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!