Just Wandering, and Wondering….Who Was There Before?

Posted on January 26, 2012 by

The beauty of snowshoeing is that you don’t have to have any particular destination in mind.

You only need your curiosity.

No trail head is needed, no maps, no markings,….just snowshoes and snow.

Well,….that and the proper equipment, …like my Snow Trail 1036 snow shoes, my Eggli moccasins and my belt full of knives, compasses and Fisker Gerber hatchets.

There’s finally enough snow on the ground to make it fun and I don’t have to go too far to find the kind of country that makes it interesting.  Within the city limits of where I live, but a couple of miles from the edge of the actual town, there are hills that are defended and surrounded by snowmobile and ATV trails, so not many people venture there on foot.  That’s just perfect as far as I’m concerned, because I really enjoy the solitude of the woods.  Well, except for the company of Theo and Louie.

The slopes and hills that surround a particular lake I like do not attract many explorers,.. especially the western slopes.  The forest is a mixture of hardwoods and softwoods, punctuated by copses of conifers where small streams have gouged troughs and valleys.  In brief, it makes for easy wandering through the trees with the occasional clamber down, then back up the little valleys that play host to the streams.

Evidently, someone has been camping here.  Brings a whole new meaning to the term toiletries.

Toiletrees!  Photo taken in the early evening of day one of my weekend hike.

Back to nature.

The sights are what you make of them.  There are fox tracks to follow as they come and go from the waterways, then investigate the potential offerings at the base of trees or in old logs.  Then there’s their prey,….the red, black and grey squirrels that leave tracks telling of frantic coming and going from nests or food stores. There are rabbits making well worn trails into and out of the underbrush.  And occasionally, the tracks all merge and the drama of nature plays out.

Not all predator – prey relationships are that exciting.  Now and then you can be treated to a display of savage efficiency as a small black and grey woodpecker attacks a diseased old tree looking for whatever insects can still be found in winter.  In this case, the woodpecker came to us (again, that’s me, Theo and Louie) and set up shop directly overhead.

Woodpecker attacks a tree, breaking the silence of the woods.

Then,… higher up in the hills, the tell tale sign of human planning and endeavor sort of invaded my space.  Or rather,…I invaded it.

Orange trail marker tape.

Trail marker tape says that someone wanted to know how to find the same place at least twice, and often separated by great lengths of time.  And in the absence of a well worn path.  Naturally, this requires investigating.  When there are markers but no trail, I leap to a hypothesis about what type of person has been here before me. I have a theory about what kind of solid evidence he has left behind.  (chauvenistic, I know,….so I concede,… it could be a she).

The more I followed the markers, the more convinced I was about what type of person I was following.  Through open woods is understandable, but the direct route up and down steep slopes? Then diving into densely tangled bushes?!  There has to be a specific purpose for this kind of hiking.

Trail marker visible in the foreground. Barely visible in the dense tree line, a second marker indicates a path taken more-so than a trail to be followed again.

Today, my hypothesis proved right!

One prospector’s claim post, clearly marked with a relatively new tag that I could easily read!  Now the challenge was to try to find a second claim post.  Claims are staked in rectangular tracts, so which way should I go from here?

The markers lead to a prospector’s claim post.

I picked north, visually shooting a line using the squared top of the claim post to set my vector. (look it up)

The registration numbers aren’t clear, but if they were, we could probably find out who staked this claim.  Can you tell which direction is north?  There are easy clues in the photo.

No luck.  After about twenty minutes, I couldn’t find any more trail markers let alone another claim post so I changed my tactic.   I employed an exaggerated slalom approach with legs of 100 paces northeast, then northwest. I did this for another twenty minutes or so in search of other signs left behind by the prospector.

Finally, I was somewhat rewarded with a trail of orange markers, but the day didn’t surrender any more claim posts.   A few more fox trails, and, with a huge margin of safety, more rabbit tracks, but no bigger animals and no more claim posts.

Rabbit tracks indicate a bunny on the run.  Scared? Probably not.  When not on snowshoes, I find it easier to bound through the snow rather than plow or trudge.  Same thing for rabbits.  It just makes it easier to get around.

In past years, I have found other claim posts with interesting stories.   Claims registered by different prospectors, but only about 50 yards apart.  This means that two different people registered claims to overlapping pieces of the PreCambrian Shield.  (look it up)

Picture two typical paper napkins, 8″ by 8″, arranged so that about one square inch of the upper left corner of the top napkin lies on top of the lower right corner of the bottom napkin.

Confused?  Get two napkins and you’ll figure it out.

Who owns the overlap area?

At the outset it’s simple.  First come, first served.

At least, that’s my story,….and I’m sticking with it.

Difficult to tell, but these two claim posts are registered to two different prospectors. Look closely at the claim information and you will see that the engraving is totally different.  Claim posts ere found about 50 yards apart,  ten miles north of Lake Huron.

It gets complicated when claims expire, so I’ll leave those explanations to the experts.

Anyway,  satisfied that I had at least found evidence of prospector activity beyond the single claim post, I once again headed for home.

A day spent exploring the woods is a good day. You never know what you’re going to find.

As a wise man once said,  “If you want to come back tomorrow, then you better go home today”

Check out the Wombat playing the Outdoor Guru.  See the world through my eyes and my words as I do my best to share it with you and, hopefully, make it come alive.

I wonder what’s up there!    Only one way to find out.

 

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Return to Cobre Lake, Hiking the Trails

Posted on January 16, 2012 by

After the awesome experience of the first trip to Cobre Lake, I headed back there to hike the trails that lead to the upper lakes and check out some of the historical remnants that go back to the mining days of the 1920′s and 1940′s.   One day removed from the first experience listening to the moaning and howling noise that happens when ice is trying to form on the lake, I was not so taken by surprise when I heard it again.

This time, I started out on the trails that skirt the north shore of the lake.  About one quarter of a mile in, there is a junction with a trail that leads uphill to the base of Belvedere Lookout. (look it up)  If any readers ever have the opportunity to hike this area, the “Lookout” is absolutely mandatory.  The top offers a 360 degree panoramic view of some of the most beautiful scenery in Northern Ontario.  There is such dramatic transition of landscape and tree cover that they leave the viewer breathless;….that plus the 300 foot climb.

There are three types of attraction that make this area interesting to me.

1.  The remnants of old mining and logging activities that are scattered throughout the trail system,

2. The dramatic elevation changes which contribute to the terrific transitions in the forest, and,

3.  The creeks and ponds that guide the trails from one lake to the next throughout the Cobre Lake system.

The climb from Cobre Lake up to Bi-Ore Lake is a demanding negotiation of a trail that at times is a small stream bed and at others is characterized by basketball sized boulders and root systems that anchor the monster sized maple and oak trees on the south facing slope.  I takes an individual in superior physical condition to reach the base of the Belvedere Lookout rock outcrop without stopping at least once or to not be breathing heavily.

I was huffing and puffing like an old plow horse.

During the ascent, the groaning and howling from Cobre Lake was amplified and sounded even more eerie than the previous day.  At its crescendo, the sound becomes a wail and it echos off the walls of the surrounding hills.  The ice was forming over a larger portion of the lake today, so soon the hills would be quiet again. It’s a natural phenomenon that still gives me chills and which I feel so privileged to have experienced.

An “erratic” boulder hangs onto the rock face that is the south wall of Bi-Ore Lake. Photo taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS7 digital camera.

Today, I would forgo the climb to the top of the “Lookout”.  I was headed down the frozen length of Bi-Ore Lake toward Tenfish lake.  This required a relatively short excursion through some unmarked woods, bordering a deep ravine that boasted a small creek.  As do roads and trails, creeks and streams go somewhere. Using my Fisker Gerber hatchet, I carved my own trail down to a frozen beaver pond, complete with lodge, then across to an old mining trench.

An old beaver lodge huddles up against the edge of the pond, silent in the snowfall. Photo taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS7 digital camera.

Trenching is a surface exploration technique used by prospectors or mine start-ups to assess the mineral bearing potential of the surrounding rock.

