Later that same summer, Megan and I travelled to Killarney Provincial Park for a farewell trip as it would be her last before attending university. We arrived with great expectations for an enjoyable trip but instead found ourselves battling a 30 km/hr headwind as we headed across Bell Lake. It took us close to 2 hours as we 'island hopped' our way across the 4 km to our first camp site. When we first arrived we had thought that we were under a fire ban but as the sun was setting we began to see smoke from several campfires and we decided that the fire restriction had been lifted. Spent the night watching stars and tending the small fire on the rock outcropping in front of our site.The next morning we headed north up Three Mile Lake to the wonderful 30 meter portage into Balsam Lake. The portage is nothing more than a trolley car on tracks onto which you place your canoe and pull it over. Megan stayed with the canoe for the ride. My memory is rather poor surrounding Day 2, but I believe we stayed on Balsam Lake since our original plan of Harry Lake was thwarted by low water levels.
On the third day we were scheduled to camp on Deacon Lake. The first problem came with trying to access Deacon Lake from Balsam Lake. The water levels were so low we wound up walking the canoe through several hundred meters of thick, sticky mud. Finally, when we got to the lake we found that a group was already set up on our island spot and we had to paddle to the far end of the lake to a rather small, bug infested site - the only other site on the lake.
Later that afternoon we paddled out to check on the island site in hopes that the people had moved on. We were about halfway to the island site when I noticed something swimming in the water. "A beaver", I thought as I paddled closer. "No, a bear", Megan said with a trace of urgency in her voice. I didn't believe her and we got close enough to satisfy my old eyes that it was indeed a bear with her cub swimming in the lake - and they were swimming towards the site we had just occupied. When they arrived on shore both the bear and her cub ran into the woods behind our site and Megan and I decided right then and there we were going to stay on the island regardless of whether or not a site was available. Megan stayed in the canoe to watch my back while I hurriedly took apart our camp - throwing the tent into the canoe while it was still erect. Luckily for us the people had moved on and we were able to get the site we had originally wanted.
Having successfully avoided a bear we decided to have a swim before dinner. It was while sitting on the rocks after swimming that I noticed a giant (at least 4 feet long) water snake cruising the shore which I had just recently vacated. I hate snakes so I got a paddle and tried to hit him so as to chase him away. Although I managed hit him on the head about 4 times, the snake persisted in his attempts to come ashore. Finally I had had enough and smacked the snake on the head as hard as I could. He rolled around for awhile and swam further out into the lake. That was when I noticed about 7 snake heads rising up in the water some 50 feet from the shore. I was up most of the night awaiting the revenge of the snake attack which, thankfully, never came.
We were out of there the next morning on our way home and decided to take the shortcut to Bell Lake through the Little Bell / Chain Lake channel. Most of the trip was through a swampy area and navigation was made difficult by fallen trees blocking the river. By the 6th tree, Megan and I had mastered the art of bumping up to the fallen log, she would get out on the log and pull the canoe part way up then get in while I got out on the log to push the remainder of the canoe over the obstruction. As I said, by the 6th log we were masters. On the 6th log however, my paddle slipped on the log as I tried to push us off and over we went - into the smelly swamp water. The water itself was only about 2 feet deep but I was stuck up to my chest as I sunk into the soft, mushy, icky bottom. With Megan out of the water standing on the log crying, I did my best to bail out the canoe and not think about what could be crawling into my orifices from the exposed muck.
After what seemed like an eternity we got the boat bailed out, finished the paddle back to the access point, threw all of the swamp-laden gear into the car, and headed home. It was one of the smelliest trips ever as the odour of that swamp stayed with my car for several weeks afterwards.
