Algonquin Park’s rugged beauty has inspired an art movement, a mystery, countless wilderness adventures, and a surefire hit on the nation’s bucket list. Quite an achievement considering Canada’s oldest provincial park lacks the gee-whiz landscape of the Rockies or the windswept vistas of the coasts. With all the tenacity of a blackfly, Algonquin’s beauty burrows under the skin, seducing visitors by demanding that they, too, must burrow inward — no motorized boats, no planes or cars. In this park of 2,500 lakes, one enters the realm of the canoe, one of the First Nations’ best gifts to the world. The canoe is a technology so perfect that European explorers ditched their boats and took up the paddle as is. Our bucket list wants us to pick up the paddle, too.
After a four-hour drive north from Toronto, I enter Algonquin’s Access Point #1: the park’s 7,630 square kilometres of wilderness can be accessed via 29 access points, your entries to 1,500 kilometres of canoe routes. On Canoe Lake, the park’s busiest access point, wilderness lodges and fishing outfitters have done a roaring trade for over a century, but I’ve arrived in early June, with the busy season yet to kick into gear. Voyageur Quest has guided visitors into Algonquin from the northern Access # 1 for more than 25 years. They’re happy to take me — a complete canoe newbie — several portages deep to Craig Lake. I don’t know the correct way to hold a paddle, and my 67-year-old dad — a man who has never gone camping before, or even slept in a tent — is my canoeing companion. Adding further spice to the adventure pot is the fact that it is peak Bug Season, with a capital B. Bucket lists seldom shy away from taking one outside one’s comfort zone, although I’m sure there are readers who have camped their entire lives and can start a fire by rubbing their fingers together, set up a tarp with the power of thought, and tie knots with the dexterity of a surgeon. I’m determined to prove a canoe trip in Algonquin is for everybody, although it certainly helps to have one of those outdoorsy fellas handy, someone like our affable guide Matt Rothwell. He’s got that gleam in his eye that shows he’s truly in love with the bush, and the demeanour of a welcoming host. Matt demonstrates the canoeing basics for us at Voyageur Quest’s outfitting shop: the paddler up front provides the power, drawing forward, inward, or cross-bow drawing away. Paddler in the rear steers with movements called prying or sweeping. Canoes are surprisingly stable and can carry a lot of gear. Voyageurs — those hard-as-tack toughs who blazed the trail into Canada’s interior — paddled up to 12 hours each day, carrying as much as two tons of supplies in their canoes.
We gather our tents, sleeping bags, food, and cooking gear, and it’s all packed into waterproof bags and centred in the canoe. We’ll need just two sets of clothes: one for paddling (which might get wet) and one for camp (which should remain dry). Crucial to the success of our mission are the following: bug jackets, bug dope, hats, cameras, sun block, rainwear, comfortable sandals, and 12-year-old Glenfiddich. It also helps to have some background on Algonquin’s most famous explorer, Tom Thomson.
Howl at the Wolves
In the park’s earliest days, Algonquin authorities set out to exterminate bears and wolves. After all, you can’t have predators ruining an uptight, civilized Canadian’s day in the park, can you? Fortunately, the hunters failed in their task and, today, Algonquin’s more than 30 resident wolf packs are one of the park’s star attractions. Each Thursday in August and September (until Labour Day), Algonquin Provincial Park hosts an unusual sing-along. More than 500 cars line the side of Highway 60 for a public wolf howl.
After a presentation about the wild eastern wolves found in the park, naturalist staff lead the procession to a location with the best chance of success, instructing participants in the art of wolf howling. The humans call; the wolves respond. Wind, rain, and other factors can dampen the evening, but 1,500 people howling into the Algonquin darkness is worth the free admission. Arrive early, dress warmly, and make sure your gas tank is full.
Largely credited with inspiring the birth of Canada’s greatest art movement, Thomson was a park ranger and guide who often disappeared into the thicket with his canoe, emerging days later with paintings and sketches that not only illustrated the park’s natural magic but sparked the imagination of what would become the Group of Seven. These seven artists put Canada on the global art map, restlessly breaking from European tradition to capture a true north aesthetic. It was Thomson who introduced them to Algonquin, and it was Thomson who drowned in Canoe Lake under mysterious circumstances. His death, which preceded the formation of the Group of Seven, has spawned books, films, and no shortage of conspiracy theories.
“Look, there’s no question about it. Thomson was murdered by Shannon Fraser, with a paddle … or maybe a candlestick, in the basement, dressed as a butler,” I tell Matt over the fire. Flames are licking a pot sitting on the burning wood, a strong wind sending firebug-like sparks into the early evening sky and blessedly blowing the biting bugs away.
Algonquin is comprised of a seemingly endless string of lakes, and our first day had consisted of several paddles and portages. For those unfamiliar, portaging involves balancing a canoe on your shoulders and hiking with it across land to the next put-in location. (It also involves a return trip to pack in the rest of the gear.) Canoes are designed for just such a task, and well-maintained portage trails are wide enough to accommodate them. I quickly got the hang of it, discovering that canoes make great echo chambers to sing motivational songs when traipsing through the forest. Each portage took us farther and farther away from civilization, deeper into the wilderness, deeper into the joys and challenges of canoeing. We felt as if we had earned our lakeside campsite, the cool swim in the drinkable tea-brown water, Matt’s fabulous spicy-chicken pasta dinner, and one of the most gorgeous sunsets I’ve ever seen. A storm front rolled past, leaving in its wake the kind of starry night where the Milky Way drips its dust all over you. My father is somewhat bewildered by his first night camping in the woods. He says “magnificent” a lot. A pair of loons yodel their distinctive call, and it might just be the wind, but we’re convinced the wolves of Algonquin are howling their approval, too.
Voyageur Quest’s customers typically opt for a three-day canoe trip, pampered by guides like Matt, with his honed campfire cooking skills (fresh bruschetta, salmon wraps, apple crumble, vegetable stir-fry, and gourmet sandwiches) and knack for storytelling, including Aboriginal legends surrounding the stars, trees, and fire. When the wind chill settles in, Matt promptly builds a makeshift sweat lodge around some of the hot rocks, steamed with water and soothing cedar leaves. If only every outdoor experience had a Matt.
After a sunrise paddle that serves up a muscular bull moose munching on lilies, we pack up camp and float to another lakefront site that instantly earns our approval: even the exposed wood latrine seems scenic. A couple of days is all one needs to acclimatize to nature, where everything takes longer, tastes better, and feels more alive. No wonder Thomson and the Group of Seven called Algonquin their spiritual home.
Returning to the access point, we decompress in Voyageur Quest’s rustic yet comfortable island cabin, enjoying solar-powered comfort, warm beds, a rejuvenating floating sauna, and a 360-degree view of Kawawaymog Lake. Suitably calibrated by our canoe trip, the scenery appears more vivid, the sound of lapping water as soothing as lip balm. I can only imagine what all this is like in fall, when the foliage explodes into a riot of colour, attracting visitors from around the world.
Mind you, the paintings of Thomson and the Group of Seven do it for me. At the peaceful McMichael gallery, located in Kleinberg, just 40 minutes north of Toronto, I see the now-familiar jack pine, spruce, cedar, and birch trees standing tall among the rock of the Canadian Shield and reflected in Algonquin’s dramatic skies and calming waters. Like the lingering taste of an unforgettable meal, the famous art of Algonquin is already calling us back. Back to the lakes. Back to the wild. Back to the canoe.
START HERE: canadianbucketlist.com/algonquin