I pushed off the rocks and followed tradition by taking a departing photo of my campsite. 

It was a very short paddle to the end of the southeastern bay of Russell Lake where the portage to Chatterton Lake was. Again, I had trouble finding the take-out spot. I thought it was at a rock where I could see a weak trail emerging into the woods. I got out there and followed the trail which led nowhere. I went back to my boat to search again but I didn't know if it was north or south of where I was. I had a hunch it was south, but my hunch was wrong. I finally found the beachy landing north of where I had it marked on my map. I wasted a good 20 minutes looking for the portage. Grrr. Once I saw the portage, it was obvious. I just wasn't looking for it in that spot because of where I had it marked on my map.

The portage was a mini version of the Sturgeon to Russell trail. It went up over a ridge and back down to Chatterton Lake, but it was not as steep as the one from Sturgeon. One awesome discovery on the trail near the Chatterton side was a massive old-growth white pine. It was a beast! 

Chatterton Lake was still retaining its morning calm when I pushed out onto it. It was a pretty lake with many rocky points and small islands. 

The gloomy mantle of the night,

Which on my sinking spirit steals,

Will vanish at the morning light,

Which God, my East, my sun reveals.

• -From  'The Resignation'  by Thomas Chatterton (1770)

I paddled southeast glancing into the many inlets and bays, and reached the end of the lake 45 minutes later. There, I could see Split Rock Falls pouring into Chatterton Lake from Keats Lake. 

The current beneath the falls was quite strong in the high water. I tried fishing for a bit. While doing so, another canoe came up behind me with a man and woman in it. They were paddling close to the western shore. I was nearby and they asked me if I knew where the portage past the falls was. I told them that my map showed the trail was on the opposite shore. They paddled over and found the take-out on a large sloping rock. Once they had their canoe and gear ashore, they started the carry. I followed suit shortly afterward since I wasn't having much luck with fish beneath Split Rock Falls. The water was moving a bit too fast and I was having trouble getting into the eddies from the fast current. I snapped a shot of the falls from the take-out. 

I chatted with the couple for a bit when they returned for their second load and discovered that they were from Winnipeg. They seemed like they were having a great trip so far in Quetico. 

The 450-meter portage was uphill, but not very steep. The trail was well-used, clear, and relatively easy. The issue was the put-in. It was fairly close to the top of the falls and the current was whizzing past. Here is a photo of the top of the falls from the put-in. 

After a quick snack, I launched onto the water. Being so close to the falls, there was little wiggle room for error, so I hung on to the shore and plodded up it 5 or 6 feet before pushing off and paddling hard to get up the flow. It wasn't tremendously difficult or overly dangerous; I just wanted to be sure I was clear. I paddled up Cutty Creek toward Keats Lake. 

By the time I got into Keats Lake, the wind was starting to come up a little. I curled east across the north shore of the western bay of Keats, happy that the wind was at my back. 

Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

         But being too happy in thine happiness,—

                That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees

                        In some melodious plot

         Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

                Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

-From  'Ode to a Nightingale'  by John Keats (1819)

At the northeastern end of the bay, I had to dig in hard to get through some swifts and into the eastern bay. There was a fantastic campsite that was occupied by a large family next to the swifts. The kids looked like they were having a blast. We waved to each other as I paddled past. 

Through the swifts, I ran into the Winnipeg couple again. They had pulled aside and were sunning themselves on an exposed rock while having their lunch. I waved again. 

I made my way around a point on the southern shore and gasped as the rest of Keats Lake came into view. The very wide and gorgeous Snake Falls was ahead on the southern shore. 

When I paddled closer, I could see that it was even wider than I first thought. There was an island in the center of the falls. 

What made this falls special was that it was wide and terraced but the drop was not that high. This allowed me to paddle right up to the base of the falls without much trouble at all. It was pretty cool. 

Not having much luck in the fishing department thus far on the trip, I was bound and determined to catch something there. 

