Roadless Bliss...

Flower
Credit: Jeff Wells

The birds were a little lazier here at Camp 2 on Kawitos Lake than at Camp 1 on Petawanga Lake. The first bird I heard on Sunday morning (June 22) was a robin callingâ€”it sounded like it had landed on the tentâ€”at exactly 4:24. But it didn't take long before the sound became almost deafening. Tennessee Warblers blasted their mechanical "chit-chit-chit-chu-chu-chu-titititititi;" Ruby-crowned Kinglets belted out their rollicking songs; Alder Flycatchers did their rolling "ree-bee-o". All of these species and at least thirty more were filling the air at once with a density of sound. Behind it all there was the occasional slap of a beaver tail. Eddie and I counted birds and recorded sounds until almost 10 that morning. The last of them we found a perch on top of an old beaver lodge looking out over the outlet of a small stream behind our campsite. As I pointed the microphone north across the water I imagined listening through the wilderness the 300-plus miles to Hudson Bay across forests, rivers, lakes, and peatlands where no road existed.

The paddle up to the second and final portage of our trip was through beautiful dark flatwater where the bird sounds could be heard distinctly as we glided through. Eddie and I chatted a lot through here with lots of drafting so we could both jot down notes while Per could be heard occasionally giving directions to Tim on where he wanted the canoe for that perfect photo. We passed a large nest that we assumed was a Bald Eagle's since we had seen one nearby but an Osprey was also in the area and no one could be seen on the nest itself. Just as we reached the portage I heard the distinct "quick-three-beers" whistle of the one and only Olive-sided Flycatcher of the tripâ€”a species that sadly was just added to Canada's list of threatened species.

This portage trail was shorter, wider, and more well taken care of than the last one and we had everything carried over in under 30 minutes. The flies were a nuisance here so we paddled just offshore from the portage and the outlet of the rapids and ate our lunch while drifting. A group of nine Bonaparte's Gulls and two Common Terns swooped low over the water near us as we ate and soon after we started paddling I heard the distinctive buzzy "zeeeee-up" song of a Northern Parula which, despite its name, is apparently decidedly rare this far north.

We made it into Triangle Lake around 4:30 in the afternoon. Unlike most of the route so far, the lake was blessed with an abundance of ruggedly photogenic and relatively bug-free ledges draped in lichens and mosses. We stopped at one on the south side of the lake and were about to unload when Per, his photographer's eye always on the prowl, spotted what looked like his dream spot across the lake. He and Tim set out to check it out while Eddie and I waited. Fifteen minutes later a paddle wave beckoned us across to what had to be the most incredible camp yet. Perfect flat spots for out tents, rock benches and tables for cooking, easy access for fishing, an amazing view and best of allâ€”a drumming Ruffed Grouse that kept us company until nightfall.

Relaxing sounds from the morning at Camp 2 (listen)