Rafting Harrington Gorge, Rouge River Quebec

Thursday, 29^th August.

Up at 7.00 to head off to the mouth of the Rouge River - part of our fragmented 5 year trip from the Laurentians to Toronto.  Going to go with New World Rafting for this trip, NOT suitable for canoes!

 

Quite a bit of faffing and then we were all put in a school bus, with a trailer full of bright yellow rafts astern, and taken about half an hour to the put in, to load these huge, not-very-floppy things into the water and start our descent with a crew of us, a young family from Washington DC and with links in Tremblant, and Terry (Turtle) our captain.

Mrs Grizzle looking confident first grade 2-3 completed! 

In part, a great big yellow bag of air is going to get down a river on its own but in reality, it’s going to do it a lot better and with much less risk to the crew if the skipper knows what he is doing; and Terry really did.   

Sometimes the dunkings were intentional, to the delighted shrieks of the kids, sometimes we took a smoother line when a dunking would have been dangerous.

This was really great fun; most of the photos are commercial (we were a bit busy) and that’s a bit more of the Rouge done. (Green line)


Yaay!

Home absolutely whacked and already aching some.  But then, it has been a long day.

Trent - Severn Waterway, Ontario

Buckhorn to Trenton 

This is what we're trying to do:

Tuesday, 5^th September

Left home at 10.15.  Stopped in the village for water and cash and petrol.  To Masson for the ferry over the Outawais then on to Penny’s Place at Perth for coffee.  Rang Buckhorn Lock – ok to camp; we were told the code for the washrooms :-) . 

We diverted to Red Setter resort near Havelock on the 7 to agree a stop over on the way down if needed.  Bought Ontario fishing permits in a little local store.

Up to Buckhorn via a strange detour in Lakefield – you can’t turn directly on to the bridge…..

We were the last folks in to the diner at 7.00 pm.  Pleasant people, good beer, pleasant food.

Parked the car in the church car-park for the duration by permission.  Camped below the lock; There were fireworks after bed-time at 9.30.  Chilly overnight with a heavy dew.  The return of the morning coffee ceremony!

Wednesday, 6^th September

Noisy traffic from 05.30.

I (Peter) got in a flap and ended up driving around trying to find replacement cord (I eventually found the original) and wasted about 2 hours in the pursuit.   Eventually left at 12.30 – which is why all first day’s journeys should be short.  We managed a little sailing.  Had lunch at a random dock – thank you absentee owners.

 






The islands to Lovesick lock were a bit mystifying; we arrived at Burleigh Falls at 15.35 – too late for the last lock. 





Set up camp; made a cuppa, Peter went fishing, pasta for supper.




A fairly exposed and again chilly camp ground.  Bed at 21.10 – thermals on!

11.8km

Thursday, 7^th September

We started off at 12.15 – how?  (This was a persistent issue.  We feel that the principle cause is our waiting for the tent to dry.  Often we would be unable to pack a dry tent until 10.00 am.  We need advice on this for the future.)

We took the journey through the “Lost passage” south of Fairy Lake Island.  This was a twisting, sometimes shallow passage with current in places and a rocky bottom.  But it opened out into a shallow, wildfowl-filled lagoon.   We think that this is a Black-crowned night Heron.

And then we turned out in to Clear Lake, to a mounting wind, dead on the nose.  Beaufort 4, gusting 5.  To quote:

4	Moderate breeze	20–28 km/h	1–2 m	Small waves becoming longer; fairly frequent white horses	Raises dust and loose paper; small branches moved.

5	Fresh breeze	29–38 km/h	2–3 m	Moderate waves taking a more pronounced long form; many white horses are formed; chance of some spray	Small trees in leaf begin to sway; crested wavelets form on inland waters.

There was a fairly short “sea” which the boat rode well enough but which you did NOT want to get broadside to.  We were making perhaps six inches per feverish paddle stroke.  So we side-slipped to a dock and “took counsel,” (essentially, Peter said, “This is not safe; we’re going nowhere.  We’re doing this”).  “This,” was to find a lawn of a cottage and pitch for the night.  Many of the watersides were steep, rocky, docks only.  The first lady whom we approached wasn’t happy – fair enough.  The second site that we approached seemed occupied – wetsuits on the deck, kids toys out, a car in the driveway.  I walked up and knocked – no answer.  

 I slipped next door where a couple were busy under the bonnet of car.  They were hesitant (who wouldn’t be?) but agreeable.  I went to fetch Ali and brought her back to introduce her to Ron and Cheryl who had, in the meantime brought us around to their beach and offered us the use of their guest-cabin.

Such kindness.  We weren’t going to argue.

So we looked out at the stormy water of the lake as heavy rain hit at about 17.30 -which would have been the time that we were making camp if  we had managed to battle on! And all this from our lovely, warm eyrie.  Of course, there was a rainbow!

A rather pathetic 8.1km

Friday, 8^th September

An unheard-of departure by 09.45!  Flat water and a gentle head-wind.  The lower half of clear Lake west shore has some very large houses – or so we thought (they got bigger elsewhere!). 






At Young’s point we wiggled through the cut to an open lock.  A young osprey screamed in a tall tree just below the lock.  Memories of the Rideau!

At Lakefield we entered an open lock again and were advised to push on as the next lock was presently staffed (more of this later) and they were waiting for us!

At Sawer Creek lock we planned lunch, but again we were advised to push on through Douro when we arrived there as the Nassau team were presently lifting a boat there and coming up to Otonabe.  If we got a move on, they’d wait there for us and we could make it to Nassau Mills by day’s end to catch ourselves up!

So we scoffed lunch (more of that, too, later) and pressed on straight through, being given the Nassau Mills wash-room key actually in the Otonabe lock!  So few if any pictures en route for this day :-(

Nassau Mills was a nice lock, on a side-road only, with no traffic and only the steady sound of the dam sluice running all night.  We were late to make a cup of tea and, eventually, supper. It was windy so we took advantage of the fire-pit for the Trangia and we both wore windproofs.  We lit a fire with timber left beside the fire pit, some birch bark, some log splittings – and some meths (just to be to be sure)!  Smokey heaven!  Lots and lots of geese.

21 km.

Saturday, 9^th September.

We should have been early away – but the night was very cold and Peter at least had a very sore shoulder, needing Co-codamol in the night.

We rang the lock master to be told that they were just arriving with a descending boat and that it would be either lock through in 15 minutes – or 2 hours!




We hurried to put the boat on the water, joined “Quantum Joy” – a large sailing boat on its way to the Caribbean for the winter - and then carried the rest of the luggage down a crowd of steps to finish loading at the canoe dock at the end. 





