2007/09 Ontario trip - Algonquin Park |
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Our shortest route home, through the Detroit area and Chicago, is about 1100 miles but we were going around the north side of the Great Lakes, adding about an extra 400 miles, and hoping to catch the autumn colours at their best. 
We thanked Debbie for a great weekend, and set off north on another eighty degree day towards Algonquin park. The colours were in full flame: reds and golds and oranges from maples, oaks, and sumac. We drove on quiet roads up through Bancroft to the park. Much of the park is wilderness, reachable only by boat or foot, but there are forty miles of road that give access to the southern parts.
Close to the park the colours were even better, but they seemed to be best 
on the east-facing slopes, irritating as a strong sun was blazing into our eyes as it was setting behind the hills. We drove to Rock Lake and found a camp site on the beach, facing just such a colour display on the hills across from us. I resolved to get up early and catch the dawn’s sunlight on those hills.
We sat out late on a warm evening under a nearly-full moon, and cooked our dinner over a camp fire. We had lots of noisy company, many ducks taking off and landing, and much quacking going on even late at night. I woke in the middle of the night and heard a distant howling from across the lake, just a single animal, not a whole pack. It could have been a human trying to get the real wolves to howl, but it sounded very authentic and very chilling. Last time we’d heard wolves howling we were in a tent on an island, miles from anyone and anywhere. Now that was really chilling!
Tuesday September 26th
Dawn was warm, muggy, and misty, so I wasn’t going to get much of a sunrise. I decided to climb up to Booth’s Rock a great granite cliff in the hills behind us. If the sun broke through, then I’d have a great view of the colours around the lake. Instead, it became very dark and rained heavily for the whole hike up. I was soaked in the first minute, so I couldn’t get any wetter. The granite rocks were like sandpaper, plenty of traction even when running with water.
I came out at the top of the sheer cliff and the view was really spectacular: the lake, islands, and rolling hills in the distance. Unfortunately, cameras don’t deal with mist as well as eyeballs do, so my pictures don’t do the view justice. The trail down from the rock had been replaced by a massive staircase that drops down almost to lake level. This is not a hike to do in the reverse direction!
The trail came out to the remains of a railroad track that was built to haul lumber out of the 
wilderness. At the height of WW2 lumber trains passed that spot every 15 minutes, a staggering amount of wood. The track passed the ruins of the “judge’s house”, built long ago on the lake shore and abandoned some fifty years ago. The walls were gone, but the boat dock and foundations, even 
the lines on the tennis courts, were still there. I walked back along the track to the campsite, through dense forest, and perversely, the sun came out for a few minutes.
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