We spent the evening on shore watching a powerful thunderstorm, and the passing clouds resulted in another dazzling sunset. We were not alone, however, as a giant snapping turtle was laying her eggs in the centre of our campsite. This prehistoric looking reptile had to have weighed almost twenty pounds. I had no idea these creatures existed on this side of the Galapagos Islands. Its tail alone was larger than the numerous painted turtles we had seen throughout the trip. We did our best to leave her undisturbed as we prepared to leave the next day.
Paddling in the early morning light through the mist on a calm lake is a religious experience for me — a moment that you hope will last forever. It simultaneously warms my heart and sends chills down my spine just thinking about it.
Rod and I could never run out of things to talk about, but on this morning we were nearly silent the entire way across Russell and up the giant north arm of Sturgeon Lake. Other than the occasional “Isn’t this gorgeous?” we rhythmically glided along in awe and reverence for the splendour surrounding us.
The quiet stillness continued into the Deux Rivières, a winding creek on which Rod had previously seen a moose. We hadn’t even rounded the first of its several bends when lo and behold a large adult cow stood thigh deep just sixty feet away. We managed to close about a third of the gap undetected before the cow looked up without betraying a hint of surprise. After a few seconds she slowly lumbered up the bank and disappeared into the forest.
It was incredible. I couldn’t believe our good fortune. It had already been a perfect day and the sun had barely cleared the trees. We had decided to remain quiet throughout the creek but were simply unable to control our excitement. Within seconds, it seemed, we rounded the next bend and to our amazement there were two more cows!
There was no element of surprise for these two moose as they calmly sized us up. I don’t claim to read the minds of animals, but I’m pretty sure they were thinking, “Who the heck are these two yahoos?” The staring match continued for a few moments until they too thought it best to seek the safety of the forest. It was beyond our wildest dreams.
The north half of Deux Rivières is exceptionally scenic with mature pine lining both shores as the marshy reeds give way to bedrock upon entering picturesque Twin Lake. The historic portage out of Twin is fairly long and almost entirely uphill. It takes the traveller through the heart of an old growth pine forest on its way to the crystal clear waters of Dore Lake. One especially large and majestic white pine is angled precipitously over the trail seeming to defy gravity.
The day’s journey ended with a refreshing dip at one of the many beautiful sand beaches of Pickerel Lake. It was an unbelievable way to finish a marvellous trip.
WONDERFUL WILDLIFE ENCOUNTERS
That initial trip more than lived up to my expectations in regards to fishing and adventure, but I was caught completely off guard when it came to the profound beauty of the land. It took me most of the trip to adapt to the calmer pace of traversing by canoe and portage, but I was struck by two significant observations.
I had lived around similar lakes my entire life, but the towering stands of red and white pines that exist in Quetico were a complete surprise to me. My old motorboat haunts were either too far north for the big pines or, more commonly, had not escaped the saws of timber companies. These forests draw the amazement of travellers from afar, but I could not believe that such beautiful giants existed in my own backyard.
Secondly, I was taken aback by the cleanliness of the entire park. Those who frequent canoe country seem to treat the land as if it were holy. They talk quietly, respect one another’s space, and are very conscious of leaving the land just as they found it — pristine.
However, maybe the most surprising element of all was the wildlife that we came across. I could not get over the variety and frequency of wildlife encounters when travel is powered by foot or paddle. It is possible to see and hear more in one ten-day canoe trip than in years spent in a motorboat.
During that first trip alone we saw three moose, a deer, a snapping turtle, a pileated woodpecker, numerous osprey, painted turtles, beavers, bald eagles, ducks, dozens of loons, and a wide assortment of birds beyond my abilities of identification. In addition to this we heard a great horned owl hooting incessantly one afternoon (I had always thought them to be strictly nocturnal). In the years to come, these sightings would be the norm not the exception.
Bull moose, Deux Rivieres.
The most sought after encounter for visitors is undoubtedly the majestic moose. I have been fortunate enough to see more than forty-five moose during my adventures, with one trip yielding twelve sightings, but none of these was as impressive as the night we shared our campsite with the largest bull I had ever seen. It was the very first night of my wife’s very first trip to the park, and we had made it all the way to a small island on the south half of Twin Lake. I felt that camping near the entrance of the Deux Rivières, where I had seen moose before, would give us the best chance to observe these giant creatures, and this couldn’t have been more true.
On the first morning I walked on a small trail behind our tent to gather some firewood and noticed the fresh tracks of a very large moose. I was excited to confirm that at least one was in the area. We were soon off to the river with our camera at my wife’s feet. Around the very first corner we spotted a large buck with an impressive rack, but he darted into the woods before we could get him into focus. As we meandered along we spotted a beaver, a duck, some painted turtles, and an otter, but no moose.
When we returned to the entrance of Twin Lake, Michelle casually mentioned that when we left the site she hadn’t noticed the large stump sticking out of the water just off our landing. Then suddenly the “stump” moved. A giant bull moose with an enormous set of antlers was enjoying a picnic lunch of aquatic plants not more than sixty feet from where we had launched our canoe. We took several pictures as we inched closer and closer, until eventually he felt we had come close enough. He lumbered out of the water and made his way to the protection of the bushes and trees on the swampy section of our island.
After unsuccessfully trying to spot him and listening for his movements, we decided to go fishing. The moose remained hidden while we fished, but shortly after we began preparing supper we heard a giant splash. Sure enough he was back to the same spot. This time we decided to take turns: one watching him from the comfort of a rocky outcropping lakeside while the other cooked.
Nearly an hour passed as we spent dinnertime watching this magnificent bull. His rack had to have been nearly fifty inches in diameter. We were fascinated with the enormous musculature of his neck and shoulders and the silky sheen of his blackish brown coat. Soon the temptation of the perfect photo was too much to resist, and we were back in the canoe. Once again upon spotting us this giant was off to dry land. This time, however, he walked right across the island and swam to the mainland. As thrilled as we had been to have him around, we weren’t too sad to see him go. The thought of sharing this tiny island for another night with such an intimidating animal was a bit disconcerting.
Too Close for Comfort
A few summers ago, I guided a friend of mine and his cousin from Italy on a three-day trip. Again the Deux Rivières was on our itinerary, but being the middle of a hot July day I was hardly optimistic that we would see any wildlife. Water levels were low, requiring occasional poling. Beavers had constructed several dams along the way, making progress slower yet. Bend after bend we paddled, pushed, and lifted with not so much as a chickadee sighting. Finally, as we rounded the last turn, we came across a large cow moose.
She spotted us immediately, which led me to believe this encounter would be a brief one. Surprisingly, she continued sampling the vegetation and, instead of retreating, crossed the river at an angle that led her closer and closer to us. At the same time I had been creeping us forward, and at one point