Who We Are and Our Trips Over the Years
- Feb 6
- 5 min read
This is a journey of 4 guys that started back when we were kids. Although the group has grown and changed over the years, this is the spot where we are putting the canoeing and camping records in place about our trips.
Paddles, Portages, and a Lifetime of Stories
Embarking on a canoe adventure in Ontario is more than a recreational pastime—it’s a return to something fundamental. It’s the quiet rhythm of paddles cutting through glassy water at dawn, the burn in your shoulders after a long portage, and the shared laughter around a fire when the lake finally goes still. For us, it’s also a story that began long before routes were planned and gear lists were perfected.
This journey started when we were kids—four friends discovering freedom one lake at a time. Back then, it was about getting away, testing limits, and figuring things out as we went. Over the years, life happened. The group shifted, responsibilities grew, and time became harder to carve out. But the core never changed. Every time we push off from shore, it feels like picking up a conversation that never really ended.
This blog exists to put those stories where they belong—on record. The trips, the routes, the mistakes, the hard lessons, and the moments that made it all worth it. Ontario’s backcountry has a way of stripping things down to what matters, and these trips have become our way of reconnecting: with the land, with each other, and with who we were when this all began.
The crew is simple:
Matt
Shayne
Tyler
Nathan (Ogre)
Different personalities, different strengths, one shared pull toward wild water and remote places. Whether it’s battling headwinds on a big lake, grinding through a brutal portage, or sitting silently watching mist lift off the shoreline, each trip adds another chapter.
Looking ahead, this space will grow into a living logbook—routes paddled, lessons learned, and memories earned the hard way. It’s not about chasing perfection or heroic stories. It’s about honesty, continuity, and respecting the places that keep calling us back.
This is where we started. This is what we keep coming back to. And this is where the record begins.
The 2010 Reunion Trip
Launch Day Chaos
We arrive at Rain Lake expecting tranquility.
What We get instead is a full‑blown canoe rodeo.
People are yelling, dogs are escaping, maps are being unfolded upside‑down, and someone is loudly insisting that their $600 paddle “feels off.” we haven’t even stepped into the boat yet and we’re already reconsidering our choices. It’s been decades since we’ve all camped together yet were picking up right where we left off. We need to shake off a bit of the rust, but here we are again—because apparently, we enjoy voluntarily suffering in scenic places.
The Uphill That Lied to Me – Rain Lake to Casey
By minute three minutes in, the profanities are flying worse than a sinking naval ship and we bargain with deities we don’t even believe in.
Whoever measured this trail must have done it while riding a horse, downhill, during a tailwind. Nothing else explains it. Our gear are now the heaviest objects on earth. Our shoulders are filing HR complaints. Moss is overtaking our pace. You can imagine what Nathan (Ogre) is saying as he’s carrying the water jug.
No judgements here; it was a bad habit we had from when we were in Scouts and had to drag a steel milk can full of water with us when we tripped. (We’ve learned from our experiences and have a couple of water filters now.)
Meanwhile, the next 1.2 km portage is somehow…pleasant? Easy? Dare we say enjoyable?
Every time we portage, we become more certain that the Algonquin Park was gaslighting us.
Camping on Daisy
Daisy Lake was our home for the night. The island site is a spectacular one that still has remnants of the logging days. There is still a 48” round sawblade. Except for the red squirrels. Don’t get me on these little noisy cheeky bastards. I went to grab a handful of trail mix that I had left on top of the food barrel and not only had they eaten their fair share but eaten through the bag so when I picked it up, it emptied the bag all over the ground. It was like they set up the trap like it was from an Indiana Jones movie.
With that said, we had what could be argued as one of the biggest tri-tip steaks ever for dinner. Good times, good food, great friends.
The Pet
The winding river with seemingly no end.
Even though it was a short trip down the Petawawa River to the portage, we made some friends along the way. As we encountered a mucky landing and another quad burning, profanity laden portage to Addison’s Lake. Then on to Moccasin, Juan, and finally arriving at Jubilee for the night.
The Moose That Looked into Our Souls and Found Disappointment
We round a point on the North side of Jubilee and there it is: a moose the size of a forklift. It looks at us with the expression of someone evaluating a questionable life decision—our entire existence, basically. Shayne and I make one of our classic questionable choice and paddle towards it. It’s actually an average sized cow. It looks at us again and is now getting annoyed with us interrupting is late afternoon snack. I lifted my camera and was able to grab a few shots before it disappears into the forest while it’s rolling is eyes at us.
Camping on Jubilee
It’s our last night on this reunion trip. Even though we are deep in the back country there’s still a good number of people on the lake. There’s a group on the site next to us that was doing a great job and making even more questionable choices than we do. They had a giant rope swing that had clearly been put up by someone long before them. They were having a great time. Not really bothering anyone. Enjoying the late afternoon sun. Were making dinner and chatting amongst ourselves and without any warning we hear what sounds like a gunshot. It echoed of the trees across the lake. Our instincts kick in and Shayne and I immediately jump in a canoe to head towards the origin of the sound at the campsite next to us. As we paddle towards the site, we realize that it wasn’t a gunshot, but the 6 inch branch that the rope swing was on had snapped. We briefly talked to the folks at the site and when we realized no one was hurt, we said our goodbyes and headed back to camp.
We had our dinner and enjoyed the night by the fire under the stars.
Why We Return
People ask why we do this?
Is it the wildlife? The challenge? The solitude?
No. It’s because it’s the only place where our stress dissolves faster than my dignity on a slippery portage rock. Out here, nothing cares who we are or what emails we haven’t answered. We’re just another weird human walking through mud with a canoe hat.
And honestly? That’s freedom.
So yes—we’ll be back.
Even though the portages hate me almost as much as I hate them.
Even though the mud are plotting.
Even though my shoulders haven’t forgiven me since 2010.
Because some places are worth the suffering.
Algonquin is one of them.
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