3- The Trent-Severn Waterway

3- The Trent-Severn Waterway

At Port Severn the Lockmaster and his crew were extremely helpful. When Iris mentioned that she would like to do some laundry, one of the workers volunteered to drive us to the local laundromat. Once we were on the canal system, there were no more worries about finding a camp ground. You are allowed to camp at the locks as long as you come in by boat or bicycle and have paid your fee. However, there are some long stretches and big lakes between some of the locks where you have to find your own spots. We never, “cheeta” once by staying under a roof at an inn or a cottage. Canoes and kayaks are charged the same fee per foot as the large boats for a transit pass and a mooring pass. But, since we always pull our boats out of the water at night, this allows for extra mooring space for other boaters.

The Trent and Rideau Canal Systems are one of Ontario’s best kept secrets. Most people don’t even know that they have this tremendous outdoor resource right in the most populated area of the province. The number of canoers and kayakers you see on the water are very few. The Trent-Severn Waterway is now undertaking a study to improve the use and profitability of the system. However, as far as paddle craft and kayaks in particular are concerned, the main problem with the Trent is accessibility to small boat platforms. You can’t get out of your kayak! Some locks have meter high cement walls for over 100 meters that make it impossible to land. In one incidence, even where there was a low, stepped wall for small boats, the only yacht at the lock was moored in front of it! It is always preferable to, “lock through,” so you can get away early in the morning. The locks don’t open until 8:30 a.m. But, in some cases, if you don’t stop at a low platform before locking through the only option you have is to land in slippery rocks and poison ivy on the other side. We all are healthy, senior citizens who are out there, “doing it,” under our own power. But, the locks cater to a physical and environmental unfriendly, pollution creating, sedate lifestyle. This is the, “Inconvenient Truth*,” of the boating and camping industry, in general. All that needs to be done on the Trent is to build some inexpensive, floating, wooden platforms. They would provide a safe and convenient method to load and unload gear.
* Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore, Rodale Press, 2006

The Trent has ever conceivable means of lifting boats. From manual flight locks, to a marine railroad at Big Chute, to the largest hydraulic lift lock in the world at Peterborough, the Trent is an engineering marvel. JR wanted to add the vertical height of all the locks we conquered to exaggerate the total distance of the trip! Both the Trent and the Rideau are designated as Canadian Historical sites. The Rideau has the added distinction of being an UNESCO World Wonder. However, on our trip we found 2 uncontrollable problems with the Trent. One, is fishing at the locks. This is a safety hazard that interferes with the boat traffic and the camping sites. At one lock there were over 50 people literally hanging off the dam. At another, a fisherwoman had caught her hook in a tree right above one of our tents. The lockmasters are understaffed to deal with this problem that continues on from dawn to dusk. The second problem is dying carp that we found from Balsam Lake to Buckhorn Lake. Although we spotted only a few carp this problem is more severe in the Scugog area. As of yet no definite cause has been linked to this tragedy.

After having a good paddle down the Severn River, some concern was setting in for our next big passage across the shallow Lake Couchiching and the unpredictable Lake Simcoe. Couch was very good to us with barely a ripple on the water. We spent the night at McRae Point Provincial Park. The hot showers felt good but during the night a raccoon stole Gord’s food bag and ate everything except for the rice. Simcoe started off just as friendly as Couch. But, around Lagoon City a heavy chop blew in. We were all very tired by the time we finished the day after paddling against the current up the Talbot River.

Anyone traveling the Trent near Bolsover has to go to Twigg’s Restaurant. Call from the lock beforehand to find out when the restaurant is open and what is being served that night. Over time, the kitchen has expanded out into the dining area. But, any couple who work over 90 hours a week each, have the right to, “cross the line,” a little. Mr. Twigg said his wife is so small she will never grow up to be a branch! Here we enjoyed some excellent pizza and some, “out on the limb,” conversation. ‘Trust us,” Mr. Twigg will remind you of one of your favourite movie stars!


Food supplies were running low. Luckily, we reached Fenelon Falls late the next afternoon and celebrated with salad, chicken and ice cream from the grocery store. The logistics of traveling by kayak requires that you unload everything at night and reload in the morning. This is not as easy as it sounds when dealing with numerous small items that have to be tucked into every inch of space in the bulkheads. Put something in a different spot and your concentration is ruined for the entire day. If we had not made Fenelon Falls that night it would have meant a messy mid-day repack while bobbing on the water.