We paddled past Trent University, with some nice architecture, and stopped at the Rowing Club jetty for lunch and a fidget.  By now, seating for Peter was becoming a regular issue.  The stern seat in Burlesque is well back and very narrow.  As the cane stretched (sagged) with use, all of the loading of the seat frame went on to my "pin" bones. I ended up nearly sitting on the rear deck, still not comfortable and feeling even more unstable than usual. 

This needs sorting. 

Into a fairly dull cut, interconnecting lakes and incongruously alongside a golf course, complete with shouts of “Fore!”  This is not cottage country; there were fishermen in a canoe and a little, very informal camp.

Eventually, around a bend, we came upon Quantum Joy already berthed on the blue line (the “I want to use this lock please” mooring of a lock) the blue line of the Peterborough Lift Lock. 


This near mythical device takes boats into one of two huge tanks and literally pushes them up, or floats them down, all by hydraulics. 



They were having a bit of a technical moment when we arrived and I clung to the wire of the edge gabions whilst Ali got out and pottered around.  We were eventually called forward, but no crew for Quantum Joy.  So the "gate" shut behind us, and we oh-so-smoothly drifted downwards – 65 feet!  And a huge tripper boat drifted up beside us!

And we were photographed of course!  One little canoe in the whole caisson of the lift lock!

On out into the lower reach and then a short paddle, under a (closed) swing bridge, to Ashburnham; a lovely lock, albeit quite a long portage from the town beach to our camp site. 

We hoped for a warmer evening.

7.5km

 Sunday, 10^th September.

It was not warmer, in fact, it was cold.  Thermals and jumpers to sleep in and aching shoulders (more painkillers in the night) from hunching them round to stay warm.

But it was a day off.  Pancakes for breakfast!  With maple syrup!!

We walked in to Peterborough to a shop called Wildrock in order to buy sleeping bags.  I’m certain that we explained in detail that we didn’t want Mummy bags, preferring the broader foot.  And off went the very nice assistant to collect two bags from the store.  We paid (hugely – they’re duck down) and went to the wonderful Ashburnham Ale House for late lunch. 

Terrific beer, good food; we were given beer mats to put on top of the beer glasses in order to discourage the wasps.  Ali had bought some pomegranate lip salve in Wildrock and this seem irresistible to the blighters.

But the calamari - cooked whole but almost separated into rings - were great and the mains, too.  And the beer just slipped down.

We found free wi-fi towards the end of the session – which was partly why we had to buy another beer to justify our staying on……

Which might explain why we had a slightly mad shopping trip in the store next door where we (I really) bought too many tins and too much powdered soup.  And a fresh, rolled beef dish – which did prove a success.  (The tins were little used and were very heavy for the duration of the trip).

Whilst still in the Alehouse I wrote:

Day off in Peterborough

Just that

We're fine, the weather has turned for the better.  The data package that I bought isn't working but we have free wi-fi at the really wonderful Ashburnham ale house.  No need for supper tonight!

Some grim weather down Clear Lake saw us benighted with a lovely couple.  Nights are cold , we have bought zero degree sleeping bags here in P.  Tomorrow beginning on the journey through Rice lake.

A really happy afternoon.  So we pottered back to the tent, purchases in hand.  And I went fishing – a bit.

Mais!  Quelle catastrophe!

Ali discovered that we’d been sold Mummy bags after all; and the shop was now shut.  Soooo fully dressed for bed – again – and a change of sides in the middle of the night and we were slightly warmer.  Slightly.

Monday, 11^th September.

Breakfast after a very cold night; 4 degrees C.  Here is Ali, well wrapped up, decanting her breakfast to be mixed with apple juice.  We had made up 300 calories of breakfast each per day in individual bags and 300 calories of lunch similarly portioned.  Here they are laid out on another occasion. Supper was also portioned but less rigidly so with about 150 cals each of  carbohydrate (pasta, rice, noodles) pre-packed and then tins or packets or fresh (some broccoli one night, peppers travelled well) to make a dish of about 500 calories each.  With the rare ice-cream and so on, perhaps 12 - 1400 calories a day each.  We were not hungry and intended to lose some weight - which we have done :-).  The breakfast and lunches were a boon.

We're going to test-drive dehydrated meals for main meals before next time.


By the magic of texting, son in Toronto let me know that Wildrock were indeed open on Mondays – from 10.00 am.  
Yes (10.03 phone call) they did have two wider bags but no, they felt no responsibility whatsoever for my predicament, and, whilst they would call a taxi to collect me, they would not pay for it, and I had to pay the difference for the cost of the slightly larger bags (about $20.00 each), and that’s that.

Wildrock – nice shop, rubbish service.  I’m unlikely to go back even if I was in Peterborough; Duck Down bags aren’t cheap!

(But the very nice taxi driver turned off the meter whilst he waited for me.)

So, after I returned from the store, and after carrying (portaging) all our luggage back to the beach, a long paddle down to an old fashioned resort – Bensfort Bridge.  The initially broad, richly agricultural reaches south of Peterborough became progressively narrower and more divided; like a mature river entering a delta.  There were lots of kingfishers down this stretch, and geese – everywhere geese – and herons, settling down perhaps 200 yards ahead and then croaking off just as we came level with them.  No canoe blog is complete without a distant view of a heron!

Somewhere we “borrowed” another empty dock for our lunch (this is our ritual passing of my lunch, normally via my extended paddle, from the bow to the stern.  I wasn't entrusted with the lunches ;-)  ) and then, back to the oars.  Sore bums and “hitching up moments” became the order of the day.



At last, the famed bridge and the docks in the stream.  We disembarked at a slipway.  An improbably “country” guardian took our money and set us off for a really convenient pitch, right beside our own jetty.  Attempting to get back in to the canoe to go there, I planted one foot in the boat and then – the boat wasn’t there!  I landed backwards in the surprisingly warm waters of the river.  We genuinely roared with laughter.  Ali paddled the boat around solo.

We bought firewood for $10.00 – too much of it; birch bark, birch twigs, log splittings, split logs, no meths this time but still one match – and cooked over wood for the first time in many, many years.  And we huddled around the fire until quite late and then we went to fight the liners of our new sleeping bags – which were just divinely warm!

20.8km

Discovering the wi-fi only at breakfast time I wrote:

Progress - and warmer!

Bensfort bridge, south of Peterborough.

