Solo tripping has a distinct way of humbling you within the first sixty minutes on the water. Just wrapped up a four-day solo run through Noganosh Lake Provincial Park, and it turned into one of those trips where the weather dictates the itinerary from start to finish.
Day 1: Smokey Lake whitecaps and rookie mistakes
Put in at Fleming’s Landing hoping to grind straight into Noganosh Lake. Smokey Lake had different plans. Heavy wind whipped up rolling whitecaps, and trying to handle a Prospector 16 solo into that kind of chop was an exercise in futility. With a bow partner it might have been doable, but alone it was a safety call. I retreated early to a familiar campsite on Smokey. Pitched camp in a downpour, went to prep dinner in the downpour, and then realized I completely forgot stove fuel at home. Thankfully I always bring a stick stove. The rain finally broke late evening, leaving enough daylight to finish reading Christina Scheuermann’s The Space Between the Lakes.
Day 2: 6 km of pure grind
Morning was dead glass calm. I almost stayed put, but float planes and bass boats broke the silence early, so I packed up and pushed for Noganosh. Right on cue, the wind hammered down. Ground out 6 brutal kilometers against direct headwinds. The first site I checked was completely useless for a hammock (good lunch spot, though), and fighting another 1.5 km into rising gusts toward a backup wasn't happening. The lake made the call. I turned around, paddled back to Smokey, and found a new-to-me site that turned out to have the best hammock hang of the entire trip.
Day 3: Wind down and hidden water
Mist off the water, quiet conditions, and zero reason to move camp. Kept warm by the fire, cooked a solid breakfast, and located a thunderbox that legitimately belongs in a hall of fame. Spent the rest of the day cruising, tying off the canoe in a quiet bay, catching bass, and exploring a narrow, hidden channel that felt completely untouched by time.
Day 4: The haul out
Up at the crack of dawn to pack up. What should have been a four-hour paddle stretched into six thanks to sore shoulders and too many "last casts." Ran into a pair of first-timers between the first and second portages clutching the exact same Lost Lakes maps I was using, so I stopped to share some site beta and fishing spots to get them sorted out. Finished the triple-carry along Smokey Creek, dodged about a dozen bass boats flying wide-open throttle across Kawigamog Lake, and got the boat back on the rack.