Pretty Bobcaygeon came and went, so we thought. But, Pigeon Lake was our nemesis. Not only did we make a grave navigation error but the wind made it impossible to stay on the lake. Perhaps, we were a little short sighted in not carrying navigational charts of the canals with us. We were only relying on the pamphlet given out at the locks that shows a small scale map and a rudimentary channel route. After 4 hours of paddling we were still within site of the Bobcaygeon water tower. We were also, desperately trying to get our boats out of the pounding waves and up on a well manicured, private lawn. After landing, we walked down to a large mansion sitting in a beautiful location at the tip of a point. No one was home. The place looked like an abandoned resort in major disrepair but had the appearance that somebody occasionally lived there. Unable to go back on the water and taking advantage of the sailor’s credo, “any port in a storm,” we laid out in the mid-day sun and fell asleep. Thinking that someone would show up sooner or later, we made supper and set up our tents.
At dusk, the headlights of a pickup truck headed our way across the lawn. It was the caretaker, who welcomed us aboard the $15 million dollar property, “Sandy Point Resort.” He said that other events on the water had been cancelled and that we were lucky to be safe and dry. Considering how well, even adverse circumstances had worked out in our favour, we laid down that night in humble gratitude.

At the Lovesick Lock near Burleigh Falls, JR’s rudder cable broke. After a quick repair, with duct tape of course, he zoomed on to the next camp. Gord fixed the cable with some spare connectors he had brought along and the rudder held for the rest of the trip. Occasionally, we had to do an oil and lube job on the kayaks. This involved rubbing Gord’s rudder petals with olive oil and JR’s with WD40. Overall, the boats served us well, whether in big water or in wild wakes. What we found out was that the faster the power boats traveled the less wake they produced. Once they come down from plane you had to be aware of gigantic rolls. But above all, the biggest problem is being beached on shore when a raging wake comes in. The canoe could easily be swamped or the kayak cockpits’ filled up with water.

We encountered a lot of boats from the US: from New York to Texas and even from Arizona. One American was sailing the Trent and Great Lakes in preparation for a trip around the world. Being in the locks with the big yachts and catamarans was not intimidating at all. Sometimes we held onto their ropes but usually, we had an entire side of a lock to ourselves. Our first rest stop on Stony lake was at the historic, wood frame Anglican church, St. Peter’s on the Rock. While we were in the church it started to rain in torrents. We praised the Lord for keeping us dry and for opening up His house to the thankful, “Donkeys.” With everyone full of energy and good night sleeps, “The Donkey,” plugged on. Peanut butter and raisin wraps had long been given up for canned tuna, salmon salad, boiled eggs, fresh fruit and veggies. Smooth water, cloudy skies and good spirits were our welcome companions for the trip through Clear Lake and beyond.

The waterways throughout the Kawartha Lake section of the Trent are very spectacular. Every turn gives you another million dollar view. Dark blues and greens contrast with 3 story anodized windows that look over white, Carver yachts sitting in private bays. Luckily, due to our early morning starts, we missed most of the boat traffic. Sitting back on the grass at Youngs Point we decided to have a short day. The wind was picking up and the tourist atmosphere of the picturesque village pulled us in. On the flowing day, we had a relaxing paddle down the Otonabee River towards Peterborough.

Our canoe and kayaks were the only boats in the world famous lift lock. Gord was in front but couldn’t see over the high sides of the gigantic bath tub. In a short time, we were making a run for the last lock through Peterborough. Some severe looking clouds and a strong headwind had moved in to greet us. The lockmaster told us that if lightning started he would shut down the lock and leave us on our own. The other option was to use the canoe chute. All went well, the storm passed over and we got through the lock. Later that night, after we set up camp, we went back to examine the suicidal, canoe chute. It started at a concrete step about a foot out of the water and consisted of a series of steel rollers that ended at about two feet above a white water current. The current was flowing directly into the whirlpool turbulence of a 30’-0” high dam’s discharge. “Yes,” said the lock attendant, “lots of people take the chute.”

First, you would never get a loaded canoe up onto the rollers. Second, you would never stay upright after hitting the current. Third, you would drown after being sucked into the dam’s maelstrom. “Actually,” said the attendant, “I’ve never personally seen anyone take the chute.” We thought to ourselves, “and you have never seen anyone come out the other side either!”

We took our first day off since our journey began. We went to the Tub Club to do our laundry, had breakfast at Thurston’s and visited the Peterborough Canoe Museum. The front of the Museum is all boarded up with plywood and looks like it is closed. However, if you go around back, you’ll find an impressive entrance and a staff eager to answer your questions. Everything is there, from ancient dugouts to a newly built birch bark canoe. If you have any leanings toward the Liberal Party, Pierre Trudeau’s fringed, buckskin jacket with “Canada” across the back and the solo canoe that he was paddling in the famous Harrington Lake photograph, is on display. JR was in Liberal heaven! Back at camp, we were talking to an elderly couple who asked where we had started off from. We told them, “Manitoulin Island.” They said, “our son works there for the Little Current newspaper.” By shear coincidence, it was their son that had interviewed us before we left.