The fluffy, warm sleeping bags have made the nights cozy- thank goodness.  A long day yesterday down a broad, deep, eventually tree-lined river.  We're fine, getting stronger by the day.  On to Rice Lake today for the first of three days! 

Tuesday, 12^th September.

Morning was bright and fresh, the sun soon dried my shorts which the fire had begun overnight .

As we moved down the river towards Rice Lake, the low-lying ground on either side was still in the mid-day heat.  A frantic series of "plops" echoed across the water as basking turtles threw themsleves off  their sun-baked logs.

There were more power boats, many of them were courteous and slowed down to reduce their wake; some were frankly dangerous.  One post-prandial driver even seemed to head straight for us, swerving away at speed at about 20 m distance!  Another charged up to us only to falter and then the lady of the operations spent time crawling around the rear deck looking for a problem before charging off again.  You know who you are!



We took refuge on another dock for lunch.

And all this in sunshine!  I’d forgotten to mention how good the weather had become.  Although it was becoming warm to very warm during the day, you can see that the overnight temperatures had been definitely chilly!

But down the Otonabe river to Rice Lake it was very warm indeed!

Gradually the river-side trees thinned and then we were in the main channel, ready to turn East at last in to the fabled and fearsome Rice Lake.  This piece of water is long; it lies roughly South-west to North-east – in line with the prevailing wind – and is pretty shallow.  So you can very rapidly get a steep “sea”, at which time the advice is to get off the water.  But the lake is heavily lined by reed-beds so where to get off to?  In all our conversations about the waterway, we’ve repeatedly heard rumour of three lakes to be aware of; Superior (not going there!), Simcoe (North of Toronto; might go there) and Rice.  And we planned to be on Rice for part of three days – plenty of time for it to change…..

But right now, it was a pussy-cat; smooth and glassy and shimmering under a hot sun.

I’d contacted three resorts on the way up; Hiawatha First Nations was the first.  We rang ahead and were told to look out for the church, the administration building was between it and the waterfront.  I was so courteously met and dealt with and a phone call was put through to Carol at the Camping and Trailer park – along the bay.  Sure enough, we saw her waiting in her golf buggy from way out, but missed the landing and had to turn out in to the lake – across the waves – to round a little point.  

Wooah!

We fought to turn across and into the waves and then to run before them to the sheltered beach.  And that was on a calm afternoon!

Carol was another of those angels on this trip; Ron and Cheryl, Carol and Frank, a couple who held our mooring lines and we belly-flopped up out of the boat on a very high lock-side; countless lock-staff who went out of their way(s) to hold locks for us, to help us load and unload the boat up steep banks, the taxi-driver in Peterborough….  Everywhere we went, we met people with wings.

Carol’s particular angelic manifestation was her golf-buggy which she loaded up with our possessions – twice – to cart them up to the camp-site.  Never has a lift been more welcome.

The site was flat, open and with a lovely view to the south-west; the showers needed shoes, to avoid the myriad dead flies, but were free and hot; the Old Railway Station stores sold me a tin-opener, and let me have purified water the next morning.  We slept well.

15.8km

Wednesday, 13^th September.

We spent a lovely day on Rice Lake.  Carol and Frank once again turned up to transport our goods down to the beach.  She came from Bognor U.K. when she was 4 years old.  Her Dad met her mum there; he was “an Indian” so she identifies as both English and First Nations (FN).  Before I knew this I asked – since she had said where she had come from – whether she had much contact with the FN.  She told me a little of the abuse she’d heard and seen in her lifetime.  Shameful. But Canada is trying hard – in part – to do the right thing.  I’m not sure that the same can be said of their southern neighbours.

Out on the lake, we met sun and fluffy clouds and a gentle westerly breeze; high of 24 degrees.  We managed some sailing, dodging between islands and reed beds.  On an island just off  Elmhirst's resort we took "seat-refuge" in a bush.  It very much looked like a mulberry.  Ali tried to photograph the fluffy, white caterpillars, some of which flung themselves off the bush and into the water!  An osprey screamed from a spreading pine further along.At the end of the day, we overshot the Dreamland resort and had to paddle back by about 1km.  But all was well; we had a waterside plot, so close to the river level that we were almost in danger of inundation by the waves from an expert water-skier across the way.  I cooked a corned-beef and noodle dish; it sort of worked…….

There were geese all around; not close but calling and flying and calling….  The air was full of the sound of geese and the smell of manure from the adjacent farm!

We were very tired.  We had a fit of hysterics at bed-time when I couldn’t find the underpants that I had only just got out for the next day.  Silly how little things set you off; we laughed so much that it hurt!

22.8 km (plus 1 km overshoot).

Thursday, 14^th September.

A long day again; a 2 Litre of water day.  The route was fairy depressingly straight for 8 km after the lock at Hastings - our first since Ashburnham on Friday evening – where we had got cash, visited an ATM and bought ice-creams as well as something, forgotten now, that we thought to be essential at the time….

The war memorial was humbling; this is not a big place!

Another, borrowed jetty at about 15km.

We think this is an egret;  We eventually found our way to Red Setter resort, needing to dodge stumps and flooded marshes by the end.  A bit of a tired resort but a great welcome from the owner, a Portuguese lady.  We pitched camp close to the water, made our way to the laundrette, the rather ancient washroom and the store respectively, and crashed out.

21.4km

I wrote at the time:   

Saddle sore!

Red Setter resort, East of Hastings ON.

Rice Lake, all three days of it, was a pussy cat.  Coming down the Otonabe river gave us a bit of grief - one post-prandial boater aimed straight for us at speed! And the lake itself showed a little of its power as we turned to land at Hiawatha first nations, where a wonderful camp guardian on a golf buggy helped us up with the luggage!

About 21km that day.  Then island and swamp dodging up to Dreamlands resort, another huge trip.

Now at Red Setter, strangely populated by Weimerana crosses, not Setters at all.  And Rice Lake, known for its steep chop, was like glass all the way.  Hot today 26 / 7 degrees.  Still warm now at 22.15!

Friday, 15th September.

And now the nature of the trip changes; until this point, most of our journey had been flat and wild and lonely - apart from the myriad cottages and the occasional power boat that is!  But now we began the descent down to Trenton - although still at least four days away - and our lives became dictated by locks and the availability of lock-staff.

It's the end of the season, traffic is sparse, and lock crews are staffing more than one lock each. As a result, if you hit a lock - or a string of locks - "wrong, you can wait for over an hour for the staff to arrive.  Add to that the fact that lock hours have changed to "last lock" at 15.30 weekdays, 16.30 weekends and you can get really thwarted by your inability to progress.