A mining exploration “trench” is located at the end of the beaver pond that is the half way point of the trail to Tenfish Lake.  Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS7 digital camera.

From past hikes, I knew this was where I would connect with the Cobre Lake trail system. Five minutes further down the trail, I could hear the stream that runs from Tenfish Lake down to Blue Sky lake. By now, I could no longer hear the howling from Cobre Lake. There was a heavy, long awaited snow falling that muffles all other sounds.  The woods had gone silent.  This is another natural experience that just demands to be appreciated, so I stopped for a moment to soak it in.

Then onward to Tenfish Lake and the stream that exits from the west end.

The lake was frozen over from end to end, again emphasizing the difference between Tenfish and Cobre Lake.

Streams are the arteries of the woods.  Follow one for a distance, and you are sure to see animal prints of all sorts as the residents drop in for a drink.  There is something special about the sound of the flowing water that seems reassuring.  Leafless and quiet as the forest may be, life still goes on.

A pic of the stream running from Tenfish Lake down to BlueSky Lake.  Photo taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS7 digital camera.

After snapping some photos of the stream and following the trail for a short distance, I headed back the way I came.

A neat little collection pool in the Tenfish – BlueSky stream.  Photo taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS7 digital camera.

When I reached the trail junction at Cobre Lake once more, I headed east along the north shore.  There was one feature I wanted to see again, and I had a question in my mind about a reported old roadway that needed resolving.  After a fifteen minute hike, I came to the ruins of the old log cabin that I had seen in the past.  Very little remains now, but from the condition of the ends of the logs, I’m guessing that this cabin was built in the 1940′s and not the 1920′s.  Small and functional, it provided shelter and warmth to a fortune seeker determined to conquer the elements.

Miner’s cabin?  Trapper’s cabin?  Who lived here on the shore of Cobre Lake? Photo taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS7 digital camera.

Just past the cabin there is another trail junction that is listed on other sites as an old roadway.  Considering that there is no road leading to it, I cannot perceive this rough trail as a former roadway.  Then again, the equipment haulage method of the bygone era involved horses and mules, so in its own way, perhaps a roadway it was.

At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking with it

Steep and difficult, I made my way up through a series of plateaus.  There are a number of old mining addits in the hills that I have seen in the past, but my memory of where they are is foggy.

A shot of the mountain that dominates this end of the lake illustrates the challenge of finding an old hole in the rocks.

Somewhere in this hill, there are memories of old mine workings. Photo taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS7 digital camera.

Three hours into my hike, I decided it was late enough in the day to head for home;  totally satisfied.

I may return to Cobre Lake some time later this winter, but for now it has left its mark on me once again.  These past few days were about the seeing, hearing and experiencing more than the vigorous hiking.  The exercise value was an added bonus.

Again, if you ever have the opportunity, do like me, the Outdoor Guru and spend some time absorbing the atmosphere of Cobre Lake, its history and its trails.

It’s good for the soul.

Look for my next blog as I describe some clues that tell me who else has been prowling the Penokian Hills of Northern Ontario.

 

 

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Howling at Cobre Lake

Posted on January 10, 2012 by

Cobre Lake is a spectacular area in Northern Ontario between Flak Lake and the Little White River, about 45  miles north of Lake Huron. (look it up)  It is located on the north slope of a major height of land that defines a dramatic transition in both topography and flora.

Cobre Lake has an interesting history which, on its own,  makes it a worth while destination. It is also the starting line for an outstanding system of hiking trails.  A winter visit to Cobre Lake has its own unique appeal which goes far beyond the visual.

Upon arrival, one cannot help but be impressed with the ominous cloaking of the hills that tumble down to the edge of Cobre Lake.  Beyond the sight line of these hills and at slightly higher elevation lies a series of  four lakes that play host to the Cobre Lake hiking trail system;…. over twelve kilometers of marked track that include a panoramic view from Belvedere Lookout,…the highest point in the Mississagi Park region. (look it up)  The geography of the area suggests some theories about the forces that gave it its shape. As is typical of me, I have a theory of my own.

On the days of December 22nd through 24th, 2011, I returned to Cobre Lake after an absence of about two years.  I have hiked the trails and explored the sights of the area on numerous previous occasions, covering all four seasons.  Still, there is a haunting feeling that I relish, and is at once invigorating and chilling, no matter how many times a person visits the lake.  This time, the haunting feeling had an awesome audio component to it!

The feature items that make this hike successful are my Fisker Gerber hatchet and my Eggli moccasins, both of which I have discussed in previous posts.  The Fisker Gerber hatchet helped me work my way through the tangle of cedar and pine trees that guard the south shore of the lake.  The Eggli moccasins enabled me to do the climbing and clinging that are demanded of the hiker who attempts the south shore route.  For my first hike, I worked my way counter clockwise around the complete shore of the lake.

Due to an unusual start to the winter, there was very little snow on the ground, so even though I had my snow shoes with me, they couldn’t be used.  In comparative terms, the snow cover was akin to the film of flour that would cover a counter top as a result of a bread baking session. This knowledge is important because of the dramatic natural process that was in play on the surface of Cobre Lake.

Once I parked the truck, I headed for the old Bi-Ore mine site (look it up) which occupies a significant portion of the south shore. Ask most people and they won’t know what you’re talking about.  To those who do know the history, it’s simply Cobre Lake Mine.  Cobre is spanish for copper, so now you know the root to the name. There are remnants of the old mining activities that go back to the 1920′s, and, as an old mining industry employee, it’s always intriguing to try to conjure up images of the past.  There is little left of the site now, but the effort that went into the construction of the old fireplace and chimney that still acts as a sentinel to Cobre Lake suggests a vibrant going concern somewhere in the past.

This old fireplace is a landmark that is well known to anyone who has hiked the Cobre Lake trails.

And this is where it happened.

As I stopped to take photos of the chimney, the most amazing sound invaded the quiet of the day!  Anyone who has ever heard the bugling of elk in the mountains (think Jasper Park) may be able to relate, except that in this case, the sound started out as a low groan, turned into a growl, and then worked its way up to a high pitch howl!  It echoed as though through a canyon;… and abruptly stopped, sending a chill down my spine.  The whole thing took a few seconds, but it was erie enough to cause the dogs to cower behind the fireplace.

Then it was gone.

Animal?         Lost hiker?              Something else?

I am never disappointed with my hikes to Cobre Lake!  No difference here!

I had to get a better read on this sound, so I hurried down to the beach area where the concrete remnants of mining facilities can be found.  There’s also the old jaw crusher that tells so much about the scope of the old mining activities.  If you are not familiar with either of the mining or the aggregate industry, suffice it to say that the crusher in the picture is about one fifth the size of most modern mining operations.

1920′s vintage jaw crusher. For the uninitiated, the feed (rocks) go in the high end, drop through a jaw that works just like yours, then gets dumped into the back end of the frame. When in operation, this jaw crusher was probably located out on the beach area receiving material from one of the addits (mine tunnels).

But back to the howling noise!!

I was staring at the lake and the hills, and the sight  raised some questions.  Being only about a mile in diameter, I found it odd that this lake was not yet frozen over like others of similar size.  To the southeast there was ice, covered by the thinnest veil of snow, but the majority of the rest of the lake was open water.  Then, from the ice covered end of the lake, the growl started again, grew to a moan and once again worked its way up to a howl!

Looking across Cobre Lake toward Belvedere Lookout, the highest point of land in the region.  Open water plainly visible in the middle of the lake.

Now that I was in the open space of the beach, the howl was echoing louder off the rock walls.  It was an awesome experience that demanded an explanation!

So here it is,…along with my thoughts on the roots to Cobre Lake’s past.

As I worked my way along the southern lake shore, admiring the cuts in the rock face left by eons of erosion, the howling joined me at almost regular intervals.  I grew increasingly comfortable, not only with my explanation of the amazing sound, but also with its uniqueness to this site.

An “ice falls” hangs onto the rock face that forms the southern wall of the Cobre Lake bowl. The lake is barely visible through the cedar trees.

