“Bears,” my wife Jan said in her I’m-not-very-happy-about-this tone, while waving the Algonquin Provincial Park brochure under my nose. “You didn’t tell me there would be bears out there!”

Feigning nonchalance, I responded by saying there was no need for alarm; that as long as we hung our groceries high in the trees at night, the bears would probably not be a problem.

Her highly arched eyebrow and icy stare told me she wasn’t convinced. I would be in big trouble if we as much as saw a single Bruin during our five day cruising/camping trip to Opeongo Lake, a part of Algonquin’s wilderness area.

Cruising on a wilderness lake would be a new experience for us. We had previously taken our 22’ sloop on various trailer-sailing vacations, but this time would be travelling ultra-light, trailering our Mirror dinghy Image to Ontario’s largest and most famous wilderness park. There we would sail and camp while exploring parts of Opeongo Lake’s 225 miles of shoreline and islands.

Until reading of the bears, Jan had shared my excitement about the trip — that it would be an idyllic cruise through the wilderness, a marvellous change of pace from the crowded anchorages and tourist-laden harbours we had encountered on other trailer-sailing vacations. Now she wasn’t so sure. Shaking her head disapprovingly and giving a ‘boy, are you crazy?’ shrug, she put the brochure aside, apparently not noticing the section discussing Algonquin’s timber wolves. It seemed unwise for me to bring them up at that moment.

In addition to poking about in the wilderness, we would also visit some of the towns, villages, parks and lakes in the scenic ‘cottage’ country north of Toronto.

The idea of cruising in a 10’ 10” boat originally designed to be a racing class day sailer, coupled with the equipment required for camping in the wild, presented several interesting challenges. For one, the small mountain of gear and supplies, as well as the passengers, would have to magically fit into the boat without sacrificing an inordinate amount of space or overloading its carrying capacity. Image also had to remain seaworthy. At first the task seemed impossible, but the list of essentials was soon pared, and pared a second time. It began to look like it might all fit after all. Fortunately we found several good books on back-packing and wilderness camping to guide us in selection of the best types of food, clothing and light-weight equipment. Mirror dinghies have a small below-deck storage area suitable for use on a day’s outing, but not for much more. We gained additional space by installing screw-out deck-plates to the boat’s air chambers. Flotation material was added and the remaining space was used for storage.

The transformation of Image from day sailer to micro cruiser was completed with the addition of a new trailer, small outboard, custom-made cover for trailering and a fresh coat of paint. Sitting on her new trailer, she appeared a very trim and proper little yacht.

With the storage problem at least partly solved, food remained the only area requiring attention. Wilderness camping regulations in the park prohibit cans, bottles and plastic eating utensils. All unburnable refuse must be packed out. There would be no source for replenishing ice, so refrigerated foods would not be practicable. Dehydrated food obtained from a store catering for back-packers was to become a substantial part of our diet. All of the dehydrated meals were at least palatable, and some were downright tasty. We supplemented them with a variety of smoked sausage, dried beef and cheese. Individual servings of puddings and apple sauce rounded out the menus. We also took a supply of Bisquick all-purpose mix, Granola bars, instant coffee, etc. Cooking would be done on an open camp fire or our single-burner Keny alcohol stove.

With all preparations made, we hitched Image’s trailer to the car on a dismal July morning and headed north through the grey, rainy mists that plagued us for much of the first two days of driving. We hoped that this foul weather wasn’t a portentous sign of things to come! Eventually the clouds, rain and traffic thinned. The sky was clear and sunny when we reached our overnight destination, the home of Doug and Mary Taylor near Bracebridge. Waving a fond farewell to the Taylors next morning, we headed towards the Algonquin Park entrance, stopping first at the town of Dorset to climb the steps of the fire tower observation post, which offers a breathtaking view of the surrounding lakes and countryside.