We moved into a routine of my rising at about 06.00 to make coffee.  After that, Ali would strip the beds and leave them to air.  She would begin the fight with the storage bags. 

A diversion.  Dry bags.  We followed the packing suggestion described by the Alaska Outdoor University.  In essence, the waterproof element of the bag is provided by a heavy-duty (household rubbish compactor) polythene bag; the abrasion resistance by an outer, woven PVC grain sack (sand bag).

We never tested them for waterproof - but they held air well if you didn't squash them enough. 

We would add two things.  We would duplicate the contents label on the bottom of the bag - the top surfaces wrinkle of course and obscure the label sometimes.  And we would stop re-tying the bag(s) overnight;  just leave them open (apart from the food ones, safe in the critter-proof barrel) and tie them all in the morning before collecting them into outers for carrying.

Back to the routine.  I'd get out the breakfast and the lunches from the dry bag in the barrel (if  I was really organised, I would have got out the breakfasts and lunches the night before and so packed the barrel ready for the day once I'd finished with the supper!).  We'd stop to eat breakfast and then carry on.  It was the tent and its damp that held us up - every time.

So, Friday.  Wherever we were, early morning saw people - mostly men of a "certain age" - taking to little boats and pushing off to go fishing.  There was a lot of fishing - not too much catching, but a lot of fishing!
Although it felt like a pretty prompt start, it was still 11.30 before we were away.  Folks stopped to chat as we packed up; that's our excuse, but it's also why we travel!

Healey Falls held the lock for us; a double and hugely deep, 54 feet in the upper chamber.  Sadly, the same readiness was not true for the next, Crowe Bay, with no easy egress from the boat because of the steep sides, so we waited an hour in the sun.  Sore bums x2. 





To Campbellford, at the end of a long cut with a hydroelectric ("Hydro" - which is also the word used for electricity, and its supply.  e.g. "There's hydro available at each pitch".) dam alongside.  This was the ultimate example of inaccessibility from a canoe.  The concrete walls were so high that I had to re-visit my "upwards bellyflop" to get out, and access in the morning involved a rather precarious water entry from the sloping banks of the cut.  But we did get better at this - we had to!

It proved to be a lovely site.  Dog walkers came past us morning and evening with water-enthusiastic Labrador crosses; the weather had warmed up a bit - back to the quilt (with the bags rolled alongside us "just in case".)

13km

Saturday, 16th September

A flurry ( nothing on the waterway can really be described as a "flurry", but you get what I mean) of locks.  4km to Ranney Falls, another 2.3km to Haig's Reach, 1.8km to Meyers another 1.8 km to Percy Reach.  It was a short paddle, but a long day because of the locks.  We raced to catch up with other boats coming to Haig's but were less enthusiastic about our efforts to Meyers; they still kept the lock for us!

A couple of things about locks.  The gates above the lock close against a "sill".  That supports them at their lower end.   It's pretty imporant to "latch on" - not tie on, that has its own problems! - in front of that.




Secondly, bumpers or fenders are, I beg to suggest, an essential for locking.

We arrived at Percy Reach between 15.00 and 15.30 but having descended the lock, there was no point in going further, as further was 20+ km!  But this was a lovely lock to stay at, with families fishing all evening.  Don, the lock master, was a former loadmaster in the RCAF.  He hurried to help us ashore, dropped his sun-glasses in the water ( :-(  ) and told us that he thought we must be of the same profession given the way we had packed the canoe! 


A random Banded Tussock Moth caterpillar presented itself on my knapsack, slowing the unpacking.  We had a bit of time off; just as well, I noticed that one of the sections of tent pole had split and I spent an age, sitting in the sun, wrapping it in a long splice and then duct tape!

Warmer now - using the quilt not the bags.

11km




Sunday, 17th September

Early morning, a very thick mist; the climb all the way up the steps to the washrooms.  A fisherman took a good catch right in front of the lock gates, just as I slipped and grazed my knee!  Silly me.  Still, never travel without a first aid kit; iodine's the stuff. (reminded me of the French love of coloured surface antiseptics!).


We decided that we just had to get away promptly today so we went for a "damp" tent pack, despite efforts to clear condensation inside and outside the tent, and made it away by 11.00 am.

The 5 km stop - and a mute swan, an immigrant to Canada :-)



We had a wonderful paddle through the "Back Channel", narrow and shallow in places, full of wildlife, much smaller, older and less opulent cottages.


Tempers were more frayed today; tiredness, a bit of hypoglycaemia perhaps, the persistent problem of the seat.  Ali checked how I was sitting at one point - almost ON the point, of the canoe that is.

At 15 km I called halt I'm afraid.  We headed for a dock, regardless of any occupants, and crashed out.  Ali had been saving a (melted and re-formed) bar of chocolate for Guy in Toronto.  It was consumed I'm afraid.  Greater love hath no man....

A water loving collie arrived and insisted on playing with us - thanks pal!

Once we'd re-joined the main channel we hoisted the sail for a little but dropped it when a moron in a BIG speed boat arrived and carved a huge circle around us.  Perhaps he was the chap who used to pull the wings off flies in school?

But arriving at Glen Ross was wonderful.  Hugely helpful staff, we snugged Burlesque in the lock for the night, having unloaded between the swing bridge and the lock gate.  As promised at Percy's reach - HUGE ice-creams were available at the lock-side cabin.  No supper for us, but there's always the route to plan......  The pole repair was holding up - sort of!

19.7km

Monday, 18th September








I was again in a grump - why?  Ali was hurting (her back).  We locked down at Glen Ross at 10.15 and loaded and were away by 11.15.  We took a lovely meander through back creeks; great.

Then it was a long pull down a long and tedious cut to Frankford Lock.  Here we had been promised showers and internet and all sorts of delights.  The showers existed it's true - but on an adjacent family site.  I took advantage but, by the time I had returned, so had the lock staff and we had to be on our way.

But the Lockmaster of Trent - the next lock - was passing us through and he offered Ali the use of the staff shower in Trent.

True to his word we set up camp and Ali took advantage.  Thank you!

And so we called for a taxi and were driven  (a surprisingly long way) up to Buckhorn to collect the car.  We had a truly excellent pizza in Pizza Allora there and drove back gently in the dark.

Bedtime was noted for the frantic "hunt the medicines" (mine) competition - again!

 12km









Tuesday 19th September

We made an early, unladen start following an uncommunicative motor launch driver through the lock.  I sat on my filled clothes bag, further forward, a little too low but vastly more comfortable.  We offered to let the power boat go ahead but that wasn't the way the locking worked out so, although we did our best to keep up, they waited for us at Batawa, Glen Miller and Sydney locks.