Ice forms on thousands of Canadian lakes in stoic, compliant silence for the most part. The cold sets in,…a pattern starts to form,…there’s some crackling noise,…and the next thing you know, we have wall to wall ice.

But this lake is different.

Observe the topographic representation of Cobre Lake (Department of Lands and Forests, Ontario Ministry of Environment).

The gradient lines show that Cobre Lake is about 200 feet deep at the southeast end.

Most lakes have irregular bottoms with hills and valleys just like any landscape. Water depth varies with shallows and depths that interrupt and channel water currents that work their way through the lake.  Ice forms without much of a whimper.

Cobre Lake is not most lakes.

Picture one of those product scoops that dispense things like rice or coffee grounds at the Bulk Barn.  Shallow at the mouth end, deep at the handle end;…gently sloping from one end to the other.  Study the gradient lines on the topo picture, and you see that Cobre Lake is much the same.

More importantly,…for its size, Cobre Lake is really deep!  Almost 200 feet at its most profound depth.

So here’s the story.

As cauldrons cook or cool, a convection process takes place.  Warmer water works its way to the surface and colder water gets displaced.  All things being relative, the surface water is still reaching freezing temperature, but the laws of physics demand that the convection process happen, resulting in a resistance at the surface level.

This accounts for two things.

First, the lake has a tough time forming ice because the surface water keeps getting replaced.

Second, the ice that does reluctantly form is subjected to recurring stress.

Picture a sheet of aluminum or tin anchored on three sides. Grab the free side and give it a shake like,… laying out a bed sheet.  The result is a kind of a distorted “wowing” sound.  The ice at Cobre Lake acts kind of like the sheet of aluminum, except that the vibrations start at a much lower frequency, but build to a higher pitch as the water convection process occurs.  This generates the groan, moan and howl that works its way across the ice!

Just enough ice at the east end of Cobre Lake for an otter to jog and slide his way around the shore.

But, once again, that’s only part of the story.

While hiking around the lake and along the trails above it, the howling sound was actually amplified by the hills, but there was no sound coming from any of the lakes along the trail.  Cobre Lake is not the same as those lakes.  They were completely frozen over and covered by a film of snow.  Their lake bottoms are irregular and are probably the result of glacial activity.

Completely frozen over lake uphill from Cobre Lake.  Photo taken December 23, 2011

The shape and mineralization of Cobre Lake and the surrounding hills don’t conform with the surrounding territory. The scoop like shape of the lake bottom, along with the rather sheer south wall of the lake canyon suggests that it is the sight of a meteorite impact.  This would account for its depth, uniform lake bottom, and unique location in the hillside.  The sum of the parts explains the haunting howl that happens when it is trying to form ice.

At least,… that’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

The conditions must be just right.  Sudden cold weather and almost no snow to dampen the vibrations; really deep water…. and,..by total fluke, I just happened to pick the absolute perfect two days to go hiking at Cobre Lake.

Crystalized frost around the opening of this hole in the rocks on the south wall suggests that this is home to one or more animals. The heat of their bodies and breathing forms vapour as it exhales from the den. The vapour clings to the plants around the opening and forms frost.

What you see when you go hiking brings the experience to life.

Sometimes, what you see doesn’t come anywhere close to what you hear!

Meanwhile, there’s always another story to tell.

Until then, it’s the Wombat, humbled by yet another experience as the Outdoor Guru, urging you to follow the howl!…..Get out into the wild!

Ice sheets hanging from the south wall, photo taken looking west toward the fireplace.

 

 

 

 

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Island Snowshoe Hike, The Creature from Beyond the Rock

Posted on December 28, 2011 by

The beauty of snow shoe hiking is that it is possible to go places that are pretty inaccessible in other seasons.  If you don’t happen to have a boat, then there are islands that you may not be able to get to, even if you are able to get to the lake in question.  When the ice is strong enough, just strap on the snow shoes and hike across to the mystery land and see what you can find.

Islands are cool.  By definition, they are captive ecosystems that can be pretty amazing.  On most fresh water lakes, there is a limit to how big an island can be, but the bigger the island the more interesting the snowshoe hike. The inhabitants of the island can vary from season to season as well, depending upon how well an animal can swim or how far it is to the mainland.

Sum it all up, and an island snow shoe hike can be really interesting.

So off I went to explore an island that is about a half mile long by a quarter mile wide running kind of east – west.  It is shaped vaguely like a saddle with heights of land at either end and a lowland area in the middle.  I decided to climb aboard at the east end and was immediately faced with a steep climb to get past some cedars that lined the lake shore. My immediate target was a rocky outcrop which sort of represented the back end of the saddle.  I wanted to see what the world looked like from that angle, and I wasn’t disappointed.

There were the usual squirrel and mole tracks in the snow, but I could see a trail left by a larger animal in a neat little valley below me. This island is covered with its own forest, so the descent to the valley was as challenging as any other snow shoe hike, requiring a few whacks with my Fisker Gerber hatchet to make a trail. I was hoping that the object of my interest would not turn out to be just the tracks of someone who didn’t have the benefit of snow shoes, so I had both high hopes and low expectations.

No disappointment here!  They were moose tracks and as I followed them (backwards as usual) I found that the moose had been rummaging through a low lying cedar swamp complete with dried moss hanging from tree branches.  There were fallen logs, mushy areas where the water had not frozen solid,  hard fungi clinging to the sides of trees, and all kinds of birds that hang out there for the winter.  I could see where the moose had wandered around and probably found something to eat.  High or low, I couldn’t tell, but there were so many changes of direction that it was obvious this guy had spent a considerable amount of time here.

Ok.  More island to explore.  I worked my way out of the swamp, got my left snow shoe stuck once, got a soaker, said something nasty, then carried on.

Slightly above the level of the swamp, the terrain abruptly changed from cedars and tamaracks to oaks, maples, poplars and birch. It was also much easier trekking because of the more consistent forest floor. I worked my way across the island north to south, and found what I knew would be there, but was hoping wouldn’t be.

Snow machine tracks.

This told me that not only was the island not all that secluded; it was an express route for recreational snowmobilers and ice fishermen.

I followed the tracks for a few yards just for the easier hiking, but I wanted to explore the south shore.   More dense tree growth is typical of any shore line, with the exception of rocky outcrops that drop off sharply down to the water from heights ranging from 5 to 15 feet.  Small animals, like foxes and rabbits, each trying to outsmart the other, left tracks sprinkled throughout this area.  There was some real life, real drama happening here!   I was hoping to find something specific however, and I finally did!

Deer tracks!

This island was amazing!  Two deer had come from the mainland to see what there was to eat and maybe just to spend the night. I followed these tracks for a while and once again encountered the snowmobile track.  It led uphill toward the other end of the saddle through what looked like a well worn path that had been there for many years.  That looked too easy for me and there was more isolated wilderness that I wanted to explore, so I kept to the south of the path.

The woods changed once again from the mixed hardwoods and softwoods a few hundred yards ago to short and tall pine trees;  two different kinds from what I could tell.  Now the hike was getting more challenging.  I could have taken the easy route along the beaten path, but where’s the adventure in that?  So I stuck to the south of the island, working my way up the slope that formed the west end of the saddle.

Now, another rock outcrop was growing to my immediate right, toward the north side of the island.  The hiking was getting tougher and it looked like I was going to have to do some pretty radical climbing in my snow shoes.  The further west I went, the narrower the shelf became as I worked my way around the rock face.

Finally, there were only two choices. Straight up the rock face or back the way I came.  Since I fancy myself to be a serious adventurer, up was the only true option.  There were things to grab onto and snow to cushion the snow shoes so I was able to work my way upward.  I estimated the climb to be about 40 feet, so we’re not talking about the North Face here, but it was getting tougher.  I really had to see what was on top of this mini mountain!

A big old stump was both in the way and available, representing the last substantial hand or foothold before I had to try to find a way onto the top of the rock.  Whether adventurous or foolish, I kept the snow shoes on my feet the entire time. I had been working at this for about 10 minutes now; my over sized fake fur hat falling down over my eyes every few seconds just to add to the difficulty.  I was huffing, puffing and grunting with the effort of snow shoeing my way up a forbidding slope!

