Massasauga

Back for more....Massasauga Provincial Park 2012

DAY 1. We decided a revisit to the Massasauga was due. Lured by the enticing waters that swell with abundant pickerel and bass, who could resist? This year’s trip saw 5 of us embark on another great experience in outdoor culinary arts and ardent bushwhacking (just ask Mike L.). I will admit the weather for this trip was superb and never have I ever had weather this good which made for a wonderful time. The mosquitoes were not even an issue as there seemed to be less of them this time out. Our first day saw much excitement toward the end of the day. As a group of 5 canoeing in would pose a challenge as our equipment and supplies for the 4 day forage into outdoor bliss were not going to be accomplished with 2 canoes, 3 was out of the question as we needed an even 6 to make it work. We had to make the call to bring up Jeremy's 16 footer aluminum craft, crafted by the hands of Poseidon himself!

A reputable seagoing vessel to no one’s equal, with a crew of 3 and equipment and the other 2 with a single canoe. So a decision was made to launch the boat first and find our way to the site, unload and race back to assist the canoe in tow back to our marked destination. Seemed foolproof, right? Not that day. The first domino came when the captain of the canoe was decided. Doomed from the start, this ill-fated voyage of the misbegotten and forsaken, was to become a tale for the ages, okay maybe not that spectacular but it was to be the jab in the ribs of the captain all weekend long, at his expense, of course! We'll refer to the captain as Victor Veenders

In order protect his identity and to stem further ridicule. All was fine for the first leg of that journey, a outboard canoe motor to assist in those cases where waves and wind became no mans friend and 2 strong paddlers, seemed like the perfect plan? So one would think. As the canoe teetered toward what was to become a near tragic end, unbeknownst to the sea legless travelers was there course, ever so slowly, began to deviate. One island looked no different than the next until worry and doubt clouded the young captains watery mind.

The canoeist at the front who we will from this point on refer to as the captains first mate, shouted to the confused captain, "I recognize that green boat house from our travels from a year ago! We are off course!" No, no says the captain, "this is the correct route!" The first mate suggested a quick map reading to orient their position. Well wouldn't you know it the captain had not brought a compass!

That's equivalent to a doctor without a scalpel during a surgery, they are crucial to the operation. Now things are looking allot like a disaster. The first mate, sensing things a amiss beckons to his captain, no, almost pleads with his captain to listen to reason. To no avail. The captain’s pride in his ability and expertise to navigate and survive in this Canadian wilderness is at stake. So he played dumb and reassured his first mate all is well. The first mate wasn't buying it. Buy the time pride before the fall moment shed a glimmer of surfacing, it was too late. The captain realized that they had deviated far, far off course and were nowhere near the original campsite. Stopping at a small island on the large lake, the captain admitted he had lost the map, no sooner than this admittance, he had stood up and the map, which had slid to the back of his jacket, fell out. Do I smell a mutiny? Not yet, close but no one wants to paddle alone. It was agreed that the two would use the small supplemental motor at full power to get across the wide chasm of the lake and try to make up the lost hours, and there were many lost hours by now. The two desolate and sunburned seafarers began the arduous trek toward the site. Meanwhile the rest of the troupe were unpacked and prepared to return lighter and faster to retrieve the canoeists.

They were nowhere to be found along the prearranged route. Jeremy and I start to widen our route to include some of the inlets and bays assuming maybe they deviated ever so slightly or maybe they went around an island in one direction when we chose the other, hours roll by and we start to become concerned. We race to the original entry point thinking we may have missed them as they stopped to rest or worse, they were capsized and in trouble.

In our search of the foreign bays and beaches we ourselves lost our way, but for only a short time. We realized that this search would have to end soon as we were dangerously low on fuel. Should we call the Coast Guard, the navy, or even the OPP?

Things were looking bad. I then came to realize that if they were lost and they knew it they may be trying to contact us by cell phone. The reception was poor at best but we had to try. I reached into my pack turned on the phone and called the captain. He answered! Relief and joy, only because I realized we wouldn't have our weekend ruined with a trip to the morgue or hospital. "Where are you guys!" I hollered into the phone, and then the signal went dead. I try again, and another answer, good. We quickly determined there location after several attempts at calling and realized they had made up ground and were actually a half mile out from our site. We returned to find them very miserable, upset and tired. As we travelled alongside each other the rest of the way the true nature of events unfolded like a dirty diaper, ya, it smelt bad! To think the captain of all people forgets his compass and loses his map! So the jeering and mockery began and carried on through most of the weekend. The original site we took turned out to be satisfactory for us, it wasn’t till the next day we realized we were at the wrong site. So we made an executive decision to uproot our camp and move to the correct site the next day. We settled in for the evening with steak and potatoes care of the Wencel brothers, a big shout out to the both of them for that great meal. After a nice fire we retired for the night. Day 2 to follow.........................