Four Days Canoeing Alone Through Algonquin Provincial Park 🇨🇦 2024

Four days. A solo canoe. A vague plan. And the endless wild of Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario.

In June 2025, I found myself at the edge of Kawawaymog Lake, in a 13-foot solo canoe. I had just wrapped up a season guiding sea kayak expeditions in Panama and had flown north to visit friends in Canada.

Day 1 – Into the Storm

I set off across Kawawaymog under moody skies, I knew a storm was due that afternoon. My plan was to paddle fast, beat the weather, and make it to North Tea Lake before things got too wet. But Mother Nature had other ideas.

The wind arrived early, throwing up side waves higher than the gunwales of my canoe. I paddled hard with one arm while bailing water with the other, fighting to keep the canoe steady as spray and chop crashed over the sides.

I changed course a couple of times to tak and jive away from the wind and waves. Once I was across the lake I slid into the shelter of the narrow river that connects Kawawaymog to North Tea.

The moment I slipped into the calm of that marshy channel, the chaos gave way to tranquil beauty. I paddled over the remains of a small beaver dam that let the river flow just enough to carry me forward. There are 2 portages to make between the lake, one short and one longer, after the second one i was into North Tea lake. 

By the time I reached North Tea Lake, the wind had dropped and the water had calmed. I paddled hard into the calm to set up camp just before the skies opened. Rain trickled on my tent fly as I lay back, listening to the haunting calls of loons and the distant echo of a moose deep in the woods.

Day 2 – Islands, Solitude, and Improvised Meals

The next morning was clear and still, a perfect day to be on the water. With no wind and no one in sight, I felt like I had the entire lake to myself. 

I was heading somewhere on Manitou Lake, and after a long portage, I paddled into another world of glassy water, forested shores, and sun-warmed silence. Around midday, I stopped to explore a small island and ate lunch.  

That night I found an island to camp on, with a wide-open view of the lake and an unforgettable sunset. There was no firewood on the island, so I hopped in the canoe, paddled to the mainland, and returned with a bundle. I made a smokey fire to keep the bugs at bay, but I was still being eaten alive by mosquitoes. However, it was worth it. I sat still and watched a beaver cruise by, while birds skimmed low over the water to feast on evening insects. 

Day 3 – The Way Back, Without Repeating a Step

It was time to head back to lake Kawawaymog, I chose new routes through the maze of islands and bays. The magic of Algonquin is that even when you paddle the same lake twice, it never looks the same.

I took my time. I pulled up on sandy beaches and grassy banks, stretched out with a book under the sun, and enjoyed the silence of the park. Not a single other soul. Just the occasional splash of a bird, the buzz of dragonflies, and the endless lapping of water against the hull.

That night I made camp on another island — this one with a small beach perfect for landing. 

Day 4 -the way home.

This trip wasn’t planned. It was pieced together at the last minute with help form a Canadian friend working in the area. I had spent the last few months guiding sea kayaking expeditions in Central America. I travelled with a tent, sleeping bag and a waterbottle filter but nothing else. I didn’t have a stove or a pot. I opened tins with my knife and set them directly in the fire like a backcountry bachelor chef. I used the barrel lid as a plate and my hands as cutlery. It worked!

My final day was calm and cool. I crossed North Tea Lake one last time, then portaged back into Kawawaymog — a far cry from the wild, wind-whipped crossing four days before. I paddled the final stretch in warm sunlight, once again completely alone. 

4 days with no itinerary, no phone signal, no people, just the call of the loon, bellow of the moose and gentle splash of the paddle.