This had better be worth it!

At last, I got one foot onto the top of the old stump and pushed my way upward.  Things were getting exciting! As I peered over the brow of the rock to see what all my effort was about, I saw this amazing sight!!  Besides a snow covered rock, stumps, and a gallery of pine trees…… I SAW…….!!!!!

……..three families enjoying a sledding picnic.

They were sitting in the shelter of the trees, enjoying the sun and eating snacks as the kids slid down, then climbed back up the hill.  There were seven or eight kids in all and, to an individual, they regarded me with that universal silent language both unique and uniform to youth;….that unmistakable expression that conveys the scornful doubt of my heritage, intellect, sanity, gender, and fashion sense, all with a single withering glance. The parents affected more mild amusement, but at least they politely said hello.

The best part, or worst, was that I was still only visible from the shoulders up! I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to get the rest of me onto the top of the rock.  There was not much remaining to hold onto so my options were limited.  Assistance was neither offered nor requested. It’s the way of the wild.

I put some trust in the old stump and shoved myself onto the top of the rock……..almost.  I was now splayed across the snow and using the toes of my snow shoes to inch my way forward.  My hat was now completely covering my eyes, but until I was on more solid footing, I couldn’t use my hands for anything but slithering the last few feet onto flatter ground.  This took another couple of minutes, all with my silent, supportive audience staring in stoic silence.

AT LAST!!!  I was able to stand upright, adjust my hat, and acknowledge the crowd.  Still, the kids had not spoken a word, aside from their unanimous silent message of condescension.

Undaunted, I summoned up my most winning smile, said a warm hello, and noted how it was an “awesome day for sliding isn’t it?”…..then gracefully made my way across the opening toward the safety of the tree line on the other side.   With supreme self control, I did not look back, but with my outstanding peripheral vision I didn’t miss the louder expression of disapproval coming from the gazes of the kids.

No tender words were spoken. I wrote it off to the shock and awe they experienced as this creature from the wild came snorting over the horizon to invade their tranquility. I can only speculate as to the laughter and comments that followed my disappearance.

With my pride in my pocket, I continued to explore the parts of the island that I had not yet seen, but I had a serious belly laugh as I imagined how I must have looked and sounded to those families sitting on the top of that hill.

Oh Well!  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, but sometimes the road less traveled is so for a reason.

At least, that’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

I made my way back to my starting point, crossed the lake and headed for the truck. Once again, I thought, I’m sending some people home with an amazing story to tell their friends.

Take it from the Wombat, the Outdoor Guru;  there’s amazing stuff to be seen in the wilderness, even if sometimes the amazing thing is me!

Look me up later this week as I take a few days to explore the area around Cobre Lake just north of Elliot Lake.

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Snow Shoes, Beavers and Polar Bears

Posted on December 24, 2011 by

Recently, there has apparently been some discussion about changing Canada’s national mascot from the beaver, which appears on all kinds of Canadian things, …like money for instance,… to the polar bear, which appears on coke commercials.

This is serious stuff, because the outcome could entail a retraining exercise that affects half the modern world.

So,…I have some thoughts.

While out hiking the other day, I had to work my way around a large beaver dam and it made me realize that no matter where I go for my outings, I always come across at least one beaver dam,…some small,…some huge, …and always holding back their own personal water reservoir.

Now how “Be Prepared” is that?

This beaver dam holds back a reservoir of water about 150 yds by 300 yards.

When winter settles into the landscape with deep snow, frozen lakes and frosty air, beaver ponds can catch a snowshoer by surprise.  Are they frozen solid or are there weak spots in the ice that won’t hold my weight?…..Even as I spread it over the length of my Snow Trail 1036 snow shoes?  Sparing everyone the tedium of recounting the stories of times when I had to literally crawl to safety, I can testify to the fact that  beaver pond ice is not the same as lake ice.  Something to do with methane gas ambient in the water as a result of the continuously decaying organic material that makes up the bed of the pond.

So,…..big deal,… right?

And polar bears!

Who can argue with them?  They do great commercials!!! …The little ones look cuddly as a baby blanket,…..The big ones are supremely majestic!  They survive in a land that is so severe, hardly anyone wants to live there.  I do intend to go snowshoeing there some day, but only for the sake of being able to say I did it.

But…. That’s Not Important Now!!!

Polar bears are a symbol of power, endurance and pride.  I would love to be able to swim as far as they can, even in warm water.

So how do we decide?

Who’s picture should we put out there that says “This is Canada!”?

For what it’s worth, here’s my thoughts.

Again, back to the hiking.  Boots in the fall and spring;,,,hiking shoes in the summer;…snowshoes in the winter.  One of the constants that seems inescapable is that, if you are anywhere in the Canadian wilderness, you are going to find a beaver pond out there.  No matter how dense the woods, how rocky the terrain, or how barren the plains, you are going to find a beaver pond.  Heck, somewhere within large city limits, I’m willing to bet there are beavers setting up camp.

Beaver lodge in the middle of his pond.

Polar bears,….not so much.

But just being everywhere isn’t enough.  If it were, our national bird would be the black fly and our national animal would be the black ant.

So back to the polar bear.  He (or she) is the master of the domain,….the most feared and respected tough guy in the neighborhood,…adapts to the environment against considerable odds.  I have a reverence for the polar bear that the Ancients reserved for their gods.

Still, the case for the beaver is impressive.

They are not big animals, but they have remarkable power.  Beavers can do more with their teeth than we can with axes, saws and pickup trucks. They are immensely resourceful and make use of whatever is available to construct their homes. Early settlers to this country learned coping skills from beavers. They have proven their ability to survive in absolutely every nook and cranny of this monstrously big country.  They have these amazing little hands that they use with a dexterity that we have a tough time achieving.

In winter, this is a travelway for small animals.  In summer, it is home to birds, amphibians, and zillions of insects. They all have their role. Beavers have created it.

But surviving isn’t the whole story.  As I snowshoe around or across beaver ponds that, in many cases, should be identified on national maps as lakes, I have come to understand the importance of the beaver to the North American wilderness.

These guys are awesome!

They don’t just survive in an environment. They shape their own!

The dam that created this little ecosystem was built long ago. The vegetation along the edge of the pond is testament to that.

They don’t simply adapt to their habitat.  They create it!

A beaver dam stretches across the entire view of this picture.  The beaver lodge is visible just to the left of middle of the pond. The beavers leave an overflow drain that lets water trickle out into the surrounding environment.

They don’t just dig a hole and crawl in.  They work in highly efficient teams with a well organized division of labour,…..With no labour disputes!!!!

They build homes that protect against the heat of summer and that provide dry warmth to fend off the cold of winter. That’s in spite of building in the middle of a swamp!

They build small communities that accommodate their extended families. Even more important, they create ecosystems that are the life support system for more wildlife species than a person can count. Think of the modern civilization equivalent and you have to ask, what could be more Canadian than that?!  Beavers have even been known to provide shelter to the homeless of different species seeking refuge from the elements!

Two beaver lodges occupy this small pond.  A third is to the left, out of sight. An extended family lives here.

And, look at the history!  Beavers are not just cute, funny looking little animals with their own TV commercial credentials.  At the expense of enough beavers to render any other genus extinct, they were the critical, albeit unwilling, commodity in the earliest form of commerce of the new world.

The beaver is the quintessential Canadian!

But,..What’s that?  They’re a rodent?!  And you’re embarrassed?!

Politicians,….GET OVER IT!!!!!

There are countries that are well respected throughout the world whose national mascot is a rooster!  Just think of the implications!  The citizens of whom I speak have learned to deal with it……with considerable pride no less.

Again, the question of which animal we should honour as representing all that is Canadian is simple. No disrespect to the polar bear, but my vote comes down firmly on the side of the beaver.

That’s my story,…and, I’m sticking with it.

If I knew who to send this to in order to officially have my opinion heard, I would do it in a heartbeat!  If you, the reader, have the inside track on this, then please,…. do it on my behalf.