We'd noticed zebra mussels in the locks for a while; as the water level goes down, they "spit", presumably to equalise interior pressure.  It's like being rained on!

And then, at last, the last lake above Lock 1, where we had finished our trip last year.  We headed for the west bank where we had been told there was a litle beach for a take- out.  True to promise, there it was.
Now it was Ali's turn to fall over.  We duly loaded the canoe on the trailer, pushed it along the road past bemused canal maintenance staff, and parked it in front of the lock house.

Finished!



I taxied back to Trent Lock, collected the car, drove to Lock 1.  We loaded the canoe and returned to Trent for the last overnight.  It was so hot in the tent!  More showers (thank you Master!) and I got lost on the way to LCBO in Frankford.  The beer tasted good :-)

We loved our stay here, despite the road noise from across the river.  The charmng, former Lockmaster's cottage was a perfect retreat, the washrooms wonderful, the architecture period (1920's) and the Morning Glory fabulous.


7.41km

Wednesday, 20th September

We packed easily - essentially, "stuff it in the car".  Another damp tent pack, finished just in time to bid farewell to the Lock-Master.
  

Home!

A New Chapter?

Decided that I wanted (needed?) an easily transportable, sufficiently light boat that I can transport on my own; so I found a pre-loved Ally 15'

It seems likely to be at least 20 years old!



So - let's see whether that changes things?

The Rideau Canal - 2014 - 2015

Kingston to Ottawa.

"Better drowned that duffers.  If not duffers, won't drown".

 

We are very, very fortunate; I know it.

About five years ago, we built a Selway Fisher Peterborough in the basement of our cabin in the Laurentians, Quebec.  

Until that launch, neither of us had ever sat in a canoe before.  Time passed, we returned to the UK to get on with the rest of our lives and each visit to Canada somehow found the holiday filled with things to be done to the cottage.  Canoeing was an all-too-rare occurrence.

And even the summer of our retirement - 2012 - was filled with major works.  A very good, canoe-instructor, friend had taken us under his wing in the UK but all of us were busy and trips were all too infrequent.  I managed to grab a brilliant lesson with a much-admired teacher here in Canada, but she could only point me in the right direction in the little time available.

Essentially, when we  took to the start of this trip, we had perhaps 20 sessions of paddling between us.

But, "nothing ventured" as .they say and, knowing that we would be "on our own" for big parts of this trip we set off on what was, for us, a considerable adventure

 

Tuesday, 29 July 2014

Take it when you can get it......

.... Wi-Fi that is.

Jones' Falls.

Put in at Upper Brewers lock at about 12.30.  Good paddling - but quite a few power boats needing severe "low brace" paddle position.  Good practise but a bit nervous in the middle of these expansive waters!

(Later edit - This is what we're trying to achieve!)

Upper Brewers to Jones Falls 19k

Started from Upper Brewers.  Massive, fruitless detour to Seeley's Bay.

Already portaged half of the flight of locks, the rest to do in the morning.

Huuuuuge thanks to Ann for taking us to the put in.

See you soon, we hope.

Now at Jones' Falls.  Tent pitched, waiting for supper in the local fishing hotel.

Jones Falls locks seen from the hotel veranda

Thursday, 31 July 2014

Rest day!

We slept well, to about 5.30.  Coffee and collecting thoughts then - it began to rain.  By 11.30 we decided to pack anyway and paddled across the holding pool to portage up above the top lock.  Just as we put in, the frogs started to make a clamour, and the rain stopped!

Jones Falls to Newboro - 19k

Reasonable paddling up to Davis Lock, where we decided not to portage, and took the easy way up.

Across Murphy's bay with a strong cross wind and more speed boats, to Chaffey' s lock and the temptation to stay there overnight. I (Peter) was very low at this point but Ali steered us through the islands on Newboro lake, with forked lightening in the background.

An easy lift off the lake to a pleasant camp spot.  Chunky soup and noodles for supper.  Very, very tired.  Awoke with shoulder capsule pain in the night.  Some drizzle early on; we need a rest.  Lunch in the Sterling hotel in Newboro.  Stubbornly sunny, but we are grateful for the down time, a huge, open water pull tomorrow.

Newboro lock

This is fun - of sorts.  But fun nevertheless.

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Back from the wild

Tuesday.

More, much more later; but for now a quick message to say,  "Yes, we are safe",  "No, we didn't fall in".

But we lost our electronics yesterday evening when  thunderstorm (we were off the water, thankfully - but only just!) flooded all of our plastic-wrapped electronics with 4 inches of water in the bottom of the boat in just 20 minutes.

Great trip!

So - my notebook is not dry (the paper, not the ink!) but I thought that I'd get a few bare essentials down and continue to edit over the next few days....

This has been an extraordinary trip.   The Rideau canal  has loomed large in our imagination for over three years as the paddle route from the Laurentians to Toronto!  One of these days we hope to join up all of the waterways in between but for now, the idea was to "nail" the Rideau. 

So I wrote briefly about day one and day two  and the rest day at Newboro.  This was a lovely stop, a chance to "potter" and read and bask in the sun-shine.

The wild-life was fun too; brightly coloured frogs and beautiful dragonflies.







Here we also met a couple paddling "the other way".  He was Belgian - very keen to chat; she was Quebecer, brought up in Woodstock USA - not so keen.


Friday.

In the morning, as we were packing up, two canoeists also came through, wonderful, open, Christian men who shared their faith and their love of what we were all doing.  This next day envisaged  our hardest challenge with large expanses of water and nowhere to "bail out".

So, up to Narrows lock where we again met Angus and his friend, shared blessings and laughter, and saw them off on a 50k day! Somehow, meeting these guys reminded us of God's loving care for us.  Everything seemed more certain from then on.

These upper lakes - Upper Rideau Lake, Big Rideau Lake, are crystal clear; there is little weed and the water goes down seemingly forever.  The plan was to keep to the Eastern shore of Upper - to shorten the line and keep out of the main channel - and then keep to the Western shore of Big - expecting wind from the west.

But in the end, although the route was pretty much what we intended, the wind never materialised and we paddled across a mirror for k after k. 

Newborro to Murphy's Point - 21k

I was still pretty nervous in the boat - I don't have Ali's sense of balance - but I had found room for my feet at last and was beginning to feel the movement in a far more relaxed fashion.  Added to which, some time around now, we decided to change navigator, from me to Ali.  This put the steering into the stern and the route-finding into the bow.  And now I began, slowly, to enjoy the physicality of the trip.  The speed-boat wakes still caused us to turn to take them head on, and big wind-shifts would have worried us - but where was everyone? 

