This week is a hard one for me. I should be spending the week in Northern Ontario with my family. We have been going to Brent, Algonquin Park almost every summer for as long as I can remember. It has gotten harder to get up there now that I live in the Midwest. But we try to be there every other summer. This was our year, thanks to COVID-19, we’re stuck at home.
The blog this week is going to feature some favorite memories (tied to food) from our annual vacation. This was always a magical week (or 2). Like stepping back in time. There is no cell service, no phone, no WiFi. No way for work to find me. The trip to the park ends with an hour ride down a dirt logging road. Which, in recent years, is significantly better graded and maintained than in the past. When I was a kid, it was just two dirt tracks with grass growing down the middle. I can’t even remember how many hubcaps dad lost, or how many times we bottomed out.
A little history
Years ago, Brent used to be a stop on the CN rail line. All the details on Wikipedia, and some great old photos can be found HERE. In 1995, they closed the line and started pulling the rail ties out of the park. When I was a kid, I remember the sound of the trains rattling through in the middle of the night. That, and the occasional boat motor were the only thing that reminded you there was more than life on the lake. When the rail line still existed, there was power, and a phone line into the park. There were more people, and bigger boats. That all changed pretty quickly. Now the Outfitters Store is the only place with a satellite phone (and some spotty satellite WiFi so they can take reservations). Brent is an access point for the interior of the park. You can rent canoes, get freeze-dried foods, and buy chips. Store is a generous term for it. But the same man, for many more years than I have been up there, runs it. He looks like Santa, and will always have a special place in my memory. He was never afraid to yell at us when we were doing some stupid and could get hurt. But, had the patience to teach us about the park and the lake and the best places to go.
These days, you’ll see a couple of canoes paddle quietly across the Cedar Lake. Occasionally, you hear the slight drone of a 10HP motor on a small, aluminum boat. Nothing more powerful is allowed. We’ve watched as people paddle the wrong way, take too much with them, and wonder if they will ever make it to the end of the portage. We have also seen those who know what they are doing gently glide across the like when it’s like glass making no sound at all.
Sharing It with Steve
Taking anyone new to the north end of Algonquin Park is a gamble. Will they survive without access to WiFi, email, and social media? Can they handle the outhouse? Will they put up with the crazy that is packing for the trip. You have to take everything with you. If you forgot something, you go without, or it’s a 4-hour drive round-trip to get it. Steve has been a couple of times. He knew how special it was, and even ended up proposing to me there a few years ago. We had hoped to take the Kid this year to share it with her, too.
There is so much more I could say about my love for Brent, but the truth is I don’t want to entice you to find this little slice of heaven. It’s perfect. It’s worth the drive. It’s completely unplugged. If too many people know it’s there, that will change, like everything else. Today, I hope my family is sitting in the lake, having a beer, and enjoying the day. When things get better, we’ll be back. To listen to the loons, watch a storm come across the lake from the porch, and complain about how bad the mosquitos are.
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