Love a polar bear.  Honor the beaver.

Signing off, its the Wombat; the Outdoor Guru, saying,….Hey!  Take a Hike!!!   And when you stumble upon a beaver pond that causes you to rethink your hiking plans,….don’t curse and swear!  Stand back and admire.  Some amazing work has been done here.

Try to imagine yourself chewing down some trees, then dragging them into the middle of a pond to build a house, using mud you smack into place with your rear and smaller branches you grind into a mulch with your teeth.

OK,  that’s about as political as I get.

Check out this blog later this week as I poke a little fun at myself, recounting my snowshoeing hike around an island on a nearby lake.

 

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The battle at the bend, and how my Fisker Gerber Hatchet and snow shoes got me there.

Posted on December 20, 2011 by

If you look at the hard concrete surface of a city sidewalk, there is no way of knowing how often or how recently, two friends (or not) have crossed the same point, whether it be seconds, hours or months ago.  In the absence of snow, that is also true of the wilderness.   Sprinkle some snow on the ground and a whole bunch of stories can come to life, even if there is some fill in the blanks required.

And so, equipped with all my gear, “Snow Trail” snow shoes strapped to my feet, I went wandering in search of adventure. I selected an area defined by rolling hills and deciduous trees (look it up), and headed up hill to see what I could find over the horizon.

About ten minutes into the hike, I found a narrow sort of furrow in the snow that came from somewhere up the hill.  It disappeared through the trees down the slope toward a frozen beaver pond.  Having seen this type of track actually being made in the snow in the past, I knew that I was looking at the belly slide trail of an otter!  What really gave me that “Holy Cow!!!” feeling was that I had never considered that otters go cross country sliding to commute between ponds.  I knew where the destination was but I didn’t know where it started out.

Now I was on a mission!

The beaver pond where the otter was headed.  Photo taken December 18, 2011

Up the hill, through the trees, over the flats,…I marveled at how far and, it appeared, how easily this little animal seemed to slither over the landscape.  Just past the crest of the hill and down an almost imperceptible slope the open woods ran into a fence of tangled fir trees,….and for an even bigger “Holy Cow!!!”, a really busy crosswalk.

Running sort of parallel to the line of the fir trees was a parade of moose tracks that formed a near right angle intersection with the otter trail!

Moose sometimes travel in groups and gather together in an event referred to as “yarding”.   I don’t know who invented the term but it gets the message across.  Traveling in groups, moose don’t appear to travel in any organized fashion.  Tracks were everywhere and I tried to figure out how many animals there were in the family. My count was five and, as you will eventually learn why I thought so, one was a bull.

This new stuff gave me a really easy decision.  I had to see where the moose came from.

The tracks stayed in open woods for quite a while, then dove abruptly into the fir trees;… or more accurately, emerged from them.  I got out my Fisker Gerber hatchet and started carving myself a trail through the trees.   I know moose are amazingly agile in spite of their size, but the difficulty I had hacking my way through the bush on snowshoes gave me a first hand appreciation for their ability to move through difficult terrain.  What took me about 15 minutes to travel was probably about a two minute romp for the moose!  Through the tangled trees, staggering through a swamp and suddenly, I emerged at a clearing that left me astounded by yet another spectacular sight!

At a bend in an old road, on a sort of flat area that created a little natural arena, the snow had been trampled flat by the moose that I had been tracking! There were large tufts of moose hair strewn around the clearing;…moose hair by the handful!

There had been a brutal encounter here that had gone on for quite a while!

The actual clearing where the moose hair was found.  Photo taken December 18, 2011

As I usually do, I tried to analyze what I was looking at.  Some areas were trampled, but not scuffed or gouged,  and limited to the perimeter of the clearing.

That would be the spectator area.

The rest of the area looked like it had staged a rodeo!

And at the far edge of the clearing where the old road sort of disappeared down a hill and around a bend, a single set of tracks headed away from the clearing….alone.

So,……here’s what happened.

A bull moose and his loyal followers were working their way through the woods.  The scent of the animals was picked up by another bull who searched them out and tried to join the party.  Bull #1 took exception to the presence of bull # 2 and let him know it.

Various calls were probably made through the woods,….. something akin to two rowdies in a bar shouting “let’s take this outside!!!”

A long, fierce battle had taken place;… the prize,….leadership of the family.

The battle was a long and vicious, and there was a clear victor, …..though definitely bumped and bruised.  He and his family took the nearest exit through the frozen swamp, and headed for higher ground.

The loser,….well he had the sense to know when the battle was lost. He left with his corporal being, if not his pride, intact.  This would account for the lone set of tracks that went east as the rest of the family went west.

And as quickly as that, peace once again settled over the woods.

At least,… that’s my story, …..and I’m sticking with it.

The swamp where the moose exited for higher ground.   Photo taken December 18, 2011.

And all this because of a slide trail left by an otter heading for a new pond!

So when you set out on a path, you can never predict whose path you may cross.

Hey!!!  It’s out there,…. and for those willing and possessed of a sense of adventure, it’s just waiting to be found!

So once again, take it from the Wombat; the Outdoor Guru.  There’s amazing stuff waiting to be found in the woods, even in winter.

Later this week, I’ll share my thoughts on beavers and polar bears.

Until then……..

I wonder where this goes.

 

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Leo the lynx, me and my Fisker Gerber hatchet

Posted on December 5, 2011 by

Sometimes, you head out into the woods specifically hoping to see something but you have no real expectation of seeing it.

It’s just too rare.

So when you do see it, it takes you by surprise and you’re not prepared.

That pretty much sums up my day a few years ago.

The feature item for this story is my ten inch Fisker Gerber hatchet.  It is ideal for the type of snow shoe hiking that I do, and it really proved its worth on this particular day.

My Fisker Gerber Hatchet weighs about two pounds and fits neatly into a kind of holster that is just big enough to accommodate the hatchet head. It attaches to a normal belt and has a velcro cover flap that holds everything neatly into place.

Along with my Fisker Gerber hatchet,I carry my Gerber sharpening stones, a strong knife, a small pair of binoculars, a compass and a plastic rain cover,..all of which amount to a combined weight of about 5 pounds and are strapped across by hips…sort of behind me.

Here’s what the entire assembly looks like on a belt.

And here’s why the Fisker Gerber hatchet became so important to me one day.  It was also the day of critical meaning for my old camera as I realized that it was time to embrace some new technology.

On three occasions over the span of about 10 years, I had seen a lynx trotting across the highway that leads through the Mississagi Provincial Park and up to the Little White River in Northern Ontario. The sightings were spread over an area of about ten miles, but considering how elusive lynx are reputed to be, that many sightings tells me that either this one guy or a pair of lynx made their living in the Flak Lake – Cobre Lake region.  (look it up)

It was little cool for early March and there was plenty of snow still on the ground.  I rounded up my gear, grabbed a frustratingly slow and difficult to use camera and headed for Flak Lake about 20 miles north of where I live.  I was “between dogs” as Princess, after close to 18 years of hiking with me, had said her farewell about a year earlier and Theo had not yet arrived upon the scene.

When I arrived at Flak Lake, I turned and parked on the southbound side of the highway.  This is important because that’s where the adventure begins.

My position put Flak Lake to my back as I climbed up onto the snow bank to strap on my snow shoes.  I was adjusting my “CamelPak” under my coat, putting on the “tool belt”, checking the camera, making sure I had two pairs of mitts, warm hat and goggles; and REALLY IMPORTANT!!!!… made sure the car keys were secured in my deep back pocket.

Suddenly, I sensed rather than saw something behind me as I declared myself ready for the hike.  I spun around and, to my shock and awe, a spectacular full grown lynx was about 30 feet away!! He climbed down the snow bank and pranced across the highway, moving with a grace that was thrilling to see in its own right. He regarded me with a casual indifference that spoke of his command of his environment.  I immediately dubbed him “Leo” and tried in vain to get a snapshot with my evidently useless camera (pre-digital).  It took a few seconds to realize that, as he was going to disappear into the trees, I was standing there with my jaw dropped and rooted to the ground.