This is cottage country in spades.  Canadian shield land with rounded, glaciated rock all the way to the shore and overhanging docks stocked by power-boats.  But the water was relatively quiet; we met one kayaker all day, no canoes.  The western shore of Big Rideau has a number of inlets - we took shelter in one or two to rest backs and bums!







By Murphy's point - announced in the guide-book as a camping opportunity - we really began to enjoy the following "sea" and the swoops and glides that came with it.  Close in to shore we saw a couple in one of the paddle in sites.  They told us that check in was three bays around to the west.





Half an hour later, tired and rather dispirited, we chose a camp-site at random - 411.  On a little island, close down to the water, it seemed a suitable spot and we were so tired.



 





We set up camp - a bit cross because there was such poor signage as to what else we should have done - and cooked our noodles and soup mixture.
The water filter came out for the first time and did a good job.  Certainly the water tasted better than the tap stuff from the last lock!  The boreholes in this area give the water a sulphurous taste.  A bit like Vichy!


 And then - big shock - not one but three canoes and couples turned up - looking for pitches 413, 412 and 414!  Apparently, we should have booked.  I tried to contact the Provincial Park by phone - a huge recorded message and poor reception (Surprise!!) and  finally through to an agent.  And then I got cut off - twice :-(




The couple on 412 sweetly offered us a place for our tent on their plot if anyone came for ours.  Mark (and Gerry) had booked two days ago and been told that his was the last space available.  So we sat around for a while - but no-one ever came.  I tell you - looked after.



Fireflies around the camp, flickering like tiny Christmas decorations; a noisome - or should that be noisy - privy.  But a good night's sleep and a beautiful dawn. 

Saturday.
Awake so early that we could take our time and still be away by nine.











And, as you see, the feared storms had yet to materialise.  So we headed off pretty much in a straight line!

Murphy's Point to Smiths Falls Detached via Rideau Ferry - 22k

At Rideau Ferry, we met up with a kindly elderly gentleman who had been a fishing guide and a paddle guide in the past.  He loved the boat - as have so many people!  We had great food at the "Snack Shack" and loaded up with more water in a 4 litre jug and some tins for supper - in case.













The last of the big water now - Lower Rideau Lake.  And more mill-pond, sunshine and lilies!

The channel  begins to take wide turns - not needed for the canoe!

In Lower Rideau Lake

And then I argued with the Navigator - and we missed the "Mud Cut" - a short cut through the sea of reeds with an entrance about 4 feet wide.  Instead, we tried the next, adjacent entry to what looked like a sea of waterlilies - as described to us by the Belgian - and ended up jammed into wild rice!

Oh dear; I am Sooooo sorry.  It was only a bit of a deviation; but it was a pity to have missed it.

Feeling strong, we pushed on to Poonamalie, a really pretty lock, and then on again to Smith's Falls Detached!

We visited Smiths Falls last year on our way to Toronto.  And now here we are, camping at the very lock that we visited.





We had a very good Chinese take-away, including an excellent General Tso Chicken!  Yum!



And found ourselves to be sharing our camp with a troop of Boy Scouts from Pennsylvania!










They were awake and about at 06.00 and off on he water by 09.00.  With ice in their personal cooler boxes to keep their sandwiches cool........

Great guys - about to make it to Chaffeys ( against the wind!).  They were carrying all of their personal kit - but were to be met each night at their camp stop - and catered for.  This is their "Chuck Wagon".

Which reminds me, thinking of Scouts; not only have we been very blessed and fortunate in the weather and water conditions we have met, but we also had a good teacher at the outset.  Stephen - thanks very much indeed for the instruction, conversation and support throughout.  Anything that might go "wrong" from here on is entirely our fault and responsibility.  You did warn us about double-bagging!

So - the happily inevitable preparations for the departure!

Sun-tan cream!





The plan today was for a long day to Merrickville.  It didn't quite work out that way.

Smiths Falls to Kilmarnock.  9.7 k

Lots of locks today - through SF detached then SF combined (a very deep lock replacing an original flight of three), to Slys and Edmunds and onward to Kilmarnock.

We pulled on to the portage after the lock and were regaled by the dance music - of a very modern variety - emanating from the simply huge boat parked up on the other side.  Not only that, but they had disembarked a full sized barbecue, just for the two of them.  They eventually packed up and locked through - southbound.

We re-embarked and began the paddle north - and then turned around and came back to camp.



We were just tired, as the lock-master had mentioned when we first stopped.  And besides; we weren't aiming for the next lock, but the one after.  So pushing on feeling as we did would have been foolish.













As it was, we had a very pleasant evening eating up the left over Chinese meal - with no ill effects - and gathering strength for the next lap.








At the end of the day, a Dad and his boys came down to fish; the Dad teaching them respect for the caught fish and responsibility for returning it to the water quickly and with a minimum of discomfort.

This transfer of skills should be what this route is about.








Morning; a good night's sleep; an early start and some corner cutting saw us first on the blue line at Merrickville,

when the lockmaster asked us to move to let in the Kawartha Voyager.


So we moved over to the other side of the pool, behind these Voyageur copies.

And then more power-boats filled in the moorings and the lock-master forgot us.





And we had to wait two hours in full sun, not knowing what was going on, in order to start the lock down.

We were cross - and pretty complaining I'm afraid.  Still, the winding nature of the river from here meant that we kept catching up the rest of the boats - eventually gaining a "what kind of motor do you guys have in there?" from one of our fellow-lockers.

So we arrived at the second Nicholson's lock with the sky darkening ever more.  Once through the lock we pulled over to the dock to get our waterproofs on - and the heavens opened!  I mean really opened! 

We sheltered under the lock house overhang and then I went down to check on the boat - to find at least four inches of water in the bottom.

I bailed it out - another ten more minutes' worth topped it back up!  But the rain eventually stopped; we were safe and we paddled on under clearing skies to Burritts Rapids.

But when we pulled the gear out of the boat, we found much wet - including our electronics.

Despite most helpful lock-staff and a wonderful meal at the now-open Restaurant that we had last seen closed in September 2013, it was a rough and sleepless night, full of remorse and recriminations, although the stars were beautiful.






But the dawn  was misty, and wonderful Ann answered our call and drove all the way up to collect us.

Thanks again Ann - and Rosie of course.

 

 

 

_______________________________________________________

Sunday, 17 August 2014

NOT what the forecast suggested!