I parked my canoe in an eddy right under the falls and cast out into the foam. I got a nibble on my first cast but whatever it was didn't take the hook. On my second cast, a large pike took my lure only about 5 feet from my canoe. It immediately ran with my lure and I quickly had to loosen the drag so it wouldn't break my line. I fought with it for a 5 minutes or so and finally got it next to my boat. It was at least 30 inches long! Not quite a lunker, but a very large fish! I had trouble netting it because my fishing net wasn't that large. It took a while just to get it into the net and, boy, did he swallow that lure. Thankfully, I had pinched the barbs of my lures (mandatory regulation in Quetico); otherwise, there was no way I could have kept that guy alive. I had to use two sets of pliers to get it out, one to keep his mouth open to avoid losing a finger with those sharp pike teeth and another to pry the lure out of his mouth. This was not easy in a canoe at the base of a falls, leaning over the side with the net and fish still in the water. I had the net handle under my butt with the net and the pike dangling over the side, my fishing rod handle was wedged under my foot at the bottom of the canoe, and both hands were on a pair of pliers performing a lure extraction from the throat of a very large pike with scary teeth. It took a bit of time, but I got my lure out without hurting the fish or my hands. 

The next thing that happened was incredible and it could only have happened in a place like Quetico. With my rod handle still under my foot, I dropped my lure into the water next to the boat so that I could free up a hand to get this massive pike back into the water. My lure was only in the water at a depth of a couple of inches for approximately one second before a behemoth of a smallmouth bass literally jumped out of the water and smashed the lure. It happened right next to my boat, so close I could have grabbed the bass with my hand! My rod was yanked out from under my foot and was heading for the drink. I dropped my pliers and lurched for my rod, nearly tipping the canoe in the meantime. I just caught the handle of the rod before it disappeared into the water. When I finally got a good grip on it, it was nearly bent in half with this huge fighting bass on the other end. I dropped the other pair of pliers from my other hand and quickly adjusted the drag on my reel before my rod snapped in half. I howled with delight! 

There I was with a pike in my net that was just shy of three feet long and a huge bass on my line at the exact same time. I was hooting and hollering as I brought that bass in. And a fighter he was! It took a while, but I got him in when he tired. He was at least 5 lbs, easily my personal best for a smallie. 

Now, here's the part where you may be asking for proof of this fishing tale. I wanted to get a photo of each fish, but I wasn't planning to keep them. They were both too big to keep. What I bring on my trips for photography is just my phone and I need two hands to take a photo with it. The pike, dangling half-in and half-out of the water in the net that was wedged under my butt, needed to get fully immersed immediately.  Besides, my phone was stowed in a closed dry bag and I already had my hands very full. The only way for me to easily get a decent shot of these fish while keeping them alive anyway would be to get them in my boat and try taking a photo while they were flapping around. They were both too big for that. I looked around for anyone to bear witness to my fishing glory but alas, I was all alone. I am the first to admit that I'm not a very good fisherman and if anyone reads many of my trip reports, they will find the quote, '...but I didn't have any luck,' quite often. Well, this time I did have some very good luck and I swear that this fishing story happened exactly as I told it. You'll just have to believe me!  

I released the football-sized bass at the side of the boat while holding it up (it took two hands!) to get a good look at it. Wow! After that, I could finally take hold of the net and fully submerge the pike to let it recover while untangling it from the net. After getting the net off it, Mr. Pike hung out next to my boat for a few seconds and then swam away slowly like nothing had happened. They both lived to smash another person's lure another day. 

I was so overwhelmed with what had just happened that I had a hard time concentrating on fishing after that. I cast out a few more times but came up empty. I figured anything else that I caught would be somewhat anti-climactic, so I reeled in my line and moved east toward my next portage in a state of fisherman's euphoria. 

The portage to Shelley Lake was only a few hundred meters away and was found to the left (river-right) of another outlet of Cutty Creek. It was smaller, much less dramatic than Snake Falls, but pretty in its own right. 

I pulled up at the take-out which was a large sloping rock next to the falls. The Winnipeg couple who had already arrived at the portage ahead of me were starting their second trip across the walk. We chatted again for a bit and made a few jokes and speculations about the name of the portage, "Have a Smoke". 