On the north side of the road lies Christman Lake. It spills into a stream that runs under the highway where it tumbles down to Flak Lake a half mile away.

Stream from Christman Lake to Flak Lake. Photo taken Dec 3, 2011.

Christman Lake was where Leo was headed.  The highway was bare and I was on the wrong side of it. I was wearing my Snow Trail snow shoes, complete with metal “crampons” which are great for climbing hills, but not so good for running across a highway.

There was no time to lose!!!  No traffic in sight so I went down the snow bank and started across the highway, noisy as a Clydesdale!   I almost made it all the way across when a pick up truck came over a rise in the road.  Two guys returning from ice fishing went home with a great story to tell their friends about some lunatic running across the highway in a pair of snow shoes and dressed like a clown.

BUT THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT NOW!!!!   

I HAD TO FIND LEO!!!!!

I quickly picked up his tracks and picked up my pace!  I was thankful that he chose to follow a trail that headed toward Christman Lake,….but that was short lived.

After about 50 feet, he turned left and headed into the thick woods.  This area is comprised of mixed softwoods and stunted pines, tamaracks and spruce trees.

Tangled tamaracks and scrub pines make up much of the growth around Christman Lake.

That’s where Leo went.

I grabbed my Fisker Gerber hatchet from its holster and started trimming branches so that I could follow Leo through the trees.  This wasn’t as easy as I had hoped because under the canopy of the trees, the snow was shallow and crusty. Apparently Leo knew this.  It took a while to find some readable prints that showed me where he went next.  Under the low branches, Leo turned right and headed into more open woods.

GREAT!  I was pumped!

Once again, that didn’t last long.  After another 50 feet or so, he turned right again into more tangled woods.

Again with the Fisker Gerber hatchet!

Hacking my way through the tamaracks again, I lost, found, lost, and found again the tracks Leo that was leaving.  This scene would repeat itself often!

It didn’t take me long to realize that I was no longer trying to catch up to Leo for a photo op.  Now I was just trying to follow his tracks for as long as possible and see what kind of odyssy he would take me on.  Being the experienced woodsman that I am, I was certain that I always knew my position relative to where I started out……..until I crossed my own snowshoe tracks.

With the amount of noise I was making hacking my way through the trees I’m sure Leo knew I was still on the hunt.  His tracks laid out a deliberate elusive meandering that eventually led me the stream.

Looking along the stream where Leo went into the water.

This presented a real challenge due to the boulders that make up the bank of the stream, but I eventually did find where he entered the water.   I scanned the area until I found a spot where I could cross but it meant removing the snow shoes, then putting them back on once I got to the other side.   This is where I realized how crafty Leo really was, and how foolish I must have looked.

After a lengthy search, it was clear that there was no sign of Leo’s tracks on the south side of the stream.  Leo used another instinctive tactic to enter the water, go either up or down stream, and return to the same side of the stream, leaving me to wonder where he went.

By now, I had been tracking Leo for about almost an hour and I had traveled a net distance of about a mile from the truck.  This guy was toying with me.  Considering what little distance I had traveled, I’m convinced that at some point, I had hacked my way right past him.  At least,… that’s my story,… and I’m sticking with it.

As I re-enacted the chase recently with my new sidekick Theo, I took a couple of photos to illustrate how difficult it is to see animals in the wild.

Somewhere about 20 feet ahead, Theo is exploring.  If you can’t see him, imagine how tough it would be to spot a wild animal seeking cover.

If Theo is impossible to spot, imagine how well a stealthy wild animal hiding himself on purpose could conceal himself.

Admitting to myself that it was time to giving up the chase, I took a direct route back to the vehicle. I wanted to see where Leo had come from so I went to where I had first seen him and started tracking again.

I had another ‘HOLY COW!!’  moment!!!!

The tracks looped around and came up to within about 20 feet of where I had been standing when I first saw Leo!  He had come up from the stream, saw me standing there, and decided to take a detour rather than figure out who or what I was.  Again,… a humbling moment.

Stream leading to Flak Lake.  Leo was here before he snuck up on me.

I took a few moments to digest all of this and decided to call it a day.  I had learned a great deal about lynx and I was overwhelmed with admiration.  As I drove away, I had this feeling that Leo was standing in the tree line chuckling to himself as he watched me disappear.

I’ve been back to that spot so many times over the years that I’ve lost count.  Leo hasn’t revealed himself again, but some day when I least expect it, there he’ll be,…or one of his offspring.

Its’ me, the Wombat, aka The Outdoor Guru signing off, but encouraging you,…. do not fear the woods.   There’s really interesting stuff to discover out there.  Just go find it.

 

 

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Remembering Snowshoeing in my Eggli Moccasins and More Animal Adventures

Posted on November 27, 2011 by

There’s no snow yet, but still, it’s about snowshoeing, taking stock of the environment around me, and pondering S’s and T’s.

With the continuing absence of snow, I decided to hike an area where the snow shoeing is great when the conditions are right. I was replaying, in the screening room in my head, a weekend hike through the hills slightly to the east of town.  Picture a series of huge upside down salad bowls. There are trails that get a lot of traffic in all seasons, but the beauty of being on snow shoes is the ability to go where ever I want to.

The feature item of the week is my pair of Eggli moccasins that are my favourite things to wear in my snow shoe harnesses. Light, tight and warm. If the situation arises where I have to take off the snow shoes to do some climbing, the Eggli moccasins have proven to be the most practical footwear.

Mandatory photo provided below.  Years of heavy wear and tear obvious.

OK.  Back to the snow and the hills.

Once again, Princess was on the job, and, judging by her behaviour, on a mission.

I wanted to explore the off-trail countryside. This meant climbing into and out of the hills, and, as it turned out, making note of the animal tracks that confessed to a pretty busy society at work in the woods.  The snow tells such a detailed story of who’s going where, chasing what and with what results.  Most people would be stunned to find out just how many wild animals there are just outside the town.  Foxes, rabbits, racoons, deer, moose, lynx and yes, wolves. It shouldn’t be so surprising.  Just go to Google Earth, find satellite photos of Elliot Lake and zoom out, and you will see that to wildlife, the town is actually just a weird opening surrounded by millions of acres of forest. We just occasionally get in the way.

On this day, there was no story of lives lost or mysterious pursuits to puzzle the reader.

That doesn’t mean that there was a shortage of drama.

In a stand of hardwoods, there were scattered tracks of a wolf pack trotting through the woods, scanning the breeze for an indication of something worth chasing.  The tracks were not fresh, but visible enough to lay out a grid which allowed me to count the family members. I settled on seven animals, but with the randomness of the tracks I admit to some measure of guessing. They looked old enough to tell me the wolves were long gone, so I felt comfortable just following along to see where things led.

Not all hardwoods, but this is similar to the area where I found the wolf tracks.

Through woods, down slopes, across marshes, and into some open territory.  The geography of the Penokian hills includes rounded drumlins, small lakes and ponds, rocky outcrops and in some places, sheer cliffs that separate plateaus by as much as 150 ft.  My journey led me to such a junction with an interesting slope that trended upward towards the east for a few hundred yards at an angle of about 10 degrees. At the top end, it intersected another slope which trended upward again and westward at a sharper angle for about 300 yards, where it abruptly ended.  The result is a rock face about 100 feet high with Princess and I at the bottom end of both the slope and the cliff.

Bottom of the slope and the cliff.  Photo taken November 26, 2011.  No snow yet.

The snow tended to bunch up in Princess’ paws and form little ice balls that caused pain and discomfort. She would lay on her side so she could try to chew them out. That’s my cue to help her out. While I was using the heat of my hands to melt the ice chunks and free them from between her pads, she suddenly jumped to her feet and went rigid!  Something serious was up!  Princess just stayed rooted to the spot as I tried to identify whatever presence had caused the alarm.

It took about 10 seconds, but finally, I looked up.  At the top of the cliff, looking down at us with the casual demeanor of a department store mannequin, was a single, lone wolf.  At least, that’s all I could see. The rest of the pack was probably just beyond the edge of the cliff.