Saturday we returned to Ontario, to Smiths Falls in fact, to watch some of the K2O - Kingston to Ottawa paddle race.

In the rain; torrential rain; and high wind.

Absolutely dreadful conditions for the first day; very strong winds and driving rain. By Narrows lock (4.00 pm from a staggered 06.00 to 10.00 start), about a third of the teams had dropped out - including two Stand-up paddles (think surfboards and long paddles....) (eh!?).

The two older guys at the bottom of the pictures were having a blast!  (And yes, that is an Osprey!)

By nightfall at Poonamalee lock, the lead team (relay) competitor coming off the water said the last lake (Lower Rideau) had been a white-out. There were some concerns about a 74 year old paddler - I spoke to him later, he had been blown off course and had to edge-hug.

Two seemingly very experienced guys in an open - no buoyancy bags, just the canoe - said that they had been surfing 1.5 foot waves (I think they actually said 1.5 metres - surely not?) and had at one point been slammed straight down after taking to the air.



I think that these were probably the open canoe leaders at the end of play.......

 So - the race was pulled at nightfall. Everyone accounted for. Lessons to be learned for sure but such fantastic spirit. All ages, both genders. Brilliant!

Monday, 18 August 2014

Back to the beginning - Kingston to Upper Brewers'

Well - very tired now - 26 k today!




Here's a piece we didn't do earlier - never mind, we've done it now!

Couldn't have asked for better weather mind.  A light northerly to start with - on the nose - and then calmer and calmer through the day.  Sunshine and mild to warm; lovely countryside and a curry at the end.

More of of all that another time.

Right now - bed calls!

Sunday - yesterday in terms of the chronology of this account - we left Smiths Falls and the motel of Mr Patel and his lovely wife.

Last year  when we stayed there I asked him where I could get a good Indian meal in Smiths Falls - and he offered to dig a butter chicken out of the freezer for us!  I told him that he should start a restaurant instead!

We declined on that occasion but I reminded him of our chat when I rang to make the booking this time.  He said he still hadn't opened a restaurant, but would we like them to cook some Indian food for us when we came?

Well, the embarrassment  is that were out and about for most of the evening - but I asked him to make us a meal for four - to take on to Ann.  And he and his wife did just that! 

We wandered down via lunch at Newboro again and a bit of a trip down memory lane.  But the extraordinary part is that from the roads, you would never suspect the beauty and the scale of the lakes that are hidden "just over there"!

Monday morning early we went with Ann to be put in at Kingston, about 200 yards up from the bascule bridge which really marks the start of the Rideau.

Although we had a bit of a Northerly to start with, once through Kingston Mills locks (we arrived in perfect timing for this flight of three then one), the wind gradually eased and we had perfect paddling all the way up Colonel By lake and into the River Styx (originally Sticks because of all the flooded trees).  A long pull, and a little breather two thirds of the way up before meeting the famed apple trees growing wild beside the river and then Lower Brewers, Upper Brewers and the original put in.

 

Ann met us ten minutes after we arrived - and then home to that curry.

 

Yum!

Absolutely shattered, we slept on our mats in the Sun-room (from choice; Ann offered other accommodation!)  We woke just once in the night, to be surrounded by stars shining through the windows.  Wonderful indeed,

This is the end of the Rideau for this year.  It would not have been possible in this way without Ann's help and Stevie's shared welcome.

Thank you both - and Rosie of course!  :-)

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Back home.

Well,

A lovely drive up from Ann's outside Kingston.  We came along the 401  and then up the 416 to Ottawa - to be lead by a most compliant Sat-Nav (Emily)  to the crossing at Mason.

This really is the most remarkable ferry.  It operates 24 hours a day and I think 365 days a year.  It's run by Traversiers Bourbonnais under the slogan "Five minutes of relaxation - to avoid the stress of the circulation (traffic)".

We were needing some lunch by now and Ali eschewed the offer of Chinese food for a "Casse croute" (literally "break crust").  A really nice but toothless gentleman who told us that he had recently bought the business ( a way-side shack) using a bequest his mother had left him.  He was proud of his own smoked-meat; his own sausages and his little business.  He waited gently whilst we said grace and wished us "God Bless" as we left.  We hope that he does well.  I'm sure that we shall find an opportunity to visit him again.

Home to wash the boat (the Station de lavage (essentially the local garage) declined the opportunity to wash it for us, saying that his jet-wash would undoubtedly blow a hole in the boat!).  But it's serious stuff.  There are zebra mussels and other invasive species in the Rideau - which former eat the beneficial plankton and let the mats of green stuff flourish.  We do not want those here, thank you!

A bit of a fractious day - delayed weariness I suspect........

Saturday, 5th September, 2015.

"So, where have you guys come from?"

"From Kingston, Ontario". 

"How long has it taken you?"

"Just over a year!"

Friday, 4th September.  Aylmer, Quebec; been in about 3 hours now.  A shower, a beer (and a cup of tea!) and a quick catch up with the post and here we are.

On Sunday last, the 30th, we travelled to Arundel for church.  The previous, warm welcome, lovely people, and then away to Aylmer to stay with P and N overnight at their house there.  Warm; the air heavy with the scent of a transient skunk.  A delicious supper; slightly distracted by the prospect ahead.

Isn't it strange how phrases get in to your head?  On an open canoe chat-room, there was a long-running conversation regarding additional buoyancy in canoes.  I (meaning to be ironical) said that we were off to finish paddling the Rideau "with air-bags fitted".   I was challenged by a subscriber:  "Sorry, but if you're using air-bags on the Rideau Canal, PLEASE don't go north and paddle the backcountry. Really."

Those words haunted me for two whole days.  Had I been too foolhardy last year and put us at real risk?  Was I overcompensating this year?  And, drat it!,  who's trip was it anyway?  But the words went around and around my head - until Long Island Locks - where I met a Canadian who put it all in context.

Monday, 31st August.  A leisurely start to the day; some commissions at Jean Cocteau then with P and N to Burritts' Rapids - the scene of our bail-out last year.  Our aim, Ottawa; our route, day one.....  to Rideau Hill Camp.

We pitched tent on the road side of the lock this year - last year we limped in to the river side.

And then we headed over to the restaurant  for a light something or other before P and N left us.  A stroll along the island between cut and river and these views...

.... before coming back to the restaurant for supper, a good night's sleep (despite the all-night generator at the cafe and the occasional car passing along the road), and a very misty start.

Tuesday, 1st September.  Pinch, punch!  Where did August go?