Now, why would a trail be named Have a Smoke Portage? Is it because it is so easy, one can relax and have a smoke while walking it? Or is it because it is so difficult that you need to stop and have a smoke break halfway along? Or is it so beautiful that one should have a smoke (not of the tobacco variety) and really get into digging the area's beauty? So many questions! A little bit of subsequent internet investigating yielded another answer. Apparently, the area is so rocky and there isn't much to burn, so it is safe to 'have a smoke' there. I did not find this to be the case because I noticed some massive pine trees on the walk. There were even a few oak trees which  I found surprising at such a northern latitude. 

After completing my first trip up the portage, I got my answer about difficulty. The 290-meter trail was one of the easier ones thus far on the trip. Cutty Creek displayed another beautiful drop that I couldn't see clearly from the bottom about 100 meters up the trail. 

This is the part of the trip report where you might ash me, "Where are all the smoking puns, Canoe Daddy?" Well, I won't debase my trip report by blowing a bunch of hot air. That would be a real drag. Frankly, I'm tired of being the teller of bad dad jokes. Before long, I'll be the butt-end of jokes myself. What I really need to do is to be more high-minded, you know... really get ahead of the pack. Rather than going for cheap laughs, I should be letting my trip reports read as a slow burn. That way, by the end, readers will be lit. I just hope I won't burn out in the process of writing such a long report. In the end, I just try to tell readers what I experienced in this fantastic part of Ontario. I just hope they won't take this particular report as a puff piece for Ontario Parks. 

I put in on Shelley Lake which was oddly and uniquely beautiful. The lake is dominated by a large island in the centre that creates a narrow circumference of a lake around it. 

Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,

The Spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,

Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

                                                                                                              - From  'The Cloud'  by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1820)

Now, in case it hasn't dawned on readers yet (I certainly didn't clue in until returning through the area later in the week) Chatterton, Keats, and Shelley were all romantic poets who wrote about sublime beauty. These lakes absolutely could be described as such and are, therefore, aptly named. Apparently, this part of the park is known as the Poet Chain of Lakes.

I paddled out onto Shelley Lake and once again saw the Winnipeg couple. They were pulled up at an island campsite picking blueberries which were just starting to emerge for season. We greeted each other yet again as I paddled past. 

I opted to head to the east end of Shelley Lake by going south around the large island. The north route seemed less direct and had more shoreline burnt by the 2021 fire. I was enjoying myself and admiring the shoreline so much that I wasn't paying close enough attention to where I was going. I unwittingly paddled about a kilometre up the wrong channel and ended up heading back toward Keats Lake. I started to clue in when I realized that I was paddling downstream rather than up. Looking up, I could see a drop ahead of me and a portage landing on the right around a falls heading back into Keats Lake. I realized I had paddled to the top of the channel that led to Snake Falls. Doh! 

So, I begrudgingly paddled back up the channel and this time turned right to head east. As I approached the eastern end of Shelley Lake's large centre island, a large burn area came into view ahead.  

2021 was a very rough year for fires in Quetico. 35 fires occurred within the park boundaries. They burned 50,000 hectares, roughly 14% of the total area in the park.  The fires were so extensive that by mid-July the park authorities began closing off areas to visitors. By August, the entire park was off-limits.  

I paddled southeast to the south of a headland. The channel took me between the headland and an island that once sported a usable campsite before the fire. 

Just past that, I pulled over on the right to head directly south up a 60-meter portage that would get me around a CII rapid where Kahshahpiwi Creek dumped into Shelley Lake. 

It was an easy little carry that I made short work of. Putting in and continuing up the creek required a bit of elbow grease against the current there. 

Paddling through this burn area was interesting. With only the blackened matchsticks of trees remaining, the rocks and charred earth of the landscape was exposed. It looked like the aftermath of a warzone. 

About a kilometre upstream, the current got too strong to paddle against. I certainly tried though! I spotted what I thought would be the easiest path forward and paddled my you-know-what off. I got to a point where I was giving it my all but I wasn't moving forward. In fact, I was beginning to inch backward. Laughing to myself, I quickly did an eddy turn, leaned the boat upstream to not tip it over, and cruised back down the creek. Sigh. I pulled over to the left bank and lined up past the swift from shore. At lower water levels, paddlers could probably make it up there without having to get out of the boat. 