A super quick assessment of my options made it clear that retreating in the direction from whence we had come was the only sensible plan.  I took a line from Monty Python…“Run away!!… Run Away!!!!!”

Wolves are not known to attack people, or animals in the company of people, but hey,  who wants to put that theory to the test?

Given our relative locations, if they were so inclined, it would take the wolf or wolves some time to reach us.

Picture a high diving platform.  There are 3 options.  Stay put,…back down the ladder,….or over the edge.  

I figured I had about 3 or 4 minutes head start so we took off running.  No small feat in snow shoes, but with the proper motivation, I found out I was not too bad at it!  It was about a forty five minute hike back to the safety of the truck, but with adrenalin on my side, I think I cut that down to about thirty minutes.  I have no idea what decision the wolf made, but they are a very curious animal so they probably came and checked us out.  Some other time, I’ll fill you all in on how I know that.

The snowshoe hike may have been cut short, but, in the contemporary vernacular, I was Jacked!!!

This brings me to the S’s and the T’s.

You see, when you’re hiking, animals in the woods are always experiencing people.  They use sight, sound, and smell to decide how close they want to get or how much distance to put between them ‘n us.

No matter how big or how small the animal, I prefer they use those senses over choices of touch and taste.

So now you know your S’s and T’s.

It’s fun to write about animal encounters because even in the re-telling of the story so long after the actual day, I get charged up.  But to be fair to everyone out there, the frequency of animal encounters is really low. Maybe one in fifty. Mostly we’re dealing with tracks in the snow or dirt and other,.. er,…. less attractive evidence they leave behind.Deer droppings in an open grass field.  What you’ve always wondered but were afraid to ask.

But on this day, November 26th, the temperature is +8 degrees C (about 46 degrees F), it’s rainy, and there is no hint of snow in the East Algoma region.  There is no shortage of visual evidence of animal activity as I trek along the same route that led me to the wolf encounter.

Today my canine sidekicks were Theo and Louie.

We found moose tracks and scat, evidence of really recent beaver activity, some impressions in the wet leaves that I eventually determined to be deer tracks,…and we scared up a couple of partridge.

Theo was zig zagging around with his nose to the ground, following what was probably a recent scent left by a fox as it checked out potential hiding places of its prey. When Theo actually catches up to whatever he is tracking, he lets out a series of really excited yelps as he takes off after it.  He did this today and I didn’t see him for about 5 minutes, so I think he surprised the fox.

I took a few pictures of interesting land forms to try to create a feel for the territory, and on a couple of natural scenic lookouts, we simply stopped to admire the surroundings.

Is this PacMan, a tortoise head, or The Thing’s first cousin? (look it up)

I clambered over rocky ground at the base of a post glacial boulder field.  In the damp conditions, this made for some challenging hiking. On days like this it’s important to slow the pace and, sometimes, obey the fundamental law of wing walking.  Don’t let go of what you have in your hand until you have a firm grip on something else!

Post glacial boulder field found on the south side of slopes. Many scattered throughout the Penokian Hills.

Also, on slippery ground, remember: Don’t step on something you can step over and don’t step over something you can go around.

This neat little waterfall comes and goes throughout the year and is probably really dramatic during the spring melt. With the recent rainfall in the area, the contours of the hills feed runoff into gulleys and gorges which bring the waterfall to life.  It’s kind of neat to know that this is going on all over the place whether we see it or not.

Streams and waterfalls bring the woods to life.

At one point, I came upon a marked trail that offered various options.

Now, I consider myself to be a pretty good woodsman, but ………………..  Anyway,… I turned right.

There are stories to tell about just about every animal that can be found in Northern Ontario.  I have not yet encountered wolverines, badgers or cougars, but over 45 years, I have run into pretty well everything else.

Be on the lookout for my next tome as I describe how a lynx made me look pretty foolish.  I know lynx are reputed to be very cunning, but making me look foolish isn’t that big an achievement.

Join me, the Wombat, on the Outdoor Guru blog page as I share fun stories about an average guy at play in the woods.

 

 

 

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Snow Trail 1036s and the Moose vs Wolves story, Part 2

Posted on November 21, 2011 by

If you are just tuning in as they say on TV, you will want to read part 1 below to get yourself up to date.

The Cole’s Notes version is that, while snow shoeing a few years ago, Princess (my loyal dog companion) and I came upon a wolf pack – small animal kill site; followed wolf tracks that led to a confusing set of moose tracks; pondered how the stalker and the prey both bedded down for the night in close proximity to each other;  and then headed home to consider why they wandered off in opposite directions.

Also, for anyone who may be interested, I described my Snow Trail 1036 snow shoes that allow me to zig zag through the forest with both stealth and speed. (my opinion anyway)

We pick up the chase today by returning to the spot where the tracks of a small wolf pack following the tracks of two moose went in different directions.  We know what the wolves had for supper on at least one night,  which we presume accounts for why they abandoned the moose hunt.

Now we were on the wolf/moose trail heading toward the origin of the story.

Some photos, although from different hikes, are sprinkled throughout the story to give some feel for the winter environment.

The first part of the day was interesting in that, at times, the wolf tracks were literally side by side with the moose tracks.  It gave the appearance of a pleasant jaunt through the woods by a group with “no particular place to go” (Chuck Berry).  The tracks snaked through tangled groups of balsam and pines, then they would wander kind of askew into more open glade type of woods; always in tandem.

Then, for unknown reasons, the wolf tracks would take a wider berth, but always on one side or the other of the moose tracks.  This pattern continued for perhaps half a mile, then I started to see very faint pinkish smudges in the snow!

This was important new information!

By counting individual hoof prints and measuring both stride and track width, I decided that the smudges were being left by the front left hoof of the cow moose.

As I continued tracking, the smudges became more pronounced.  I reasoned that at some point, the scent of the moose was emphasized by a small, blood oozing wound to the cow and there was just the right breeze to cause that scent to be picked up by the wolves. Princess was more intense now and spent more time with her head in the snow than in the air.

At last! On the edge of an enormous swamp, we found the spot where the wolves picked up the trail of the moose.  It was obvious that the wolves had been walking single file until the airwaves gave them a sense of purpose. Now the tracks were spreading out and looking for the prey that had announced its presence.   Once they found the moose tracks, things got more organized.

Once again, I was faced with the choice.  Investigate the moose tracks or the wolf pack.

I chose to do both.  Elapsed time on the trail to this point was about 45 minutes. I have absolutely no memory of whether it was cold or warm out.


First, I wanted to see where the wolves came from.  The tracks took me south east for about 400 yards (I counted), east for about another 200 yards, then south east again for about 100 yards.  I stopped there because we had come to the road that I rode in on. (a bit of a play on words).  Now I knew where the wolves had come from, so I took a cross country route back to the moose tracks.

Once on the trail again, the moose tracks took us about 400 yards further east, then south across the same road, through a couple of swamps, down an old logging road, up a hardwood slope, then down again, and finally, to a point where the smudge marks, now bright pink, suddenly stopped!

I dug through the snow a bit and uncovered a very small birch stump that had been left by a beaver, evidenced by the teeth marks that formed a sharp point in the wood.

The story now came together!

The cow and calf were wandering in a northwesterly direction when the cow scraped its hoof on the stump.  I don’t know anything about the pain tolerance of moose or how much feeling they have in their hooves, but that had to hurt!

The trek took the moose through the path we found, up slopes, across the road, through swamps and wooded areas with a slight turn toward the west, then the abrupt turn to the north where they bedded down.  The blood smudges added volume to the announcement of their presence in the area.

About a half mile away to the west, the wolf pack was working its way north, then west, then northwest, to the point of intersection with the path left by the moose.  The key ingredient here is obviously the blood smudges, because in order for this story to work, the travels of the wolves had to be one day removed from the wanderings of the moose.  Without the blood smudges in the snow, there probably would not have been enough of a scent in the air for the wolves to pick up.  More than a day later, and the scent would be gone, although the two paths would probably have eventually crossed.

