Lake Lila Semi-Ranger Canoe Trip (picture intensive)

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Chris Russo
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Lake Lila Semi-Ranger Canoe Trip (picture intensive)

Post by Chris Russo »

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The trip was only half-period. Only two of us were reenactors: we let Matt and Jessie bring modern gear. Our canoes were modern, too. And we spent so much of the trip wet that I was usually in a bathing suit and watershoes rather than leather boots and wool.

It started out fairly well. We reached the trailhead parking lot around noon to find it still half-empty. Jessie and I then proceeded to work our 70-lb aluminum canoe down the portage trail--first with it full of gear, then (when that proved unnecessarily awkward) carrying the gear first and the canoe on a second trip. Meanwhile Matt and Chris P. did the same with their own canoe and gear.

Eventually we all emerged from the trees on the edge of Lake Lila, on a sandy beach with a beautiful view. It was absolutely quiet, save for the sounds we and other paddlers made, and the gentle lapping of water on the sand. The lake is only accessible via foot trail, which is only accessible via a shock-destroying tire-eating five-mile narrow dirt road, which is only accessible via another dirt road which is a turn-off of a state route in the middle of nowhere. There were no engines. There were no houses. When the sun set, there were no lights.

It was wondrous.

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(Chris and Matt loading their canoe)
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(Me loading the Jessie-and-me canoe)

By about one in the afternoon we set off. The lake is about three miles in diameter, but we worked our way around the coast, checking for a good out-of-the-way campsite. We saw some nice spots on the islands in the lake's center, and one almost persuaded us...

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(Me paddling)
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(Lake Lila)

...but in the end we went with a spot on the mainland.

We set up our shelter-tarps, got a fire going, cooked some dinner: Jessie and Matt had gathered some freshwater mussels earlier, and we boiled them with some dried corn.

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(Jessie napping in our shelter)
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(Chris and Matt's shelter)
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(Boiling dried corn)
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(the mussels tasted like pond scum, no matter what we did with them)

After dinner we hung our bear bag in a tree a hundred feet from camp. Jessie and I were tired from a long afternoon of paddling, and turned in before the sun had fully set. Chris and Matt took advantage of the twilight to go fishing.

I woke up in the darkness to see Chris and Matt rebuilding the fire. They had caught four rock bass, which they offered me some of, but I was tired and didn't want to get up again.

I woke up a little later to see Chris and Matt still by the fire. They had finished the fish and burned the remains. They were staring out at a spot in the darkness. "Hey, you guys better get up," Chris said.

As Jessie and I stood to our feet, I could hear several somethings, fast and four-footed, just outside the circle of firelight. Pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pit, to the left, then pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pit to the right. Coyotes, we guessed, and while coyotes are cowards and scavengers, we didn't like them pacing, and still didn't want them coming into the camp. It was probably the scent of the fish that had brought them...

...and I had to go to the bathroom.

"Jessie, turn around," said I. And striding to the edge of our campsite, I, er... let the coyotes know that this camp was my territory. A bit later Chris and Matt did the same, while Jessie (her back to us all) mumbled something about boys...

Our territory marked, however, did not seem to dissuade the coyotes' pacing. That was when Jessie and I fished out our recorders and proceeded to fill the darkness with music. And either my playing was really bad (which is entirely likely) or coyotes simply aren't a fan of Renaissance music--but either way, we heard no more from them that night.

(That didn't keep me from sleeping with my spear in my hand, or getting up every hour to feed the fire until we had no more wood.)

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The next morning we decided to find a new campsite. We didn't want a second coyote run-in, and therefore decided we wanted to find an island campsite. Also, it was kind of buggy at our campsite (the mosquitos never went away during the night), and the beach where we'd docked our canoes was kind of rocky.

I had a campsite wishlist. "We want a site with a sandy beach. We want it to be bug-free. And we want it on an island. Please pretty please?"

Thus, loading our gear back into the boats, we began to explore...

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...And we found the perfect spot! It was an island with a big sandy beach and it wasn't buggy at all! It was called Canada Island, and it was the best campsite on the lake!

...And it was taken.

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A little disenheartened, we set off again, but it was starting to rain, and distant clouds rumbled with a hint of thunder. We decided that the next spot we saw would have to be where we stopped.

Half a mile later, with the first drops falling around us, we saw a landing site and a trail. And when we stopped and looked, we saw a campsite with a lean-to in it. We got our gear out of the boats and into the lean-to, and hung my tent across the entrance like a fourth wall.

A moment later the skies opened up and it began to torrential downpour. Lightning split the sky. But, save for one slow leak, we were safe and dry inside the lean-to.

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When the rain let up, Matt and Chris went fishing. Jessie and I gathered firewood, but all of what we were finding was soaked, and even the dry wood was rotted and punky. Still, we stowed a bunch of firewood under the lean-to and, feeling sweaty, paddled back to Canada island to swim at their beach.

On the way back, we got caught in a second thunderstorm. It was amazing to watch the storm rolling in from the west as we paddled east, to watch it pour over the mountains and see the mirror-like lake surface shatter into a thousand fragments as the raindrops came down.

We got back to the lean-to and dried off again. Eventually the rain let up again.

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When we went to start the fire, though, to cook our food, we encountered a problem. Our flint-and-steel got the tinder blazing quickly enough, but we could not get any of the larger wood to catch. Everything would just smolder sullenly. We had to fight tooth and nail to keep the fire burning long enough to cook our slab bacon and perch.

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We slept sounder that night, and a little warmer.

The next morning we loaded up our canoes again and headed back toward the portage trail.

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Then, it was a grueling uphill canoe-carry back to the car, and a long drive back toward anything remotely resembling civilization.

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Over all, it was an incredible trip.

There is no artwork that civilization has given us that can surpass an Adirondack sunrise. And there is no orchestra that civilization has given us that can surpass the chorus of loons and bullfrogs and coyotes in the wild.

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User avatar
Chris Russo
Silent Watcher over the Peaceful Lands
Posts: 258
Joined: Sat Feb 16, 2008 4:43 am
Location: New York
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Post by Chris Russo »

More pictures can be seen here
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Peter Remling
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Joined: Sat Feb 16, 2008 4:20 am

Post by Peter Remling »

Sounds like a fun and interesting time. The pics are great, thanks for sharing!
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