Reaching the park entrance later that morning we were pleased to learn that we wouldn’t have to purchase the $3 per day vehicle permit because we had interior camping reservations. The numbers of day visitors are not limited, but those who camp in the wilderness areas must have special camping permits, a measure which helps protect the park’s ecosystem during the summer periods when visitor activity is highest.

While driving past the park’s picturesque rock cliffs, lush forests, sparkling lakes and swampy bogs, it is difficult to think of how this valuable watershed might have once been severely damaged had it not been for the creation of the park itself. Heavy logging activity had slashed through portions of the pine forests, putting a severe strain on the surrounding plants, waterways and wildlife. But this valuable part of the Ottawa River watershed was spared further damage when the Algonquin Park Act was enacted in 1893.

Algonquin Park lies along the southern edge of the great Canadian Shield, an enormous geological feature spanning a large portion of Canada. Huge rocks dating back to the Pre-Cambrian age can be seen throughout the area, and much of the landscape was shaped by the forces of the last retreating glaciers, about 11,000 years ago. The park is located in a transition zone between southern broadleaf forests and northern coniferous forests. This enables a variety of plants, birds, animals and trees from both forest types to be found within the park boundaries. Loons, fishers, beavers, timber wolves and others comprise the many types and species inhabiting the park. The Canadian moose, once lord of the northern forests, thrived here long before man’s arrival, but through the indirect intervention of humans the moose almost disappeared from the area due to the brainworm parasite. Today park managers report that the moose population is again growing, and signs posted along the main Route 60 highway corridor warn motorists to slow down to avoid dangerous collisions with moose.

Arriving at the Opeongo outpost we noticed that the cloudless morning sky was beginning to fill with large, puffy clouds, the kind that can gather and produce summer afternoon thunderstorms. Having no desire to be on the lake during a storm, we hastened our loading and launching efforts. Instead of rigging the spars, we laid them in the boat and clamped the almost 1 hp outboard to the transom. Motoring away from the dock seemed an undignified, but nonetheless necessary evil if we were to reach a campsite ahead of the storm. The little kicker worked valiantly, pushing us along at 4-5 knots.

We wanted to reach the islands about 2½ miles away from the outpost where the map indicated a few campsites. Keeping one eye on the greying sky, we took the precaution of staying near the shoreline; one of the shoreside campsites might have to be a refuge if the storm arrived before we reached the islands. Most of the shoreside campsites appeared generally acceptable, but not really ideal for us. Some were on steep banks, high above the water, and others had rock-strewn landing areas, OK for aluminium canoes, but not for Image’s plywood hull. We hoped to find an island site where the boat could be pulled onto a sandy shore and the tent pitched nearby.

Opeongo Lake has more than 100 waterside wilderness campsites, but only a few are located on islands. They are also the most popular as we soon discovered. Reaching Bates Island we found all its sites occupied. We continued west to a cluster of smaller islands and luckily discovered a lone, vacant campsite which appeared perfect for us. It had a small notch of water tucked into a protected cove, a perfect place to nose Image’s bow and tie her off. Within minutes the boat was unloaded, tent pitched and our first camp officially established. Meanwhile, the overhead clouds began to break up and the afternoon sun soon filtered through the trees overhead. The predicted storm never materialised, except for a brief shower that evening.

The two acre island was uninhabited except for a few birds and abundant insects, including the king-size Algonquin mosquito. As a precaution against raids on our food by raccoons that might swim from the mainland, I hoisted supplies into the trees for the night. We noticed not one, but two pairs of loons on the nearby waters, and also the two herring gulls that resided on the tiny nearby islet, which was clearly their undisputed domain. The gulls delighted in swooping over passing canoes and doing what you don’t want overhead birds doing! Expecting similar treatment from them for us when we set out to sail the next day, I took a wide-brimmed hat. However, Image’s bright red sails seemed to spook them, keeping them from their overhead aerobatics.