The moose had spent the night and moved on long before the wolves invaded the world of the poor otter that sacrificed himself for the cause.   Whether it was the scent of the otter or pure luck, the wolves were rewarded with something for their efforts.  As for the moose, the evidence showed that they were free and clear to continue their journey northward as the wolves veered south.      For now.

At least,…..that’s my story,…and I’m sticking with it.

It’s a sure bet that this kind of drama takes place every day, whether we see the evidence or not.

Elapsed time on the trail was now almost two hours.  Time to turn the Snow Trail 1036s back toward the truck again and recount the story to myself.   Along the way, there were other tracks that came and went, but the stories they told would get in the way of the matter at hand.

The point is, there is a lot going on in the woods and winter’s snow brings it to life, ……except for the otter.

Take a page from the Wombat’s journal and get out there and see what’s going on.

It’s not a hike,……IT’S AN ADVENTURE!

I hope you enjoy the random winter scene photos.

Look for my next blog which brings us back to the stark scenery of late autumn with another wolf tale and some interesting hiking.

 

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Prepping my Snow Trail 1036s for Snowshoeing Season; Stories of Wolves and Moose.

Posted on November 19, 2011 by

Snow shoeing season has arrived in other places, but it’s still around the corner in this territory.   Still, it’s time to get organized.

I’ll feature a different item with every blog, but the whole idea is to try to tell interesting stories, so that’s what I’m going to do. Fortunately, I have a great memory and there are so many adventures from previous years that I haven’t been able to share so it doesn’t really matter if it ever snows!  (well,…..it does to me, but ….there are still stories to tell).

I’ll also de-bunk some of the myths and misconceptions people have about winter hiking.

It ain’t the things you don’t know that will steer you wrong.

It’s what you do know that just ain’t so.

(I really wish I just made that up).

OK.  It’s all about snow shoeing so let’s talk about snow shoes!

Exciting huh!  Over the next few weeks, I’ll offer some thoughts on everything a person could wear, carry, eat, drink, or techify (ok,……that one is on me) while snow shoeing.

If you don’t need to know about the tools of the trade, just skip ahead to today’s story.

My snow shoes are Snow Trail 1036 brand. Don’t worry if you’ve never heard of them. They are 36 inches long and about 10.5 inches wide.  The frame is aluminum and the web has to be the most durable stuff on the planet considering the abuse that I put them through.  They are light and, for me, the perfect hybrid of flotation and maneuverability.  The Snow Trail 1036s allow me to go through dense woods or open fields, so I seldom feel limited with respect to where I can explore.  Some landscapes are pretty much impossible, but I still go where ever my curiosity takes me.

My favourite feature of the Snow Trail 1036s is the harness.  They tighten to the foot with a ratchet style fastener that takes only seconds to climb into and are easy to adjust on the fly. I don’t even have to remove my mitts to put them on or take them off.    I plunk them on the ground, step into them, adjust the harness, and I’m gone.  The whole process takes about 30 seconds.  When storing them, just treat the spots where the webbing is riveted by applying vegetable oil and they could last forever.  Eight years and counting and there is no sign that I’ll need new snow shoes any time soon.

My Snow Trail 1036 snow shoes just sort of standing around.  Note the ratchet style harness.

So it’s story time.

What I like about snow shoeing is that I don’t need a trail to follow.  I make my own.  As a result, I find evidence of animal activity that can’t be found on a well worn trail, and some story lines emerge that can give a person chills.

So,…..Imagine a sunny January Saturday afternoon, temperature about -8 degrees (about 18 deg F  south of the border), the snow is dry and ponds have long ago frozen over.  My hiking companion at the time was Princess, a Husky-Golden Retriever cross who accompanied me for most of 18 years before we said our farewell.

I was exploring a series of beaver ponds and swamps when I came upon the scene of some obvious intense activity.  The surface of the pond looked like it had hosted a road hockey game that ended in a bloody fist fight.

This needed some real in depth analysis!

There were wolf prints indicating a small pack of 4 or 5 animals that had caught an otter scampering around too far from its escape hole!  The snap shot version of the story showed that the otter lost the battle as the wolves used coordinated pack techniques to surround, subdue and make a meal out of the otter. There were blood splatters and fur scattered everywhere! Princess was frantic, running ’round the scene of the skirmish, trying to make sense of all the information her nose was picking up.  I spent a few minutes trying to process what I was looking at, marveling at the savage efficiency of the wolf pack, and silently mourning the fate of the otter.

Cruel, but it’s nature’s way.

What I found in the next few minutes was even more interesting!

Once I figured out what happened, I started wondering how things got to that point.

Where did the wolves come from?  Where did they go after the chase?

Wandering around the edges of the pond, we found the spot where the wolves bedded down for the night!  I counted 4 body prints in the snow under some tamarack trees, but the count could be wrong depending upon how closely they huddled for warmth.  Princess anointed the area with a message of her own, satisfied that nature was now in balance.

I also found the track the wolves left as they exited the pond area single file. This meant that they were migrating to a new hunting area. When wolves travel this way, it’s impossible to tell if there is one or twenty one animals.  Each foot fall lands exactly in the print of the lead wolf.

My theory was that the wolves caught the scent of the otter in the twilight breeze, feasted on their prey, and decided to call it a day due to the failing light.

But what day?!  Where did they come from?!

For orientation purposes, my original azimuth (there’s that word again!) was eastward, then the wolves moved southeast as Princess and I went northeast.

Backtracking to the pond, Princess and I searched until we found the point where the wolves came loping onto the pond.  Now we had something to follow, so off we went!

This is where it gets even more interesting.   After only about 2 or 3 minutes, I found something pretty baffling.  Not only were there perfectly clear wolf tracks to follow, suddenly there were moose tracks as well!   By appearances, a cow and a calf had come this way, pursued by the wolves;….then suddenly the tracks diverged. The wolves had to have caught the scent of the otter and abandoned the chase in favour of the easier prey.

But where did the two moose go?

After wrestling with my options for a few minutes, I decided to try figure that out, so I set off on the trail of the moose, further to the northeast.  This decision had Princess confused.

Once again, we didn’t get far!  After a hike of only about 100 yards, we found the spot where the moose had bedded down for the night.! Two perfectly clear body prints in shallow snow in a hollow where there was shelter from the wind.   The moose tracks then continued down a slope toward another marshy area where the types of plants that make up the moose diet are available.  We tracked the moose for about twenty minutes, but it was getting a bit late in the afternoon and I wanted to be back at the truck before dark.

There was so much to learn, and I had so many questions to answer.  It wasn’t difficult to decide where I would start my hike the next day.  Having to urge Princess on a bit, I turned the Snow Trail 1036s back the way we came with my mind trying to rationalize the story lines that the wilderness had to offer today.  Wolves are so intelligent, but once distracted, they seem to forget the original plan.  I had to try to figure this out.

Just like me on that particular day, you readers will have to wait at least a few days to bring this story to its conclusion.

(I know.  I hate TV programs that are to be continued next week.)

Don’t worry. The story of day two is totally satisfying.

Hey, it’s me the Wombat, aka Outdoor Guru inviting you to go dashing through the snow.  You can never tell what you’ll find!

Snow is natures way of dusting for fingerprints.  So much gets revealed!

Here’s the “de-bunk” of the day.

Cold weather in the winter does not translate to shivering in the cold all day long.  When I’m snowshoeing, I am oblivious to the temperature.  Once I get inside the tree line, there is little or no wind.  With the right layers of clothing, my body warms up and stays that way throughout the hike.  I just make sure to keep moving at a reasonable pace.  A really good hat is the most important piece of clothing I wear.

Dress well, keep your head warm and your feet dry.  When the day is over, you will be hard pressed to tell someone whether it was cold out or not.

I have not yet encountered a day where it was too cold to get out on my snow shoes.

Some random photos of neat stuff to see in winter offered below.

Abandoned crumbling trapper’s cabin I stumbled upon during a winter hike.

Early winter ice on Quirke Lake, drawing shapes and figures.  As seen from above on a difficult to get at cliff.

 

 

 

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