Bill and Iris have an addictive habit. They have to stop and light up their camp stove to make tea at every break and lunch stop. Consequently, their white gas supply was running low. There were no stores that we could find close to the water that sold white gas. This is another example where a basic need of long-haul paddlers can not be met. There just isn’t the demand for small retailers to carry white gas. We had all equipped ourselves with white gas stoves in order to share bottles and to be friendly to the environment by avoiding having to recycle propane cylinders. The Ontario Provincial Parks have now banned the small propane cylinders due to high disposal costs. Gord saved the day by magically producing 2 full Primus bottles. The first place that Bill was able to buy gas was at the Canadian Tire in Peterborough. It took an hour and half walk to get there. Hey, we’re modern day voyageurs and are used to turning little side trips like this one into positive outcomes. Swiss Chalet was along the way.

While we’re still discussing Bill, another anomaly came up. Bill wore the same shirt since we left Manitoulin Island! It seems that the liner inside his PFD was rubbing and melting his new Cloudveil shirt. Unwilling to risk ruining any other clothes, Bill religiously washed the same shirt every other day.
Now, while we’re thinking about water, the basic need of obtaining drinking water was not a problem. We all had water filters with us that we used along Georgian Bay. On the Rideau we bought bottled water since the water at the locks had to be boiled. On The Trent, you could drink the water. But, there was still one prime luxury missing. None of the locks provide showers. We soon became very adept at doing a rub down in the wash room and occasionally took a dip in the canal.

We had heard rumours that more people have drowned in Rice Lake than in any other lake in Ontario. We also knew from Bill and Iris’s previous Trent trip that there were very few places to land on the lake. One option was to leave Peterborough and stop half way down the lake at a former Provincial Park. The other option was to camp at the entrance to the lake and do the entire lake in one day. We didn’t have to decide. As we reached the end of the Otonabee River, threatening rain clouds had rolled in. We had to get off the water, fast! Practically, right beside us were the vacant, Rainbow Cottages. We pulled in and set up our tents and the dining shelter. The rain held off while the owner, Tony, opened up the sub-standard, toilet and shower facilities.

Within the hour, a heavy downpour let loose. But, we were eating supper in comfort inside the shelter and enjoying a delicious, Newfoundland Molasses Cake. A couple of new found, Newfie friends had given Bill and Iris the cake back in Peterborough. It was becoming extremely surreal how fortunate our trip was going! We renamed Rainbow Cottages, “Rainbow College,” in recognition of all the experience and good luck that we had been enjoying. No one was sore or tired. No one got wet or hungry. No one was homesick or upset. All our equipment was intact. Even wrong turns, heavy winds and potential rainstorms had turned into successful outcomes.

With a cool wind in our back, we did Rice Lake in one day. At Hastings, we caught up on the latest Conrad Black news, used the marina’s internet service, and went in search of ice cream. Although the paddle down the marshy shoreline of the Trent River did not offer the same majestic views of the Kawarthas, we had good times and good weather all the way.

While in one of the locks on the Trent River we encountered a group of, “original,” voyageurs. They were dressed in authentic outfits, complete with natural beards and were paddling 2 birch bark canoes. Through the canal grapevine we heard that they were coming. Their plan, in recognition of the 175 anniversary of the Rideau System, was to paddle a re-turn route to Ottawa. They were retracing our steps up the Trent-Severn and Georgian Bay to the French River. From there, through Lake Nipissing, down the Mattawa and the Ottawa, they hoped to be back home in 60 days. Already, they were 15 days out and looked a little despondent. “Bon voyage mes amies, salut!”
Bill and Iris had a trailer site at Island Park Resort, on the Trent for over 20 years. This part of the trip was their homecoming after being away for 8 years. They met some of their old friends, traded jokes and “fish stories.” We then planned for our assault on Trenton. At Glen Ross, the lock staff were outstanding. Not only did they pull our boats out of the water but they moved all our gear over to a camp site. One of the workers even provided us with well water that he had brought from home for that evening and for the next morning. The last lock on the Trent River would have been a cause for celebration if it was not for the slimy weeds, garbage, noisy train trestle and the extraordinarily long, concrete walls. In dismay, we went on to the City of Trenton, “painted the town,” and set up camp at Patrick’s Marina. We had made it from Port Severn to the Bay of Quinte in 16 paddling days.