Musquash River

Right off the bat, we had to struggle with a strong headwind. Though the rain was holding off, this part of the trip was not fun. We were on the widest part of the river in the middle of cottage country. There was nowhere to hide from the wind and we had to contend with boats whipping by us, as well. We distracted ourselves by ogling the multimillion-dollar "cottages" and homes en route. For those who aren't in the know, there is just a little bit of money in the Muskokas. 

An hour later, after a quick stop to make some lunch wraps, we arrived at Moon Chutes. There, it somewhat began to resemble a wilderness trip. The river passed through a narrow channel which thankfully offered some protection from that dastardly wind. There was much rejoicing in the canoe. Apparently, before both the Moon and Musquash Rivers were dammed, some actual rapids existed at that location. When we paddled it, there was only a slight current. The tree-studded rocky shoreline was gorgeous. Again...much rejoicing. 

Just past Moon Chutes, the river bent toward the northwest. There was a small island at the bend and I spotted a firepit at its center. Indeed, Hap had marked a campsite there on his map. It's tiny and could hold a couple of tents, but the island did not have many trees and seemed to be in the view of some surrounding cottages -- a spot to camp for sure, but not exactly a wilderness experience. 

We arrived at the point where the river split into the Moon River continuing northwest and the Musquash River to the southwest. We could see a large dam structure at the beginning of the Moon River. We headed down the Musquash and within minutes were paddling toward a bridge and some buoys warning us of another dam that lay ahead. 

We looked for a portage on either shore and couldn't see one. We assumed the portage would be up on the road somewhere, and once up there, saw that the road turned to the west on the north side of the river. We simply just used the road to get past the generating station on river right. There was a short portage trail from the road to the river at the bottom. The walk was just shy of 500 meters in total. 

I zoomed in the following shot from below the dam to get a closer peek at it. 

Below the dam, we crossed into the Wahta Territory and entered a widening of the river where there were a number of cottages and homes.  

Downstream from that, the river snaked southwest and then curled back to the north again. It was narrow in a few spots and these areas were marked on my map as a series of rapids: Dinner Rapids, Cedar Rapids, and Crookery Rapids respectively. Despite the fact that these names sounded like we were about to embark on a roller coaster ride of epic whitewater proportions, there were no rapids -- barely a current could be detected. At higher water levels, there might be some swifts. It was apparent how much the dams had changed the river conditions.  

Despite cottages dotting the shores along this section, the river was pretty with tall pines sitting atop exposed rock. 

I spotted a large buck with its sprouting pedicles apprehensively watching us from an access road between two cottages. It was a fleeting moment and we had paddled past the point of getting a good photo of it in seconds. I deer-ly wished I could have gotten a shot of it. The missed opportunity upset my stomach; I wished I had some elk-a-seltzer. It probably would have run away before I could get my camera anyway on account of stag-fright. Actually, the whole situation was doe funny, I laughed. We were having a lot of fawn. 

Ok, I'll stop now. 

Past the "rapids" section of the river, we emerged onto an unnamed lake where we once again had to battle the headwind as we paddled northwest. A couple of fishing boats were trolling on the lake. At the north end of the lake, we tried following a large swan for a bit but those things actually swim fast! 

At the northwest of the lake, the river narrowed slightly and we could see two dams at the western end. The Musquash splits into two there and both channels were dammed. The southern channel had a dam at Big Eddy Rapids and I assumed the one to the north was once a waterfall. My map showed that the way through the area was to take a 225-meter portage past the north dam. This was the view of the dam from above it.

There was a messy-looking landing on river right. We began our portage there. The sun tried to poke its way through the clouds at that point for about 20 minutes. It would be the only sun we would experience on the entire trip, unfortunately. 

The portage was along a road that took us down a hill around a U-bend. There was a gate blocking car access to the dam at the bottom of the hill. A man and his two children were parked there; they were unloading their vehicle to do a little fishing above the dam. 

Something happened between the two trips of the portage that reminded us that the dam warning signs should be heeded. The dam opened at exactly 4 PM. I had no clue if this is a timed event that happens daily at 4 or if the dam opens purely based on water levels and we just got "lucky".  The following two shots are from below the dam. The first was after our first load before the dam opened; the following photo was taken after our second load. 

We could visibly detect the rising water levels on the shoreline. It was quite interesting to witness.  Here is a shot from the put-in just before the dam opened. 

The confluence from the Big Eddy Rapids channel was barely a trickle. I assumed the dam further up that channel was still closed for the moment. 

The sudden current was appreciated when we put in. It gave us a nice little boost heading downriver. 

The river topography changed at the section below the dam. The exposed rocky shorelines that we witnessed upstream became sandy, silty banks.

About 20 minutes past the dam, we paddled under Highway 400. The ruins of the piers that held up the old Highway 103 at that location still exist. 

When we were just west of the highway, it began raining. It would continue for quite some time. As a result, I didn't take any photos along this section which is a shame because it was a pretty part of the river. It had more of a feeling of being in the wilderness with the absence of private properties. 

The Musquash veered to the north along this section and we ran two sets of swifts and a fun little Class 1 rapid before it turned to the west again and opened into Gray Lake, once again exposing us to that nasty west wind. The lake was pretty and looked like a nice place to stay but there were no campsites that we could see. Besides, we were back in cottage country; four cottages dotted the northern shore. It continued raining hard as we paddled to the portage that would take us past Gray Falls at the west end of the lake. 

The 425-meter portage was well-used and an easy carry to the base of the falls on the southern shore. In fact, the port was so wide that four guys had managed to get a couple of side-by-sides down to the put-in. They had three good-sized pickerel on a stringer. If it weren't at the end of the day, I would have also fished the base of the falls but we were tired, wet, and just wanted to set up camp. I did take some shots of the falls after putting in, though. 

The falls and rapids above it have some history. It is named after Sandy Gray, a logger who died at the falls in 1866. Legend has it that he still haunts the area. 

The Haunting of Grays Falls 

Better yet, check out the following song by American folk singer, Slaid Cleaves. The lore surrounding a location certainly increases manyfold when a song has been written about it.  

There were a handful of campsites on Flatrock Lake west of the falls. The one on the south shore closest to the falls was occupied. We couldn't tell if the site across the lake from that one was vacant or not. There was so much stuff strewn about on the site, it seemed occupied, but I couldn't see a tent or hammock. It seemed junky, so we moved on. Besides, we wanted to distance ourselves from any...ahem...hauntings. 

We arrived at the south shore site at the narrows in the middle of the lake and were pleased to find it vacant. It was on a point jutting out into the lake and was receiving a nice breeze from the west -- just the trick to blow away the bugs. The tent pads were nestled in amongst a cozy spruce grove. It was excellent and would be our home for the night. The view east toward the falls and flatrock lake was stunning. Here's a couple of shots of that.

Dahee got busy setting up our tent while I put up our bug shelter and rustled up some firewood. There were just enough blackflies and mosquitoes to send Dahee into the bug tent where she prepped some vegetables and rice. I cooked our steaks at the firepit and brought them into the shelter where we enjoyed a fantastic meal with some wine. 

During dinner it started raining for a bit and the sprinkling would continue intermittently throughout the evening.  We were dry inside the bug shelter where we spent the evening chatting and enjoying the surroundings. We quietly listened for the ghost of Sandy Gray at times. Unless Sandy sounded exactly like buzzing mosquitoes, we did not hear him. 

The temperature dropped to a nice cool temperature. This helped keep most of the bugs at bay. With all the clouds in the sky, our westward view would not yield a sunset at dusk. It was a great evening, nonetheless.