes, the river remains a timeless playground,
a place for connection, exploration, and reflection.
For
anyone planning a trip, I can say this: expect surprises, embrace the
unexpected, and savor the small delights that make wilderness camping
unforgettable. As for Chris and me, we hope to return—maybe even
score a campsite closer to the put-in point. And if we do, I suspect
the blueberries will be waiting, nature’s very own reward for
showing up.
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