As the wildfires spread their destruction across the Thunderbay area and beyond, and with the heavy smoke blanketing Ontario, it was with trepidation that we headed an hour north of Sudbury to Halfway Lake provincial park. However, the air was clear with a blue sky, and not even a fire ban in place to dampen the idea of a small campfire. The sites are very private and large, easily fitting our ten-person tent as well as a screened tent for eating in. Though setting up the tents was not so straight foreword, with a strong wind threatening to turn our tent a very large kite. Added to that was the rocky ground, and after several bent tent pegs, we were only able to get half the stakes in place, while that tent danced and flapped in the heavy wind. Finally, we sat down to enjoy a lovely camp meal, and the campfire was lit and we settled in for the evening. Off in the distance the sound of thunder rumbled, and brief flashes of lightening lit up the under bellies of the dark clouds with bright pink lightening bolts. The first warning drops of rain pattered down on the tent, which was flailing in the storm like an angry animal leashed and eager to be off. We quickly dashed into the tent, disappointed to have to spend the evening inside, but prepared with books to read and games to play. However, as the saying goes “the best laid plans….”. Sigh.
The storm beared down on us with its full intensity, shaking the tent and threatening to rip up the few tent pegs we were able to secure. Inside we were warm and comfortable on our sleep pads and sleeping bags. It was my son’s “oh oh” that had me groaning. He was looking up at the dome of our tent, watching a small drop of water collect, then fall onto our bedding. One drip, then another, coming faster and faster. The rain was deafening in its fury and our thirty-year tent could not handle this deluge. We attempted to move our gear out of the way and hope that the drips would only cause a small puddle, but it was a very short time before that puddle grew to proportions that portended a wet night for us. Conceding defeat, we grabbed what gear we could and dashed to the car to spend a restless night crunched up in the seats.
The morning sun woke us from our fitful sleep, and stepping out of the car we were rewarded with a world was newly washed and shining. Small white clouds scudding across the bright blue sky and drops of rain sparkled on the foliage like diamonds. Our old tent remained standing through the night, but was more of an indoor pool now, with random gear gently floating in it. Although we were supposed to spend another night, without a tent it would be more car camping, and we opted to head out, but not before exploring one of the parks hiking trails. The longest trail recommends an overnight camping experience, so we instead decided on a combination of the Moose Ridge and Echo Ponds trails. The trail head is easy to locate, with a large map and information on the landscape the trails pass through. Echo pond trail is known for its moose sightings, and we had our fingers crossed for an encounter, at a distance. Only six km’s long, we had assumed this was a relatively easy hike, especially as the trail was well maintained.
All three trails begin at the trailhead, and we walked among ferns and thick trees, on a dirt path that was soft underfoot. While the storm had passed, the air was heavy and thick with humidity. Mosquitoes and blackflies swarmed up from the slightest touch on the foliage. Within a short distance the trail splits, and the shorter Moose Ridge trail veers away to the left, while we continued to the Echo Pond trail. Now the trail was less used, and the wet vegetation closed over the trail in some sections, soaking our legs and shoes. We followed the trail next to another lake, blue waters stretching off into the distance. Our trail turned into a quagmire of mud from last nights torrential rains, and in some sections the trail seemed merely an extension of the marshy land around the lake. Initially we were grateful when the route moved inland and uphill, but the rocky trail and steep sections had us panting with exertion. That humid air weighed down on us, making those deep breaths feel like we were underwater as rivulets of sweat dripped down our foreheads. A delight to all those biting beasties.
Up and up we went, skirting rocks and roots through dense forest. It was the tiniest breeze brushing against our faces that gave us hope for a cooling breeze. More uphill climbing, and there it is, a breeze rustling the leaves on the trees and chasing away the pesky insects. We were now on the ridge above the lake we had started on and had a view out to the east. A view of trees and water, and no houses, no cottages, no boats, just the beautiful Canadian landscape. We took a moment to rest, before moving on and following the trail down, and back up again. At one point our trail turned left, away from the much longer overnight trail that I did not want to mistakenly end up on. Our route continued west and up, along another ridge of rock. Short and dense bushes thrived in the cracks and crevices of the rock, small blue berries ripe on the stems. We walked down slowly, savoring the little berries by the handful, conscious of any other creatures looking for a snack. My sons dislikes the store-bought blueberries, which are double the size but with little of the flavor of these wild grown berries. He surprised himself by how much he liked these smaller and sweeter berries. Bigger is not always better.
At Echo Pond the air is again still and stagnant, with dragon flies cutting the air with a flash of their translucent wings. Small green frogs sunbathed on lily pads, jumping into the murky water at our approach. We tried to call out to the Echo, but she slumbered on today, refusing to answer back, and while we spotted plenty of moose droppings, the moose themselves remained elusive. A quick stop at the lookout tower and we were back at the trail head, tired, sweaty but satisfied with our days trek. Time to head home, buy a new tent and decide on the next adventure.