Old Trails, New Tales

We’re just back from a family party in Buffalo, followed by a canoe camping trip to Algonquin Provincial Park. The family party marked a bunch of occasions: a graduation, a retirement, and a 100^th birthday for the family home (try writing all of that onto a cake!). The canoe trip was just the two of us celebrating our 27^th wedding anniversary—so it was a week full of milestones.

In Buffalo, we shared laughs, swapped stories, and uncovered some family history we’d never heard before. For starters, it turns out that Algonquin Provincial Park and lake country have been a family destination for generations. Souzz’s parents, aunts, uncles and older siblings all made memories there. The connection began back in 1909 when her grandparents honeymooned in the park, and it carried on at least through the 1960s–when her brother lost his paddle and got stranded in the middle of the lake (with Aunt Angela to the rescue!). Family ties run deep in those waters.

Buoyed by all of our newfound history, we drove on from Buffalo to the central Ontario town of Huntsville, where we did some last minute shopping and prep. We then headed a little further east and spent the night at a motel in the small community of Dwight.

The drive took about six hours, including stops for fresh produce and dry ice. Traffic was slow around Toronto, but we reminded ourselves that the same trip would have taken three times as long by train in 1909.

The park’s name comes from the Algonquin people, who have longstanding connections to the land here. For generations, Algonquin people have hunted and fished throughout the region, traveling by birch bark canoe in summer and snowshoe in winter. By the 1890s, the waterways and forests had attracted increasing amounts of commercial loggers. At that point, the Ontario government began setting aside land for preservation. The park was formally established in 1893—making it Canada’s oldest provincial park—and by 1908 it had a railway and a grand hotel. Outdoor recreation took off from there (along with, apparently, honeymooning).

Today, there are more than 2,000 kilometers of canoe trails, and access from Toronto or Ottawa is easy via Highway 60. Outdoor gear shops and canoe rentals are plentiful, and the town of Huntsville offers most anything one might need. Times have certainly changed.

Our trip launched from Smoke Lake, at the headwaters of the Muskoka River. After a crossing and a short portage, we spent two nights camping at Parkside Bay and a third night on Ragged Lake. We covered about 35 kilometers over four days, including the portage between Smoke Lake and Ragged Lake (maybe 250 meters). The winds (and therefore the waves) were moderate—always the biggest variable on a lake canoe trip.

As usual, food was central to our trip. We’d been getting a little stale with our menu choices, so dry ice and a soft cooler offered a path to better variety. The dry ice lasted well into day three, and we were able to enjoy steaks, sausage jambalaya, fresh salsa, and homemade pizza. Desserts included freshly baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (in the frybake) and blueberry cobbler with whipped cream. The higher end meals felt like a return to our backcountry kitchen roots.

Canoe camping is a huge part of family life here, as we quickly learned (and saw, and sometimes heard). There were tons of families out enjoying the lakes—including toddlers with kid-sized paddles, and even babies (with rattles instead of paddles, no kidding). Most every person we saw was smiling—including us. It was awesome to see families out creating memories and sharing time outdoors, although they did sometimes give the loons competition in the sound department! We’re told there is more solitude as you get deeper into the park (our campsites were almost front-country by Algonquin standards).

Each morning was calm and quiet, a good time for reflection. We thought about those who came before us, and we wondered about those who might follow, too. We also watched the wildlife—including birds, turtles, and more loons than we could count. It’s a stunning park, with so many layers. Our brief visit barely scratched the surface. Next time we’ll go deeper, stay longer, see more.

This was our anniversary and not our honeymoon, and a lot has changed in 117 years (or 27, depending on how you count). Even so, I suspect the park looks and feels much the same.

I wish I’d known Souzz’s grandparents, but I felt like I caught a glimpse of them through our shared love of this place. Their Algonquin story brought so much meaning to our visit, and I found myself imagining fictional tales about them here. I felt a little closer…but mostly I felt gratitude. This experience was such a gift. A honeymoon is a celebration of the present and future, while an anniversary is perhaps a nod to the past. For four glorious days, we did all three.