Just past that, I came to a junction. Canoeists can continue heading south upstream toward Cairn Lake, or portage past the CII rapids to the east and travel to Kawnipi Lake. I chose the latter. The water coming in from Kawnipi was actually coming in through two channels. My map showed the portage at the southernmost channel further upriver, but when I pulled up to the base of the rapids on a small island at the first channel, I could see an easy 40-meter walk to get around the rapids. It wasn't really a trail, but I could easily walk it in the aftermath of the burn. Here is a photo of what it looked like. 

I just had to be careful at the put-in, because there was a big patch of poison ivy there, and it was very close to the top of the drop. After pushing off, I dug my paddle in deep to get me upstream and clear of the rapids. 

I paddled into a small bay and could see the water dumping back into Kahshahpiwi Creek in the other channel to the south. There was a group of paddlers portaging up past the drop. 

The channel into Kawnipi Lake veered to the northeast. It was slow going up this channel against the flow and at one narrowing of the waterway, I had to get out and line up some swifts on my right. Eventually, I made it to the most northern bay of the lake. 

From that bay, there are a few ways to get into the main part of the lake further to the south. I could have paddled directly east to the far side of the bay and made my down the eastern shoreline into the lake proper, or chosen one of the many channels between a plethora of islands on the west side. I chose the latter. I thought it would be more scenic and I thought there might be more campsite options to choose from amongst the islands. It was getting into the late afternoon by that point and I was on the lookout for a nice campsite.  

As I made my way southeast among the islands, I was happy to be back in the part of the park that had avoided the 2021 fires. It was a pleasant paddle amongst narrow channels lined with rocky shorelines that eventually opened up into a large bay as I approached Kasie Island. 

I continued paddling west of Kasie Island aiming for a campsite on a small island between Kasie and Rose Islands that I had marked on my map. When I got there, I found that the campsite did not exist. I saw another one on my map a few hundred meters to the west around a point, so I paddled over to check it out. It was there, but rarely used and deep in a forest with not much view to speak of. It would be a great place to hunker down in a storm, but not appealing otherwise, so I moved on. 

Not seeing much else available nearby on my map, I decided I would bite the biscuit and press on for another hour or so to get further down Kawnipi Lake. I headed directly east and around the north end of Rose Island. Getting into that large bay on Kawnipi, I was happy to see that I had nice conditions for paddling on such a large body of water. 

There was a lonely campsite in the middle of the large expanse of blue about halfway down Rose Island. I pulled up to it to take a peek. I found the access to it at the south end of the island, and despite its amazing rocky front porch, the site was a mess. There were a ton of downed trees on the tentpads and the firepit looked as if it hadn't been used in a long time. The island was just too exposed in the middle of the bay. 

I had been out of water for a while by that point and since I decided I would press on looking for a viable place to camp, I filtered some more drinking water at the site while sitting on the rocks for a bit and beholding the expansive view looking south. 

My map displayed a number of sites on the eastern shore so I decided I would make the crossing to that side of the lake and look for one. Besides, I usually opt for a west-facing site anyway for the obvious sunset views, especially on a large lake like Kawnipi. 

There were three island sites on my map a few kilometres to the south around a headland and at the mouth of a large bay. I pointed my canoe in that direction. I was happy to find that they were all vacant. In fact, I didn't see any other canoeists on this massive lake -- incredible for the middle of July. 

I chose a wonderful campsite on the middle island. The site was at the north end of the island and was nicely tucked in a low-lying grove with larger rocks all around it, offering fantastic protection. There was some deadfall, however. I quickly cleaned the site up and set up my hammock. I was too tired to worry about my bug shelter; it had been a long day and I would be hitting the sack early. 

By 7:30 PM, I was finally rehydrating a well-deserved pasta dish; I was famished. 

After cleaning up dinner and having a swim to wash off the grime of the day, I was ready for the fantastic views of the sun setting around 8:45 PM.