Although I had done many trips in Algonquin Park I had never been to Canoe Lake. When I started penning lyrics for this song I started feeling like I wouldn’t really be able to finish them until I had seen the places I was writing about – Joe Lake Dam, Winnie Trainor’s Cottage, where Mowat Lodge had been, where they found Thomson’s canoe, and also where they found his body.
So in late October (2009) I rented a canoe from The Portage Store and paddled north, much like Tom did 92 years previously.
I stopped for lunch at the site I wanted to see most – where Thomson’s favourite camp site had been (see 15 on the map). After his death, a cairn and totem pole had been constructed there. I ate my lunch while reading the commemorations and looking at the view of Canoe Lake (directly below). I could see why Thomson loved this spot so much.
The southward view of Canoe Lake from Tom Thomson's favourite camp site.
Below are the cairn and totem pole erected on the site in memory of Thomson:
After lunch, I portaged past the Joe Lake Dam (13 on the map) where Thomson was going to do some fishing on the day he disappeared.
Canoe Lake was used for logging in that time and one of the theories is that a submerged log or stump overturned his canoe. I got an eerie feeling after a barely submerged stump nearly ripped the bottom out of my own canoe. I didn’t see it coming and passed it within inches.
I spent the night there on Joe Lake, made friends with a fox (below), and spent most of my night trying to stay as warm as possible. (Being late in the fall, the temperature was dipping well below zero at night).
My fox friend named "Boots."
In the morning I had the most beautiful paddle back south. Thick mist hung just above the water’s surface while frost covered every little twig. Everything was white.
The sun was burning through the fog as I portaged back into Canoe Lake but there wasn’t a single ripple on the water as I passed by the spot where they found his body eight days after he disappeared (2 on the map) and the place where they found his canoe floating without its pilot (16 on the map).
Although it was only a quick overnight trip, I accomplished the main thing I set out to do: to make sure that my lyrics held authenticity. Tracing Thomson’s steps and having seen first hand the lake he loved so much, lets me sing this story with confidence.
My campsite at sundown on Joe Lake.
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