I have a clear memory of early anglers in the fog before sunrise, and then time to pack and off we go!

The countryside here is low, flat fields shielded by screens of trees.  It was good to be back on the river, in our own world of me and her; just paddling; letting the yards go by.

We stopped at Beckett's Landing for a drink, a snack and a rest.  Nobody came, and nobody went.  And some of us perhaps snored - briefly!

The Long Reach - Burritts to Black Rapids - is rightly named.  There was no way that we could have paddled it all in one day.

Further on it began to be populated by large houses - with sweeping lawns.  Impressive enough (but nothing compared with what we would come across later!)

So we had reconnoitred during the Fall and contacted the United Church regarding the possibility of spending our first night at their Kids' Camp at Rideau Hill, just North of the Baxter Park;  a long haul this; and then!  And then perhaps the most incongruous, welcome sight of the whole trip - a floating ice-cream - Float!  There, in the middle of the river, was a converted pontoon boat - selling ice-cream.....  I mean; how can you resist?

Fortified by two cones (how do you eat a cone in the middle of a river, vaguely trying to stabilise a canoe?) we pressed on the last klick or so to the camp-site.

A delightful, if rather mosquito-favoured - haven at the end of a long day.  A  new ritual developed at this point; cups of tea - lemon or Earl Grey, depending - once the tent was up and before the main meal was prepared.  Just so!

It was really buggy here - and not just mosquitoes!  But it was a welcome haven and, we were grateful for the offer, for the lights left on at the loos and for the warm water at the showers by the pool.  Thanks! 21.4 k.

Wednesday, 2nd September.

After another foggy dawn, today, the rest of the run to Long Island Locks; a two stops day.

First, to an improbable marina on the west bank at or after (we never did find the settlement) Kars.

Met by a man who could only have come out of an Evelyn Waugh novel, faced across the river by a re-incarnation of the African Queen, this delightful, spotless, piratically themed rest-stop offered cold drinks, a freezer full of B-B-Q food, a double shower (!), seating and a very "shiver me timbers" welcome.  Another time, I think we'd stop here, if only for the fun of it!

The river-sides became lined with grander and grander houses; if anyone asked me what the prevailing sound of the Rideau Canal was, I'd have to say lawn-mowers.  Some of these houses had lawns of well over an acre - all trimmed within an inch of their lives!  I stopped taking pictures of mansions - they were VAST.  Think Thames-side on steroids - and then some.

Second stop - luxury this - Kelley's Landing for a late lunch; with ladies who lunch - obviously often!  A very, very nicely cooked yellow-fin-tuna steak on a Salade Nicoise, and an accessory dish of panko crumbed calamari - with copious lemonade - went down a surprising treat!  (as did a hot lobster, crab and shrimp dip followed by a Caesar Salad).  Fine dining with your boat at the dock!

But simpler fare followed; a charming, peaceful lay-over at  Long Island locks; balm to the soul - and a chorus of cigales so intense that it sounded like a gas-leak.  19.3 k.

A magnificent thunderstorm, drifting south from Ottawa, couldn't keep us awake, or break through the tent.  Hooray for Vango!

Thursday,  3rd September.  Long Island Locks to Hartwell's lock.

A very damp start; foggy first thing and then clearing.  We discovered that using a tea-towel to wipe both the inside and the outside of the tent optimised drying.  Simple for some but new to us!  Things have changed since being afraid of disturbing the proofing by touching the inside of a wet tent......

In fact, the day cleared to bright, bright sun, fortunately with a change of wind to the North - right on the nose but very welcome.

In the lock, one of the staff chatted to us, knowledgeably, about stitch and tape boats - which ours is.  We spoke of our designer, Paul Fisher, of his helpfulness to us on a number of occasions, and then of our thoughts for further trips.

But above all, he said, "you might need a bigger boat for the Trent-Severn;  its a working waterway".  This is only 32" wide" I replied, "Tippy," he said, "but the romance of the whole thing; You have built your own boat and paddled - or will have paddled - the Rideau.  My Congratulations to you."

In one phrase, I was justified!  Justified in my continuing instability in our lovely boat; justified in our pride at what we had done.  Justified in believing that Canada is a country that not only makes such trips possible, it makes them understandable.

We paddled right under the flight path for Ottawa airport; and right under all the mid-day arrivals!  Lunch-time at a really laid-back Black-Rapids lock was met with advice to avoid camping at Hog's Back - because of the noise - and to go on to Hartwells' instead.  Seemed reasonable.

At Hog's Back we found and paid due deference to the  Rideau Canoe Club-house at the entrance to Hog's Back locks.  I don't know that anyone noticed....

And so we pressed on to Hartwell's Lock.  We'd left the river now and were completely in engineered water.  But it was remarkably pleasant with cyclists and pedestrians and roller-bladers skimming along Colonel By drive, and no-one else on the water.

Hartwell's Lock is right adjacent to Carleton University campus; it was Fresher's' week.  There were many barbecues on our side of the water, but first year students in Canada are 17 - unable to drink alcohol - so events were much quieter than they might have been and only the discotheque kept us awake after dark.

The canal was warm and clear to rinse tired feet in.

The lock wash-rooms were accidentally closed, so we pretended to be students and used the facilities in the Canal building of the University!   16.3k

Friday, 4th September.  Hartwell's Lock to Parc Plaisance Jaques Cartier - Quebec.

Such a glorious day. suntan cream on; a northerly wind to keep us cool, cyclists, pedestrians and joggers to greet and salute us like a welcome party.  Canadians just seem to be friendly people.

And then at last, the view we have looked forward to for such a long time; Fairmont Chateau Laurier and the bridges to the Ottawa flight of locks.  There was a catch in the voice of each of us, I'll tell you.

The step down was a long-drawn, contemplative pattern of latch on, cast off, paddle, latch on, cast off....

And then we were free.  Released from the stricture of the water-way, welcome and reassuring as it had been, to face the new frisson of the Ottawa River.

Well, we had had wonderful advice from Stephen, Max, Beckie, the Lock-Masters and others.  We struck out for the far shore, following at first the boat we had come down with.  A river-trip boat appeared; we rode the wake.  A power-boat arrived, hurrying to catch the lock behind us and trailing a real wake; we got wet!  For the first time since Murphy's Bay - a year and a long way ago, we had water on board!

We pulled then for the North Shore, bounced and pushed through the wind against (very little) tide chop and made landing at the slipway at Parc Jaques Cartier.

Job done.

Big smiles.

Hartwell's to Parc Jacques Cartier - 7.5 k

Kingston to Ottawa - 203km