A common grackle was the island’s official campsite beggar. He always arrived around meal time, and was such a moocher that we named him Uncle Ed, as he reminded us of Jan’s uncle who had similar habits. Uncle Ed would fly into the camp clearing, alight on a stump and give his peculiar squawk to announce his arrival. He then moved closer in short hops along the ground, looking for scraps of food along the way. He had no compunction about helping himself from an unattended plate or package. We thought he was unique until reading that campsite begging is common for his species.

The island also contained a mystery. In a wooded area not far from the campsite, along the southern shore, was what appeared to be a man-made foundation consisting of large stones which lined the back and sides of a dug-out area. It appeared to be the remnants of a shelter which might have been used by early trappers, fishermen or indians.

Breaking camp and hoisting our sails on a warm, sunny morning, we left the island in the care of Uncle Ed and moved north to our next destination, the lake’s eastern arm. The light breeze moved us along at a slow but steady 4 knots, but after the first mile it began to diminish, finally dying completely. The sails went limp and we sat motionless in the middle of the lake. A Mirror dinghy can scoot along on a mere whisper, but when there is no wind at all, one has little choice but to wait for more, or resort to another means of propulsion. Wishing to conserve the remainder of our limited outboard fuel, we dug out the paddles and went to work.

This temporary lull in the breeze notwithstanding, I decided that Opeongo Lake should be rated with at least an eight or nine score for being an excellent small sail boat cruising lake. Although it is primarily canoe country, with a handful of aluminium fishing skiffs thrown in, it is truly a small boat sailor’s paradise. The natural beauty of the place is overwhelming and because there are no large power boats, there are no large wakes, a fact which the sailor quickly realizes and appreciates.

Many of the canoe travellers are merely passing through, using Opeongo as a water highway to reach the next adjoining lake via several portages.

The unusual wind patterns caused by surrounding hills can sometimes create interesting sailing conditions, but that seems part of the challenge. The lake’s irregular shape and zigzag shoreline provide an almost endless supply of streams, coves, bays and islands for gunk-holing and exploring. Fishing is reported as being usually good, with both rainbow and speckled trout in ample supply, along with a variety of pan-fish. The day’s catch might taste especially good cooked over a campfire. Later, the evening cries of loons and distant howls of wolves lull the camper to sleep.

The lack of wind caused us to stop at the small strip of peninsula which forms a strait between the south and east arms. Ironically the wind began to stir again just as we landed, but we decided to rest there and have lunch. An orange campsite poster on a nearby tree designated a site which, again, was perfect for our needs. Image could be beached on our choice of north or south sides of the peninsula, whichever afforded protection from existing weather, and the location was ideal, serving as a central base for exploring both the north and east arms of the lake. Our lunchtime stopover was to become a two day stay.

Instead of Uncle Ed, we found the campsite had two equally daring beggars who worked as an entertaining team. Scampering about the campsite these two chipmunks could be named nothing else but Chip and Dale. They could have easily served as the models for the Disney cartoon characters we named them for.

The next day was spent lounging and exploring the area around Opeongo Island, largest island on the lake. The cluster of smaller islands at the entrance to the north arm also provided opportunities for exploration, as did the long-abandoned farm of John Dennison, a pioneer farmer who was killed by a wounded bear in 1881. Unfortunately the time slipped by too quickly and I wasn’t able to do it all.

We broke camp at the peninsula site on a hazy morning, eager to take advantage of a steady south wind in spite of the fact that it would be a headwind for us, requiring a series of tacks. We arrived at the Opeongo outpost three hours later, this time with sails up.

It wasn’t until reaching the dock where a 17’ day sailer was being prepared for departure that the thought occurred to me; we had probably been the only sailboat on the lake for the past five days. Now, as our wilderness journey was ending, another was just arriving to take our place.

Transferring equipment from boat to car and loading Image onto her trailer, we told ourselves that it was good to be back to civilization. But before driving away we took one long last look at the lake and knew we would miss the sights and sounds we had experienced there. There are increasingly fewer places in the world where a small boat sailor can go and still enjoy nature in a true wilderness setting. Algonquin’s Opeongo Lake is one of them.